For Two Remote Salvadorian Villages, the Iraq War Hits Close to Home

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Here lives Herminia Ramos whose son Natividad de Jesús Méndez Ramos bares the dubious distinction of being the poorest coalition soldier to die in the Iraq war. "Tivito" fell on April 4, 2004 when the ammunition his superiors had supplied his 16-member battalion proved tragically insufficient, forcing them to use knives to fight the enemy. Only four brave soldiers fended off the Iraqi insurgents after Tivito was killed and 12 others were injured, prompting the Spanish counterparts in their brigade to dub them "Los Guacamayos," a takeoff on their hometown. Prior to this, the brigade had been given the unflattering name, "Winnie the Pooh." The national newspaper, El Diario de Hoy, ran two articles about Tivito on March 31 of this year, commemorating the anniversary of his death the following week and calling him a national hero.

But any pomp or sense of national pride clearly missed the turnoff to Herminia's humble home. Her life of manual labor and raising children goes on, as if there never were a terrible war being fought on the other side of the world. When the visitors arrive, unannounced, 46-year-old Herminia is out looking for bread to feed her family tonight. Instead she has left her eldest daughter, 23-year-old Maria, to look after the toddlers, six-year-old José Antonio and four-year-old Marcos.

The young woman is deathly quiet as she scrubs dishes and clothing in the outdoor stone basin called the pisa, and says little about her fallen brother. The old woman with the cane, Herminia's neighbor, picks up the story.

"Maria was married, but her husband left. She had a child, but it died," the old woman refers to Maria in the third person as if she wasn't within earshot. "She traveled to the capital along with Herminia to retrieve Tivito's body. It was a difficult experience. She doesn't say much."

If it weren't for the two boys swinging on the hammock and giggling at the strange, tall, pale white visitors, the awkward silence at this moment would be unbearable. One wears dirty, tattered shorts. The other wears nothing at all. At their sister's request they use an open-faced plastic jug to shake loose several sweet "hocote" fruits from a nearby bush, and feed their guests.

"He was a boy on the verge of becoming a man," the old woman says. "A hard worker. This boy helped out his poor mother and worked for the good of the household."

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