Tags
cemeteries, jama april 16 2016, Jama ecuador earthquake, people who died in the ecuador earthquake
“…you should never have to watch your only children lowered in the ground — I mean you should never have to bury your own babies…” – (From the song Gravedigger ) – Dave Matthews Band
Jama Ecuador – Recently many people opened their doors and hearts and invited me into their private sanctuaries; they shared stories of the night of the earthquake and the days that followed. One person, Marcos Cevallos Mendoza, seemed more affected than most, and I was eager to find him again and listen to what he had to share. One person pointed me to one corner; another said, ‘No, I saw him about ten minutes ago near the new market. ‘
Almost sunset – the buildings are gone, but spirit remains….
As I stopped at random places to ask for Marcos, heart-wrenching stories added more frayed threads to this town’s patchwork tapestry. Some suggested that I check the cemetery, which offered an instant solace from the reconstruction chaos in the center of town.
Just to the right of the entrance, seven people share the same day of death: April 16, 2016. Four of those were Marcos’ wife and three of their four children.
Marcos was not there, but I was able to visit with a few friends who share this final resting place. While I meandered in search of Chana and Rosa, this song by Dave Matthews played countless times through my head…
Jama Ecuador Cemetery Entrance
GRAVEDIGGER
Cyrus Jones 1810 to 1913
Made his great grandchildren believe
You could live to a hundred and three
A hundred and three is forever when you’re just a little kid
So Cyrus Jones lived forever
Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
3 little unmarked graves…
Muriel Stonewall 1903 to 1954
She lost both of her babies in the second great war
Now you should never have to watch
Your only children lowered in the ground
I mean you should never have to bury your own babies
April 16, 2016 – 7 years old
Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
…………………………………………………………………………………
Cemeteries provide comfort, even when the permanent residents are strangers.
(Below: Rosa was waiting for visitors on a sweet hillside surrounded by roses, lovingly planted by her grandson. The next day I was reunited with Chana… )
…
The spirits of Chana and Rosa surely watch over their beloved town where many people still live in tents or make-shift housing.
As I prepared to leave, two spirit animals escorted me out of the cemetery. Fitting from perch to perch, their curious presence gave me comfort… perhaps they were mystical connections to my friends?
Meet Chanita and Rosita, the new guardians of the cemetery.
heartbreaking.
Thank you, Gwen. Yes, it is, and it’s extra hard to witnesss it in person.
Deeply touching 💖💖
Thank you, Erika..
💖🌼💖
It’s unbearable, isn’t it? How do you go on from there?
Marcos is trying, but it is so very hard. At times his friends say or do something that brings that little smile back for a few seconds. A story about him will be out later today.
Thanks for this post. In a way the most poignant image is the second to last picturing the tents. These sorts of disasters –natural or man-made– tend to disappear from our attention quite quickly. But the reality on the ground doesn’t, which the tents so clearly illustrate.
Thank you, Bob. This area imprinted itself on you, and it’s surely difficult to picture the altered landscape and hear stories of moving forward. Yes, that tent community was a constant reminder as I meandered the cemetery. “We’re still here,” those voiceless people seemed to say to me.. Thank you for noticing nd for caring.
Inspired (and inspiring) piece! Thanks!
Thank you, Hugh. There are people with so many needs, this seems so tiny… but there was a strong inner ‘nudge’ to share this delicate story….
Delicate indeed.
Oh! This breaks my heart!
Yes, I understand. There are so many stories and layers of emotions… yes, there is hope, and there is pain, but at times there are those who are overlooked. The silent ones deserve a token voice as well, so I hope my attempts bridge those areas. Thank you Cindy.
I’m not sure “like” is the right response. But thank you for the reminder of what is still going on in places we rarely hear about after the initial events.
janet
Yes, I understand what you mean. There are times when another option would be better, as ‘like’ does not work for posts like this one.
Lisa, as we were commenting the other day when you visited, it is almost unbelieveable how badly one community could be devasted and other communites so near could be largely spared. May God bless your friends in Jama and all throughout that earthquake torn area.
Thank you! Two more posts about Marcos will be published soon. Finding him was an interesting odyssee which delivered me to the doors of people who shared other stories. There’s still a lot of pain here, from grief and even from fright.
Heartbreaking, yet very touching post, Lisa. My heart goes out to the survivors of the earthquake.
Amazing and heartbreaking.
Thank you, Otto, and thanks for your advice re:printing photos from a few weeks ago.
I have always held dear your posts that remind us of those less fortunate.. they are the ones that burn strongest in my heart… – well, that and also the advice, ‘don’t stop to look at the image on your camera and risk missing the best photo!