Murder is not a topic I ever envisioned would prominently touch a CSMFO article.  Yet, here I sit literally writing my fourth version of this month’s President Elect article.  I keep hoping to find the “right” words to assure our CSMFO Members that we stand together with them in a collective fight against racism, that we too are saddened by the murders of George Floyd in Minnesota, Breonna Taylor in Kentucky, and Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia, and how we are an inclusive organization that is guided by our values like integrity and creating a positive legacy.

But I’m already unsure of this “fourth” version.  Like the prior three versions, I felt proud as I pushed words onto my screen that seemed to reflect my beliefs and values and my truths.  But every time I re-read it, I had to start over.  And now, I have to admit, I can’t keep writing this month.  Not because or writers block, but because I have to accept I don’t know what to say.  Racism and murder are not simple topics to write or talk about, especially when I have not had to endure what others have.  Promising change is also tricky as we all know how long it can take.

I will do what I probably should be focusing on and stop talking, stop writing, and just listen to those around me speak their truths and fight every day to keep listening, learning, and understanding.

I will let someone else tell you their story that I’m sharing with you now, about how easy anyone can fall into actions that lead to racism and the other “-isms” in society.   This story is from a colleague and friend.  I hope you’ll listen to it with me.

-Marcus Pimentel

Shared courtesy of Walter Espinoza

Years ago, I was in a small town on the slopes of a beautiful volcano in Latin America visiting families on a missionary service trip. It was a town of honest and hard-working dairy families. People were noble and extremely supportive of one another and it was a clean, healthy, and prosperous town.

But one house was different from the others. In that house lived a man named Don Salvador with his family. The house looked neglected. The villagers informed me that a rude and ill-spoken person lived there. I listened to them and avoided going to visit that house.  Days later, I asked myself “Why did I listen to them?” Well, because they were good people sharing information and protecting me from having a bad experience.

Disappointed with myself, I decided to ignore their warnings and went to Don Salvador’s home. I knocked on the door and Don Salvador opened it.  There was a different energy here and it only took Don Salvador a few minutes to kick me out of his property with obscene words.

Upon returning to town, people told me “We told you so” and I agreed that they were right, Don Salvador was a rude person and different from the others.

I didn’t feel good with myself about what happened, so I drummed up some courage and went back a couple of days later. I knocked on the door with a mix of fear and humility. Don Salvador greeted me with a booming voice, “You again, what the hell do you want?”

In a trembling voice, I said, “Don Salvador, I want to know you and I need your help.”

Don Salvador’s face changed, and he repeated “You want to know me and need my help?” I answered “yes”.  Don Salvador invited me to come and sit at his house. I met his family and had coffee with them.

He was a strong man with a beautiful family, they were not from the region, but they lived there for a few years. Don Salvador shared with me the rejection he felt for being the poorest family and different from the rest. He was not rude…he was hurt.

After a while, I asked him to help with a town project and he said “yes” with a beautiful big smile.

The next day Don and his family joined me to work on the town project.  Upon seeing the Salvador family, nobody knew how to react. I informed everyone that the Salvador’s wanted to help. Suddenly people started clapping.

The entire Salvador family began to cry. People started to get up and clap louder, others cried, and others went to hug them. Don and his family were finally welcomed as the community began the process to reconcile with themselves.

I learned from this story that even though there are good people around us, these good people can transmit prejudice to us. I learned that I too let myself be carried away by my own prejudices and my foolishness in believing “I know enough”.

In these moments, we must find the courage to be humble, to accept that we “do not know” the experiences and trauma of others, and to say “I want to know you and I need your help.”

Let’s all recognize our own biases and figuratively put our right knee on the ground and humbly listen, see, and learn so we can embrace how beautiful our differences come together and act as one voice for equity.

Don Salvador died six months after my visit of a heart attack. At his funeral no one was missing from the community. And the last time I visited that town, Don Salvador’s family remains one of the most beloved.

Walter Espinoza is currently a Health Center Manager in Watsonville for the County of Santa Cruz Health Service Agency.  But it is his life experiences and values that define who he is and that guides how he lives.