Tag Archives: Narrative

Returning to El Salvador: The Life I Might Have Had

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It has been 12 years since I last set foot in El Salvador. When I first came, I was 17, I didn’t speak any spanish, and had just met my birth family the year before. My adoptive parents, my brother and I had decided to spend the holidays of 1998 touring Central America. We went to Panama, Costa Rica and then El Salvador. I don’t remember much from back then, only meeting lots of people who looked like me that I knew little about. I had a feeling this time it would be very different.

As my plane made its final decent, we flew past the city and out towards the coast. We headed out to sea, as if we only passing by this tiny country, the same size and population of Massachusetts. Over clear blue waters we did a 180 degree turn and headed back toward land. Moderate winds bounced us up and down some as we got closer to the runway. Instead of thickly settled housing I saw small shacks and green fields. Instead of grid locked city traffic I saw famers on horse back.

I got off the plane and headed toward customs. An agent greeted us and directed us into the appropriate lines. She asked me if I was Salvadoran and with a little smirk on my face I replied no. After sorting through all the days luggage at the only operational baggage carousel, I was on my way. Walking out of the airport I was confronted by a couple hundred people waiting for various family members to arrive. This was a little overwhelming, but luckily I found my cousin without any difficulty. We then made the 45 minute drive back into the city.

That night my cousin, her two sisters and my aunt took me out for buffalo wings. Watching the three of them interact and joke around reminded me of me and my siblings. They seemed so close and…almost normal. Then a strange thought hit me. Am I looking at the life I could have had? Is this what it would have been like if we had never been separated?

Rarely do we get to experience “what could have been.” We often imagine how our lives might have turned out, but to be confronted by it is something else entirely.

It made me question the choices my parents made. El Salvador is still a mess. There is still a lot of crime, violence and lack of opportunity. Did the revolution really change anything? If they had not joined, would it have mattered? My aunts and uncles didn’t fight and their lives seemed to turn out alright. I’m sure life in El Salvador isn’t easy, but at least they have each other. At least they are together.

How An American Learned to Love the World Cup

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Watching the World Cup brings back so many memories of visiting my family and being exposed to new cultures. I was in Central America for the ’98 and ’02 tournaments. Growing up as an American we knew about the World Cup, but experiencing it was something completely different.

In 1998, I was in Panama and every business that you walked into had a game on. The broadcasters were so energetic and would scream GOAL until they ran out of breath, and then do it again. I remember watching the days replays and being blown away with the incredible goals that were scored.

I returned home before the end of the tournament and was shocked to find that the American stations were not showing the games. Thankfully the finals were broadcast, but even then the atmosphere was completely different. I was at Lacrosse camp and watched with all the other American teenagers attending. I felt like we were watching it just because it was the World Cup, not because we loved the game. It would take another four years before I learned how to really watch a soccer game .

In 2002, I was in Costa Rica and they had made it into the World Cup. It seemed like the entire country had World Cup fever. On every conner, street vendors had carts stuffed full of Costa Rican flags, shirts, hats, wrist bands, whistles, horns, and anything else they could print the flag on. That year the Costa Ricans were facing the extremely dangerous Brazil. My sister invited a couple of friends over to watch the game.

The “Ticos” where not favored to win, but you couldn’t tell that from the way they cheered. Every time the ball was on the Brazilian side they screamed at the TV, trying to will the ball into the goal. Brazil went up 3-0 and things didn’t look good. Then out of no where Costa Rica scored two. The country went crazy. You could hear everyone cheering, cars honking in the street and fireworks in the distance. They ended up being eliminated, but seeing how they got so into the game left a lasting impression on me.

Today I have a new appreciation and love for the game. I admire the skill and artistry the world’s best players bring to this tournament. I love the way each country gets so into it. I wish that Americans could experience the game the same way I did. We would be great fans. If we brought the same passion and intensity that we have for American Football to Soccer, we would go far.

The way He works – by Eva

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Have you ever thought about your purpose in life? Have you ever thought about the mission you have and the reason why you are here today?

Day by day I live thinking about the reasons that brought me here where I am. Day by day I try to think what makes me be the woman I am nowadays. Sometimes I go back long time ago and start thinking about everything what had happened to me and my family, and sometimes I just happen to think about what is coming next…

Whatever I think gets me to one point: God’s will, and watching today at the video of the interview my brother made, makes me be even surer about that. What a wonderful opportunity this interview was to tell others the story.

