High tide, Low tide

This week started with a crazy Monday.

Work was awesome at the clinic- I am starting to balance the work in the office with hanging our with the patients. I have been learning how to play dominos and have been holding my own at checkers. I am really starting to get to know them, hear their stories, where they are from, learn about their families, what they did for a living, and how they came here. I have been laughing a lot there- old men are inherently funny.

As I was walking back to my house after work, a couple of kids ran up to me telling me that they saw me on TV. Yes, two months in, and I have already been on Ecuatorian TV. The main channel in Guayaqiul had a story on Damien House on the 8am news, and I had about 10 seconds on air, talking with one of my new friends. For the rest of the day, several neighbors came up to me and shared the news. At Semillas- the same thing. It seemed that everyone saw that clip except for me! You could say I walked around the rest of the day, with a bit of a grin on my face.

That grin was wiped off of my face pretty quickly, at Semillas, when Lupita came running over to me during recess, with Abraham (4 year old children who comes everyday with a big smile) craddled in her arms like David Hasselhoth coming out of the surf. Blood was everywhere.
Let me first describe Abraham, older sister Carmen (9yrs), and older Brother Luis(6yrs). Every day for work, when I am about 30 yards from Semillas. The two boys come running at me, full speed, arms literally wide open, with smiles cheek to cheek. They take a leap of faith and demand to be lifted in the air. Their smiles never break. They do this everyday, it never get old for them. This literally happen every time I pass by their house, even at night. I plan to spend 5 minutes on my way past their house. Then, when I need to leave, they sit on my feet, one on each leg, then I walk , step by step, with two children having laughung. After one helps me pry another off, along with their sister, they yell RUN!!! and I literally have to run away from them. They are the happiest kids, and the craziest I have ever met.

Back to the story....

Abraham fell off the swingset and split his head wide open. We laid him on a table in our outdoor classroom to clean the wound. We had water are cotton balls. He was screaming for about 5 minutes until he calmed down, and the blood had stopped flowing. His ScoobyDoo shirt and shorts were drenched in blood. It was a long five minutes.

After the immediate emergency was over, his older brother and sister came in the room (6,9 yrs). The faces will filled with worry. The whole family started crying. We tried to calm them down, after all, the blood had stopped- the worst part was over.

It was only the begining. The worst part was yet to come. The worried look on their faces was not over the well being of their younger brother, but about the parents. Papi va me paga. Over and over again. They were going to get hit for this accident. All of them.

There is really nothing you can say to a child. I was frozen with fear. I couldnt say a word. It was not going to be OK. I could not tell them that it would be alight. I had no control. I sat there for another 15 minutes, feeding them water, holding their hands, in silence. Lupita went home to wash the white shirt that turned red.

Not having any idea what would happen to them, a couple of us walked to their house to explain the situation to the parents. We walked across the dirt road holding hands, we would be there for supprt, and as we got closer to their house, the grips tightened with fear.

The father was lying on the hammock in their cane house. Chickens, chicks, dogs, and cats were scurrying around the room. Lupita, the other volunteer and another older Ecuadorian, my buddy Tyrone, explained what happened- then they left. I didnt get a word in by this point, and I felt I had a lot to say. Surely if I talk to the father, man to man, he would calm down and not hit his three children for this, surely. After all, it was an accident.

When I was alone with the children and parents. I got about a sentence in before the father pleaded his case to me. He was young. He explained to me that his kids were loco. They bother him all the time. They are high maintanance and just run around and play all the time. They dont listen. He kept eye contact the whole time as he complained to me about how difficult his children were.

When I finally got a chance to speak, I started complimenting his kids. Translated - I love to have you kids at Semillas. They is very nice, kind, friendly. happy. Carmen very smart at lesson today. Very inteligent. Very nice kids you have. I love having your kids at our program. Very nice kids. Very kind. Very happy. I dont speak well, sorry, i wish I speak better, i cant explain.

My broken Spanish went on for a while. When it finally ran out, the father, knowing exactly why I was there, then showed me his whip. It looked like two King Cobra tails put together, about a yard in length.

No estoy en acceurdo- I said. He replied, Solo dos veces.

I asked the fathers name, Daniel?! Yo tambien!!! A firm handshake and then he broke his first smile. I went back to my compliments. Surely the more I complimented the children, the easier he would take it upon his children with the cobra tails. If I compliment enough, I thought, he might not even use it. I must have repeated myself this time, but I did not want to leave. The children were looking up to me, eating their bananas that we give out at the end of the day. They were worried, but calmed down at this point. I saw a couple of smiles when I said that the oldest daughter was smart. I continued, the boys are young, they are growing, I was loco as a child too, they will be smart como their sister. I really like having your kids at Semillas....

