The Salvadoran Civil War was a brutal conflict that lasted from 1980 to 1992, leaving a deep mark on the country’s history and people. It was fought between the government of El Salvador, backed by the military and wealthy elites, and a coalition of leftist guerrilla groups known as the FMLN (Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front). The war had deep roots in economic inequality, social injustice, and political repression. For decades, a small percentage of the population controlled most of the land and wealth, while the majority of Salvadorans lived in poverty. Peaceful protests were often met with violence, and many activists, priests, and students who spoke out were threatened, jailed, or killed. By the late 1970s, tensions exploded. The assassination of Archbishop Óscar Romero in 1980 a vocal defender of the poor and critic of government violence was one of the major turning points that led to all-out war. Over the next 12 years, more than 75,000 people were killed, and thousands more disappeared. Entire communities were displaced, and countless families, like my grandfather’s, lived through fear, loss, and deep uncertainty. The war ended with the signing of the Peace Accords in 1992, but its emotional and social impact is still felt today. After learning about the historical background of the Civil War, I wanted to go deeper and hear from someone who lived through that time. So, I sat down with someone very close to my heart my grandfather, José Gregorio Ventura Montoya. Born in 1942, in Cantón Mirandilla, Cuscatlán. My grandpa has spent most of his life working as a farmer, connected to the land and to the rhythms of nature. Even today, he remains active and full of energy, always enjoying outdoor activities and staying involved in daily life. It was a pleasure and an honor to talk with him about his memories and personal experiences during the war. In this post, I’ll be sharing his story a firsthand account from someone who lived through one of the most difficult times in El Salvador’s history. It’s truly a miracle that he survived those difficult years marked by fear, injustice, and uncertainty. Many did not live to tell their story, but thankfully, he did. And now, it’s my honor to share a part of it with you.

Before the war began, my grandfather lived a quiet, simple life. His daily routine consisted of working, staying at home, and attending meetings in his community. He lived in Cantón Mirandilla, where life followed a peaceful rhythm. However, change was on the horizon. The conflict didn’t erupt suddenly, it built up slowly, through meetings and tension that eventually led to the outbreak of violence. When the war finally began, it did so with explosions, gunshots, and fear. In 1980, the war officially began. My grandfather was at home when it started, and fear immediately filled his heart. At the time, he had a wife and five children to protect including my mother, who had just been born. The sense of responsibility was overwhelming. People in the community were forced to flee for their lives. Though houses remained standing, no one stayed behind. Today, no one lives there anymore. Only farmland remains, where people go to work, but not to live. To survive, families including my grandfather’s had to run and hide in different areas like Sicaron, Cerro Coyote, Buena Vista, Palo Grande, and Tenango. They moved from place to place, sometimes returning to their community, only to run again. These escape journeys often lasted days, even weeks. One of the longest lasted between 20 and 25 days, and during that time, they went several days without eating. Still, they kept running, because their lives were at risk.

The war deeply affected my grandfather. As time went on, his family grew he eventually had seven children to protect, in addition to his wife and elderly parents. But what hurt the most was the loss of five of his siblings. Some of them died with their children due to bombs and gunfire. One particularly painful memory he shared was about his sister Marina, who died alongside her husband and three of her four children when a bomb exploded near them. They had been resting under a tree. Only one little girl survived, and she later became a teacher. There were constant dangers. Helicopters flew overhead searching for people, while armed groups hunted them on foot. My grandfather described the fear of knowing that someone could be above you or behind you, ready to kill. One heartbreaking event he witnessed was the slow death of a woman who was shot in the jaw because she hadn’t run fast enough. She was still alive and suffering when he saw her, and he couldn’t understand how something so cruel could happen. He also remembered a soldier being tortured, and another moment that he considers a miracle. One day, he was standing in line with others, and for some reason, he moved to a different spot. Just after that, gunfire erupted in the place where he had been standing. One of the bullets struck a little girl, killing her instantly. Her father, filled with sorrow, asked my grandpa what to do—how to bury his daughter. My grandpa said it was God who helped them. There was a nearby lake that had overflowed, and when they moved a large log, they found soft earth underneath. There was already a deep hole formed by the water. They buried the girl there and kept running for their lives. That moment stayed with him forever. To survive, people dug and hid in tunnels underground. Others emigrated to different parts of El Salvador, since the war wasn’t affecting the entire country, just specific regions. Some made it, while others died trying. My grandfather said many people didn’t survive, but he and his family did, and for him, that was the hand of God. He admitted that he lived with fear throughout the war. He may not have used the word “trauma,” but the memories left a lasting emotional weight. Losing five siblings is not something anyone can forget. He always prayed and put his life and his family in God’s hands. He told me that even back then, he trusted God for salvation and looking back, he believes God answered his prayers. When I asked him what lessons he learned, he said that war taught him to hide, to shoot, and to protect his family. But more than that, it shaped the man he is today.

Interviewing my grandfather taught me more than I could have imagined. I realized that he is not only a survivor, but also a man of deep strength, humility, and faith. I admire him greatly for everything he went through, and I truly look up to him. Despite all the pain, loss, and fear he experienced, he remained a good man, a man who always thought of others before himself, and who trusted God no matter the circumstances. Even though I couldn’t share every detail of his story in this essay, this is just a glimpse of the incredible journey he lived through. The fact that he is still alive today, along with his wife and all nine of their children, is nothing short of a miracle. My mother, who was born at the very beginning of the war, also survived something I thank God for with all my heart. This experience reminded me of one powerful truth: with God, everything is possible. My grandfather’s life is living proof that even in the darkest moments, God’s protection, love, and faithfulness are real. Without Him, none of this would have been possible. And I know that no matter what we go through, if we trust Him, He will always be with us.