Caminando

I went to the vigil at the gates of Fort Benning in Columbus, GA for the first time when I was a freshman in college.  I barely knew what I was getting involved with, but my roommate convinced me it'd be a good idea.  I went to an info session hosted by WHINSEC, which is at the location of the former School of the Americas, and became a little confused about what I was actually protesting.  I enjoyed the trip as a whole, but I felt full of questions on the 16 hour bus ride back to St. Joe's.

I was unable to go on the trip sophomore year because of an organic chemistry test that I wasn't allowed to miss.  I was a little disappointed, but I got over it pretty quickly.

Then I studied abroad in Costa Rica during the summer between sophomore and junior year.  One of the courses I took was on the history of Central America.  My professor had studied at the UCA in El Salvador under several of the Jesuits who were later martyred and was therefore very passionate about teaching his students the role of the U.S. in the civil wars that plagued Latin America during la decada perdida (also known as the 1980s).  The hardest question he ever asked me was why a building that was used to train many of the leaders of terrible war atrocities (aka the SOA) was still being used to train Latino soldiers.  He understood quite clearly that the school's name had been changed in 2001 and that they no longer offered courses on torture tactics, but he also couldn't quite understand what good the school was doing for those of us (aka people paying taxes in the US) who were supporting it financially.  For many places in Latin America, the school that is still standing represents torture, repression, loss of loved ones, and poor US foreign policy.  Yet most people in the United States don't know of the school's existence.        

Suddenly, the pilgrimage to Columbus made sense for me.  Each year since then, as I've walked in solidarity with thousands of others to remember those who have died at the hands of SOA graduates, I've thought about the faces I know who have been most affected by the school's work.  I've thought about stories of torture I heard first-hand in Guatemala and El Salvador, along with the countless terrible pictures I've seen of war atrocities done at the hands of graduates of the SOA, and I feel like as a US tax payer and voter, I have a responsibility to voice my criticisms of the school.  After all, the people who have suffered the most no longer have voices to use.  So in their memory, along with those who can't be present due to the failure of our immigration system or other miscellaneous reasons, I stand presente.


This past weekend, instead of taking a 16 hour bus ride from Philadelphia to Columbus, I made a 4 hour car ride with Regina across the state of Georgia.  It was strange being there without many of my closest friends who have made the trip with me so many times before, but I enjoyed being with several wonderful Hawks for the weekend.  I also got to experience the Golden Corral with the Sisters of Mercy, so I really couldn't ask for more.  There were noticeably fewer people than usual at the vigil and rally, especially since the Ignatian Solidarity Network moved its teach-in to DC the weekend before.  A lot seemed different overall, yet my reasons for being there were as strong as ever.  After all, most of my patients at Good Samaritan Clinic are from countries that suffered at the hands of SOA graduates.  

I don't necessarily agree with everything that happens at the rally at the gates of Ft. Benning.  It sometimes feels like every organization present has its own agenda and like very person needs to feel like they are the most progressive one there.  But when I get past all that and simply weep for those my government helped kill in places where I have left part of my heart, I know that I am in the right place.