by Craig Wiesner – San Mateo Daily Journal – March 4, 2024
The news that our friend Stan Grams had died in the EgyptAir flight 990 crash on October 31, 1999 hit me hard. With tears in my eyes during our church prayer circle I felt hands touch my shoulders. Arlene Schaupp, who had worked with Stan to help get clean water wells dug for our partner community in El Salvador, comforted me and then invited me to come with her to El Salvador to see those wells and meet the people of Communidad Octavio Ortiz, AKA La Canoa. She had been inviting my husband and me to El Salvador for years and we had said no. But the week before Stan had died, in a chance meeting, he had told me that he regretted saying no too many times in his life and he urged me to say yes to invitations. Derrick and I were living a very comfortable life, working in tech, well paid, and the idea of heading into what had recently been a war zone, a place with no running water or electricity, to be with people totally different from us, was not a very comfortable idea. We went. The trip was eye opening and life changing.
During much of the time the Salvadoran civil war was raging in the 80’s I was serving in the U.S. Air Force. As someone involved in military intelligence part of my training included learning about presidential executive orders that prohibited torture and assassination. It was made quite clear to me that if anyone gave me an order to participate in torture or an assassination in any way, shape or form, it would be an unlawful order and I was to disobey it and report it up the chain of command.
Meanwhile, death squads and torture were routinely used against Salvadorans, including the most infamous assassinations of Archbishop Oscar Romero and six Jesuit priests. One evening in El Salvador after our group had toured nearby villages to visit schools, farms, and a women’s cattle cooperative, we all gathered in one family’s home. Sitting on the floor amid flickering candles, a young couple shared their story. She had been dragged from her home during the war, thrown to the ground and was about to be raped by a Salvadoran soldier wearing a mask. She managed to rip the mask off and recognized him. She screamed at him and instead of raping her he shot her, leaving her for dead. She survived. Her husband shared that he too had been dragged from his home, taken to a dark place, and tortured. They wanted information about rebels, which he said he didn’t have. Before each question there was a pause, during which he heard a “North American” voice giving the torturer instructions.
Could Americans have had anything to do with this? A few years later I was on a panel in San Francisco about torture in Iraq (Abu Ghraib) and one of my fellow panelists was an American military veteran, who shared that he had been involved in the torture of Salvadorans during the civil war. How could that be? Executive orders are not, it turns out, the same as “laws.” A president can set them aside with a “finding,” a memorandum carving out exceptions to the rules. Congress could pass tougher laws but they don’t want to tie any president’s hands.
Stepping back from that gloomy thought, the biggest eye opener about La Canoa was how loving, kind, and generous people could be. The family I stayed with had only one hammock and they insisted I sleep in it. They slaughtered one chicken which fed five of us for days. They had few possessions but shared everything they had. They sang, laughed, prayed, and were thankful, despite the horrors they’d lived through, which my country had supported, but they didn’t blame me. Derrick and I came home transformed. Arlene and La Canoa had transformed us. She also transformed La Canoa, bringing hundreds of visitors, and eventually running water, electricity, and schools to the community.
Arlene Schaupp comforted me when I was afflicted and then afflicted my comfort, two things she was really great at. She and her husband Jack dedicated their lives to loving and helping people. From their early days at SF Cameron House, known for helping Chinese girls escape from sex-trafficking, to helping asylum seekers begin new lives in America, to standing up for LGBTQ people, to leading small groups in prayer, they were a positive force of nature. Jack had a sweet way of greeting people, asking “Why are you so wonderful?” I always responded “Because of you!” Arlene and Jack passed away in February. We’ll celebrate their lives on March 9th 1pm at First Presbyterian Church Palo Alto.
Their memory is a blessing. Presente!