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The War in El Salvador ~ by René Colato Laínez

 When I was a child in El Salvador, I went to school, recited poetry, played with my friends and won a hula-hoop contest on national television. I might say that I had a normal childhood. But then, everything was upside down. For many days the school closed because of civil revolts. The radio and the television always talked about the army, guerrillas and the revolution in the country. The mad game came to El Salvador. The country was involved in a terrible civil war.

As I child, I did not really understand what was really going on. I asked myself many times, Why? Why were they doing this to the country? Before the war, when I heard a “boom”,  I clapped and jumped up a down. It was the sound of the fireworks for Christmas. A “boom” meant that Christmas was around the corner. But during the war, when I heard the first “boom”, I ran home and hid under my bed, while more “booms” went on and on. Because those “booms” were not the sounds of happiness, they were the sounds of war.

During the war, thousands of Salvadorans left the country looking for peace and better opportunities. Many of these Salvadorans traveled to the United States. My mom was the first one in the family who left the country. After many struggles, my father and I left El Salvador in 1985.

I arrived in Los Angeles, California and I had the determination to go to school to become a teacher. Now I am a kindergarten teacher at Fernangeles Elementary School. I am also the author of many children’s books.

In December 2010, Cinco Puntos Press contacted me to participate in a book. They were putting together an anthology about children and war and were wondering if I could consider submitting an essay for the anthology. Of course I said yes! I love Cinco Puntos Press books. I use their bilingual books in my classroom all the time. Participating in this anthology was an honor for me.

The name of the book is That Mad Game; Growing Up in a Warzone: An Anthology of Essays from Around the Globe. The editor of the anthology is J. L. Powers.

Now was the hard part. What to write about? I grew up during the war and I had so many memories. My fourth grade teacher was killed during the war. That morning, the school was closed. Instead of having class, all the students went to a funeral home that was located one block away from school. I also knew friends who were recruited and found dead days later in rubbish dumps.

But I wanted to write all the way from the bottom of my heart. I wanted to write about my family and how the war divided us. But it was hard! Remembering my mom saying good-bye at the airport, visiting my father in jail, listening to the terrible news that archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero was assassinated and the final chaos at the cathedral during his funeral were all hard memories to put on paper. I must confess that I wrote my essay with tears in my eyes. Also it was a good therapy to write the essay. Yes, the war divided us but it could not destroy our love, faith and family bond.

The name of my ess

Earlier this year I blogged about Primary Source when they hosted a Global Read of Mitali Perkins‘ book Bamboo People.  On March 2nd Primary Source will be hosting a new Global Read, this time focusing on Christina Diaz Gonzalez‘ YA book The Red Umbrella. The online discussion forum will be followed by a live web-based session with Christina on March 9th from 3:00 – 4:00pm EST.  Anyone interested in global issues is welcome to take part in this free event but must register online here.

The Red Umbrella follows a 14-year-old Cuban girl and her brother sent by their parents to live in the United States during the tumultuous period of 1960s Cuba. Christina says the story was ” loosely based on the experiences of my parents, mother-in-law and many of the other 14,000 children who participated in Operation Pedro Pan.”

Talking about why she wrote the book, Christina says:

“Obviously, this is a personal story and part of my family history. In fact, it’s an important part of American history and yet there wasn’t much written about it, especially from the point of view of the children who experienced it. The book showcases how the U.S. has always been a haven for those seeking refuge from injustice and oppression and how average Americans have stepped up to help those in need, even if they were foreigners in our country. I also wanted to show the pride immigrants (in this case Cubans) have for their homeland, but how, in the end, family is what matters most… home is not a physical place. It’s where you feel you belong, where you are surrounded by people who love and accept you.”

The Red Umbrella has been appearing on many YA book lists since being published in May 2010, including ALA/YALSA’s 2011 Best Fiction for Young Adults. You can read an interview with Christina here, and there is also an amazing book trailer made by Christina’s brother-in-law:

As we come to the end of our two-month focus on Refugee Children, there’s just time to remind ourselves of the important role books have in helping children to gain insight into traumatic events around the world, and to develop their own emotional response to them. We are fortunate to have so many gifted writers who are now writing such stories for children and young people of all ages (and publishers who are making these stories available). One of these writers is undoubtedly Pegi Deitz Shea, who has written about this far more eloquently than I ever could in her recent Personal View for PaperTigers: Reading About and Reaching Out to Refugees. Here’s an extract to ponder:

During the Vietnam War, I wished I had books about refugees, because the TV news overwhelmed me. As a child, I couldn’t process those images: Why are the children running? Did we hurt them? I thought we were supposed to be helping them? Will the children be okay? Today, the same need is exponentially true for youngsters. They are so barraged with audio-visual stimuli that it takes literature for them to slow down, absorb, share and process what’s going on in the world. And it takes teachers and parents to initiate that process.

