Vacation

I'm going to be on vacation and traveling for the next month so I won't be able to post as much as I have been. However I will be posting on a few key dates that relate to our story. I'm also going to try and do some video interviews with family members. Keep an eye out for those.

Newspaper Picture

The other week I wrote about the time I spent in the orphanage in Honduras. In that post I mentioned that a picture was taken of me that was made it into the newspaper. While we don't have the orginal copy of the newspaper I was able to scan the two photo copies we have.

The funny thing about this picture is that you can tell right away its me. My mom points out even my hair looks the same.

Dufar on Google Maps

Two weeks ago Google and the US Holocaust Museum released an update to Google Earth that highlights the crisis in Darfur.

On the map you can zoom down into the different villages and see which ones have been burned.

I'm really glad to see this kind of thing happening because it makes it harder and harder for Sudan to claim nothing is happening

Technology has a wonder way of making things very transparent.

If you would like more information about the situation in Darfur please look at the Wikiepdia entry and www.savedarfur.org

Memories - by Nelson/Roberto

I'm running as fast as I can. I stop short at the gate fence. In a few quick moves, I jump up, grab the top, swing my legs over and jump down on the other side. I keep running only to be greeted buy the dog. Before he can get near me I duck into the door way to my left. Jumping over some paint cans I turn sharply to the right and hid behind some boxes. I'm out of breath but I try not to make a sound.

I stay here for a minuet. I don't hear anything. Slowly I creep back into the hall way and look around. Poking my head into the next room Ernesto looks up at me and laughs.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh..she'll hear me" As soon as I say it I hear screaming coming from the next room.

I turn to run again but the stupid dog followed me into the room and is in my way. Great no where to go. I turn, knowing whats coming next.

"I GOT YOU!!" My little sister screams as she grabs my shirt. I try to loosen her grip and tell her she is stretching the shirt. No good. Shes got me and she is NOT letting go.

Giving I pick her up in my arms and we head back to the house to get something to drink.

I often think back to those days when she was a little kid and we would run around the house chasing each other. It was so much fun. I have so many memories.

There is a gate outside of my father's house in panama. The entrance had a nice little ledge just big enough for someone to sit. I use to picker up on my shoulder and put her on the ledge when she was being "bad." She would laugh trying to figure out how to get down.

Then there was the time I broke her bed. I picked up and pretending to be a wrestler dropped her on the bed. It completely fell apart. She was fine but started to cry when she saw her bed in pieces. We were able to fix it right up and minuets later she was grabbing on to my shirt again like nothing every happened.

I'm so glad that I have been able to be a part of her growing up. She is a lot older now and has become a wonderful young lady. I still remember the little girl who ran up to me that first night at the airport. She will always be my little sister.

Meeting my sister and growing up with her has been one of the best parts of this entire experience. I couldn't imagine my life without her.

I know how much she looks up to me and that is where I get so much of my motivation. Her pictures hangs on my wall and I always look it when I am feeling down.

Many families are spread all over the world and don't get to see each other as much as they would like. Thats not an option for me. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we'll always have memories to look back on.

Virginia Tech Shootings

I thought I would take a sec a reflect on yesterdays events. I know its a little off topic for this blog but at the same time I think its important and its been on my mind.

Last night I was watching news coverage on the events and they had this "expert" from NY talking about how this should have been handled like a terrorist attack. He was saying that the school should have been shut down right away as soon as the first bullets were fired.

That's easy to say now. I'm sure the school responded as they thought was appropriate. I don't think it handling it like a terrorist attack is the right thing to do either. Just look at what happened here in Boston a few months ago with the bomb scare. The city of Boston over reacted and created a huge mess.

My dad was, right Americans need to blame someone. I think blaming the school it to easy. In these situation you can ALWAYS do something better that MIGHT have saved more lives. But really there is no way for the school to know that this guy was going to start shooting people. Its not there fault he went psycho.

If you must blame someone blame this coward to senselessly attacked people and then took the easy way out by killing himself. I can just see it now. There is going to be an investigation into Virgina tech to see what when wrong.

I'm sure the school could have done something a little better but this guy was determined to kill people. He had it planned out. He chained the doors and had spare clips. I mean how do you plan for something like that? You can't and trying to have some plan in place for an event like this isn't going to help either.

What are you going to do have everyone in every school walk through a medal detector? No you train for the worst and pray it never happens. Its a tragedy and its horrible but sadly these things happen and they happen all over the world.

In fact I find it interesting that we as Americans are so upset about this when these things happen everyday in Darfur. If 33 people were killed in a tiny African village would anyone care?

I don't really have a point. I just think the whole thing sucks. Its sad that these thing happen both here and around the world. My heart goes out to the family and students.

One a side not this is a pretty bad week in modern American history. Things that happened this week:

Columbine Shooting - April 20th 1999
Oklahoma Bombing - April 19th, 1995
Woca Texas Fire - April 19th, 1993

I'm not suggesting there is a connection its just interesting that they happened around the same time.