But also I was thinking to myself, what a great opportunity we had to meet Amanda, Mr. and Mrs. Gross and Cristina that nice Saturday here in Costa Rica. I have to say at the beginning I thought they seem to be very nice people, but then as long as I got to know them I thought to myself they happen to be not only nice people but really wonderful people. As the conversation went on, I found they are a wonderful family and I was so glad to get to know them. Once we went for lunch somehow we started to talk about our story very naturally, one thing brought to another and then we found ourselves talking about what had happened to our family. And there we were, my brother trying to tell the story in a logical way so they could understand, and me, trying to explain with my lack of English how does it feel to have him back. Someway words just went out and it was really nice to see them immerse in it and trying to understand.

After that the idea of the interview came, and it was done….

Telling the story not only identify ourselves as the persons we are, but also it goes further than that. And today watching at the video I thought how the testimony is allowed to be spread out for more people. And then I wonder again: is that one of our purposes in life? We have to talk about what happened to us, and point the good in it, our story is filled of sad episodes but also it is flowed of happiness and hope, and miracles and blessings!

How wonderful is to tell that in the end, there was something for my brother and I that made us even closer; I guess the story touched hearts.

How wonderful is God who speaks and works in so many ways. There is always a message to give, a message to receive and a message to share! Maybe that is one of our missions now, to touch as much hearts as we can…

Thank you Amanda, Mr. and Mrs. Gross! I am very happy that we get to know you all that beautiful Saturday, and I am sure that was not just a matter of luck, because you know…God is working around…

Sunny Side of the Street Interview

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In October during my visit to Costa Rica I met up with a friend from the states. My sister and I met with her and her parents and we shared our story. Her father has a TV show on the local cable network. He invited me to come on the show and at the beginning of November and I took him up on the offer.

It was an interesting experience. I think I was a little nervous to start, but I think it turned out very nicely.

Let me know what you think!

A different Friday – by Eva

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I’ve been waiting for this Friday since I knew he was coming. I wake up early in the morning trying so hard to be awake and start up my day, I have to be ready for work today, but I am so exited cause it is not a normal day for me, reason why I look for a nice dress and try to make myself look a little nicer. It feels like you are going to meet someone that you’ve been really looking forward to meet. So I make it to work and finally get there, start my day as usual but somehow is not the same, then my phone rings and I pick up: “Hey there!, can you hear me?” … my heart pumps up! That’s him…” Hey guess what? My flight was canceled and now I will be delayed, I will be there at 7pm your time…” And I think to my self: “Great! I really want him to be here and they cancel the flight! Any way, waiting for tonight is not a big deal” so I replay: “ Don’t worry I will be there!” and the conversation ends with the same words as usual: “ OK, love ya! Bye…”

The day seems to be slower than usual but it turned to be longer! Another call saying he will be arriving even later! I can’t believe it! Somehow it makes me think about the day we fist met, there was no longer day than that day, but tonight waiting at the airport for almost 3 hours is getting close.

Finally he made it! Looking at him walking through the gates carrying a lot of suitcases and a huge box made me think to my self: “He is definitely part of the family, right?” and the next step: hugs and kisses, welcomes and lots of love! I have him here…

Every time he comes is a really nice experience, no matter my responsibilities, the job I have to perform and the time I may not share with him, he is here! These days I wish I could be 4 persons at once, but all the effort is good while we have our singular chats at night, we just can’t go to sleep, we gotta talk! Sharing our life and feelings, always keeps us close, and that’s our mission in life: to be there for each other.

Memories – by Nelson/Roberto

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I’m running as fast as I can. I stop short at the gate fence. In a few quick moves, I jump up, grab the top, swing my legs over and jump down on the other side. I keep running only to be greeted buy the dog. Before he can get near me I duck into the door way to my left. Jumping over some paint cans I turn sharply to the right and hid behind some boxes. I’m out of breath but I try not to make a sound.

I stay here for a minuet. I don’t hear anything. Slowly I creep back into the hall way and look around. Poking my head into the next room Ernesto looks up at me and laughs.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh..she’ll hear me” As soon as I say it I hear screaming coming from the next room.

