The boys from our delegation burning off steam among some eucalyptus trees.

Last week, I was accompanying a delegation of high school boys from Boston, Massachusetts. I don’t have any brothers, so it was a very educational experience for me. Apparently, the life of a high school boy involves a lot of hacky sack, guitar picking, references to adult cartoons, and, if he is from Boston, “wicked sick fraps” (in Ohio, we would say really delicious milkshakes). Really, they were a great group of youth, and it was a gift to see them crash headfirst into Salvadoran history, culture and people.

While the boys were here, they had a packed schedule. They stayed for a couple nights in a rural community in the northeastern, mountainous region of the country, visited many historical sites around San Salvador, and listened to the personal stories of many individual Salvadorans. These stories had to do with everything from a person’s experience as a survivor of one of the many massacres the army perpetrated during the civil war in the eighties to the more recent experience of burying young community leaders, killed by the gangs that have significant control over certain streets. After a week of intense immersion and repeated breakings and healings of hearts, the boys’ last day included meeting with national representatives to the National Assembly from both the FMLN, the leftist party that was formed from the people’s guerilla army in 1992, and ARENA, the rightist party, whose founder allegedly ordered many of the massacres and disappearances of civilians during the civil war. El Salvador is a politically polarized country, to say the least.

One of the representatives, after making disturbing comments about the role of indigenous peoples in Central America and his “forgive and forget” policy towards the massacres and disappearances of civilians that happened not even thirty years ago, made a flippant, offhand comment that grabbed ahold of my internal organs and gave them a good shake. He said, “I don’t believe that El Salvador will ever be a first world country.”

For me, the major offense was not the representative’s lack of political correctness. I was totally put off by the fact that this man, who was elected by his people to represent them, does not think that El Salvador will ever become what he hopes it will be. His job is to fight for the well-being of his constituents and to work to better the country in the way they think most adequate, and he does not believe his goals for the country will be accomplished.

This kind of hopelessness is the exact opposite of the attitude that I see among most Salvadorans about the future of this country.

A forum, organized by youth, with the three candidates for mayor of Cacaopera, a small municipality in rural Morazán.

Elections in El Salvador are on March 11. They aren’t presidential elections, but mayors and representatives to the national assembly -including the men who spoke with our group- are battling it out, and hard. Over the last few weeks, almost every day, I have found myself in the middle of some impassioned argument about national policy, the big changes being made to the electoral process this year, or the candidates up for election. There is hope, creativity, and fire behind these discussions. There is also disillusionment, anger, and sadness at mistakes that have been made or politicians’ hypocritical and corrupt practices, but never, not once, have I heard someone say that El Salvador will never become what she or he hopes it will be.

A few nights ago, as I was heading out for pupusas, the national food, I walked right into the middle of a party rally on my block. It was the party of the representative with whom the group spoke, and the participants were waving flags, wearing t-shirts, and wailing along with the campaign song. They were incensed. They were passionate; they were committed to the goals they have for their country.

I spent my pre-dinner journal time at my corner table drafting how to ask them about their representative’s comment. I wanted to know what regular Salvadorans thought about his attitude. I wanted to hear from his supporters how what he had said would make them feel. I sped through dinner, curtido and salsa a’flying…

They were gone when I walked back outside.

Laurel is a new blogger, currently working as the International Relations and Delegations Coordinator at FUNDAHMER in El Salvador.

The international aid community has struggled with this question for years: When a country is in dire straights in almost every aspect, what is the responsibility of the international community? But wait: let’s backtrack for a moment here.

Many a U.S. citizen has heard about the so-called “War on Drugs” (the term first used by President Nixon in 1971). We have seen movies like Trainspotting and Requiem for a Dream that illustrate the dangers of addiction along with films like Traffic and Maria Full of Grace that give a glimpse into the dark side of the drug trade. We know we have an important to role to play in quashing it.

Many United Statesians are familiar with D.A.R.E. programs, Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous and efforts to legalize Marijuana. “Rehab” has been a pop culture buzzword for at least a decade now. Young, educated Americans are inundated with information about drugs, what they do, why they’re bad, why people do them anyway and (whether they know it or not) have access to a variety of rehabilitation programs should they develop a problem.

