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In this oral history, Emeteria Rivera Miranda recalls what it was like to live in the Mesa Grande refugee camp in Honduras and in Guarjila, El Salvador after the refugee resettlement there in 1987. Emeteria is an elder who resides in the resettled community of Guarjila, El Salvador and former refugee of the war. She first describes her family’s move to Mesa Grande and their situation in the camps. She then discusses the trip back to El Salvador, after the refugees of Mesa Grande decided to return, and her impressions of Guarjila shortly after refugees began resettling in the community. She also shares some memories of her experience of the Salvadoran civil war while living in Guarjila after  its 1987 resettlement and prior to the war’s end with the Peace Accords in 1992. Finally, she reflects on her fond memories of Fr. Jon Cortina, the Jesuit priest who accompanied the community of Guarjila after its resettlement and was an instrumental community organizer and spiritual guide for the new inhabitants of Guarjila.

Good afternoon, my husband Julian and I, since we belonged to an organization, his job was simply to go to the gardens and work.  He never left that place, but when we were told we were going to a meeting, he always went. I was the coordinator of 10 rooms. We would meet in that module because it had 30 to 40 rooms.

How many modules did Mesa Grande have?

Look, that I really can't remember. Only module one, two, three and the fourth, fifth. Those are the ones I remember from where we lived. We would gather and talk about the organizations like you said. There we would hand out goods that were given to us, things to hand out to people. They would give us clothes and shoes. We would talk about the organization, but I can’t remember if the organization that we had was from the FMLN since that was something that we couldn’t grasp. I vaguely remember the organization you’re talking about. 

We were in Mesa Grande for seven years. More people arrived after that. They let us know they were going to bring us back to El Salvador. I always said, one day they are going to tell us to go back to El Salvador. I did not want to stay there. Then one day they told us, “look, you all are going back to Mesa Grande, to work.” They said that we were going to receive their full support.

People would ask, “what are you all going to do there? You are going over there to get killed.” Either way, we would say: “We were born to die. If death catches us, then that’s where we die.” One gets used to it over there. I told Don Julian “I’m not staying here. I want to go to El Salvador.” 

Leno stayed with his uncle who lived near San Simon. I did not take him to Mesa Grande. He did not want to go with me. I only brought Juanita and Rosita with me. I also had a granddaughter who was the daughter of Teresa; the one who lives in Las Flores. They happily said they were coming with me. They never said, “we are leaving mom.” They were never told not to leave. They had already decided since they were young. They weren't old in age. They worked over there. They put them to work. They taught classes to the kids and when they returned they did the same. Juana taught classes to the school kids, but since she would get headaches all the time she decided to stop teaching and she never went back to that.  


We prepared food for ourselves, like totopostes, tortilla, and bread. We seasoned some chicken so that we could bring it with us. We were happy to be preparing food to bring. We were told to make at least some totopostes because there would be no food once we got there. It was true, what we had was very useful, and we ate. They told us at the meeting to bring maize or rice, cooking oil, any cooking ingredients we had. We would need to cook. There would be nothing for us to eat. 

I thought it was okay because the bus that they had us in was fine, but when we got closer to El Poy they decided they didn’t want to let us in. It was okay because the organizations we were with, they called and told immigration we were coming. The immigration officials in El Poy had us there all night, and then they decided to give us paperwork. They called us in one by one to take down information so that we could go back to El Salvador. It was difficult traveling from Mesa Grande. They brought in a few people and then the rest. We told the people that had accompanied us that that if they didn’t bring us we would leave on foot. So, we slept there that night and the next day they brought us. The other people were waiting for us.

We had decided we were going to Guarjila, and others to Las Vueltas, and others were going to Santa Marta. I don’t remember if those were the only ones. Some groups went to one station and others went to others.  We stayed here in Guarjila. We came in two groups. Those who were going to Los Ranchos stayed in Guarjilita and those going to Guarjila were going to stay here. It was hard to get to the farmlands because of the horrible conditions. It was mined with explosives, and people were scared, which is why they stayed in Guarjilita; everybody stayed here.


Look, I feel good being here, I don’t feel like I have a bad life here, I’m just glad we’re all okay today. We arrived in bad conditions. They left us in the zacatera [wild grass]. We couldn’t go anywhere in the streets—we had to follow a path. Buses or cars did not go through there, only people. The people from Las Flores, they had already repopulated. They came here in the procession. They came and brought us food. My daughter made tortillas and other things, so we could eat. By that time, we were already starting the afternoon fire to make rice, so we could eat. The people who came from Las Flores were happy that we had come, and we were happy that they had come. That’s why the little pathway towards Las Flores was there—because people came from there to drop off food. I’m not sure exactly from where but it came from that side.

