Tag Archives: Family

Back from El Salvador, overwhelmed, excited and exhausted.

Posted on by
Reply

Update: This was originally posted April 5th, on Kickstarter but since not everyone gets those updates I’m reposting it here.

John Films/Directs an interview

Wow, what an amazing week. When John and I first started this project we had no idea what to expect. In fact, after completing kickstarter in the Fall, we debated a lot about the best way to start this project. Then about a month and a half ago I received an email from Pro-Busqueda telling me about the Day of The Disappeared in March. John and I weren’t sure what to expect but we knew we had to be there.

This week has been beyond anything either of us could have imagined. For 7 days, we met other disappeared youth and their families. We talked with government officials including the president of El Salvador and the first lady. We interviewed survivors from the war who told us personal stories of suffering and loss. It was an emotional roller coaster.

Amazingly, despite all the terrible things that have happened to this country and its people, there is still so much beauty. The strength and courage of the people who live here is unbelievable. While many remain skeptical about the possibility of long term change, their view of what happened is remarkable.

I was floored when a survivor of one of the bloodiest massacres in all of Central America said to me: “Maybe I have suffered more than others, maybe others have suffered more than me, but what’s important is finding the missing children.” This is coming from someone who as an 11 year old child witnessed his entire village wiped out and then was tortured by military forces. He is not bitter or angry. All he wants is for the disappeared to be found.

John and I know that the footage we got was special. These stories are truly amazing and deserve to be heard. Our initial reaction was to post the videos online, as soon as we got home, so you could see for yourself. However I’m not sure if this does the stories justice.

One thing I have learned from John is that the way you introduce people is important. We want to make sure everyone understands the significance of what was said and it is presented in the best way possible. This of course means sitting on the footage while we sort through it, clean it up and edit it.

Balancing the editorial process with the excitement we both have for getting these stories out there is hard. From the start, we wanted this project to be as open and transparent as possible. All of our footage would be online right now if we thought it was the best way to approach the subject matter. As we work on the next steps we will be looking for creative ways to share our experiences and footage with you. I’m not sure what form that will take but we will let you know as soon as we can.

Stuck between worlds, hoping I never have to choose.

Posted on by
5

It’s my last night in Panama. My birth father and I are sitting at the dining room table eating dinner. My stepmother and sister are away, so it’s just us. As we finish, he looks at me and asks:

“So, are you Nelson or Roberto?”

I pause for a second before replying “Both.”

I don’t think I’ve always felt this way. When I first found out my birth name was Roberto, I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

“I don’t feel like a Roberto.” I would say to myself.

Over the years, as I grew closer to my family in Central America, the name grew on me as well. It even got to the point where I would secretly cringe when family in Central America called me by my American name. In this place I was Roberto.

Of course, the reverse was true in the US. There I could not be anyone other than Nelson. Occasionally when I told friends my birth name was Roberto, they would proclaim that they would start calling me that. To this day no one who has met me as Nelson has been able to call me Roberto. Even my Spanish speaking friends can’t make the transition.

Somewhere over the years I absorbed this other identity. I never changed who I was but I allowed this other world to become a part of me. Now, many years later, the two lives and worlds pull me in different directions.

So now what to do? Now that I have these two identities and two lives what do I do with them? I feel like the world wants me to pick.

“You can’t be both you have to choose one.”

I think somewhere deep down inside I am afraid that picking one of these lives means giving up the other.

From time to time my birth father asks when I am going to “settle down.” When I am going to get a job that is going to give me a stable base. I hesitate to tell him that I would not see him as much.

When I finished college, I worked a job that only gave me two weeks of vacation. Sure it provided security, but I sacrificed this whole other part of my life.

Of course, he has his own ideas. He would love for me to live there and work in the family business. Unfortunately, staying in Panama is an equally tough decision. I’ve realized many of the activities that I love are a lot easier to come by in the US. There is also the honest truth that there are more opportunities in the US than Panama.

I try to explain this to my father. I tell him how no matter where I go I’m always missing someone and the only solution I see is to always be traveling. I’m not sure if he understands. How can he? This is his world. There is no other life waiting for him in some far away land.

