Saturday August 31, 2019

El Salvador

Exodus 19:1-20:21 

20:21  The people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where God was.  Chris took us over toward the volcanos again today.  Unlike the terrifying display at Mount Sinai (19:16-19), the top of the mountain we climbed yesterday was only covered with light clouds and the rest of the peaks were clear.  As Chris drove us around we talked about life in El Salvador, where seemingly no one who runs the show “fears and trembles” at the presence of the Lord but stands as far off from him as he can (20:18).  Forty-six of the country’s fifty provinces are controlled by gangs.  No wonder Geraldo told us yesterday the Salvadoran dream.  There are eight million Salvadorans on the planet and more than two million of them (already) live in the US.  El Salvador is hopeful with a new president, a young man of the next (presumably less corrupt) generation.  He is working toward national improvement and better relations with the US.  But problems are entrenched and enormous, and money is scant.  Chris says his concern as a gringo is being in the wrong place at the wrong time; a Salvadoran is worried about his kids being pressed into a gang.  Everyone—left, right and center—hates the gangs.  Ask the average Salvadoran what should be done with them and he’ll say, “Line’em up and shoot’em.”  But the US wouldn’t look kindly on such action.  It’s apparent to me what the whole country needs is “the fear of God…that [they] might not sin” (20:20).  There’s no other answer.  Dear Father God, please break through the thick darkness that shrouds El Salvador, the country named for your Son.  Show yourself to everyone from politicians and gang leaders to those trapped by gang pressures, extortion, poverty and hopelessness.  Draw many hearts to yourself in repentance and faith.  Pour out your Spirit on your people in this nation that they may work with wisdom and favor toward righteous government and stable lives for all.  May this country that bears your name find hope and live in holiness.

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We had a slow morning while Chris went to Walmart (uh huh) for supplies.  At breakfast we discussed what was safe to eat.  “You ate the tomato and pepper?” Chris asked with some dismay when I told him what we had scrounged for supper.  Well, they were in our son’s refrigerator, and we didn’t think he’d be trying to kill us.  “I would have washed them with soap first,” Chris informed us.  He said he doesn’t eat lettuce at all here—and he hasn’t been sick once.  Noted.  At ten we hopped into his new used car.  He’s quite pleased that while he was in Argentina last week his driver got the windows tinted for him—a safety measure, dark all around.  It wasn’t long before I was gasping and cringing at Chris’ driving.  “I don’t think you guys are ready for riding in Central America,” Chris informed us.  “And this is a Saturday!”  Fortunately I was in the back seat; I just tried to look at the interesting sights out the window.  Fields were thick with dry brown cornstalks and lush green sugar cane.  In some places corn grew right next to the road in a narrow strip between traffic and jungle; Chris said the land was already cleared as part of the roadway so why not plant it?

Our morning activity was the Mayan ruins at the San Andrés Archeological Park.  A simple museum displayed interesting finds and explained local geography, architecture at the site, a tad bit of Mayan culture and a little about Spanish settlement.  There was no limestone availabe here so the buildings were made of more erosible adobe and tufa; most of the visible ecavations are cemented over with some sort of protective coating.  The information mentioned the Mayan civilization’s “collapse” several times.  Basically the population outgrew its resources and pushed the slash-and-burn agriculture past its limits until the land couldn’t produce any more food.  People were hungry, different groups fought over resources and not everyone survived.  

Outside we approached the ruins through a grove of tall trees.  A small “introductory” pyramidal structure greeted us.  Past that, a high partially-excavated stepped platform sits at one end of a plaza.  Along one side are three smaller mounds, though only one is excavated (the others are green lumps).  At the far corner a small section of pavement remains.

Beyond that in the jungle is Mound #5, currently under excavation with a worksite roof barely visible, though there was no apparent way to get there; Chris mused he will have to make friends and visit it before he leaves the country.  The small complex was in a serene setting with huge trees and distant mountains and we ambled around slowly. 

Chris chatted with the guard and tipped him a dollar before we left; at wages of $3/hour or less, he’ll appreciate it, Chris said.  Chris pointed out to us these ruins are nothing compared with what we’ll see in Peru; if we hadn’t seen this now we wouldn’t want to bother later.  Maybe not, but they’re good Latin American starter ruins.  And it was fun hanging out with Chris.

Next stop was a restaurant on nearby Lake Coatepeque, the lake we saw from the top of the volcano.  The long rutted road we drove to get there, the strings of ramshackle buildings and the generally decrepit-looking restaurant on the water’s edge—it all reminded me of the fish restaurant on Lake Victoria, though this was a step up.  “They’ve paved the parking lot since the last time I was here,” said Chris.  “They’re not washing cars in the lake,” said Maurice, remembering Lake Victoria.  An impressive iguana in a half-hearted enclosure greeted us on the way in. 

Chris walked us through the restaurant to a little deck overlooking the lake.  Right across from us was the volcano we climbed yesterday, hazy, with clouds snagged on its top.  There was no hurry with the service, so we put on our shades under the bright white of the awning and sipped cold drinks until our meal arrived.  Chris said it was OK to have the ice which the menu informed us was made of “crystalline” water by a factory that delivers.  

On the way home we stopped at a scenic overlook of the lake.  Heading into town Chris marveled at the light traffic.  I sat in the back again and tried not to watch.  At home we had a quiet late afternoon.  Chris went for a run—in a neighborhood as safe as any in a big city, he informed us, and in broad daylight.  I researched what my itchy bumps could possibly be.  After looking at disgusting pictures of skin issues online, I could not come up with a likely diagnosis and decided that slapping on some anti-itch cream and ignoring them would be the best solution.