E-Connections

Dear Friends,

On Wednesday, November 4, 2009, IPM celebrated our 7^th Annual Luncheon in Cleveland, Ohio, USA.  It was a wonderful event, and we were pleased to welcome Hina Shah as our keynote speaker. Hina is the President and Founder of the UN-recognized International Centre for Entrepreneurship and Career Development, which trains women in entrepreneurial skills, empowering them towards self sufficiency, and a member of the IPM International Board of Directors.

2009 recipients of the Rev. Richard E. Sering Award at our 7th Annual Luncheon in Cleveland.  From left to right: Peter & Rita Carfagna, and representatives from Saint Ignatius High School, Bill Kelley and Rev. Ray Guiao, SJ

Saint Ignatius High School has sent groups of students to El Salvador with IPM for the past five years.  One of the students from the 2009 Immersion Experience, Aaron Calton, shared a reflection at the luncheon which articulated the profound impact of an Immersion Experience, as well as the transformative value of IPM’s work around the world.  We are happy to share a copy of that reflection below for all those unable to attend the luncheon in Cleveland.

Thanks to all those who made this event possible, particularly the Luncheon Committee.  We look forward to celebrating our 8^th Annual Luncheon in Cleveland in 2010!

Sincerely yours,

Joseph F. Cistone

To make a gift to IPM, click here.

Aaron Calton, Saint Ignatius High School Student and participant on a 2009 Immersion Experience to El Salvador, reading his reflection at IPM's 7th Annual Luncheon

My name is Aaron Calton, and before this summer, the furthest west I had ever been was Toledo, Ohio.  My family was never one for travel, we have everything we need right here in Cleveland- family, school, church, and community. Despite this, I had always dreamed of going to far off places, to experience that world that was so unknown to me.  In late July and early August, I finally did.

I don’t know what I expected going into my mission trip to El Salvador, except maybe an opportunity to view and, in my mind, help a different culture.  I had a vague idea of what it would be like- images imprinted upon my mind by movies of the war-torn country and by that kindly old man who tries to get you to adopt a foreign child financially.  But El Salvador was none of that.  It was not a country of palpable desperation and inhumane violence, at least not anymore.  El Salvador is a nation, a people, moving toward a brighter future.

In truth, I learned just as much about myself as I did the people of El Salvador on this trip, and I say this not trying to sound cliché.  I learned some things I did not quite like.  For example, lounging under an awning in Suchitoto, listening to that place’s dreadful history of destruction and death, I was approached by a small child who attempted to sell me a bag of assorted nuts that, in my defense, would probably have made me terribly ill.  Yet I shooed him away without the slightest thought, only a wave of the hand and a soft, but forceful “no.”  It took me only a moment to realize that I had succumbed to the evil of apathy. I truly had not cared about the boy in the least bit as a human.  He has consumed my thoughts for these past few months even if his identity has blurred away to a boy of about seven in a tattered red shirt, holding a basket of nuts.

This incident took place on one of the first days of our visit, and I am glad that it did because from then on I looked every person we met in the face and remembered their faces and cared.  My new view of these people first came when we visited the IPM program at Mujer y Comunidad, a co-op of women in the town of Zaragoza. When we first arrived, I was shy, especially when confronted with a greeting in the form of dance and song and women speaking loudly in Spanish, which I still don’t know.  At Mujer y Comunidad I felt like I had accomplished something, and I don’t merely mean that I supported their business by buying my mother an apron which I knew she would never wear, but rather I had felt like I had shown them that I cared.

We sewed and we cooked and we laughed and we sang and we danced.  There were around fifteen women present but it was the two girls, Teresa and Maria, who really made an impact on me.  They laughed as I managed to make a tortilla square, completely by accident, and they gently whispered “aquí” as they helped me to embroider a piece of cloth.  In fact, I give Teresa all the credit for that cloth being a success because without her help not only would it not have looked good but it would not have meant anything.  Now, when I see that cloth, with the multi-colored house crudely embroidered on it, I can hear her voice whispering “no” and “aquí” and see her smile and think that right now, she is somewhere in Zaragoza, helping someone else to embroider a little house.

It is that point that worried me most about El Salvador- was what we were doing something routine and would I soon be replaced in  the memories of the people I met by another American on a “mission trip?”  In our nightly reflection, I voiced my concern- that I would not be remembered by these people whom I would always remember; that on this trip I hadn’t given anything, but had received love and compassion and a new world view.

It was then that Julieta, our IPM guide, broke in; she seemed almost offended that I would suggest that the women would forget me. “No,” she said, “Those ladies will not forget you.  They might forget your name, or where you came from, but they will always remember your smile, how happy you were to be there.  They will always remember that.”

But now I am home, just like those wonderful women are home.  The only difference is that my home is thousands of miles away from theirs.  Cleveland and Zaragoza are different worlds.  It is hard to come back to America and not get sucked back into our culture. There are times when it completely slips my mind that I had ever been to a different place, and I go on with my life as normal.  However, El Salvador sits patiently in the corner of my mind, and whenever I see a beggar I see the face of that little boy; and whenever I see embroidery, I hear Teresa.  It is through their memories that I relive my experience.

It is the people, not the places, that come to my mind when I think of my trip.  The pictures I took can serve as adequate memories or locations.  I did not, however, take any pictures of the people we met, or even the people we did not meet but saw standing on some street.  I did not take these pictures because I wanted to remember these people in my own way.  I wanted them to stay alive within me and not in a cold image to show off to family and friends.

After this trip, I feel like I am in a kind of fuller communion with my fellow man.  It isn’t that I feel constantly in tune with the people of El Salvador because that is not true, it can never be true.  I mean that when I hear people make generalized comments about Latin America, or talk about how terrible illegal immigrants are, I will stand up and fight for those who cannot fight for themselves, even if, for now, it is in an evanescent, vocal way.  I now look forward to the day when my aide to those downtrodden peoples of Latin America will be lasting and real to them.  That is the legacy of El Salvador in me.  I see the need the rest of the world has for America to act justly and to stop and think about what it does.  El Salvador showed me a different America than had been revealed in 4^th grade history- that America of heroes and victories and righteousness.  El Salvador showed me the America that could train soldiers to butcher their own people, the America who could sacrifice innocent lives in order to protect its own interest, and the America that needed to acknowledge its mistakes and move towards a better future.  El Salvador made me want to be a part of that better future.