As far as the general understanding of the “War on Drugs” goes, I imagine your average American is like I was in their perception of it:

• It’s not a “real” war. Sending a bunch more DEA agents to Colombia and Mexico to root out cartels isn’t really like sending troops to Afghanistan.
• The “war” has put more users and dealers in jail (at least in the US) but it hasn’t necessarily decreased demand or production.
• We all assume that the best cocaine comes from Colombia and that the drug runner’s gateway to the U.S. in Mexico. We know that the United States is the land of consumerism. (Fun fact: The US consumes 90% of the world’s cocaine*)

But how many of us are aware of the effects the drug trade actually has on countries outside of the US. What percentage of us know that the “War on Drugs” is actually a legitimate war for many of those involved? Not very many, I wager.

Let’s take a look at Honduras. Increased efforts to weed out organized crime and corruption in Colombia and Mexico have created a vice that is essentially squeezing the violence from those two countries into the “Northern Triangle” of Central America (El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras). Put that in a context where more than 66% of Hondurans live in poverty, of which 45% live in extreme poverty (less than 2 dollars a day). Exploitation and its horrible consequences are bound to take hold.

The correlation between corruption, poverty, violence, and organized crime in Honduras is very much a chicken versus egg scenario. It’s hard to say which came first, but there is no denying that they are all part of a tangled web suffocating this country and that drug cartels play a significant role. When you look at the statistics, it is actually quite unnerving to see just how bad things have become here:

• Honduras jumped up to the #1 spot of highest murder rates in the world in 2011. In Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, the murder rate is 109 per year. In San Pedro Sula, 125.
• In the United States, the murder rate is about 6.  Yes, that’s a big difference, but let’s get even more specific: Chicago, or the “murder capital where they murder for capital” according to our man Kanye – 15 homicides (per 100,000 people) in the past year. New Orleans is the US city with the highest number on record in one year – 49.

Why, then, is there so much violence in Honduras? A variety of reasons, but mostly gangs and drugs. And why, then, hasn’t anything been done about it? In fact, why does it seem to be getting worse? Corruption and Poverty. Chicken meet Egg, Egg meet Chicken.

A large factor in the recent surge in violence throughout the country was the coup d’état in 2009. After the coup, there was a substantial amount of political instability and uncertainty that opened a window for gangs and cartels to increase their influence and power. Once the country was stabilized, it was too late. Organized crime had already bought its influence and the Lobo administration has been facing those consequences ever since. The most frustrating thing about situations like this is that there is not very much anybody can do about it; at least not from the outside.

What needs to happen is a mix of things that come from within the country. This signifies that the people of Honduras must work together to stand up for themselves and hold people accountable for their actions. That the government needs to weed out corruption and do what they need to do to actually uphold the law to protect its citizens.  This is all much easier said than done provided that corruption is currently rampant throughout the police force as well as among elected officials, and people who stand up to gangs and other abusers of peace are often killed as an example to the rest of the community.

It is a sad and dangerous situation that provides a significant challenge to international volunteers and organizations. There are still a lot of good works to be done to support and empower Hondurans in their efforts to improve their economic situation and standard of living.

However, the question that comes to mind in situations like this is: when is it necessary to step away? Is it “tough love” in the best interest of the country to let them figure things out on their own? Or is it abandoning them in their time of need? So coming back to the beginning: the international aid community has struggled with these questions for years. But what is the role of the international community- nonprofit organizations, states and governments, and the humble volunteer- when a country is struggling from bottom up?

Disclaimer: The contents of this article are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps. Amanda is currently a Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Estudiantes Chilenos Exilados por la Educación August 25th. Photo by Javiera A. Fuentes

“Y como, y como, y como es la wea? Aca estudiamos gratias en Chile hay que pagar!” ~ Chant of Chilean students exiled by education in Argentina

Surely by now most have heard about the massive student protests going on in Chile demanding free, public and secular education for all students in Chile. La Vida Idealist’s own Paul Kearney recently wrote about the protests in Santiago. Since his article, Chile has seen two days of national strikes, huge marches and manifestations throughout the nation, the death of a 16 year-old student by the hands of Chilean a police officer, and general public outrage.

The raising of voices and public out-cry for change is not, however, limited to the Chilean side of the Andes. Chilean students in Argentina, who consider themselves to be exiled by the educational system in Chile, refuse to be silent on the issue. They too are taking their drums, their banners, and their pots and pans to the streets of Buenos Aires. With gas masks and clown noses on their faces they chant “Se va caer, se va caer la educacion de Pinochet!,” a pointed accusation that the current government and its educational policies fall in line with those of Chilean dictator Augosto Pinochet.