I turn to run again but the stupid dog followed me into the room and is in my way. Great no where to go. I turn, knowing whats coming next.

“I GOT YOU!!” My little sister screams as she grabs my shirt. I try to loosen her grip and tell her she is stretching the shirt. No good. Shes got me and she is NOT letting go.

Giving I pick her up in my arms and we head back to the house to get something to drink.

I often think back to those days when she was a little kid and we would run around the house chasing each other. It was so much fun. I have so many memories.

There is a gate outside of my father’s house in panama. The entrance had a nice little ledge just big enough for someone to sit. I use to picker up on my shoulder and put her on the ledge when she was being “bad.” She would laugh trying to figure out how to get down.

Then there was the time I broke her bed. I picked up and pretending to be a wrestler dropped her on the bed. It completely fell apart. She was fine but started to cry when she saw her bed in pieces. We were able to fix it right up and minuets later she was grabbing on to my shirt again like nothing every happened.

I’m so glad that I have been able to be a part of her growing up. She is a lot older now and has become a wonderful young lady. I still remember the little girl who ran up to me that first night at the airport. She will always be my little sister.

Meeting my sister and growing up with her has been one of the best parts of this entire experience. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

I know how much she looks up to me and that is where I get so much of my motivation. Her pictures hangs on my wall and I always look it when I am feeling down.

Many families are spread all over the world and don’t get to see each other as much as they would like. Thats not an option for me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we’ll always have memories to look back on.

Phone Call – By Nelson/Roberto

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May 1982

Shortly after Eva saw our mother for the last time, my mother urged my grandmother to take the children and move to Costa Rica where they would be safer. In 1980, Mama Chila packed up the family to live with my aunt Vilma who had been in Costa Rica since 1978. Mama Chila brought with her Vilma’s two children Evelyn and Jacqueline. As well as Ana’s two children Eva and Ernesto. I had not been born yet and our father Luis was in Cuba recovering from the bullet wound.

Earlier that year, Vilma had married a man named Eduardo who was the son of her employer. It was not the best arrangement since Eduardo did not treat Vilma well and occasionally threatened to deport her is she ever left him. Mama Chila and Vilma both worked during the day to provide for the children. Eduardo who was not as ambitious and stayed around the house most of the day.

They didn’t hear much from Luis or Ana. Because of the war it was very hard to send messages. Ana wrote occasionally and the messages where usually delved in person by someone who was involved with the revolution. It had been a few months since Ana had last written. Then one day something weird happened. They received a phone call. Ana never called because it was much to dangerous. Mama Chila and Vilma were both out but Eduardo took the call.

Eduardo sits at home watching TV. Its about 3:30 in the afternoon. My aunt Vilma and grandmother Mama Chila have not come home from work yet. Eduardo lazily flips through the channels waiting for the two of them to come so he can eat. Just then the phone rings. He glances over at it wondering if he should bother picking it up. Reluctantly he stands and wonders over to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello…is this Eduardo?” an agitated voice replies on the other side.

A little surprised by tone of her voice he replies “Yes…who is this?”

“Its Vilma’s sister Mila” She says nervously

“Mila! How are you? We haven’t herd from you in so lo…”

Ana interrupts him “Eduardo I’m sorry but I don’t have much time. Is my mother there its really important.”

Slightly annoyed by being cut off he replies “No they haven’t returned home from work yet but they should be home soon. You should call back later.”

“No there is no time can you give her a message” She is even more nervous now as someone is yelling in the background.

“Yes of course, whats wrong?” Eduardo questions.

“They found us I don’t know how.” she sounds scared now “I have to go. Tell mama chila I love her and…” she pauses slightly “tell her to take care of my kids…”

The phone clicks and Eduardo not knowing what to make of this stands for a second listening to the dial tone. He hangs up the phone, puzzled by what just happened and sits back down to watch TV.

Sometimes I wonder what it must have taken to make that phone call. She must have known when she made the call she would never see her children again. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.

That would be the last thing we ever herd from Ana. We never knew what happened to her after that and most likely we never will.

Tip of my tongue – by Nelson/Roberto

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June 1998

“Roberto, levanate” my father says as he nudges me awake.