Phone Call - By Nelson/Roberto

May 1982

Shortly after Eva saw our mother for the last time, my mother urged my grandmother to take the children and move to Costa Rica where they would be safer. In 1980, Mama Chila packed up the family to live with my aunt Vilma who had been in Costa Rica since 1978. Mama Chila brought with her Vilma's two children Evelyn and Jacqueline. As well as Ana's two children Eva and Ernesto. I had not been born yet and our father Luis was in Cuba recovering from the bullet wound.

Earlier that year, Vilma had married a man named Eduardo who was the son of her employer. It was not the best arrangement since Eduardo did not treat Vilma well and occasionally threatened to deport her is she ever left him. Mama Chila and Vilma both worked during the day to provide for the children. Eduardo who was not as ambitious and stayed around the house most of the day.

They didn't hear much from Luis or Ana. Because of the war it was very hard to send messages. Ana wrote occasionally and the messages where usually delved in person by someone who was involved with the revolution. It had been a few months since Ana had last written. Then one day something weird happened. They received a phone call. Ana never called because it was much to dangerous. Mama Chila and Vilma were both out but Eduardo took the call.

---

Eduardo sits at home watching TV. Its about 3:30 in the afternoon. My aunt Vilma and grandmother Mama Chila have not come home from work yet. Eduardo lazily flips through the channels waiting for the two of them to come so he can eat. Just then the phone rings. He glances over at it wondering if he should bother picking it up. Reluctantly he stands andwaldels over to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello...is this Eduardo?" an agitated voice replies on the other side.

A little surprised by tone of her voice he replies "Yes...who is this?"

"Its Vilma's sister Mila" She says nervously

"Mila! How are you? We haven't herd from you in so lo..."

Ana interrupts him "Eduardo I'm sorry but I don't have much time. Is my mother there its really important."

Slightly annoyed by being cut off he replies "No they haven't returned home from work yet but they should be home soon. You should call back later."

"No there is no time can you give her a message" She is even more nervous now as someone is yelling in the background.

"Yes of course, whats wrong?" Eduardo questions.

"They found us I don't know how." she sounds scared now "I have to go. Tell mama chila I love her and..." she pauses slightly "tell her to take care of my kids..."

The phone clicks and Eduardo not knowing what to make of this stands for a second listening to the dial tone. He hangs up the phone, puzzled by what just happened and sits back down to watch TV.

---

Sometimes I wonder what it must have taken to make that phone call. She must have known when she made the call she would never see her children again. I can't even imagine what that must have been like.

That would be the last thing we ever herd from Ana. We never knew what happened to her after that and most likely we never will.

Pidgeon-holed

While searching the web to see what other people were saying about Suzanne Berghaus I came across the The Transracial Korean Adoptee Nexus blog. The site's focus is on Korean Adoption and Pan-Asian identity issues it also looked at other adoptee related news. The goal of the site is to "empower transracial adoptees to speak out and speak with each other."

kadnexus makes a an excellent point in his post about the story.

Once again I find myself coming back to this idea of identity where transracial adoptees exist within their own space of identity. Just as many are torn between the duality of American/White culture (that they were raised on) and their birth country’s culture, it seems that trying to classify the nuanced situations ofadoptees as either immigrant or refugee is too complex.

We are still considered Asian by appearance, conform to various stereotypes of the already pervasive and systemic virus of over-achievement, yet we also have been raised within middle to affluent White Christian America-raised on many of the same values and logic that most Whites use to manipulate programs such as affirmative action, andracialize people of color. We are inherently taught how to socialize with mainstream white society, communicate with impeccable English, and are given the resources needed to survive. I realize that quite a few of us turned out “ok” but I think it was an interesting analysis that really considers the privileged status from which we come from as Asian Americanadoptees.

I think he makes a great point. Where do transracial adoptees fit in? While many of of benefit from our up brings at the same time it alienates us from our own people. My comment to him was that to white people I am Hispanic and to Hispanics I'm a gringo/white. Where does that leave me? With out a defined culture perhaps.

His response was that "America is all about pidgeon-holing people into picking sides (similarly for biracial people) we are made to feel as though we HAVE to choose sides to be legimitate individuals" I completely agree with this. Growing up I remember one of my friends of a mix racial background "picked" a side that people thought was wrong. She was given a lot of crap for not acknowledging her "black" heritage.

I guess why question is: Isn't this what America is all about? What makes America great is that it has become this melting pot of culture. That we have all these different points of view and life experiences. Why should we be made to feel like this is a bad thing?

Kadnexus' goal is to "empower adoptees to feel this space as their own-I think that our identity is unique." I think is a great goal since a big part of being a transracial adoptee or biracial individual is picking sides.

Tim's El Salvador Blog

We have been mentioned on Tim's El Salvador Blog. Tim blogs about current news and events in El Salvador in an effort to inform other English speaks. He recently blogged about the Suzanne Berghaus story, Pro-Busqueda (the organization that reunited me with my family) and our blog.