Though the issue is incredibly complex and the situation more than a little “heavy,” I honestly find the ferocity with which Chilean students are fighting for their right to education inspiring. The argument is simple: the right to education comes before the rights of big business. Or, at least it should. And yet, students find themselves without options. In order to study they have to leave the country or incur a massive debt. It’s not unlike the situation in the US, something my immense student debt speaks to in volumes. The difference is, Chileans have decided they’ve had enough.

Playing tarkeadas from Sorcoroma, Chile in Aug. 25 March. Photo by Javiera A. Fuentes

So, for me it was an easy decision to march with the Lakas del Oriente, the only chilean style band of sikuris in Argentina, most of the members of which are students who came to Buenos Aires to study. On the 25th of August we were joined in solidarity by members of different bands through out the city as we lead the march playing tarka, a wooden, andean flute traditional used during carnaval.

Marcha chilenos en Buenos Aires Apoyo al movimiento estudiantil from Javiera A. Bontá on Vimeo.

Change is coming in Chile. This Saturday president Pinera will meet with student leadership to begin talks. I guess my question is; have we had enough?

Artists from the Frente de Artistas del Borda Criticize Buenos Aires' Governor, Mauricio Macri, in Reinsertón (Photo by Frente de Artistas del Borda)

One of the best things about rehearsing in IMPA is that there are always interesting things going on in other parts of the factory. Be it circus training on the third floor, dance classes in the machine room, or chess in the lobby, my friends often make fun of me for getting caught up in whatever activity is going on. “Lauren, que barrilete que sos!” And they’re right, I tend to go where the wind takes me. So, a few weeks ago when Jaime, an out-patient from the psychiatric hospital El Hospital Borda who has been rehearsing with us, invited us to see his play, I was more than on board.

IMPA’s recently renovated black box theater, inaugurated the Teatro Nora Cortiñas in honor of Nora Cortiñas, one of the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, and known affectionally as the “Teatrito,” hosts 2-3 shows per weekend and is becoming an increasingly important space for alternative and activist theater in Buenos Aires.  Most recently they have been featuring a show called “Reinsertón” produced and performed by the Frente de Artistas del Borda’s theater troupe “La tenés afuera (You have it outside)”

The show, interpreted by the current and former patients of the Borda in collaboration with actors and other non-patients who together form La tenés afuera, deals with the process of reinserción (reinsertion), defined as ” returning to integrate one’s self in society after having been marginalized”, and begs the question: What good does institutionalization really do? How do we go back?

Scene from Reinsertón (Photo Courtesy of Frente de Artistas del Borda)

The audience, myself included, exploded with laughter as the only character that seemed to have a name, a young woman referred to only by her last name, Desesperetti (a play on the the word desperate), struggled her way through the bureaucratic hoops and contradictions of Argentine society. Unable to pay her rent, which, as a result of inflation, was raised overnight, Desesperetti is sent from one office to another looking for some kind of help. In the end, she finds herself on the street sleeping under an Argentine flag with her land lady, who through her own series of unfortunate events finds herself homeless as well. The play, written by the cast, throws out harsh criticisms against the city government and Governor Mauricio Macri as well as the national government in such a way that is both hysterical and extremely insightful. Most importantly, however, it provides the patients of the Borda with a powerful outlet through which to make their voices heard.

The Frente de Artistas del Borda came into existence in 1984 with the objective of using art and artistic expression as a way of criticizing and transforming society and empowering the voices of in- and out- patients of one of the city’s largest psychiatric hospitals, the Hospital Interdisciplinario Psicoasistencial José Tiburcio Borda or as it’s known El Borda. For the past 25 years they have been fighting for desmanicomialización, a word that is hard to define in english as it is as inherently political. The concept of desmanicomialización is that of both deinstitutionalizing but also more importantly de-stigmatizing mental disease.

La tenés afuera is a theater group based out of the Borda Hospital which confronts the issue of desmanicomialización throughout improvisation and collective construction concerning  issues relevant to the participants both inside and outside the hospital.

Despite outcries by hospital staff, patients and general public, the Borda Hospital has been without heat or hot water for nearly 4 months. This has brought about severe criticism of Macri, the current state of Argentina’s public health system, and the marginalization of mental disease.