Its 5:30 in the morning and its still dark out. My flight home leaves in a few hours so I have to wake up and get ready. Sleepily I rub my eyes, yawn and head towards the kitchen. I’m greeted by Gerardo and his wife who promptly start asking me about breakfast. Being so early and my due to the little Spanish I know, all I can do is stair blankly. Picking up on this they try again.

“Cerial?” Gerardo questions. I nod. “Pan…bread?”

“Si” say while fighting back another yawn.

My father says something. He mentions Eva. I perk up a little. I haven’t seen her since December when we first met. I think he says that her and Roy will be at the airport.

Time to get ready. I showered and pack up and drag my bags out to the car. The sun is up now and the air is still cool but it’s getting warmer.

Its about a 30 minuet drive to the airport so I take out my CD player. I’m always listening to music whenever I travel. This time its The Notorious B.I.G.’s Life after death album. As we drive a long I start to think about camp and how I will be there in two days. “You must be crazy” I think to my self. I’m traveling over 3,000 miles in 4 days. Yesterday morning I was in panama and spent the day in a buss on there way to Costa Rica. Later today I will be back in Boston. Tomorrow I will be packing for camp and Sunday Will be my first day as a Counselor In Training.

Maybe I shouldn’t have missed the week of staff training…oh well nothing I can do now. What could possibly go wrong anyway?

We’re here. I jump out of the van and look around…no Eva yet. We unload my luggage and find a place to sit. It is a beautiful day. The warm air is intoxicating and makes me not want to leave. But then I remember its summer back home too and we’ll probably have more weather like this.

Just then a car pulls up. Its Eva! not a moment too soon either, because its almost time to check in. We all hug and Roy starts chatting away with my dad and Gerardo.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at my sister timidly. She must have seen me because she takes my hand and places it on her stomach. She smiles and says something in the best Spanglish she can muster. I’m not really listening, all I can think of how weird this pregnancy thing is. My sister is the first person I can remember that’s been pregnant. She is due any day now and her stomach is huge. I move my hand long her brown dress. No kicks, I’m a little disappointed.

I pull my hand back and look up at her. She smiles knowingly. I smile back thinking how grown up and mature she looks. There is something about her, something familiar in those eyes.

Its time to go now. We kiss, hug and say goodbye. I want to tell her something but I don’t know what. Its like the words are there, on the tip of my tongue but I don’t know how to say them. So I just stood there, looking at her. Someone I want to know but can’t. It wouldn’t be until three years later that I would realize what I saw that day.

The Orphanage – By Nelson Roberto

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When the gunfire stops a women lays dead face down in the door way. Two men have been shot as well. They lie slumped over rifles by there side. As the police go through the house I’m found crying in my crib. Next to me are two other girls. Social services is called in to deal with us. As I’m being as taken away a news paper photographer stops us to take a picture. One police officer is holding me while the male officer next her tries to get me to smile. It works. My face lights up in a happy little smile completely unaware of what has just happened and what is to come.

I’m taken to a private orphanage in Tegucigalpa Honduras. This will be my home for the next year. I will spend most of my days in a my crib straiting out of the window on the third floor of this clay building. I won’t learn how to walk or speak very well. I won’t eat very well either. But I will be fed.

During this time a notice is put into the paper asking anyone who might be missing a child to come forward and claim me. No one does, so six months after I arrive I am legally put up for adoption. I will wait another six month before I meet my parents.

It’s May 1980 and I have just turned two. My adoptive parents arrived in the country a few weeks earlier. Today we will meet for the first time.

My soon to be dad wakes up early and staring making coffee. My soon to be mom lays in bed a few more minuets for before joining him. They are tired from a long night of nervous sleep.

“What do you think he will looks like?”
“We will know very soon.” My mother replies.

They shower and dress quick anticipating what is to come.

My dad paces nervously waiting for the social worker to arrive. “Why do you think they wouldn’t let any picture be taken of him? Do you think might be something wrong with him that they don’t want us to know about?”

“I don’t know hunny we will see soon enough.”

“Where are they? They should have been here by now.” my dad says anxiously

“They will come try to relax” my mom replies trying to hide her own anxiety.

“I’m going to call to make sure” My dad hurries off to make the call. He return shortly. “She’s not home.” He reports disappointedly

Then the door bell rings. Finally the social worker has come to take them to the orphanage.

