The next morning I fixed my espresso and went out to the terrace.  Dawn’s first light was approaching.  My favorite part of the day.  Quiet and peaceful with an infinite amount of possibilities ahead.  The sky was glowing a pastel pink and blue.  I finished my coffee and walked down to the beach.  This would be my morning ritual for the next few days.  I’d walk the rocky shores and watch wild horses travel along the coast.  One of the most magical qualities about El Tunco is that it faces due south.  Every morning you could witness the sunrise over the ocean and every evening watch it set.  As much as I could have spent every waking moment out on the beach, I had to organize the project.  So I returned to my room to work.

While researching El Salvador, I read about the Pipil people, an indigenous group descended from the Aztecs.  I found a group of Nahua Pipil ancestral dancers on a YouTube channel. In one of the video’s descriptions, there was a contact number for the owner of the channel.  I messaged him explaining the project and he got back to me with immediate interest.  That is how I met Amilcar.  We arranged to meet in Panchimalco, a town where the Pipil people fled in the 16th century to escape the Spanish invasion of El Salvador.

I arrived a bit earlier than our meeting time so I found a small restaurant to have lunch.  I messaged Amilcar and let him know I’d arrived.  I didn’t realize that he lived just down the street.  In a matter of minutes he joined me.  It became immediately apparent how passionate he was about his culture.  He explained to me his role as an educator and taught me a bit of history about the Nahua Pipil people.  After we finished eating, he took me on a tour of the town.  We saw indigenous street art and he took me to The Church of the Holy Cross of Rome, a colonial white church considered to be one of the oldest in the country.

After a couple of hours exploring the town, Amilcar’s wife met us.  We traveled to Shulutepet Hill, a sacred location for the Nahua Pipil.  As we climbed the steep pathway to the top, I learned more about his ancestors and where they went to escape Spanish conquest.  We reached the top and were greeted by one of the most picturesque views.  Lakes, forests, volcanoes, the ocean.  I swore you could see the entire country from the top of that majestic rock.  Amilcar changed into his ancestral dance costume and we took the portrait.  Afterwards, he performed a ritual.  He told me that he could feel the spirit of his ancestors endorsing our time together and the mission this project is meant to carry out.  Hearing those words was profound.  The potential impact this artwork could have on these cultures was becoming more and more evident.

We made our way back down the mountain.  I prepared the paper and paint for Amilcar and he ordered us a corn drink from a local vendor at the base of the hill.  He painted the line and invited me to a dance ceremony that would take place in San Salvador, the country’s capital.  I asked him if he knew of any organizations in the that I could potentially work with and he put me in contact with Consejo Coordinador Nacional Indígena Salvadoreño (CCNIS).  I contacted them and arranged a meeting at their headquarters in the capital.  We finished our corn drinks and I thanked Amilcar for such a powerful experience in his people’s most sacred land.  We parted ways and I headed back to El Tunco.

The following day I traveled to San Salvador.  I’d stay the next few days there.  Bracing myself for the version of the country’s capital I had created in my mind.  I was caught completely off guard when I arrived.  The city was breathtaking.   The sprawling cityscape was nestled between the San Salvador Volcano to the west and Lake Ilopango to the east.  When not eating pupusas (cornmeal patties stuffed with meats and cheese then topped with cabbage and red salsa) there were plenty of restaurants to choose from at a caliber on par with any world class city’s offering.  El Salvador had become one of the biggest surprises and one of the biggest highlights of my trip to Central America.

I met Amilcar in the park the next afternoon.  There were seven or eight other people who had come to join the dance ceremony.  The rituals were precise and spiritual.  A number of artifacts adorned the ground as the dancers circled around.  One by one they took turns leading a dance.  Using percussion instruments and chants, the dancers seemed to teleport to another world.  Completely in sync with one another, the dancers demonstrated their passion and highlighted how important these spiritual ceremonies were to the culture even today.  As the ceremony came to an end, many of the dancers greeted me.  I thanked them for allowing me to attend.  

I would spend my last few days in El Salvador catching up on work.  One afternoon I visited CCNIS, met the members of the team and learned more about their initiatives.  Country by country, this project was becoming more than what I could have anticipated.  I genuinely started believing this project had the power (and more importantly the obligation) to significantly impact these communities.  To think I had landed in El Salvador with fear and anxiety concerning my safety.  Well, I left the country with even more fear and anxiety.  I left with the fear that I couldn't live up to the potential of what I was trying to achieve. Again I was faced with the cold hard truth that I couldn't do this alone.  With that thought in my mind, I boarded the plane to Belize.