Mark Fazlollah

Maggi and I shared a house at Calle Comayagua #1 in San Salvador in 1985 and 1986. It was Maggi and our other roommate, Chris Norton, who held the house together while I scurried from country to country, covering political upheaval. The stability of that Calle Comayagua house allowed me to pursue some of the best news stories of my life.

It was the Comayagua house where Salvadoran union members could talk freely. Where Maggi baked tons of cookies for political prisoners. Where a rickety telex machine transmitted news about American mercenaries aiding Nicaraguan contras. Where Doctors Without Borders maintained its contact with Europe. Where one wounded person recovered. Where we drank excessively.

I was back in El Salvador in 1989 and Maggi was briefly away when the Salvadoran army assassinated Maggi’s boss, Padre Segundo Montes, and the other Jesuits. We met in the United States after the killings. Maggi’s world seemed to have collapsed, but it was Maggi who comforted me when I cried.

We worked Washington at the same time in 2001 and 2002. We’d meet for coffee to yak about Damian and our friends and families. She was very good at making suggestions for my stories and how to avoid some of the pitfalls of post-9/11 American journalism.

Of course, Maggi shaped her life in a way to continue helping Latin America. She maintained a brutal schedule, raising Damian, running the foundation and traveling as much as any of our friends who were foreign correspondents. Before each of her trips to El Salvador, she would send me an e-mail reminding me that I was delinquent on sending letters to Maria Luz, Eduardo and Juan Carlos.

The last time we talked, after her father’s death, we briefly discussed the operation. But mostly we talked about Damian’s upcoming Salvador trip and about a possible trip by them to Philadelphia to see Temple University. I told Maggi that if Damian chose to attend Temple, we could offer him our extra bedroom and food. Maggi thought that a college kid probably wouldn’t want to stay with his mom’s friends, but food might attract him.

And my family and I want you to know that our house is always your house.

Mark Fazlollah
mfazlollah@phillynews.com