Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Columbus, GA, with a group of young adults from
Amate House to participate in a educational event and demonstration to protest the federal funding of the School of the Americas. This military institution (whose name was officially changed in 2001 to the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation) has been training combat soldiers from Latin America since 1946. Originally located in Panama, it was kicked out in 1984 and relocated to the Ft. Benning base in Georgia. The School of the Americas Watch website describes the work of the SOA this way:
"Over its 59 years, the SOA has trained over 60,000 Latin American soldiers in counterinsurgency techniques, sniper training, commando and psychological warfare, military intelligence and interrogation tactics. These graduates have consistently used their skills to wage a war against their own people. Among those targeted by SOA graduates are educators, union organizers, religious workers, student leaders, and others who work for the rights of the poor. Hundreds of thousands of Latin Americans have been tortured, raped, assassinated, “disappeared,” massacred, and forced into becoming refugees by those trained at the School of Assassins [the school's nickname]."
Basically, SOA graduates are responsible for some of the worst human rights violations in the history of Latin America, and we traveled to Georgia to stand with others and say that the school needs to be shut down! Over 20,000 people joined from all over the U.S. and the world on the 27th anniversary of the slaying of six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper, and her 16-year-old daughter. Fr. Roy Bourgeois, a Catholic priest who served with the poor in Bolivia for several years, started this annual rally and vigil (and is the director of the SOA Watch, which organizes the event), after four nuns (two of them his friends) were raped and killed in 1980 by Salvadoran soldiers trained at the SOA.
The first day of the event consisted of powerful speakers, performances by musicians, and testimonies of family members and survivors of SOA violence and torture. After driving 16 hours through the night, we arrived mid-morning, just in time to attend the Ignatian Family Teach-In. I was amazed at the strong Jesuit presence, though later look backed and was surprised that I did not expect it. Since the beginning, the gathering has been a peaceful one build on the foundations of love, grace, and non-violence--and church people have led the way.
At the teach-in, coordinated by the Jesuit Solidarity Network, there were several inspiring speakers, including Sister Helen Prejean.
Sr. Helen is well-known for her work with death-row inmates and her efforts to stop capital punishment (she was portrayed by Susan Sarandon in the 1995 movie,
Dead Man Walking). She shared the story of Cathy Henderson, a Texas woman who has been on death row for 12 years and who Sr. Helen believes has been wrongly sentenced. We were all invited to write letters to
Cathy to support her. One thing Sr. Helen shared really stuck with me (and it may have been a quote from someone else): "Hope has two daughters, anger and courage." In order to truly create a better world for all, we must become angry for all the injustices in the world, for those things that break the heart of God. And then we must have courage to act--to work for change. It was so inspiring to hear the stories of nuns like Helen (and other clergy and laypeople) who have risked everything to stand in solidarity with and stand up for the rights of the poor and marginalized. To borrow a quote from a friend, those nuns are "fearless."
In the afternoon we headed to the boulevard that leads up to the gates of the base for the rally. To the left is my group:
More speakers and musicians spoke about and urged peace and justice while folks lounged in the sun and visited tables of over 100 organizations. Behind and to the left of the stage is the gate.
I was very excited to run into Albion friend Liz Kenyon--who lives in Vermont--just by chance!
I also saw our friend, Kristin (who just happens to be our new member "sponsor" at church), and helped her pass out information and action postcards related to former Guatemala president Rios Montt, who was in power when some of the worst atrocities transpired there.
That night, our group enjoyed delicious food and margaritas at a Mexican restaurant in town. Anthony, Nate, Mo, Lisa, me:
Sarah, Jonathan, Trina, Anjali, Erin:
The next morning was very cold. We arrived early to the gathering site with our homemade crosses, each bearing the name of a person killed at the hands of an SOA graduate.
The day began with more speakers and musicians, and the mood went back and forth from celebratory to somber. Here I am with Cat and Mo:
There was a clear shift when we moved into the funeral procession. Individuals on the main stage sang the names of those killed, and after each one, everyone lifted their crosses and sang in unison, "Presente," acknowledging that not only are the victims not forgotten, but they were there with us, bearing witness to the violence, giving strenth to those who continue to struggle. For more pictures and audio of the vigil (which I would
highly recommend), and media coverage of the event, go to the
SOA Watch website.
The procession began with this banner and this beautifully crafted puppet...
