The Road to Izalco

Today our El Salvador pilgrims are slated to travel to Izalco to work with members of the Episcopal congregation of San Marcos. On our 2008 pilgrimage, we also visited Izalco, so four youth and one adult are making a return pilgrimage today. Doubtless they will see many of the same people they saw then and also play with many of the same kids—now two years older. And once again, our pilgrims will work on repairing the fragile road into the village.

As we pray for our pilgrims today, I’d like to post a piece by high school senior Lily Moodey. She was on the 2008 pilgrimage and wrote this piece afterward. I’m excited to hear from her what it was like to return to Izalco two years later. Here’s Lily:

Before this trip, when I thought of a road, I thought of people in orange suits and hard hats, big cement mixers, and detour signs. In fact, on our way to the airport a small stretch of 405 was closed for repair, and my family and I grumbled as we had to find an alternate route. These were the pictures that rolled through my mind as we prepared to help the community of San Marcos repair their road.

But in the two days we spent in the community, my definition of a road changed drastically. I learned that for these people, the road is their lifeline to the rest of the country, the only way they can get resources up and down the hill. The importance of this rocky dirt road was reflected in the participation of the community, especially the kids. As I struggled to navigate my wheelbarrow around the rocks, little ten-year-olds were dashing around barefoot, with no gloves and loads twice the size of mine.

I challenged one of the little boys I met, Santo Ricardo, to race me to the area we were patching up. I immediately tripped, hit my front wheel on a rock, and dumped all the dirt at my feet as Santo Ricardo teased me, laughing. It was then that I realized they didn’t need us to repair their road; they could do it themselves. It was just us being there that made the difference.

I saw this again when they told us we wouldn’t get to help pour the cement. I was disappointed, but when I learned the value of the cement, I realized that they couldn’t risk us wasting it. I was amazed to learn that the average income for a family in that community is four dollars a day, while a bag of cement costs six dollars. We were to use four bags that day, so the cement they were pouring was worth six days of work!

It was humbling to think that while I had always thought of myself as perfectly capable, I couldn’t be trusted with something this valuable. Instead, I moved lots of dirt and smoothed out the road to prepare for the pour. And on my breaks, I got to play with the kids, and our endless games of tag were definitely a highlight of the trip for me, even though I could never catch them and got plenty of laughs and stares from the people living there.

It was disappointing to see the rain come down in sheets as we pulled out, washing away some of our work. But as we waved goodbye to our new friends, I knew that our time in San Marcos was not wasted. This trip changed my perspective on many things, but you can be sure I will never look at a road the same way again.


10/4/10 edit: Here's Lily's reflection on the 2010 pilgrimage.