Violence has become casual, entertaining, ubiquitous in the U.S. In Abe in Arms, my first novel for teens, Abe comes to America as an adopted Liberian war refugee. He receives initial therapy to help him deal with the loss of his family. But the deeper he gets into the American teen culture – sexual pressure, competitive sports, violent entertainment, substance abuse – the more absurd and worthless life becomes to him. These so-called “normal” teen experiences awaken in Abe untold traumas of sexual abuse and drunken days of slaughter. He becomes dangerous to himself and to others.

Without literature like this – and trusted adults to share it with – how can kids growing up far from disaster zones become aware of the life-and-death situations their counterparts face around the world? It is not only war, but also shattered economies and natural disasters that create refugees. But to kids tuned into the latest celebrity debacle, the earthquake in Haiti is old news, Hurricane Katrina is ancient news and the 2004 Tsunami in the Indian Ocean is etched on stone tablets. At the time of those tragedies, many schools generously and immediately responded to the call for aid. But the consequences of these events last a long time. Without books that last, how can we expect memories to last? How can we expect children to develop a lasting commitment to caring?

“My grandmother saw
the emperor cry
the day he lost
his golden dragon throne.”

So begins The Lotus Seed by Sherry Garland and illustrated by Tatsuro Kiuchi, a beautifully crafted story set in Vietnam and the U.S. The lotus seed of the title belongs right at its heart, both as a souvenir and talisman, and as a link across generations.

When she saw the emperor cry, the narrator’s Bà (grandmother) picked a lotus seed to remember him by, and from then on it became her most treasured possession, carried in her pocket for luck when she got married, and later, when war in Vietnam meant she had to flee, brought with her to America to take up its customary place under the family altar. So when “Last summer/ my little brother” took the seed and planted it in the garden, Bà was understandably devastated – but then in the spring an amazing thing happens. A beautiful lotus flower grows in the mud, providing a concrete connection for the children with their heritage. Bà once again has a lotus seed, and so do her grandchildren. And following in her grandmother’s footsteps, our young narrator wraps hers in silk and hides it away – with the intention of planting it for her own children…

The narrative is simple and poetic, which emphasises the feeling of the cyclical passing of years. It also allows the horrors of the story to come through without being overly traumatic for young listeners. Tatsuri Kiuchi’s beautiful illustrations are particularly powerful here, showing grandmother as a young woman fleeing her village pulling her son behind her; and then as one of many passengers on a boat leaving Vietnam, only distinguishable because of her hand across her chest holding tightly onto the lotus seed.

The Lotus Seed is a moving story that is perfectly pitched for young children and for reading aloud, even at bedtime. There are also good, concise historical notes at the end about Vietnam; and an added bonus is the lovely, anonymous poem about the Lotus flower – in Vietnamese on the back cover, and its English translation on the dedication page. I have included The Lotus Seed in my Personal View of refugee stories for children of all ages, as part of our current issue, which focuses on Refugee Children.

And, at a bit of a tangent really: do take a look at Japanese illustrator Tatsuro Kiuchi’s website - his most recent children’s book covers also look beautiful; and I was delighted to discover that he was the artist of the UK Christmas stamps a few years ago. That was the same Christmas that I (picture horrified mother) discovered Older Brother had made a collage (picture proud small son) incorporating a rather large number of (new) said stamps…

For the month of September, we will continue to explore the topic of Refugees in children’s books. Today I would like to share a book I recently came across on the topic: Tropical Secrets: Holocaust Refugees in Cuba by Cuban-American poet Magarita Engle (Henry Holt & Co, 2009). This is the author’s third novel in verse about Cuba (the previous two were the award-winning The Poet Slave of Cuba and The Surrender Tree), and this time her story takes place during WWII, when when the rise of Nazism led to a severe rise in refugees from Germany trying to find safety in other parts of the world.

