Salvadorans Back Home

It was a Sunday morning, and the Metropolitan Cathedral in San Salvador was full. We stayed in the back, standing along the wall, and tried to be as inconspicuous as five Americans could be, but we still clearly stuck out as “tourists.”

Greg and I led a group of 12 persons representing CBF of Virginia and Mid-Atlantic CBF to El Salvador to learn more about the country and its history of migration, which dates to the 1930s. Today, with a population of 6.4 million, an additional 2.5 million Salvadorans are estimated to live abroad, and the majority reside in the US.

As Mass ended and everyone began to exit the church, one lady came up to us and seemed to want to talk with someone from “home.” She was clearly Latina, Spanish was her native language, but she wanted to speak to us in English.

A native of El Salvador, Maria* had lived in the US for over 20 years, and only recently had she returned to El Salvador and begun to reconnect with her family. She and her American husband had recently purchased a house in one of the communities surrounding San Salvador, and they plan to return periodically for extended visits. “My husband, he likes my country,” she said. “I’m so happy!”

Maria and her children migrated to the US in the early 2000s to escape the increasing gang violence in her neighborhood. Her children weren’t safe, she didn’t feel safe, and as a single mother, she couldn’t find work that would support her family. She saw few good options if she stayed in El Salvador. Today, Maria is a US citizen.

In the central plaza in front of the Cathedral, Lupita* approached us wearing an orange Texas Longhorns T-shirt and selling snacks as a street vendor. She was smiling broadly, and she also wanted to tell us her story (we were still the only obvious foreigners in sight).

Lupita had left her country as a teen and lived in the US all her adult life before being deported. She’s been back in El Salvador now for several years, and the adjustment has been very hard. “I’m OK, it’s OK here now, not like before,” she said. “I feel safe.” But one of the most difficult parts of her story is that Lupita’s children aren’t with her. They’re US citizens and live in the States, where Lupita believes they’ll have a better future.

Our primary goal for being in El Salvador was to better understand the dynamics of migration, including the reasons for migration, such as safety, security, better opportunities, poverty, and family reunification.

Another dynamic of migration is the consequences for those who stay behind. Economic disparities, particularly in rural communities, between those who have family in the US and receive remittances, and those who do not. Family disintegration and separation, where children have parents who live in the US, or where parents have been returned (deported) to El Salvador without their children.

We spent our time talking with average folks in communities; with community, church, and religious leaders; with legal aid and human rights organizations; and with journalists and representatives of media organizations. The common theme was that things have changed in recent years as the country has, from all appearances, regained control from the violent gangs.

People like Maria and Lupita are quick to tell us about tangible changes they’ve seen. They’re now able to safely visit or live in El Salvador, to visit relatives in different neighborhoods without the fear of crossing gang territory, and to go about normal routines without fear. There is less fear of extortion or kidnapping. And there is a collective sigh of relief.

But what’s brought about the drastic change, and at what cost? Essentially, the current president declared a State of Exception for the country in March 2022. This 30-day emergency action (which is still in effect) grants the authorities power to arrest anyone suspected of gang activity and suspends several constitutional rights, including the normal protections of criminal procedure such as the right to a speedy trial.

There’s a growing sense of unease as this 30-day measure has now been extended for 18 months. Approximately 80,000 persons have been detained and imprisoned. There are reports of abuse and illegal detentions, accusations of violations of human rights. And with primary breadwinners detained, families are struggling to survive.

Where many people were afraid of the gangs in the past, they’re becoming uneasy with the power of the police and of the military. They’ve gone silent.

We ended our time in El Salvador with profound admiration at the courage and determination of church leaders who, like Oscar Romero during the 1970s, are striving to give “voice to the voiceless”.