Warning, this episode contains references to extreme violence. Please use discretion when listening. Nearing the end of my first week in El Salvador, I was feeling completely exhausted. I'd traveled all over from San Miguel to the capitol and back, interviewing people who had lived through the war and listening to the saddest stories. I had tried to mentally prepare myself, but being here in the place where it all happened,
it was a lot harder than I'd anticipated. So every night, after a long day of interviews, I really looked forward to going back to my hotel room, eating a quick dinner, and going straight to bed. I got my parents a room at the same hotel so that we could spend a little time together at the end of each day. But on this particular evening, my dad interrupted dinner to casually mention something. By the way, he said, I invited my cousins over to the hotel so you can interview them.
They'll be here soon. I was totally caught off guard. I didn't know anything about these cousins. What would I ask them? Why would my dad just spring this on me? To be honest, I was pretty annoyed. I didn't know that these cousins were about to tell me about the incident that sparked my family's journey north to the US, the moment that brought the war to my family. I'm Jasmine Romero and this is Sacred Scandal, Nation of Saints, episode five, a death in the family.
We'll be right back, okay, thank you.
Is damn for power?
Margharita, are you stay Yiness and relation familiar?
Uh?
We settled into my hotel room, me, my parents, and my dad's two cousins, Sola and Margharita. Soyla is the shorter of the two, with a mullet of dark, curly hair. She didn't really want to talk much, but Margharita slowly warmed up and.
See is it that one?
Margharita is in her mid sixties with straight black hair and hooded eyes that gave her the nickname Lachina growing up. For most of the interview, she held a plastic water bottle in her hands, twisting it every time I asked her a question. Apparently I wasn't the only one being ambushed by this interview. I started out slowly asking questions about what Margharita's childhood.
Was like.
My dad and his cousins grew up playing together in San Miguel. Cousin Soula mentions a game called yanked onion. Yeah, a kid would wrap their arms and legs around a tree, and all the other kids would make a line and grab each other by the waist trying to pull the kid off. These sound like the kind of stupid, fun games that you can only play with a group of
neighborhood kids that really know each other. Everybody starts chiming in with the names of games that I've never heard of, little broken pot, walking Pilgrim, since they all seem to have fond memories of this time, despite the fact that
they were playing all these games barefoot. It's the thing that I've heard my dad talk about from time to time, how poor his family was growing up, the things that they had to do to survive, But I've never actually heard these kinds of stories, the details in the same light joking tone that he uses to talk about these games. He talks about hunting for.
Food mala guando to o.
Y.
My dad and his brothers would go out looking for skunks or possums, and if they found one, they'd whack the animal with a stick and bring it home to cook. My dad's childhood seems to be filled with these kinds of little anecdotes. He once told me that he did his first Communion through three times just to get the bread and milk that the priest would give you at the end. It makes me so sad for him, for
the child that he never got to be. For cousin Margharita, there were other events that shifted her childhood, something that happened when she was a teenager in the late seventies.
Porquer Ricardo Kei, Earlia ke and Elenin here at the home.
Elenim is the nickname for the local high school in San Miguel. This was the late seventies, around the time that labor movements had really started to take center stage. The same movements that had taken root in the capitol were finally reaching Saint Miguel, and local students at Elnim had organized a protest to advocate for higher wages, and just like in so many other protests, the local police showed up and fired at the students. See among the
students killed or three of cousin Margharita's classmates. She remembers seeing their bodies get dropped off at the Morgue a je. It was the same story playing out across the country. The more the government squashed the protests, the more the people saw the need to fight back, and the more that the government cracked down. But this was the first time that the war that had been brewing in the capitol was rearing its head as far south as San Miguel.
In the years to come, the psych would repeat. Of course, the government's reasons for the killings were always the same, rooting out those who were cooperating with the leftists. Even for people like my parents, the assumption always was if someone was killed, they must have been part of the f m l N. Not a justification, but at least a way to put some reasoning behind every death. It's what my dad says to Margharita about someone named Maria
no Nadi. My dad had always assumed that Maria was part of some leftist organization, but Margharita insists, no, Maria wasn't involved in any of that. Maria, I learned, is my dad's aunt cousin Margharita's mother.
El Partido and mah prom Pero or local.
Porce.
To this day, no one knows exactly why the Amara was murdered. They all have theories, and it kind of seems like my dad and his cousins are trying to work it out in front of me in real time. It's like this is the first time that they've ever talked about it. It's definitely the first time that I hear about it. Cousin Soila chimes in with her own theory El Sindicato the union. She says, Maria was part of the workers union at the factory, and maybe that was the reason, which my dad agrees with.
Cando.
They were rounding them up, he says, dumping them into common graves. My dad remembers that around this time was when people started disappearing in San Miuel, especially those aligned with the unions. Police would come to your house and pick you up for questioning, but when your family went to go look for you at the police station, the cops would say, I don't know who you're talking about, or maybe go check at.
That other station.
No no yeki, no taqi.
