I walked through the gates of the Baha'i Institute to find large groups of people sitting in lawnchairs. The sun was brilliant and welcoming as I reuinted with my roommate and sat with one group of adults. For the children, the ¨summer school¨ was a time of learning about virtues through the arts. Youth and adults participated in what was more of a conference-style series of workshops and discussions.
A highlight of the 3-day summer school, for me, was being able to see the friends I had met from Chalatenango and San Salvador again. In that short time period, 273 people were in attendance. Some who lived close commuted in the morning and night. Others visited for only a day. There was a dormitory for girls, one for guys or the various tents set up about the lawn for those who could stay the whole weekend.
On the closing day, we watched a video about the 41 Baha'i conferences that had taken place around the world last year. Anyone interested can see the video here - http://www.bahai.org/arising/. Some of the locations were familiar, like LA in the US, Sydney in Australia, and Madrid in Spain. Other cities I had never heard of before such as Ulaanbaatar in Mongolia, Padua in Italy, and Lusaka in Zambia.
Needless to say, I arrived back in the town of Olocuilta inspired and joyful. However, an emergency had occurred. The father of my host family lost his nephew in what was a tragic situation. I won't go into details, but I do want to share the tremendous spirit of the family and the culture of funerals here.
Some of the young man's family had been visiting for the holidays, but it seemed like all the aunts, uncles, brothers and relatives arrived for the funeral. While the members of the extended family are from different faiths, the process of burial is Catholic. In the house of the grandmother, the furniture was moved and the walls of the livingroom were made bare. The day I learned to make tamales, the casket arrived and mourners came to say prayers. The large gathering sat in the room with the body the entire night, til dawn. The 200 tamales, sweet bread and coffee were served to all.
The following day, I was in the crowd of at least 100 people who walked, en masse, to the cemetary. I can't explain how that felt. Even those who were working in the shops along the way stepped out to show their respect. The cemetary, like the one I saw in Guatemala, was filled with colors. Definitely nothing dark or gloomy.
Now, and until 9 days after the body was laid to rest, people come to the house in the afternoon to say the rosary. Along one wall is set the nephew's photograph encircled by flowers, reaching from the floor to eye level. There are also several tall candles that burn almost continuously. While I've seen many pained faces and tears, the atmosphere consists more of love and a quiet acceptance.
The new news of my service is that I'm moving on Tuesday to live near the capital. I'll travel in the mornings to teach English classes at Colegio Ridvan. The word ¨ridvan¨ means paradise and it is a Baha'i-inspired school with about 100 students from kinder to fifth year. I'm excited and hopeful for this opportunity, but sad to leave this community just when I felt such a part of the life here. The good thing is I can always visit here on weekends. El Salvador is a small country; travel is no 7 hour drive to Anchorage!
