Page 38 - Marlie Burton Roche : Landscape and Bread

When we were in El Salvador with delegates, we tortured. One man was hurt so badly that some of
would take school and medical supplies into the
control zones. It was extremely dangerous, if not
impossible, for members of ANDES to move freely
around the countryside to distribute materials. As
internationals, we were in a better position to rent a
truck and deliver supplies and equipment to the rural
communities where ANDES was helping establish
popular schools. That is not to say that it was
not dangerous for us as well, because it was. The
schools were often in war zones and we had to get a
‘Salvoconducto’, a written pass, from the Salvadoran
military before we could undertake these ‘trips’ to
the countryside.
One of our supply runs in 1987 was especially
memorable. I was with five other women, four
Canadians and one American. We spent two days
getting the ‘salvoconducto’ and then left early in the
morning, planning to meet with two people from
the targeted community in the City of Chalatenago.
They were going to escort us to the village. The
roads were mined. But even though we had a pass,
we were held up at various military roadblocks and
we arrived several hours late, missing our escort.
We proceeded anyway, getting stuck in mud more
than once (it was the rainy season). We had to
eventually stop far short of our destination because
a burnt-out jeep was blocking the road. We locked
the school supplies in the truck, put the medical
supplies and equipment into our backpacks, and
walked. We were heading for the re-populated
community of San José Las Flores, in the province
of Chalatenango in northern El Salvador. It was a
four-hour hike in almost unbearable heat. When we
came upon streams or rivers, we would jump in with
all our clothes on. Upon arrival at San José Las
Flores we found that government military forces had
attacked the village just hours before. Crops had
been burned, livestock killed, and two men brutally
34 MARLIE BURTON-ROCHE LANDSCAPE & BREAD
the townspeople had tied him onto the back of a
horse and taken him to the closest FMLN ‘sanitario’
(a health centre). We collected testimony, met with
the town’s organizers, and attended classes with the
local popular teacher. Military helicopters started
circling around and we were told that the military
was probably looking for us and that we should hide.
We did. We stayed overnight in the village, as it was
too dangerous to travel at night.
When we walked out the next morning, all of the
children and several adults came with us to collect
the materials we had left in the truck. It was actually
an unforgettable experience to be walking and
talking with such incredible people. They had been
displaced from their homes in the early 1980s and
had lived for some time in refugee camps. With the
help of international solidarity, they had returned to
their place of origin as a ‘re-population’ community,
even though the war was still very much in
evidence and the harrassment they had to face from
government forces was significant. With a heartfelt
farewell, we left.
But we did not get very far. A few kilometers
down the road we were stopped by a military
patrol that was obviously looking for us. They
commandeered our rented truck and took us to the
military headquarters in the City of Chalatenango.
We had been captured. We were in the area where
four Dutch journalists had been brutally tortured
and murdered by government forces or paramilitary
death squads not that long before, so this was not
the best place to be detained. We were put in a
holding cell and questioned while they searched
our truck. We had photographs, tapes, and written
testimony, from the village man who had been
tortured, from the town council, and as well we
had met with members of the FMLN, who we had