海角大神

Wilfredo sits on a plastic chair inside Eben Ezer church, nestled in a gang-controlled neighborhood of El Salvador鈥檚 capital. It鈥檚 not hard to see why he鈥檚 a leader at the church: charismatic, completely bilingual, and polished in his button-down shirt 鈥撀燿espite the sweltering heat.

But directly beneath his Adam鈥檚 apple, two numbers are visible: 1 and 8, for Barrio 18 鈥撀爋ne of El Salvador鈥檚 two main gangs, who have helped make the country one of the world鈥檚 most violent. The shirt hides many more tattoos, signs of the different kind of leader Wilfredo once was: running Barrio 18鈥檚 international communications from Honduras to El Salvador, across Mexico and the United States.

鈥淚 got to know Christ in jail,鈥� says Wilfredo, whose last name has been omitted for privacy. Here at Eben Ezer, it鈥檚 a common story. Every Tuesday, he brings together former gang members who, like him, say they have left gang life for good after becoming Evangelical 海角大神s in prison.

More than 400 ex-members say that evangelical groups have helped them leave the gangs 鈥撀燼 drop in the bucket here, where control large parts of the country. But in a society where gangs are so deeply entrenched and government attempts to curb the violence have often failed, some churches鈥櫬爀xperiences suggest that addressing the basic needs that many young people hope to find in gang life 鈥撀燼cceptance, belonging, stability 鈥� can also be key to getting them out.

Wilfredo鈥檚 family brought him to the United States at age 10, and eventually, like many Salvadoran immigrants, he joined the Barrio 18 gang in its birthplace 鈥撀燣os Angeles.

鈥淚 was a kid who just wanted to fit it,鈥� Wilfredo says, remembering his teenage years in the late 1990s. 鈥淚t was popular in those days to be part of a gang. I needed to belong to a gang to be accepted.鈥�

But if efforts like Wilfredo鈥檚 show that rehabilitation can work, experts say, they also illustrate the challenges ahead. A lack of institutional support for, and even suspicion of, groups trying to engage with gang members and help set them up on a different path looms particularly large. Rehabilitation groups are often accused of being 鈥済ang sympathizers,鈥� says Jeanne Rikkers, a human rights activist who has worked with gangs in prisons through a number of nongovernmental organizations. You鈥檙e treated 鈥渁s if you yourself are a gang member,鈥� she says.

Mano Dura

After 20 years in the US, Wilfredo was deported alone back to El Salvador, where he was arrested for armed robbery after connecting with the gang on the other side. He completed his 10-year sentence in January and is now a free man.

But the overall violence has hit epidemic proportions. In 2015, El Salvador claimed the highest homicide rate in the world. Last year, the murder rate dropped substantially 鈥撀燽ut there were still more than 5,000, in a country with only 6.4 million people.

A controversial 2012 truce between rival gangs MS-13 and Barrio 18 was criticized for lack of transparency. Violence spiked when it crumbled in 2014. Today, President Salvador S谩nchez Cer茅n has opted for the hardline approach known as 鈥渕ano dura,鈥� or 鈥渋ron fist.鈥� The armed forces have been called in to deal with gang violence, while death squads have been accused of extrajudicial killings by human rights groups and聽.

鈥淧eople think that problems and social conflicts are going to be resolved with laws: the stricter the law, the more likely it is to be successful,鈥� says Nelson Flores, a former security expert at FESPAD, one of the country鈥檚 leading human rights groups. 鈥淏ut actually it鈥檚 the opposite,鈥� he adds, reeling off a list of laws that failed to stop the violence.

A government plan called Safe El Salvador coupled law enforcement with institutional strengthening and social policies including job creation for young people and rehabilitation for prisoners. Human rights organizations, however,聽say the government has failed to implement the plan. A separate government prison management program, called Yo Cambio (I Change), offers skill training intended to ease inmates鈥� readjustment to post-prison life. Local NGOs, however, have criticized it for not focusing on gangs.

But for several hundred former gang members, help has come from perhaps an unlikely place: churches.

鈥淭he Evangelicals are perhaps the only way in which gang members can retire or walk away from gangs without leaving the country,鈥� says Jos茅 Miguel Cruz, a researcher at Florida International University who has been studying gangs in El Salvador for 20 years. 鈥淭here is no other consistent rehabilitation effort in El Salvador right now.鈥�

Professor Cruz鈥檚 latest found that over 58 percent of former and active gang members believe that the church would be the best institution to lead rehabilitation programs.