Later, the men began to cut the grass. Don Israel was the coordinator, along with the other men. They said, “let’s go look for a house.” It’s the one where he is at now.  Nine families lived there, all of us together. We never fought. The little bit of food that was made there was shared. We lived like this until they decided to build the ranches, and eventually, every family had their own ranch. From there we began to collect wood so that we could put the support legs and bars in the ground. I came here to work. They decided to build a community kitchen here where the lodging is. I worked there three years and eighteen days feeding the compadres that were coming from San Salvador to march. I was the coordinator in charge of giving them food. 

How did you feel about the war? Was it the same? Did the commission leave? Or was it different this time that you were back in El Salvador? 

Almost the same because they were still fighting, and we were in the middle of it. We couldn't say it wasn’t the same. They had been fighting for four years when we got there. But yet it wasn't the same, though. Since we were in houses, we would have to run and defend ourselves. But it was bad once we got here. 

Can you recall an experience from the war once you were here in Guarjila? A war experience that you lived with your family here in Guarjila?

Yes, of course! One night, on Feb 2nd, I was in Arcatao. At 4 a.m. you could hear the gunfire. They were fighting here in this place. You could hear gunfire. I went up to my niece and told here “Maria, they are fighting in Guarjila.” I was distressed. She said, “are you serious?” and I said, “yes, they are fighting.” She said, “with God's will, nothing will happen.” When I showed up, Juana was lying in bed with Telvina. She was very little, still to be held in one’s arms. Right next to where her head was resting, right through the wall by those supports, six bullets fell. Those six bullets could have killed her. She didn't hear them, and Don Julian was calling her from the other room telling her, “Juana, Juana get up because there was gunfire.” Don Julian got up and put a petate (straw mat) underneath the bed and stayed there. Don Julian told Juana to get out of there because we had made a wall out of rocks. He had told us to make it so that when a fight broke out we could hide behind it and the bullets wouldn’t get to us. We would defend ourselves from the bullets that came from this side. Thank God nothing happened to us. One could hear the gunfire. There was a lot of conflict, and for a while, we would get very worried. 

Well, I was glad we were going to have a priest joining us. I was happy. I would give him and Sister Ana their food. I was told to give them their food in the dining room and they would show up to eat. They would sit there and talk; they were internationals, they would sit there and talk. Then they would continue talking to me about the things that were happening. I was always happy to see them at the dining table. When they killed the Jesuits he arrived very sad. I put his breakfast on the table and he said, “I want to tell you something Emeteria...my colleagues have passed.” And he said a word, “malditos,” he said, “They killed my colleagues,” and tears started pouring out. He took two sips of coffee and was done. He told me he was not going to drink coffee. I didn't tell him to eat because I knew he felt bad.

Very few people offered a Mass like he did. The one that comes for the festival—I can’t remember—he comes for the Saint’s Day festival—yeah him. Father Jon would give him lots of advice. He didn’t like to see things that he thought were inappropriate. He gave a lot of advice. Come Christmas and people would light firecrackers, and he did not like that. He would say, “why do you all do that? I don’t like that you set off firecrackers. You could burn someone.”


At first, there was no church and he would offer Mass under a tree. Later they made a church next to the monument. That’s where we (the church community) are today. He never got to see a church here. He would always say that he was happy people had homes rather than a church, because we, the people, made the church. If the Mass has to be under a tree, then let it be under a tree, and that's where our church was. 

I feel at ease. We do not have a lot of things, but at least we do not go hungry. My son, the one that lives here, he gives me maize and beans. My other son gives me maize and brings me maicio, beans, firewood. I am happy. Before we lived in extreme poverty that we did not have what we needed to sustain ourselves. I tell Don Julian, we have had food for the day all thanks to our children. They give us everything. 

How do you remember the war?

I remember the war being very tough for us. Whenever someone would say, “the soldiers are coming,” we would run. We wouldn't take anything—only the kids and protect them. 

Now that we live in a different environment, how would you describe it? How do you feel about life now that there is no war?

Well, I am happy because at least today we are not distressed. We are happy to go to Mass full of joy, like the one we just had with Don Francisco. There is so much happiness there. I feel different. It’s like the life I had before the war.