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In the early 1980s, when El Salvador was engulfed in a brutal civil war, a young and aspiring photo journalist set off on an adventure that would forever shape his perspective on life, humanity, and the power of the written word.
With dreams of capturing the raw reality of conflict and telling the stories that needed to be heard, I embarked on a clandestine journey to El Salvador under the guise of a vacation in Florida. Armed with my camera, a backpack full of film rolls, and a heart full of determination, I arrived in the war-torn country, prepared to face the harsh realities of war head-on.
I am the youngest of five siblings, and I embarked on a trip when he was only 22 years old. I knew that his family would not permit him to visit a war zone. To achieve my goal, so I created a web of deceit. I informed my parents and family that he would be taking a two-week vacation on San Marco Island near the Florida coast. However, I secretly traveled to Puerto Rico and then flew to Llopango airport in Central America. The airport was the busiest during the civil war, and the Guerillas would take every opportunity to bomb it.
Day 1–5: The Arrival
As I touched down in El Salvador, the tension in the air was palpable. Armed soldiers patrolled the streets, and graffiti-covered walls bore witness to the frustration and despair of the citizens. I managed to establish contact with a small group of local journalists who were equally passionate about revealing the truth. They shared stories, tips, and the locations of makeshift hospitals and refugee camps.
Day 6–10: The Frontlines
Eager to photograph the heart of the conflict, I and my newfound companions ventured to the frontlines. The deafening sounds of gunfire, the sight of families fleeing their homes, and the smell of burning buildings all became a part of my daily life. Despite the chaos, my determination to document the stories of those affected by the war only grew stronger.
One day, while documenting the aftermath of a skirmish, I met Maria, a nurse working tirelessly to save lives amid the chaos. Her courage and resilience inspired me, and we spent hours talking about the lives shattered by the conflict. Through Maria’s eyes, I began to understand the human cost of war in a way that no textbook or news article could ever convey.
Day 11–15: Unveiling Stories
As the days turned into a week, my photographs began to tell stories that words alone could not. Images of children playing amidst the ruins, families huddled together for safety, and the determination of the local populace to rebuild their lives served as a powerful testament to the strength of the human spirit.
One evening, as my journalist friends and I gathered to review the day’s work, they received news of a government crackdown on media outlets. Panic swept through the group as we realized that our mission to uncover the truth was now more dangerous than ever. But the desire to bring the stories to light outweighed the fear, and they resolved to continue their work covertly.
Day 16–20: The Departure
With each passing day, the toll of the war began to impact my spirit. The images we had captured were a heavy burden to bear, and the faces of those we had met haunted my dreams. It was during this time that Maria handed me a letter, urging me to share the stories of El Salvador with the world and to remember that even in the darkest of times, hope could thrive.
My time in El Salvador drew to a close, I reflected on the 20 days that had transformed me from an eager journalist to a witness of humanity’s capacity for both destruction and resilience. Leaving behind a country still torn by conflict, I returned home with a sense of purpose and a determination to share the stories that needed to be told.
In the years that followed, my photographs and writings served as a poignant reminder of the war’s impact. The stories of the people I met, the faces I had captured through the lens, and the lessons I learned became a testament to the importance of bearing witness to the truth, even in the face of danger. The only time my original photos were seen in the USA was in a private gallery showing in NYC in 1987. Most of my friends at home in Chicago, didn’t even know there was a war in El Salvador.
Sadly in 2004, while living in Jerusalem, my home was robbed, and all my journals, photos, and personal effects were stolen. But they can never steel the images that those 20 days left in my mind and the impact on my soul.