Then the father walked me out. I left and it was a very pensive walk home. Did I do anything to help these kids out? A very pensive shower. I tried lying to myself, surely those compliments did something. I had to move on from what had just happend-I was in a rush because I was invited to a play in Guayquil, with my coworker and other volunteer, but really, friends at Damien House.

The three of us were all dressed up and the evening was great. I got picked up, and we talked about me being on TV. They couldnt believe that a kid, who just started speaking Spanish, who had been in the country for 2 months, was on TV and speaking Spanish to a patient at Damien House. I guess it is pretty funny. When went out after the play, that I couldnt understand, and I had my first hamburger in 2 months. Words cannot describe it.

After I went home, I couldnt stop thinking about Abraham. When the blood had stopped, I asked him if he wanted to go home, and be with his mother who was home. He said no. He didnt want to go home. His mother wouldnt react like mine. Instead of comfort, there would be consequences. I couldnt stop thinking about the situation.

I am so grateful for the home I was born in.

Office Space

I thought I would come to Ecuador and avoid, at least one more year, of working in an office. Wrong.

Damian House is in a real struggle right now to stay open. Money is really tight. And they just laid off most of their staff, so there is a lot of freedom to bring my ideas to the table. I am currently writing up a newsletter, going into Guayaquil and working with a printer to finalize the product. It is really exciting because I have the opportunity to write their story. All that descriptive writing in college is paying off. Right now, me and Laura are writing the story of how Damien House started- we are interviewing those who were there from the start. We are describing the transformation that took place at the abandoned hospital wing. We hope to finish soon and I will post that story AS SOON as it is ready. After the newsletter, I have a lot more ideas for office work like re-doing the website (which is so key), and creating a blog for the foundation. Though I am jammed packed with office work, I feel that it is going to pay off for my organization.

As far as Semillas- It couldnt be better. I am at the point where the mob of kids, has become a group of children with names and personalities (for better or worse). I have a feel for who they are and my role in their lives. I am at the point where any anxiety about not being able to speak Spanish is gone- I have come to accept that there will always be words I can´t understand- why worry about the shit that you cannot control? I must admit, it does make me wake up a little but earlier in the mornings to go over verb tenses and vocab.

I am starting to get into a rythym here, which is really nice. I have come to expect garbage fires, little children wrapping themselves around my feet and expecting a free ride (step by step), getting turned around on a walk home at night because there are 15 dogs in a street barking at me. I have come to expect women to breast feed in public- whether it is the lady who I am buying fruit from, sitting next to me on the bus (this morning), or on the motorcycle next to my bus (yes father driving, baby in between, mother in back, breast feeding). Actually the last one did surprise me, but for the most part, I have learned to expect the unexpected. I really never knew what that phrase meant until this experience.

Padre Solano

So the buses are crazy here.

Everyday I take the yellow Padre Solano bus from Duran into Guayaquil. The buses here stop for women, and slow down for men. I normally get picked up at bus stops so I rarely have to ¨catch a bus¨- but there are opportunities

The strategy is to grab on to a bar on the outside of the bus, hold on to it tightly, and then plant your left foot on the first step. Then your Golden. But its not as easy as it sounds. The first couple times I tried this, I wasnt so graceful. My balance was off and I more or less wabbled onto the bus. I never fell, but I never got onto the bus as smoothly as I would have liked.

Today was my opportunity. I knew it- As I was leaving Damien House to go home, I saw that yellow Padre Solano bus from a distance, waved it down, and thought- Today is my day. The bus slowed down, but had not intention of stopping for me. This was my opportunity. To catch a moving bus. As the distance closed in I jogged for towards it. I reached my right hand out, got a good grip, and jumped into the bus. So smooth. I did it. I reached into my pocket to give the driver 50 cents. I waited for my change with a grin on my face, it was my first time, and I felt like a local. I was pretty bummed when he gave me back a lot of bronze coins. As looked down into my right hand full of pennies, with my left hand holding my notebook, the driver slammed on the breaks as hard as he could, throwing me down the two steps and into the windshield. I got air and as I actually managed to stay on my feet with my notebook in hand, and I didn't lose one of those pennies. But I did lose my opportunity execute catchîng a rolling bus with grace. I regained my balance with a grin on my face, as I looked for an open seat...

The bus rides are very entertaining here. Every driver is different. Some are convinced that they are Sean Paul, from the shades, to the reggaetone bumping, to the towel around their neck, to the amount of hair gel they use, to their popped collars. Every one is different, but they all drive like Jeff Gordon on the congested two-way narrow streets of Duran, going about 50 mph and weaving through dogs, people, chickens, and street vendors.

Some have friends that they pick up on the way that help them harrass people to get on the bus. There is no equilivent in America, it is truly a special relationship. These sidekicks like to lean out the door with one foot hanging over the road on the highway as they wave their towels to people on the streets.