Then a couple days later a body would pop up on the street, or it would never appear at all, it would be disappeared. For my dad and his family. This felt like just a crazy thing that was happening in their town. But this was happening all over the country. This was the work of Loses Squadron, the death squads that had started in the capital with Dauisson and his cohort. Finally, I ask cousin Margherita, what exactly happened to your mother.
It was late afternoon. Margharita was out on the patio chatting with the neighbors while her mom was inside making dinner for the family. When trucks pulled up to the house. The men in the trucks put on ski masks to cover their faces and grabbed rifles. One of them grabbed Margharita and put the rifle up to her face. They wanted to know where her mother was.
Agar Lo Pusil the Amara stepped out of the house and told them, if you're looking for me, well here I am.
Let go of my daughter Yasala. Inside, Margherita's two younger brothers were hiding in the kitchena.
E co migoya lasak dentria de la casa isla Mala.
The men then grabbed the a Maria, forcing her out onto the patio. One of them kept Margharita at gunpoint, warning her to be still inside. Her younger brothers crawled through a hole in the side of the house and watched as their mother struggled against the masked men.
I ye yasilvaro miselle and cordenot yes.
I am helpak.
They shot the Amaria there on the patio in front of her children. Margherita was only seventeen years old when she watched her mother.
Die and joto yamugia.
That night, my dad heard the news that his aunt had been killed. First thing in the morning, he and my mom walked over to the Amaria's house, expecting to get their condolences to the family. They found the whole family, Margarita and her younger brothers all huddled around the Amaria's body. They had sat there all night waiting for the corner to come and.
Take her away.
My dad says that the police came and took note of where she was shot, collected evidence.
Guanto di Paro as if that mattered to anyone, He says, as if anyone would do anything about it.
To this day, my family doesn't know exactly who did it or why. It was August of nineteen eighty five, months after Oscar Romero's murder in the Capitol. For my parents, it was the first time that the approaching war had really affected their lives. The first person in the family to die, and she wouldn't be the last. That's after the break. After talking with my dad and his cousins, I realized that it was time for me to finally sit down with my parents and get their full story.
If I'm honest, I think I'd been avoiding it, dreading what I might hear.
Testing testing one, two three, say something that was very cute.
Mom, that's my mom, Anna Viatrice.
Introduce yourself in English. Please, your accent is not bad. No, no, you sound great. Speak English please.
Okay.
My name is Anna Veatrice Reyes and I'm the mom of Jasmine Romero, who is my fourth daughter.
My mom's pretty shy. She's the kind of person who covers her mouth when she smiles, so it was like pulling teeth to get her to talk to me on Mike. But with some coaxing, she finally came around. My parents have been together since they were teenagers. Together is the only life they've ever known, and El Salvador was the only place they'd ever been. After Theamaria was killed, Cousin
Margharita left for the US. It was becoming more and more common for people to immigrate north, especially with the escalating violence.
That year.
Nineteen eighty began a flood of immigration that hasn't stopped to this day. When Cousin Margharita left, around ninety five thousand Salvadoran immigrants had already immigrated to the US, mostly illegally, and even if they had wanted to go legally, that wasn't really an option. Only two percent of all asylum claims from El Salvador to the US were approved because allowing those claims would have confirmed what the US continued to deny that their funding was, making the situation in
El salvas Or worse. So illegal immigration was kind of the only option, but it was really expensive. It required buying a flight into Mexico and then paying a coyote to get you.
Across the border.
At the time, my mom was nineteen years old with two young daughters. She and my dad were living with my great grandparents, seven people sharing a one room Shack. The idea of getting enough money together to get to the US felt like climbing Mount Everest, but they took the Amaria's death as a warning and started saving every penny they could. After a year, they'd saved enough for one person to go.
Jotania Mocho messaged them, Baiha Wendy either repentel.
Oke Tnie.
It was nineteen eighty one and my mom was now pregnant with her third daughter, my sister Wendy. They decided that the easiest path would be for my dad to go solo. My dad had a friend who was heading north to the US and had invited him along. The idea was that my dad would send money back to help support my mom and the girls, and eventually save up enough to send for them. For my mom, it was an impossible decision, break up the family and possibly never see my dad again, or keep living meal to.
Meal like Desi.
She asked herself would she ever see him again?
For primers ok so sera, it was.
Pretty common for men to abandon their families after they got to the U s. My mom worried if she would ever even hear from him again.
Yes, lots and serra Quel and really that see MeV.
What's will be there?
Meet?
She wondered, how strong is the love between us? Will you forget about us? But she couldn't pass up this chance of creating a better future for the girls.
Now that's economic parts.
They made preparations for him to go. By the end of summer, my third sister, Wendy was.
Born, Docermene, Wendy wonder and I lost.
My dad left two weeks after Wendy was born. Sitting there un the thatched betha that they had as a bed, my mom considered her options. She still had her three girls, and now with my dad gone, even less income than before, she had to figure out how to get by. How could she work? Who would take care of the girls. She found a local flower shop and made a deal with the owner. I'll work for you from sun up to sundown, but I need to bring my kids along.
The owner agreed. So every morning she'd get up, Oh a lass, say the la man, get things ready for the girls, lechitaitai, dress them, comb them, strap her newborn to her.