Lauren Deal is currently a Fulbright Scholar and Program Assistant at Sustainable Horizon. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog.

In the election held earlier this month in Pery, Keiko Fujimori and Ollanta Humala (the two most left-wing candidates) passed into the runoff elections, which will happen in another month’s time. Combined, they pulled a little over 50% of the total vote (if you look at the picture, they won almost every rural district).

Being young and living in a metropolis, I’d wager that 90% of people I know voted against these candidates, who campaign to bring social and economic equality through methods that Hugo Chavez would probably support. In a country with about 20% of its citizens living in poverty (as reported by the UNDP), it seems most white collar professionals and educated 20-somethings understand that the opportunities afforded to them have not yet extended past the city walls, and that for rural areas, change is slow in coming.

One of my students said to me over coffee, “I’m disappointed in the outcome. But I understand why it happened, and I- we all- should have done more to make sure that the gains we got through the available opportunities and prosperity of recent years was extended to rural and poorer communities. This is a good wake up call. I didn’t vote for these candidates because I don’t think they’re capable of making the changes they say they will make, and I think the country as a whole will suffer. But if I was living in abject poverty, would I vote the same way, would I vote for a drastic change in how the economy and politics were handled in this country? Absolutely.”

I’ve been thoroughly impressed by the reactions of those around me. Yes, when the power goes out at a party, someone takes it upon themselves to shout ‘Humala!’ in a despairing manner into the night. But when pressed, they acknowledge finding themselves responsible for the current political situation, and though unhappy with it, they do not find fault with people who believe these candidates are truly the best option for the country.

I could only hope for the same for my communities in the United States and Russia, where politics seem to be a zero-sum, right or wrong, sort of game.

Luba Guzei is currently an English teacher with Langrow in Lima, Peru.

In the last month I’ve come to realize that the political landscape is just as diverse, complex, and full of historical tension as the natural terrain.

Presidential and congressional elections were held this past Sunday, April 10th. There were five candidates whose numbers hover around to 15-20% mark, depending on where you get your information. This means that all five had a reasonable shot at passing into the final, two-candidate runoff round. In a young democracy where voting is mandatory by law for all citizens over 18, this means that political opinions run the gamut even among people with similar backgrounds. While official sources may say one thing, I’ve found it’s most interesting to gather this information from regular Peruvians.

The striking thing about the election is that Peruvians aren’t just deciding between who will temporarily be in charge of a rigidly defined political system, but between five candidates that represent several disparate beliefs about the fundamental way that Peru’s democracy should function. Each election is about continuing to define that system to make it most effective for all Peruvians, and to express how they feel about issues such as external influence (such as U.S. education, or ties to other country’s politicians), drivers of growth, and methods for ensuring social and economic equality.

And like the terrain, the political landscape also has a tension between the past and the present. I’ve found that few people speak about the candidates in terms of their promises for the future; most tend to focus on past behavior and associations. Here, politics isn’t just about ideals moving forward, but about having proven yourself in a place where disappointing performance and rampant corruption are considered the norm.

As the election draws closer, it seems many are still undecided, and no one knows quite what to expect. I won’t spend so much time talking about Peru’s politics in the future, but I’ll be checking back in on the topic within the next couple of weeks if there are any interesting developments. Below, what Limeans have told me about the candidates (I’ve done my best to exclude facts I’ve learned from sources that aren’t people I know). Matt Finch, our blogger from the more provincial and culturally different Ayacucho, has had his own thoughts to add.

The Candidates:

Keiko Fujimori: Daughter of Alberto Fujimori, former president of Peru who is credited with ending the Shining Path’s ‘terrorism activities’ in Peru, but who was ousted from office on corruption and war-crime charges. Always distanced herself from her father’s misbehavior, will be surrounded by Fujimori’s old advisors, will free her father from prison. Many think her supporters simply feel an allegiance to the family.

Ollanta Humala: Connected to Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez, he came out of nowhere in the last presidential election, only losing by 6%. Many fear this connection, believing he will not be making his own decisions, and many also have qualms about his social agenda, which may slow current economic growth through socialization or spooking investors. Popular in the provinces, who believe that they don’t feel the benefits of recent economic progress and want a change in the way the economy and social safety net are handled.