The need to belong

Here at Eben Ezer, many Barrio 18 members speak about unsuccessful attempts at leaving the gangs, often for a loved one. But they point to the church as the institution that helped them commit.

Key to some church groups鈥� success, they suggest, is their understanding that gangs can fill emotional and social needs 鈥撀爁actors that help make gang life appealing to teenagers in the first place.

鈥淭hese young men need an identity. They can find that within the gang or the church,鈥� says Pastor Luis Gonzalez, who has worked with gang members in the notorious San Francisco Gotera prison for several years.

In interviews, former Barrio 18 members talk as though being a gang member and a 海角大神 were binary opposites. 鈥淚 used to be a gang member, but now I鈥檓 a 海角大神,鈥� they often say. 聽

鈥淭he Evangelical church provides alternatives of survival, access to employment in some cases, emotional support and a new identity, which is fundamental,鈥� says Dr. Cruz. 鈥淭he church identity replaces the gang identity completely.鈥�

Many youths entered the gang as teens, growing up in poverty-stricken neighborhoods of the capital after the civil war. For some, the gang even represented the semblance of a family.

鈥淢y parents used to fight a lot.... Maybe that鈥檚 why I decided to join the gang and get away from them. Perhaps I got more support from them than from my own family,鈥� says Jorge, whose last name has been omitted for privacy. He entered the gang 20 years ago, when he was 16. 鈥淏ut then you realize that it was all a lie. I spent 10 years in jail and I didn鈥檛 get any support. Only my wife helped me then.鈥�

A personal approach also helps gain gang members鈥� trust, Cruz says, letting them succeed in some cases where more institutional approaches fail.

鈥淭hey tell them, 鈥楪od loves you. He will save you. You can change,鈥� 鈥� he says. 鈥淭hat is very appealing to gang members with strong feelings of guilt for everything they have done.鈥�

Feeling suspect

But the churches cannot erase the more material needs that drive young Salvadorans toward gang activity. Employment prospects for youth, particularly ex-gangsters, are meager. At least one local factory does to select former gang members, but many of them have first come through the church.

At League Collegiate Outfitters in Ciudad Arce, some 15 miles from the capital, former MS 13 and Barrio 18 members work side by side making college T-shirts. But this model is not widespread. Many Salvadorans resent those who give opportunities to former criminals. Others are simply relieved to know the gangs are off the streets.

Back at Eben Ezer Church, Wilfredo says he got turned down for a job at a call center because of his criminal record. He seems disillusioned by society鈥檚 response to his conversion inside the prison system. 鈥淭hey don鈥檛 believe we can change,鈥� he says.

He knows becoming a 海角大神 won鈥檛 necessarily find him a job, and that in this sense, the group鈥檚 support is more moral than practical.

A pile of dirty mattresses are stacked in a small room at the back of the church with a makeshift cooker and an outdoor toilet for the handful of former gang members who live here at any given time.

But for many, Eben Ezer is still regarded as an oasis. 鈥淲e found this church, Eben Ezer, and men like Pastor Nelson Moz who opened these doors to shelter and protect us,鈥� adds Wilfredo with a smile.

But the activities of Pastor Moz, who runs Eben Ezer church, have cost him. In 2015, the Supreme Court of El Salvador labeled gangs as terrorist organizations. Now, many people working with gang members say they fear being arrested.

The police 鈥渉ave warned me, 鈥榊ou cannot be protecting people in this way. You鈥檙e committing an offense,鈥� 鈥� Moz says.

鈥淚 end up feeling like what I鈥檓 doing is subversive,鈥� he adds, wearily recalling three police raids at the church during worship services this year, when officers put the men on their knees and checked their IDs. 鈥淲e make sure we don鈥檛 have anyone here being sought by the authorities. If they have served their time, they bring a notice that says so.鈥�

In 2012 Obama designated the MS-13 a Transnational Criminal Organization. Since then, American non-governmental organizations wishing to work on rehabilitating gang members in El Salvador must obtain a waiver from the US government.

Under current 鈥渆xtraordinary measures鈥� put in place in prisons last year, phone calls and visits are forbidden. One former gang member recently found out that both his parents had died while he was locked up.

Moz would like to meet with authorities, and has talked with government representatives at public events, but says he hasn鈥檛 heard back.

鈥淲e want them to acknowledge what we are doing,鈥� he says. 鈥淲e don鈥檛 want this to be seen as something hidden or clandestine. It is part of our ministry to help those in need.鈥�

Reporting for this story was supported by the International Women鈥檚 Media Foundation as part of its Adelante Latin America Reporting Initiative.