As they arrive they are greeted by one of the staff members. Not wasting any time my dad asks. “What is he like?”

“Hes a sweet little boy but he will cry and cry if he is not fed first.” She answers shaking her head

“Oh?” my mom inquires.

“Don’t worry hes really nice” she replies quickly “but he doesn’t talk much. He only knows how to say agua. That means water and he says it when hes hungry or when he needs anything else.”

As they walk through the rooms filled with cribs, some of the children poke their heads up to see the visitors.

“I wonder if we could adopt more than one.” My dad wonders aloud.

“Here we are.” The staff member stops at the last crib on the third floor. “Oh and one more thing…” she says as a smile crosses her face “he really loves Coke.”

This is the moment my had parents been waiting for. As they approach the crib they see me lying down in a cloth diaper and an old t-shirt. I look up with a blank expression on my face not knowing what to expect.

My mom hands me a Paddington bear with a blue raincoat and red hat. I play with it curiously. Its the first stuffed animal I’ve ever had. They pick me up and hold me. I’m not sure what to make of this. They takes turns holding me and playing my with long curly brown hair. But now they must leave to finalize the adoption.

They put me back in the crib and say good bye. They will be back for me tomorrow once it is official. As they drive away I watch from my window, holding my Paddington close, wondering who are these people and if I’ll ever see them again.

Part 1: The adoption, a leap of faith and a miracle reunion. – Nelson/Roberto

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I was adopted from an orphanage in Honduras in 1983. My adoptive parents had just started the adoption process and were probably about a year away from getting a child. Then one night they got a phone call around 9:00pm saying that there was a child available for them however there was no picture, no background information and they would have until 3:00pm the next day to decided. I don’t think this ever happens in adoption cases.

Thankfully, after a long night with not much sleep, they decided to adopt. They were living in the Boston area and had to rush to get everything ready before leaving for Honduras. It was the beginning of April and they had to be down in Central America by May. As they were getting ready to leave they found out that they would need FBI clearance in order to travel to Honduras. This normally takes 4 or 5 weeks and they only had one. To their surprise someone pulled some strings for them and Senator Kerry’s office was able to get them clearance in 2 days.

They flew down to Honduras where they were provided with a place to stay and a lawyer to help them with all the paper work. Again, this never happens. As the adoption went on the people involved where very hush hush and wouldn’t tell my parents anything. They mentioned something about a gunfight but wouldn’t say why I was up for adoption or why they were trying to get me out of the country so fast. My adoptive father speculated that I was illegitimate sun of the president or something like that. They did learn that our Mystery Politician was overseeing the adoption and this explained where all the political help was coming from.

They finished the adoption and took be back to the US with them. The judge who oversaw my case required that my father mail her updates every 6 months. My father diligently sent letters for almost 2 years. While talking to another parent about there experience he learned that these updates were not part of the normal adoption process and he promptly stopped. This seamed to the make the whole adoption that much weirder.

I grew up knowing that I was adopted (My parents are white and they always told me I was.) But they couldn’t tell me who my parents were or even when I was born. This was very hard for me growing up since it meant it would be next to impossible to find my birth family. My Adopted father had this newspaper article that someone had gotten for us. The article had a picture of a man who had been killed around the time that I went into the orphanage. As I was growing up he would look at the picture and try to see if there was any resemblance between us.

Then one day the impossible happened. My parents got another phone call at night in the summer of 97. A man called from an organization called Probusqueda that looked for lost children in El Salvador. It turned out I had been born there not Honduras and my birth family had been looking for me for 4 years. My parents told me soon after when I got home from summer camp. It was a huge shock for all of us.

The organization sent us pictures and letters from them written to the lost child Roberto(that’s me.) After a blood test to confirm that hey were indeed my family we started to make arrangements to fly down. In truth they really didn’t need to do the blood test. I look exactly like my birth father and a lot like my older brother.

That Christmas we flew down to meet them the for the first time. My adopted parent were nervous that I would want to stay with my birth family but that never really crossed my mind. Since then I have been down about twice a year to visit them and we have become one big family. Its been truly an amazing and I’m so lucky to have had such wonderful adoptive parents who supported me all these years and when I went to meet my birth family.

Part 2: My Origins, how I was separated from my family.