I’d heard it a million times before, but it took a true encounter to really feel it’s effects: “Sometimes it takes a monkey to remind us what is really important”.
Okay maybe I am remembering it wrong.
But all I know is that Soledad and her spider-monkey companions touched the hearts of my father and I in a remarkable way.
You see in a tiny section of southern El Salvador, in the department of Usulutan and the Bay of highly-un-pronouncable Jiquilisco, there is a protected section of mangroves that hides the only habitat of precious monos in the country. These little monkeys were discovered by a little old man who lives in a little old house tucked away in this little old village. As he will share with you if you ever happen to stumble across this hidden gem, two or three monkeys began to appear by his house when he relocated after the civil war. In his torn collared shirt and with one eye carefully watching over this two naked grandchildren playing beneath the guineo trees, he will tell you in his own words how he innocently placed bananas on the ground and he slowly gained the monkeys trust. Forty years have passed and the monkeys have multiplied to become twenty. The old man still lives in the same old ranch working in the same old fields and he will admit to you that he still knows not a damn old thing about how to raise monkeys.
“Can I hold one?” I ask, playing the part of dumb-tourist waiting to get her camera stolen and eyes scratched out.
“You know, I heard you can get them to do that. Some lady told me there’s a program on TV that will teach you how to hold a monkey. But I don’t have electricity” the old man casually replies.
So they don’t do tricks. You can’t really cradle Soledad and then expect her to put on a bicycle show for you. You won’t see this old man and his family sitting down to a spaghetti dinner with organgutan-Jim and his friends.
It’s just a guy, who lives in a ranch and every so often holds out some bananas while making some jungle sounds and the monkeys come-a-swinging through the trees and hang out for awhile.
It’s as simple as that and there is something so beautiful about it all.
There is one monkey, who was placed in a cage after the other monkeys through her from the trees and left her for dead. This monkey, Soledad, was found in a different area, after her habitat was destroyed. Unfortunately, the monkey tribe from the Bay of Jiquilisco refused to accept her and old man was forced to put her up in a tiny cage for her own protection.
This is the one who will reach out and gently ask for you to hold her hand, as she hides her face with pena.
I believe my father felt the same compassion, the same grief, longing, the same desire for companionship in the hands of Soledad as I did when she reached out to us.
I have read it a million times. I see it everyday. I say it myself. But yet none of us ever seem to want to accept it. Really, nothing matters in life besides companionship; the relationships we form with people. Money comes and goes. Jobs are jobs. We can overcome most any hardships that come our way. But loneliness destroys us.
To share compassion with another human being, another soul, Curious George even, fills us with an invaluable treasure.
And so it was that monkeys laid the footwork for my father’s visit to El Salvador.
From the airport rent-a-car to waking up at the beach on Day 1, our trip was full of fun and a lot of luxuries that I was not exactly used to in my time here. But far more memorable than the 3 lbs of good coffee and the bus/chicken-free day trips, were the conversations, the new experiences, the smiles and laughter shared with my Dad that week in El Salvador.
Day 2 we enjoyed El Boqueron, the infamous volcano of San Salvador where my Dad experienced his first “hike” and we enjoyed fresh cheesecake on the misty cliff of the mountainside. In the capital city we “enjoyed” some cow heart and liver for dinner before checking out the Salsa dance scene in a local bar. Up early the next day, we started the 4 hour drive to my quaint little community in North-Eastern El Salvador.
That Friday afternoon the town Adult Literacy Group was celebrating their successful year and asked me to give a few words, as I had been working with them for the past 2 years as well. My Dad watched, mostly dumbfounded as he witnessed his first day of complete Spanish Language Immersion. The community watched, equally dumbfounded, as my 6 foot tall, 250 lb “Godfather”-father towered through the community.
The next three days were spent exploring La Montana, from ducking into tiny mud-huts to accepting many plates of beans, rice and cuajada. My Dad tried diligently to communicate with the many little children who stared shamelessly up at my father’s Italian eyes, but I can promise you they were much more interested in his great pansa than the words that were coming out of his mouth.
We hiked up to the waterfalls (and then stumbled down them, nearly taking Franklin’s life), shared a few drinks with the local bolos after tasting Dora’s famous pupusas and headed to bed amongst the neighborhood’s barking chuchos and squaking roosters. I slept tranquilo through these quite welcomed community sounds, only to be disturbed by my Dad ringing out his wet laundry.
Monday morning we started to drive west, making a quick detour to drop off my friend Modesta at a local pig farm. It was that first day that we stumbled across the monkeys and also the first opportunity for my Dad to speak English as we spent the night at a private Yacht Club.
We took a little boat right across the Bay where I learned a lot about my Dad’s childhood growing up in Queens and starting a newspaper business with his older brother. I quietly listened to his interesting stories about what made his life what it is, and grin now remembering some parts that I probably shouldn’t write about.
He asked me questions like if I remembered the first day we saw our boat that would later become “King James”, that would hold many hiding-place-cabinets for my sister and I’s hide-and-seek games. The boat that would take traditional summer trips to see the MACY’s July 4th fireworks and be a platform for diving off into the warm coves of Hamburg.
Questions of my first childhood memory, Christmas Eve family parties and growing up with three sisters, all carefully designed by my mother to study hard, play soccer, take piano lessons, eat carrots and always be polite.
We spent the night in a beautiful little 2-story cabin tucked among the mangroves and had breakfast with a Canadian couple who had been sailing around the world for quite some time. Then we continued our journey out west, where we stopped to have lunch at the Port and then drove way out to the Lake of Coatepeque in Santa Ana. We had some dinner overlooking this beautiful crater lake where we ran into a travelling European Shakespeare group. It was quite lovely and rather odd to have stumbled upon this proper theatre ensemble, but the new company and interesting talk was welcomed.
From there we continued out to Ahuachupan where we had dinner and drinks in Ataco with a fellow volunteer. The next morning was spent exploring this beautiful little pueblo where the streets are decorated in amazing artwork and the stores will have you lost in an Alice-Wonderland.
Driving back towards the capital, through the winding roads of the coffee farmlands, we ran into The Waterfalls of Don Juan where we took a quick detour to see the falling-falls. Then it was back to civilization as my heart began to ache as the timekeeper lost his holding on time.
We enjoyed a sushi dinner at Mai Tai and maybe a few cuba libres before it was all over too quickly.
My week with my father was a very happy week. I was really proud to show him what I am doing here, to introduce him to the people I have met and who have come to “raise” me, and proud to show him this country that is often overlooked as a place to fall in love with.
I am happy here and in the work I am doing here and vow to continue my search for a happy life. That is why it was so important to have my Dad here with me to witness it. To share it.
The Art of Happiness says “And as we begin to identify the factors that lead to a happier life, we will learn how the search for happiness offers benefits not only for the individual but for the individual’s family and for society at large as well.”
My experience here has been truly amazing, and to be able to share it with my father, who I think greatly feared/disliked the idea of me coming here in the first place, has been lo maximo. I mean, if you grew up knowing my Tony Soprano, Goodfellas loving, pinky-ring-wearing-Dad, you probably would have never pictured him roughing it in rural El Salvador. But I have the photos to prove it.
And the memories that will last a lifetime.