Back, I Lata.
Her job at the flower shop was making paper flowers. She'd spend her days making paper bouquets for the upcoming holiday Elia Fiinados all Souls Day. It's the Salvadoran version of the day of the Dead. For Liale Fiados, it was customed to place paper flowers or crowns on the graves of loved ones who had passed. She still remembers exactly how to do it all these years later. Within a few weeks, letters started showing up for my dad, saying how much.
He missed her.
And Ceo missing timas.
How he wanted them to be together in the us quanto. It was reassuring to know that their love could survive beyond borders, but the timeline for their reunion was not clear. He said he'd have to work for at least a year to save up enough. My mom would write her letters back and put on lipstick to seal them with a kiss. My dad did not receive the intended message.
Como, why are you wearing lipstick if I'm not around?
He asked.
Of course, why would a woman put on lipstick if her husband isn't around? I guess love and machismo, No, no borders. My mom wanted the family to be reunited, but the poverty that they were living through wasn't the only problem. More than anything, she wanted to leave El Salvador because the country was becoming more and more dangerous.
By the day.
Lasse ya weltmas masinceura porque constantin minte jan una vesporo manaunaves almeao ya rang masquentez.
What had been an occasional problem had become an everyday occurrence. That disappeared were showing up dead on the side of the road every day. It's the kind of thing that sounds so unbelievable to me, the idea that you could just be walking around, going about your business and run across a pile of dead bodies. At the time, my mom understood very little of what was going on. Even with the death of Mitia Maria, she still couldn't fathom why so many people were being killed, the greater politics
at play. All of it went over her head.
No porque porqueerra los indicatos porquela hente de las fabricas, protesta porcelos indicatos, protestesosvilla porqueto maestroque maestral mate.
Every day more teachers and students and just regular people she knew were being taken seemed to be subversives in the eyes of the government. It felt like a taking time bomb. My mom was more determined than ever to get her daughters out of that terrible situation. And his letters, my dad kept saying that he was sending all he could, but it wasn't an off. My mom was not going to sit around and wait for him to save her.
With the money she made at the flower shop, she started buying materials to make paper flowers of her own. For three months straight, she worked day and night. After the girls were put to bed, she would stay up folding and twisting the paper into roses, coral beans, and red button gingers. She made flowers that no one had ever.
Seen before, yokaria levida ile vivida lis color ros intensos, al a latinta ca al colorada mass but a quips a mass in tenzo loos coloris.
When Lia the Finados came with calluses built on her blisters, she went down to Elmergado with baskets full of her colorful bouquets and sold them by the dozen. By the end of the day she had sold every single flower that she had made. She had saved enough money to pay for her passage north all on her.
Own parts para compre labisas.
And.
She started making arrangements to make the journey north. She bought visas to get into Mexico, ordered Salvadorn passports for the girls, and bought plane tickets for everyone. She had never even left her hometown.
Before, Nola Ladino elcho Lordo.
She didn't know if it was just adrenaline, but she somehow built up the courage to make the journey just her and her girls. Every time she got scared, she remembered that this wasn't just for her, it was for the girls, so they'd have a chance to have a better life than she did. The first step of her journey was to get to the airport in the capitol, but she didn't know how to get there, so she asked her sister Margharita to take her. To be clear,
I have two Margharita's in my family. My dad's cousin Margharita Saravia, who you heard from earlier in the episode, and my mom's younger sister Margharita Lisama my Dia.
Margharita hielm ansel Mira Mano Posa.
Was my mom's younger sister. She was bolder, more adventurous. When they got to the airport, my Ta left my mom with a parting wish. Yeah, OK, send for me, she said, when you get settled in the North, send for me. My Margarita had three kids too, and she was in an abusive relationship.
And Camino Yah Mexico and Camino.
While my mom was in Mexico route to the border, men in masks broke into where my Ta Margarita was sleeping and took her away. That day at the airport was the last time my mom ever saw her sister.
Yeah a.
Y three days later, just as my mom was arriving to the US, Mytha's body was found on the side of a country road. This is a story that I knew, or at least that I thought that I knew, that my Thea was taken away by a deaths. But it wasn't until this trip that I got the full story, one that went beyond the brutalities of war. That's next time on Nation of Saints Sacred Scandal. Nation of Saints is a production of a HA Podcasts in partnership with
Iheart's Michael Dura podcast Network. And is hosted and written by me Jasmine Romero. Produced by Jazmine Romero with help from Alvaro Sespelees. Research and reporting by Jasmine Romero, edited by sayde Gevelo. Nation of Saints was recorded in New York City at the Relic Room with engineering by Sam Bear, Mixing and sound designed by Baciquinones. Original music by Golden Mines, Darko and Diame based on Patrick Hart's original composition. Fact
checking by it Indira Aquino Ayala. Executive producers are Gorman geratrol, isaac Lee Rose Reed, and Nando Villa. Our executive producers at iHeart are Giselle Mansis and Arlene Santana. Sacred Scandal was created by Melanie Bartley and Paula Vadro's. For more podcasts, go to the iHeartRadio app or anywhere you listen to your favorite podcasts.