So here I am stuck. Stuck between worlds. Stuck between lives. One foot in US the other in Central America. One day I may have to choose but I hope, with all my heart, I never have to.

When Cultures Mix: How Knowing Me Affected My Family

Posted on by
Reply
Toto 98

Ernesto visiting Boston, 1998

Visiting my family in Central America has definitely influenced me over the years. I’ve copied many aspects of the Latin American culture and made them my own. From dance to dress I feel more at home here then I ever have. What is interesting to me is the effect I have had on my family in Central America. Just like I saw in El Salvador, they have taken on some of my American culture.

My bother Ernesto recently told me that his visits to America were some of the most influential experiences of his life. A couple months after we were first were reunited he came to stay with for a 6 weeks while he took english an class in Boston. He came back in 2003 and 2004 to spend the summer. During his trips he got to see what our family was like. He noticed that we were more organized and structured than his family back home. Looking for ways to improve his own life he started to copy us. Copying those ideas had a profound impact on him.

Ernesto, now 31, plays a very important roll in the family business and yesterday he became a proud father. This is not typical for people his age in Central America. Most of his class mates already have several kids are not nearly as organized or responsible as him. In this way he is much more North American. He credits some of his success to his visting with us and his interactions with me. He was able to use certain parts of our culture to improve his life in Central America.

Besides Ernesto you can see my influence on the family and our business. We are some of the most connected and technology advanced people in David, Panama. The business heavily uses an inventory and design database to stay organized. There are computers all over the place which are networked and enable better communication. We have broadband internet in both the house and office. My birth father often skypes family in El Salvador.

My presences and culture has also had some secondary effects. An employee here learned how to be more organized from my brother. He went from being slow and not know what to do to taking an important role in the business. My older sister Eva credits her much of her success in American companies to her knowledge of English, which she learned so she could talk with me.

It’s interesting to see how reuniting with my family has spread our respective cultures to each other. We have both been exposed to new ideas and different ways of thinking. From these differences we have improved our lives and ourselves. I wish more people were brave enough step outside of their confort zone and experience new cultures and ideas.

Returning to El Salvador: The Life I Might Have Had

Posted on by
2

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.

The Last Time I Saw Her: Remembering My Grandmother, Mama Chila

Posted on by
1

May 2008

A Remarkable Woman

Two years ago last week, my grandmother Mama Chila passed away. I’m not sure I can describe what an important person she was to the family. It was due to her pure determination that we were even reunited.

After the war, she went back to El Salvador to look for her lost grandson. She asked questions people didn’t want to hear and had doors slammed in her face. She kept pushing until her dream of finding me came true.

When we were reunited she played a crucial roll in bringing the two families together. The first letter she wrote to us after our initial visit was to my younger brother Derek. It started “Dear Grandson.” This was a very meaningful gesture because Derek was not related to her and the reunion had been hard on him. She knew the only way this would work is if we became one family. She set the tone right away.

Since I can’t put into words what she meant to us, I want to share with you my last memory of her.

Remembering Our Last Days

In May of 2008 I went down to Central America for three weeks. Mama Chila had started to get sick the fall of 2007. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went to go visit, but I was pleasantly surprised to see her condition had improved. She was a little frail, but up to her old tricks, cooking, cleaning and doing chores around the house. I gave her a big hug and greeted the rest of the family. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this could be the last time I saw her.

I’m pretty sure the first thing she asked me was if I was hungry. She would make a traditional Salvadoran dish called pupusas. Knowing that I was coming she had already gone to the store to get all the ingredients. Mama Chila and my aunt got to work right away.

They must have been really good that day because I ate a lot. I had four for five for lunch. Then I had another two as a snack and three more for dinner. As if I knew this was the last time I would enjoy her cooking, I had more than my fair share.

She loved to cook for me. I think it was her way of taking care of me. I had my own life in America and didn’t need anything from her. The one thing she could do for me, that she knew I loved, was to cook. I didn’t even have to ask. She was always ready when I came to visit and if I didn’t eat at least four she would ask if something was wrong.

This was our relationship. We never talked much about life or about the events of the past. We just had those little moments together. I think they were special in their own way. After everything we had been through, the separation and the journey to reunite, the only thing we needed was that.