Of all the travels I have done, my trips to El Salvador have had the most profound impact on my life. While I did not spend months and months there, the experiences I had there and continue to have because of the people I know there still resonate with me, even from nearly 8,000 miles away.
A couple of weeks ago, I received notice of a fatal accident that happened, but before I can get to that, I need to give some background.
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Last January, one of the people I met when I was in the community was Billy. He must have been 21 or so and, in fact, he didn't even live in our community but, rather, in a nearby one. During the course of that trip, he did seem a little strange but, because sometimes people are just strange, we didn't think much of it. So, during those three weeks, he was just someone of whom to be mindful, but not to fear.
In June, our interactions with him were a little bit different. When working on one of the physical labor projects, he was talking with one of our group members and mentioned that he only had one pair of shoes, the shoes he was wearing. The delegate from our group asked how much shoes cost and he said about $20. She then pulled out $20 and gave it to him so that he could go buy a new pair of shoes. Upon hearing this story later and asking community members if what he said was, indeed, true (it wasn't), we were told a few more details about this guy. I learned that he would come around more often when the gringos were there and that he had a history of un-kosher activity (stealing (not just from the gringos), making people feel uncomfortable, etc.). So, we started to keep an eye out and take active precautions to make sure nothing would happen.
A few days after we heightened our skepticism, one of the members of the community ran to where our group was eating lunch to tell us that Billy had just had a seizure and had hit his head. He had been sitting outside of the community library (about 20 yards away from where we were) and had fallen off the ledge, hitting his head on the cobblestone ground. We all ran to see what was going on, and since I was one of only a few people with a cell phone, I called the doctor we had on call and explained the situation. He gave us instructions on how to handle everything and within several minutes, Billy was in a car on his way to the hospital. Considering the previous days' events of having him lurking around, it was actually a relief to know that he was in the hospital as opposed to hanging around the community. So you can imagine the unsettled feeling I had when he returned around dinnertime, only several hours later and with bandages (no stitches) on his head. (We had found out that what had led to his seizure was that he had stopped taking his medicine, which was both for his mood and to prevent seizures..I suppose that'll do it.)
After our evening activity, as we were all leaving to go home, he pulled me aside to apologize and to tell me that he really didn't mean any harm and that, after what happened earlier in the day, he knows that we're good people. He said that we took care of him in a crisis and he respects that and won't forget it. Following that conversation, our group decided to be accepting without being inviting (a subtle -- yet important -- difference). We would say hello and ask how things were going but would not extend any offers to partake in what we were doing. I'd say that we all ended up on okay terms with him and left the community practically unscathed, save that initial incident of his having conned one of ours.
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Now fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. Billy had been working in a nearby nightclub, I think it was, when someone came to seek vengeance upon another. Billy, however, got caught in the crossfire and was shot, succumbing to the injuries shortly thereafter. The guy for whom the shots were intended was fine. The whole thing was deemed accidental and the shooter went to jail....for four days, at which point, he paid the authorities some money and was set free.
When I first heard the news, I felt sorry for Billy. It wasn't fair, no one should die that way -- let alone accidentally -- and though he wasn't the poster child for a good Samaritan, he didn't deserve what happened. But then I think about the way he acted and the air of sketchiness that surrounded him wherever he went, and in a way, it's kind of like when he was at the hospital and I actually felt relieved to know where he was, even if only because it *wasn't* in the community. When I try to apply the same logic here, though, I feel kind of guilty, because I would never wish anyone dead. And while I am truly sorry that that was his fate, in a way there is a sense of security (both physically and mentally) that (at least, in my opinion) has been restored to the community. Should I feel guilty? Is it wrong to feel at least a little relief? What do you think?
From what I could tell, the community didn't seem too fazed by what happened. My guess is that the reason why not is that it's not entirely uncommon. El Salvador is ridden with gangs and corruption. Their largest source of income comes from remittances -- that is, money that friends and family send back from the U.S. There is no reliable system in place akin to checks and balances that actually endorses prudent business practices and, well, ethics. And though it is sad to report on Billy's tragic passing, perhaps it is even more disheartening to know that that was just another day in a country not so very far away.
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