"This story highlights the work of Asociación Pro-Busqueda, the organization, founded by Father Jon Cortina, which works to help Salvadoran families find the thousands of children kidnapped or otherwise 'disappeared' during the civil war. From Pro-Busqueda's web site:

Pro-Busqueda was founded on the basis of a simple but brutal question that rips with pain the hearts of the mothers and fathers who live in anguish: Where is my son? Where is my daughter? From these questions the Association has over time evolved its mission to its now solid form of to “Search and locate children who disappeared as a result of the armed conflict in El Salvador, and once found, to promote the reunification and reintegration of the family unit. In this fashion the demands for truth, justice and reparation, which the victims have against the Salvadoran state, come to pass.”

Another of Pro-Busqeda's success stories is story of Nelson (or Roberto when he was a baby in El Salvador). Nelson has set up a blog where his families' stories are told called Ana's Miracle. It's dedicated to his mother, a guerilla fighter who was killed and her baby boy placed in an orphanage."

Thanks Tim for mentioning us. My sister and I both appreciate it.

This is incredible

This story was in today's Boston Globe. Its so wried because her story is very similar to mine. She was separated from her family during the Salvadorian Civil War, adopted to an American family and even reunited by the same organization.

War child who 'disappeared' finds her way back - The Boston Globe: "CACAOPERA, El Salvador -- The house was decorated with ribbons and balloons as Suzanne Berghaus walked toward it. The 26-year-old social worker from Wilmington, Mass., would later recall how beautiful the place looked with its colorful bunting and hand-lettered sign welcoming her home. 'Te Queremos Mucho,' the sign read. We love you very much.
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Valentín Argueta greeted her at the front gate. It was the first time he'd laid eyes on his youngest child in 24 years, since her kidnapping by government soldiers during El Salvador's long and bloody civil war."

Letter from my father - by Nelson/Roberto

November 1997

Its 6:15 pm and its already dark out. I just got back from school and I'm the first one home. I dash up to my room and drop my bag. I fire up the computer and head back downstairs to get something to drink. As I go to the turn on the outside lights I bend over and pick up the mail. On my way back to the kitchen I start to go through it. Bill, bill, junk mail...but whats this?

Tossing the rest of the mail on the counter I'm starring down at a letter addressed to Roberto Coto form a Luis Coto. Its a letter from my father... When we got the original package from Probusqueda there was only letters from my aunt and grandmother. I take a second to look at it before opening it. Its three pages of neatly written cursive. I frown for a second. It all in Spanish and I can't read any of it.

I head back up to my room letter in hand. Half an hour later my dad yells from downstairs "I'm home"

"Hi" I reply making my way out into the hall.

"How was your day?" he questions

"I got a letter from my dad." I say excitedly

My adoptive father would tell me later these words made his heart sink because for 15 years he was the only one I called dad. There is a pause..."What does it say?"

"I'm not sure its all in Spanish"

Over dinner I show my parents the letter. My mom suggests that she could have one of her colleagues translate the letter for us. I tell her that I think some of my friend at school could translate it too.

The next day I stuff the letter in my bag as I head out the door. As I'm ride in on the T I stare at it I try to figure out what it says. All I can make out is "Dear Roberto," So I just sit there staring out the window. I always sit in the the very first seat on the train. It has a window all to its self and I can get off the train quicker. I've made this 15 minuet trip for the past four years but today it seams endless. My leg is shaking in anticipation and everyone getting on the train is taking forever. Finally I arrive at my stop just in time to catch the last van.

I'm running late. Its 8:20am when I arrive and there is no time to find someone to translate. I'll have to wait until lunch. I'm restless during my classes I pull out the letter every so often to look it over. I briefly show it to my friend Eric. Finally its time for lunch.

"Julia!" I call down the hall

She greats me with a smile, "Hey there"

"I got a letter from my father in Panama" I say pull the letter out of my bad

"Oh wow that's so cool, what does it say?"

"I'm not sure. I can't read it and I need to find someone who can translate it."

"Maria might be able help you. She speaks some Spanish."

"Really? Hmm I'll have to ask her"

"She's over there, Hey I got to run I'll catch up with you later" She turns and walks off.

"yup, thanks I'll see you later"

As she's walking away she calls down the hall "Hey when are we gonna playing soccer?"

I smile "Anytime just let me know" I turn and head towards the lounge where Maria is sitting.

"Hey Maria are you busy?"

Maria look up "Not right now. Why whats up?"

"I got this letter from my dad and I have no idea what it says you think you could help me with it?"

"This is your father in Central America?" she ask examining the letter.

"Yup"

"Yea sure let me look at it"

Finally I'll be able to find out what in the letter. Its loud in the foyer so we make are way in to the stair case and sit down on the steps going down to athletic office.

She sits and looks at it for a sec. She starts to read it to me but explains that its very hard with the writing and that he using some words she doesn't know. As she tries to read it I realize that I'm not actually listening to what she is saying. I don't think its the letter that I'm excited about. I can't wait to see meet these people and see what they are like. For that I will have to wait, it will be another month before I get to meet them.