For the two Methodist lay women, both natives of Vieques, praying for the sick and protesting against the Navy are complementary facets of their Christian faith.
"The bombing has caused sickness and death on Vieques for decades," says Vasquez," and God wants us to have life. We've got to get rid of the Navy if we're going to bring health back to Vieques."
Islanders suffer cancer rates almost twice the average of the rest of Puerto Rico, and many islanders believe that's the direct result of contamination by the Navy, which has used the island for bombing practice and munitions storage for almost six decades. Many islanders blame their cancer, respiratory problems, and birth defects on environmental pollution from the Navy's use of bombs, napalm, and depleted uranium shells.
"We're tired of being sick," says Jorge Colon, a Methodist layman and restaurant owner in Isabel II, one of two towns on Vieques. He holds out his forearms, which are covered by colored patches of abnormal skin. "The doctors can't figure why I have this. They say it's not caused by a bacteria or virus, nor by allergies. I think it's something from the bombing. The Navy simply has to go."
Luis Rodriguez, a Methodist doormaker, lists off his friends and relatives who have died from cancer. It's not a short list. He's now worried about his wife, Victorina Torres, who was diagnosed with colon cancer last year and is currently undergoing chemotherapy.
The couple is joining a class action suit against the U.S. Navy being brought by sick Vieques residents.
"We want the Navy to have to pay for the damage it's done to this people. The Navy has done horrible things and yet they have the nerve to insist that they can keep on bombing. We're U.S. citizens, but the Navy wouldn't do this to U.S. citizens in other places," argues Rodriguez, a U.S. military veteran.
In addition to losing friends and relatives to cancer and other illnesses, Cruz, 73, and Vasquez, 58, have their own unhappy memories about the Navy. As a child, Cruz watched as Navy bulldozers smashed her family's home after they were forced to sell to the Navy for a fraction of the house's value. Vasquez says she lived in constant fear as a girl, as U.S. Marines on leave roamed the island sexually harassing girls and women. For years she had nightmares of being raped by Marines.
Cruz was a homemaker and Vasquez a school counselor, but both are now retired and have time on their hands. So they visit the sick, praying over bodies ravaged by militarism. Vasquez is investigating the possibilities of sending some island residents to Methodist hospitals in the U.S. for treatment that isn't available in Puerto Rico.
The two women also spend a few hours every day at the gate to Camp Garcia, part of the Navy's facilities on Vieques. They help run the "Justice and Peace Camp," one of more than a dozen resistance camps established in the last ten months by Puerto Ricans opposed to continued Navy bombing of Vieques. The other camps are on the bombing range inside the Navy-controlled zone.
The protest settlement at Camp Garcia is a collection of tents and tarps surrounding the chainlink gate. Protestors are present 24 hours a day, monitoring Navy activity, educating visitors about Vieques' history, and blocking entry onto the base of U.S. military personnel. The women keep a heavy chain and padlock handy, and say they'll use it to lock the gate if guards try to push them out of the way.
The protestors let civilian employees enter without problems, however. Like the protestors, most of the civilian employees are Vieques residents, and many give a thumbs up and smile to their protesting neighbors as they enter or leave the gate. "Our fight is not with them," Vasquez argues, "it's with the Navy."
Protestors run the risk of arrest for their activities, but the Methodist women say they aren't worried.
"All our kids are grown and independent, so we're ready to pay whatever price is necessary to bring peace to Vieques," says Vasquez.
"God will protect us, so we're ready for whatever happens," Cruz adds. "If they arrest us, we'll go along happily."
The women report it's their faith that motivates them to protest."
"I'm here because I'm a child of God, and God created me to be a steward of creation," says Cruz. "When I stand before God some day, God will ask me where I was during this struggle. I want God to say to me that I was a good and faithful servant."
Another Methodist laywoman, Lucrecia Torres, a 59-year old retired cook, runs the kitchen at the Justice and Peace Camp. She says she'd prefer to be at the protest camps set up on the bombing range, but doesn't like the lengthy, often bumpy ride in small fishing boats over the open sea. "I'm a lot more afraid of the boat ride than getting arrested," Torres says. "I'm retired and live alone, and I can think of nothing better to do with my time than to be here making peace."
The women enjoy the support of their church leaders. Both Juan Vera, bishop of the Methodist Church of Puerto Rico, and Lucy Rosario, pastor of the Methodist congregation in Isabel II, are strong supporters of the nonviolent struggle against the Navy. Vera has become a major spokesperson for the anti-Navy struggle, and is an architect of a massive peace march scheduled to take place in San Juan on February 21. Rosario, who was appointed to Vieques last June, is currently in the U.S. talking with members of the U.S. Congress, trying to get them to give peace a chance on Vieques.
"It encourages us that the leaders of our church are at the front of the struggle," Torres says. "We know we're not alone on Vieques. The bishop's participation has made me proud to be a Methodist, and I give thanks to God for our pastor. She arrived here at the exact moment we needed her."