After the years go by and life develops, there are activities or habits that one stops carrying out. These activities always mark oneself, since they were part of your routine in the formative years of your life. This text seeks to capture one of those customs and the impact it had on my life. Through the experiences I lived with my father (my old man), and his stories based on memories of his life, this story gave me a spark.
Since I remember every Sunday, we traveled with my father to my grandmother's house, who lived in Cojutepeque, one of the 16 municipalities in the Department of Cuscatlán. My grandmother had lived in this city before it became one. El Salvador is one of the smallest countries in America. One can cross entire departments in a few hours and in some cases minutes. This has always been an advantage since everything is relatively close.
It had been 34 years since my grandfather, may he rest in peace, had bought her that house. They had moved from the east of the country, from a town called Jucuapa to be precise. The main reason for their relocation was the civil war. Six years had passed since it had officially started, although many affirm that the guerrillas had been preparing since the beginning of the Cold War.
This was not the first time they had to relocate. It had been 5 years since they had just returned to Jucuapa. It was a small town with a few streets and houses, a central park full of vegetation and social life, a beautiful white church, and the municipal mayor's office. They had left for the first time since my grandfather was a Local Commander, and from time to time he was posted in a different town.
The Armed Forces had a unit called the Territorial Service, in which a military representative lived in each municipality of the nation. The person in charge of each town was called the Local Commander. The officer would have an office in town, generally, it was a house, and his family lived there.
He was responsible for supervising both the urban and rural population, keeping some sort of census with all the information on the inhabitants of the municipality, how many families, how many vehicles, what they produced, even if there were foreigners in case they were running away from other municipalities.
Among his obligations was to organize cantonal patrols, assigned to each canton, and they came to report every weekend on the news that occurred in their canton, for example; that a lady had given birth to her and they had taken her to be treated in another canton, or that some neighbors had fought over a dispute related to adjoining land.
The war was enormous and brought much devastation to the Salvadoran people, who paid a high price for taking the blood and the lives of many compatriots. Times were hard, and people fled away from the conflicted areas since there was always collateral damage at the time of combat. By this time, the war had already advanced to Jucuapa, and the matter became so serious that some armed men even asked about my grandfather, because of his tough character as local commander of many towns throughout his military service.
I didn't have the chance to meet him, but my dad definitely had a lot of respect and admiration for him. He enjoys telling us stories about him, the care and lessons he gave him. His adventures in the war against Honduras. The creative ingenuity he had against difficulties of the day to-day. His ability in the field, as well as his knowledge of nature.
I always liked listening to the stories my father had to tell about my grandfather. I felt they helped me get to know him a little better. Through them, I felt like I was getting to know him, and through his words as if I were living his anecdotes with them.
My father had also chosen a military career, which limited his time since he did not have a fixed schedule and was always at the disposal of any type of action. The weekend was the only time I could spend time with him. During the week, I was busy with my studies and endless assignments.
On Saturday, I always attended extra-curricular courses, whether it was languages or sports. Afterward, my parents would pick me up and we got to spend time together. This time, despite being super special, was not as sacred for me as the next day. I remember that when faced with a bad experience or a bad time, I always thought about Sundays, my grandmother's food, and being on the road with my dad.
That long route with wide roads and a separation in the form of a trench between the tracks, the mountains that could be seen in the distance almost disappearing, this road surrounded a lake, and just before reaching the town, there was a section where you could appreciate the beautiful lake of Ilopango.
My father always said "Tomorrow we will get up early", which allowed us to appreciate the landscapes with desolate roads. From time to time, depending on the weather, a thick mist spread throughout the valley of the mountains, and only the peaks of these were visible, giving the impression that they were flying. On other occasions when the weather was drier, you could see the sun caressing the mountains as they rose from the east of the country. I think this is where my love for sunrises comes from.
This was my favorite day, commonly only my father and I would go. On certain occasions, cousins and aunts accompanied us. They visited my grandmother to spend the day and enjoy a delicious plate of homemade food, usually a typical Salvadorean dish. When the table was set and food served, there was an unwritten custom, an unintentional tradition of telling stories and remembering moments. My grandparents had eight children, so you have to imagine that the stories never got repeated. It seemed that every time the family got together, they invented more stories.
For me, this was like watching a series in disarray, trying to match names, times, and dates to fully understand what they were talking about. Every time family members we hadn't seen in a while came, they brought new stories with them. The stories were always about how my father and his siblings grew up, the experiences that each lived in Perquín, in Jucuapa, and in all the places where my grandfather once stood out.
This was one of my favorite activities, but what I liked most about Sundays was that I could help my dad with whatever he was doing. As a child, I never understood how my father could work so many hours in the army and still spend the only day off doing physical work in my grandmother's house. I guess it reminded him of his own father in a way, as he taught him most of the skills he knew.
In the same way, the curiosity of my being was not limited to any kind of laziness or tiredness. I was always next to him, seeing how I could help. It is incredible how much I learned, the jobs we did were diverse. There were days when we planted different fruit trees, learned the difference between a tree and a bush, days when we reorganized the tool shed, I learned to carry heavy things with my body without hurting myself, how to use an electric saw, the importance of tree care and the essential fertilizers. I learned to plant legumes and tubers and to know the ripeness of certain fruits. My father has always been interested in carpentry and wood structures. Which led me to learn the ways of wood, saw, nail, sand, and varnish.
Every Sunday, there was a new world to learn, and despite being things that perhaps my dad had already done, he added a lesson to what we were doing, something extra that perhaps he had not done before due to age or for any other reason.
Despite being born in the city, and having gone to private schools far from rural areas, thanks to my father, I learned that something can be learned from all activities, that a job is as dignified as the quality with which it is done, not because of the social value it has, that everything in life is a process, and before harvesting you have to plant, that when one has worked and is exhausted, any food or drink made with love is pleasing to the palate, that humility is the most beautiful characteristic that a human being can have.
Many years have passed since I left my country since I left my parents, and since I have no longer accompanied my father to my grandmother's house. But I know that all these moments will never leave my mind and heart, and were all those experiences that shaped my being.