A historical note at the end (and readers may want to consider reading it before getting started), helps contextualize the story, which is told, mostly, in the alternating voices of Daniel, a 13 year-old German Jewish who escapes Germany in 1939 after being separated from his parents, and whose ship is finally allowed entry in Cuba after being turned away from the U.S. and Canada; and Paloma, a 12 year-old girl who, unbeknownst to her father, is helping refugees. We also get to “hear” accounts of the refugees situation by two adults: El Gordo, Paloma’s father, who is making money by selling entry permits to refugees; and David, a former refugee who, along with others, such as young Paloma, helps shelter and feed the recently arrived refugees.

It seems Cuba is no safe haven, though, as the same boats that bring those “searching for something as simple as hope”, are also bringing Nazi agents, whose mission is to stir up anti-Semitism in the island.

The story of Tropical Secrets is mainly Daniel’s, who never loses hope of one day being reunited with his parents (as far as he knows, they are looking for him in New York, where his boat was supposed to have gone). However, the layering of the four distinct voices and perspectives, paint a much more detailed portrait of this painful and little-known chapter of Cuba’s history. It also helps us realize how dependent on the good will of others refugees’ lives are, and reminds us—because we still need to be reminded— that history leaves traces on how we live in the present.

The author says, at the end: “Even though I didn’t follow the faiths of either of my parents, I hope I have taught my children to be the kind of people who will help refugess of any faith in times of need.”… Wonderful words to ponder over as we close the book and travel with our thoughts, looking for ways to help those who have come to our country looking for hope and a safe harbor.

Following up on my post from last week, Mitali has graciously allowed us to share her blog post about the event here:

A thousand thanks to Porter Square Books in Cambridge, Ma and to my publisher Charlesbridge for hosting my Bamboo People book launch party. I always get nervous, so I greatly appreciated everybody who came and sent notes of encouragement from near and far. I’ve posted a few videos below, and here are some recaps from others who attended:
Charlesbridge, Walk the Ridgepole, Not Just For Kids, Britt Leigh’s Brain on Books, and The Papa Post

Arrived to find this gorgeous bamboo plant sent from Portland, Maine by Curious City’s Kirsten Cappy, Jamie Hogan (who illustrated my book Rickshaw Girl), Annie Sibley O’ Brien (After Gandhi), and King middle school librarian Kelley McDaniel. Thank you so much, ladies, for your love and support!

I loved watching people mingle and meet.

My buddy Deb Sloan is one of the best book cheerleaders on the planet.

Authors who write for adults don’t get love like this.

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A young Afghan boy shares his life and dreams for the future with us in The Roses in My Carpets by Rukhsana Khan and illustrated by Ronald Himler (Holiday House, 1998), a beautiful, thought-provoking picture book set in a refugee camp in Pakistan. He doesn’t like school but loves the afternoons he spends weaving carpets from brightly colored threads that all hold special meaning for him: although “Everything in the camp is a dirty brown, so I do not use brown anywhere on my carpets.” One day his work is interrupted by the shocking news that his sister has been badly hurt. He runs to the hospital. His mother is already there, too distraught to think rationally. Our young narrator takes charge, sending his mother home while he waits for news at the hospital. Fortunately, this being a children’s story, the news is good – which in turn allows for a breathing space that alters the nightmare of conflict he describes at the beginning of the book: that night his dreams open up to allow a tiny space out of danger for him and his beloved family.

Reading a story that includes issues of conflict and hurt needs plenty of thinking and discussion space around it, especially at bedtime – but Rukhsana Khan has written this story so deftly that they too will be comforted by the ending. This wonderful book includes a lot of incidental detail, such as the muezzin calling people to prayer and the boy’s musings about his overseas sponsor. Particularly convincing is the way the boy and his mother can hardly eat at the end of the day, after their terrible fright; and also the reality depicted of a boy who is very mature – who has had to grow up too quickly and take adult responsibilities on his shoulders. The attention to detail also carries over into the fine ilustrations – and young readers, and perhaps adults too, may be particularly struck by the mud buildings in the refugee camp.

I have included The Roses in My Carpet in my Personal View for our current issue of PaperTigers, which focuses on Refugee Children. Rukhsana also talks about the book in her interview with us last year; and do listen to her reading it here. On her blog, she has been discussing Ramadan recently – and I particularly enjoyed this post with an Afghan fable. Yesterday Aline pointed to some books for children that focus on Ramadan – including another of Rukhsana’s…

And please, please spare a thought for all those caught up in the floods in Pakistan, including Afghan refugees like the boy and his family in The Roses in my Carpets. If you’re looking for a charity who are sending relief, take a look at Sally’s post for some links.