And then there are the beggers. EVERY ride, someone gets on the bus and tells there story. They are people who show scars, sing songs, play a guitar, sell candy,do a tandom rap, dress up as a clown, or do a theology lecture.

Then there are the street vendors. They sell icecream, candy, drinks, cigarettes, and anything else to people on the bus. My favorite dude is the Yogoso guy. Yogosu´s are like freeze pops, but they are filled with a sherbert like ice cream. 10 cents. How can you say no when its 1:30 pm and I left the house at 7:50am?

Buses are a part of my life. And as much as I would like to study Spanish or sleep- they are way too entertaining to do anything but observe this strange world I am begining to fall in love with.

Hospitality

Everythings going really well here in Arbolito, Im starting to settle into my 2 jobs. But even more so, Im starting to set into the community here.

Last Friday, after Semillas (my afterschool placement) got out, I was invited to Joseph´s house, one of the older kids at my program. When we came to the house there were already some kids juggling a soccer ball outside on the unpaved road. I jumped in the juggling circle and if you screwed up, you had to leave the circle and wait for the next game. I somehow managed to stay in for at least a couple rounds, until two of the younger kids came out with a large spool of netting (used to hold chickens). After they cut the netting with rocks, they handed it to me and asked me to tie one side to their bamboo fence, and the other side, across the dirt road, to the metal cage covering their neighbor´s window. A volleyball net.

The 9 of us played with 3 teams of 3, first team to 5 points wins. The games were so much fun. This kids were screaming words that I couldnt understand and really getting into it. I was just playing, only able to communicate with my phrase ¨bien hecho¨meaning well done and a couple of high 5´s. Despite the unpaved road littered with ash, rocks, and trash. the children were even more inclined to dive or slide for the ball. They liked getting dirty. They like to play hard here. Maybe it was because I was about 7 years older than everyone else, or a couple feet taller, but my team didnt lose. Amazingly, out net only needed to be retied once. As the sun set, I went inside Joseph´s house to meet his family.

Inside the bamboo fence, there is a yard about 9x9, cluttered with laundry lines, dogs, cats, piles of concrete and stone, and everything you could imagine except for grass. I ducked my way into his home where he lives with 2 sisters, a younger brother, and his mother. There home is one room. There are 4 beds, 2 of which are bunked. The kitchen is a table at the foot of the beds and a stove. There is no sink, because there is no running water. They carry it in in giant barrels that are filled weakly by water trucks. The only privacy that is offered is the tapestry blocking off the bathroom. No window screes. There were holes in the tin roof. Mosquito nets hung over every bed. Diplomas hung from the brick walls. The space is small, so as I took my first step in, I could see his whole family. I met most of his siblings at Semillas, so I really only met his mother this night. Maybe it was because I had no other choice, but when I entered the house, I could speak Spanish. I dont know how to explain it, but I just understood what was going on. They only way to describe Joseph´s family is that they are warm. They all have great laughs and were patient with my language. I dont know why, but in their one room house, I felt at home.

I ended up going back to Joseph´s after mass on Sunday to learn how make Secco de Pollo (rice and chicken) with his mother and sister. MEAT. As volunteers, with our $60 a week food allowance (for all to share), we can´t really afford to eat meat. So, needless to say, I was very excited for this meal. Further, I was even more excited to hang out with this family again. Before the food, they insisted I try a couple of fruits that I didnt want to. When in Rome. I helped to cook by chopping up some veggies and stirring the food. The meal was great, but the conversation was better. It was one of those moments that you cant really explain, but I felt so fulfilled. I could just hang out, crack jokes, and meet a family.

I would ask questions about them as they showed me pictures. And then they would ask ¨Whats your home like¨ What do your parents do for work¨ ¨Your have ALL brothers!?¨ ¨Your girlfriend is from Hawaii?! ¨What did you and your friends do during college and for the summers?!¨ Their interest was so genuine and their eyes lit up to hear about my life. And I would try my best to answer the questions, telling them about the woods in NH and how I can only see my neighbors house in the winter, and how much snow there is, and how many trees there and animals there are and about the lake I grew up on during the summers. We spent the afternoon sharing experiences, and after, we watched a movie together. During the movie I was starting to get tired, and I looked around. Everyone was sleeping. It was about 2pm in the afternoon, so I said fuck it, and took a nap with them.

I woke up from the nap, just in time for the end of the movie, and left with Joseph and his buddy Jairon, to lift weights at a gym about a mile away. The gym had equipment from the 70´s and was hotter than hell. They stayed alot longer than I wanted to. But it did cost 50cents to enter, and they wanted to get there moneys worth. The things I took for granted are really starting to pile up now.

It was a great Sunday- I got to meet this wonderful family in my community, eat chicken, and get some excercise. Josephs mother complimented me by saying I was ¨bien tranquilo¨ By having the opportunity to tell my story to them, about my family and culture, I felt like I was meeting my family, just as much as I was meeting theirs.