Friday, May 14, 2010

A message from El Monte

Dear Readers and Supporters,

Jessica Araos, one of the women who works for La Corporacion de Padre Espinoza and a native of El Monte, sent the message below to all of those who are contributing to El Monte's cause. It is in Spanish below in the case that I translate anything incorrectly. Here is the message in English. And again, many thanks for your kindness:

Thank you so much for what you are doing. From the bottom of our hearts, The Corporation de Padre Espinoza and its community are profoundly thankful.

God is everywhere...drop by drop he fills our cup, and we continue to pray that each day the number of families affected by the disaster will be reduced, and we will build another house...

I know that behind Casey are many others, and among them girls (Liz y Paulina) that I have also personally known and to whom we are also grateful.

May God and the Virgin Mary protect each one of you.

Good bye,
Jessica Araos R.

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Muchas gracias por la accion que estan haciendo, desde el fondo de nuestros corazones, la Corporación Padre Patricio Espinosa y toda su comunidad estamos profundamente agradecidos.

Dios está en todas partes... gota a gota se llena un vaso, seguiremos rezando para que cada día disminuyan las familias afectadas y levantemos una casa más...

Sé que detras de Casey hay muchos otros, entre ellos chicas que tambien conocí personalmente y a las cuales tambien agradecemos...

Que Dios y la Santa Virgen nos protega a todos...

Good Bye
Jessica Araos R.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Asking for Your Support in the Wake of the Chilean Earthquake

Dear Reader,

On February 27th, 2010 the largest earthquake in recent history, reaching a magnitude of 8.8 on the Richter scale, ravaged the south-central region of Chile. One man in Concepcion, the quake’s epicenter, declared that the 7.8 magnitude earthquake made him feel as though a giant had picked him up and shaken him. And indeed, it had.

In the fall of 2008, I was fortunate enough to spend a study-abroad semester in Santiago. As part of one of my courses, I spent one day a week working with a non-profit organization in a rural community outside of the capital in the small town of El Monte, Chile. This organization is named La Corporacion de Padre Espinoza, and it is staffed by some of the most good-hearted, generous people I have ever met. El Monte boasts a classic, white-washed town square, locals who sell home-made wine (chicha) to passer-bys from their front porch, and a slow-going mix of buses, horses, and old cars putting their way down the dusty roads. El Monte is all of this but it is also much, much more.

Every Wednesday, I got off the bumpy bus ride from Santiago and stepped out into that town square— bordered on either side by the church and the museum (both damaged now after the quake) and made my way to La Corporacion’s headquarters with one of my peers to lead a stretching and relaxation class for a group of El Monte’s senior citizens. This workshop provided a consistent time each week when these men and women could rejoice together, relieve stress, and have discussions with one another. It was a time for them to celebrate, to eat home-baked treats they had prepared, and to dance and sing.

The Director of La Corporacion de Padre Espinoza is named Magdalena, and she is a pillar of compassion and commitment. Magdalena and her team spend their days walking down the streets of El Monte (the organization only has one car—an old pick-up used to deliver food to those in the community most in need), visiting residents and helping in any way they can.

Since the earthquake, many of the homes in El Monte have been severley damaged and La Corporacion has received more requests for help than they are able to answer. Many of the town’s residents are currently living in dire conditions, with little access to both water and shelter. La Corporacion is avidly trying to build these residents new mediaguas—or primitive shelters used by many of the country's poor or those affected by the disaster. This, essentially, is why I am reaching out to you today.

Any donation that you can provide to help La Corporacion construct new mediaguas and return a life of relative comfort back to El Monte’s residents would be an extraordinary gift. It’s easy to think that our acts of kindness go unnoticed, but I can assure you that with the people of El Monte, this is not the case. By warmly welcoming me into their homes and their lives, and sharing the little that they had with me, the people of El Monte enabled me to realize the common bond we all share, regardless of nation, race or heritage—and that is that we are all human, and that we are all equally vulnerable to the uncertain future that lies ahead.

Making a donation is both easy and fast, and every little bit helps. Donations can be made using debit card or credit cards. If you are unable to donate in these ways, or would prefer not to use Paypal, please contact me at caseymcalduff@gmail.com and we will easily be able to arrange for you to pay by cash or check. To make a donation of any amount, please click on the ‘donate now’ button on this web page, (located in the upper right hand corner of the page) which will link you to PayPal in order to conclude your generous gift.

Whether you make a donation or not, I would like to thank you for your time and your interest.

Love,

Casey

For los abuelos de El Monte, a poem

For the Abuelos of El Monte


The copper-plated bookmark you gave me cuts a rift

at numero veinte, your Father’s most famous lament,


that tremor-voice: Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Tonight, I come to you- my fallen abuelos, for healing,


to know that my imagination is merely whirling amidst

the newscasts, that these images appear only in ink:


the huasos hat flying, the unexpected bucks of his horse

too wild for even a cowboy, as if a giant had whipped the reins.


Or el folklorista in the white-washed square of stone

strumming his guitar unstoppably, sending the spinning tops


of schoolchildren spiraling into the Earth where the rare

Carmenere grapes of your vineyards once found root


while Violeta’s lyrics brave the broken sediment and the museum’s

artifacts crack, hurling the tattered identification cards of ancient


residents to swim now beneath the soil we tended, the land

where your kiwis grew. And then the book you saved from its two centavo


rubble heap of masterpieces, that reminded you of the library

you used to keep in Santiago- burned by Pinochet in ’73- emerges


out of my shelf tonight like a smoke signal, Pablo’s sonnets rising

from the shadows of a history no earthquake could quiver,


and your handwriting in the front cover, an inscription signed by a name

I can’t read and can’t recall but can still feel shifting the tides inside my chest,


hitting the fissure in my windpipe that causes breath

to stop, and tears to ripple, that gentle calligraphy slanted


like a rocking-chair: I remember your fingers cupped

Around your ear, your face, wrinkled like the inlets


of the Chilean shore off Isla Negra, leaning forward to hear me

stumble over Neruda’s words and your hand waving like a white flag


through the train’s whistle, volunteering to be my timekeeper,

to remind me what page we were on the next time we should meet.


- by Casey McAlduff