...who were immediately followed by families of victims. The woman on the left is a mother whose three small children had been kidnapped some years ago, and she had never seen them again. She had shared her story the day before...and she wept as she marched. The man in the center carries a picture of Archbishop Oscar Romero, assassinated in 1980 in El Salvador.
Many others, like this member of a group called Grandmothers for Peace, were clearly moved.
A large group marched in black cloaks and carried caskets.
The procession continued slowly, in a large loop, around the boulevard and toward the main gate.
As I came closer to the gate, I thought of what our Pastor, Trey, had said about his experience here. He had had an overwhelming awareness of the presence of evil in that place--though that is generally not part of his theology. I was wondering if I would experience something similar. But what came over me was more like paralyzing grief. It rested heavily on my chest and I struggled to breath as I slowly shuffled toward the gate. As folks approached the gate, they placed their white crosses in the slats of the fence, creating a memorial and powerful visual. I wasn't completely surprised by the tears that streamed down my face, but I was not expecting to fall onto my knees when I reached the chain links. The names continued to echo out in a minor key from the stage, now behind me, and I grieved for all those who had suffered and lost their lives, and all those whose loved ones had disappeared or been killed in front of them. I knew that I played a part in this school, in all that had passed, and I was overcome with grief.
I placed my own cross, the one I had carried for the last several hours, in the fence and remembered Celestina Vigil.
When I moved back away from the fence, I saw that those who dressed in black where now reenacting a massacre. They lay, unmoving, and their cloaks and faces were splattered with red.
As I stood by, reflecting on this image, resting in the heaviness, I suddenly heard some of those around me begin to cheer. People were craning their necks to see over the crowd, off to the left, and to the other side of the fence. There was a slope with some underbrush and trees, and when I caught glimpses of a couple people coming down the slope, I knew that someone had crossed the fence. Crossing is an act of civil disobedience. It could bring prison time and significant fines, but sixteen people, ages 17 to 71, decided to cross anyway. Though the presence of the SOA is currently legal, and crossing onto Ft. Benning property is not, Sr. Helen had reminded us, "Abiding by the law does not make us spiritual people."
When I realized what was happening, a hope rose up in me and I began to breathe normally again. More people were being led down the hill and into the second gate of the base by guards. The heaviness was lifted, just a little. What an amazing sacrifice those people made in order to really stand by what they believed. As the SOA website says, they were, "publicly defying the laws which prevent political speech on military bases and making a bold call for justice and accountability." Their boldness was inspiring and challenging to me.
I slowly made my way back around the other side of the loop, away from the gate. On the way, I paused by a "live" memorial to the people of El Mozote, a village of 800 that was almost completely wiped out by SOA grads. Almost two hours after the vigil had started, names continued to be sung out and people continued to march and raise their crosses.
As I made my way back toward the van, I saw another church friend, Dave, who was being interviewed. Seeing the story getting out at that moment provided another flash of hope.
As we climbed in the van and headed back north, the singing of the names continued, as did those marchers' voices responding, "presente."
The weekend was a powerful one for me. I know that God calls us to open our eyes to the pain in the world around us and to share in that pain together. Though it was difficult, I can't help but think that we were doing, if only for a short time, what God asks of us. We lifted up those who have suffered and we took on that burden together. And then we committed ourselves to doing something to prevent others from suffering in the same way.
The gathering was full of hope. People from different faith traditions and those who do not claim one came together for a common purpose--to learn about injustice, to remember our brothers and sisters, and to work for justice. There were so many groups present who are working for the good of all. And there is hope for the closing of the SOA. The most recent proposal to close the school that went through congress failed by only 12 votes. And 35 of those who voted against the proposal are no longer in office as off a couple of weeks ago. There is hope! And there will always be more work to do!
Thanks so much for reading! If you are interested in learning more and/or taking action, please go to the
SOA Watch site.
After hanging out and relaxing with a movie (I would highly recommend Nueve Reinas, an Argentine film), we headed to Chinatown. We ate (what else?) Chinese food for dinner then experienced bubble tea for the first time at Saint's Alp Teahouse, whose Chicago location is one of only two in the U.S.
We also walked along the river and up Michigan Avenue--which is illuminated so nicely this time of year!
The Hancock building peeking through the fog.
The tree in front of the Hancock was so nice!
We ended the evening back where we had started--at Lewis's place! This time it was to join Andy's family (who who spent Christmas in Chicago with him) and the guys for a game of "TV Scene It" (a game at which I am terrible and Goose is amazingly good--especially considering that we don't own a TV). By the end, Lewis and Nico were all tuckered out!