Alejandro Toledo: President of Peru from 2001 to 2006. Increased government wages, which helped put qualified officials in important government positions, and many believe led to the current strength of Peru’s economic growth. While few have anything specifically negative to say about his political capabilities, rumors have recently begun to swirl about the existence of some drinking/drug habits.

Pedro Pablo Kuczynski: Holds a U.S. and Peruvian passport, which raises fear that if he misgoverns he might follow in the footsteps of Fujimori and flee the country. Used to work for the world bank, and was finance minister under Toledo. Many see him as a capable economist (one chain email asked: which candidate would you want running your company? The answer was PPK), and he has strong yet doable plans to improve public goods like education. Yet others are concerned that he is too capitalism-minded, and that while it seems like he abetted economic growth, all he really did was sell natural resources to foreign companies. They fear he will push for growth, rather than equality.

Oscar Castaneda: Former mayor of Lima. Has a plan to improve roads throughout the country, though some complain that he sees all of Peru as Lima, rather than a country with 24 separate provinces. I have not heard strong arguments for or against, and he consistently polls behind the other candidates.

Luba Guzei is currently an English teacher with Langrow in Lima, Peru.

By Flickr user KitKat (Creative Commons)

You may have noticed there hasn’t been much going on with La Vida Idealist since 2011 began.

We haven’t forgotten about you. Our bloggers are still making a difference. And we’re still striving to make this blog your one-stop shop for learning about the world of free service opportunities.

The truth? We’re bringing on a brand new editorial team. But we need a bit of time to make that transition.

So please hang on tight. We’ll be back up and running with voices old and new from the field shortly.

As a best case scenario, any of these instances could have been the case for the 33 miners who were trapped in the San José copper-gold mine on August 5^th this year after an alarming collapse.

I still can’t even begin to imagine the fearful thoughts that must have been running through their heads after day 5, day 30, and day 60, wondering if they were ever really going to get out of there. And that’s only if hunger pangs and physical exhaustion weren’t completely taking over their thought processes.

Thankfully all 33 were rescued and lifted out of 700 metres (2,300 ft) of mine, one by one. As the last miner was lifted out, the rescue workers held up a sign that read, “Misión cumplida Chile” (Mission Accomplished Chile!) The survival and rescue of the miners was celebrated in Chile and all over the world, broadcast on every major news channel.  Presidents and foreign leaders across the globe congratulated Piñera, president of Chile.

The people of Chile came together like I’ve never seen done in the States.  Together, the 33 miners plan to start a foundation to help in mining safety to prevent cases like this from happening in the future.

Misión cumplida Chile!

Lindsey Chapman is now back in Chile and enjoying her time after extending her commitment with the nonprofit, VE Global.

This last week, I witnessed (and smelled) the proletariat taking a stand. In response to pay cuts and layoffs, the garbage workers of Buenos Aires protested by not collecting trash for 72 hours. This may not seem too bad, but the city severely lacks dumpsters, so residents and businesses put bags of trash on the street to be picked up. As the strike wore on, bags of trash piled up on sidewalks and street corners, slowly baking in the sun, reminding those who walked by how much society needs its public servants.

As I investigated the strike, I found that this was not an isolated incident. Protests are very common in Buenos Aires; you can find people organizing and picketing for a cause almost daily. The protests aren’t limited to workers, either. Last week, people protested the killing of a young man who died during a confrontation between railroad workers and leftist party members. I even found an article on a group called “Feo” who protest the beautiful people in Buenos Aires. It seems like people here are ready to fight literally every injustice and inequality.

At first the trash on the street really bothered me, but I came to appreciate the meaning behind it. I think it’s really admirable that people here are so willing to take a stand and fight for what they believe in. During the beginning of the Iraq war in 2003 I saw some protesters in the U.S., but for the most part I think Americans are more concerned with the stock market or what’s going to happen next on “The Hills” than they are with making a stand for something they believe in.

The next time your trash is picked up, or your mailman delivers your mail, stop and give them a heartfelt appreciation. We really should be thankful for these people in our lives, because you don’t really know how important they are until there gone.

Noah Sidman-Gale most recently moved to Argentina from California.  For more on protest and revolution in Latin America, check out “I Called the President at 12:18 p.m.” and “Removal is a Social Crime!” by Jamie Worms, “Cicovía: A Car Free Revolution” by Matt Aaron and “Strike Season” by Flora Lindsay-Herrera.