Babylon Burn Down: 11/01/2009

Everything is pretty crazy around here now.

We have had power outages throughout the country and for the past month, we have been cooking and eating dinner in the dark.

Lice has come and gone throughout several of the girls in our house, most likely from children in the afterschool program.

My brothers, Tim and Brian came to visit. I am so happy that I could share my life down here with them. I think they were blown away by the poverty, yes, but even more so the genuine warmth that comes from my neighbors. Its truly a unique vibe down here.

We also had a chance to vacation in Banos, another beautiful town surrounded by the Andes. I hope the pictures and videos of us repelling down waterfalls and bungy jumping doesnt take away from the reality of the Ecuadorian people, which they saw in my community.

And finally coming up on Tuesday, I will be leading a retreat group from Depaul University in Chicago for 10 days. I will be an experienced tour guide by the end of the year.

And finally on my mind, Tiffany comes in just after the Holidays.

Though I feel I have been all over the place for the last couple weeks, I dont want this blogs purpose to suffer. Yes, it is about what I have been up to. But more, its about the reality of this new culture I am experiencing. Heres a reflection on that reality through my brothers´eyes.

As my brothers walked down the street, they were overloaded with ¨Buenos Dias, Como Esta?¨ everyone we passed by, acknowledged us with a smile. Those I knew, talked with for a while, and even invited us in their homes. My neighbors were interested in meeting my family, that was what was importent. My brothers couldn´t believe that the people they met, lived in the conditions that they did. They welcome us, they cook us food, they are open, they trust us, they let us relax in their home, they laugh with us, they tell us about their lives. They are happy. But why do they live in a one room house? Why do they have to hail down the water truck in the morning to have that trash can filled outside their house? Why do they have to wait days for that damn water truck? Why dont they have windows, or screens? Why do the flies freely come into their house? Why do they have to skip dinner more days than not? Why are they not given the same opportunities we (yes, you too) were all given?

Here is the paradox... In the worst living conditions, live some of the worlds most most genuine, hopeful, and warm people.

The Us and Them distinction is something I have been struggling with recently. They live here, this is their reality. We are guests, and have the opportunity to leave anytime we want. The list could go on for a while about how we are different from them. But the reason I am here, is to challenge that list in my heart. To challenge my perceptions that I came her with, with the reality. And that reality, Bob Marley knew, ¨we´ve got to realize, that we are one people.¨

My brother Tim couldnt believe that my neighbors lived in the conditions that they did. Me and Tim live in different worlds right now, but he gave me this insight (because we are from the same loving family). The insight that we are one people. He did not look at my neighbors as people that lived in poverty- he saw through that. He saw them as people, he saw them as warm people, he saw them as family, just as he sees me as family.

I will be struggling with the Us and Them distinction for the rest of my life, since I will never know what it is like to live in poverty (coming from, not visiting for a year). Maybe soon I will try to take on social justice, and bringing about some equality in this world. But today, I am happy that I have a foothold in understanding that we are all brothers and sisters. We are all in the same human family. And for today, that is good enough.

Last weekend I went to this place called Laguna Quilotoa with three friends. Its in the Andes Mountain Range. After 2 overnight buses, a ride in the back of a pickup, a short hike, and 10 hours of traveling, we made it to our destination.The ¨Sierra¨as this region is called around here, is a different world than the ¨Coasta¨ or where we live in Guayaquil.

The difference? Mountains. Big mountains. Lakes. Fresh air. Cold air. Trees. 13,000 ft. in altitude. The beauty is stunning.

There lie a lake inside a volcanic crater about 13,000 feet above sea level with a picturesque backdrop of mountains invaded by fogging clouds.

The altitude captured by breath immediately and
left me a bit lightheaded as we overlooked the miracle. I felt high with joy at this new world. The change in altitude is humbling for any hiker. Maybe it was because of the lack of oxygen or the fact that I didnt get one minute of real sleep on the overnight bus. Or maybe it was because I was away from the city where I forgot about fresh air, quiet, solitude, and personal space. But this place did not seem real.

I was cold for the first time since the winter when we returned to our hostel. The family behind the business was drinking tea as they huddled around a wood stove to get warm. The place was an intimate ski lodge. While many took a nap, 2 of us stayed up, still deprived of an honest moment of sleep to meet this family. We huddled together around the stove and drank tea. We shared stories. They showed deep interest in us tourists. They shared ¨Colada de Morada¨which is a traditional drink for their Halloween weekend (Purple, to be eaten with a spoon because of its density with over 10 different fruits). They brought us out some ¨Gua Gua¨ bread that was also particular to their Holiday weekend that involves visiting the family grave cite to celebrate the lifes of their ancestors. I thought, what an importent holiday, shared, and was then invited for the next day.

After the family melted into the kitchen,two dreadlocked Israelean travelers dropped of their bags. They were on the trail for a good 6 hours and managed to hike around the crater. Then came a 20 year old Canadien who told me that she travelled alone because she didnt have to compromise, and so she could meet interesting people. Another cup of green tea. Still no sleep. These travelers blew me away with their stories, their lives, their plans, their philosophy. Then came in a couple or Equatorians, a dude from Uruguay, and an Argentinian traveler who brought out a hookah for the new community to share. The lodge filled with a sweet smoke as we conversed in Spanish, English, and Hebrew.

After a night of introductions and deep conversation, we made our seperate ways. The Israleites strapped on their back packs and headed north to Columbia. The SouthAmericans took their car
back towards Quito Our new Canadien friend stayed with us to celebrate the holiday with the Equadorian family at their cemetary. The celebration is a mourning. It is to remember your ancestors. To remember that they live in you.

To remember that you take the love of your mother, and the generocity of your father. Your grandfathers work ethic lives in you. You are only a continuation of your family. I gathered and reflected about how importent this idea of continuation is. What I do, my father does. When I show compassion here in Ecuador, it is only a continuation of the compassion that my mother showed me as a child- My life is a contuinuation of my ancestors. Everything I do stems from my roots. When they live through me, they never die. Thats what I learned from this holiday.

Back in Duran, I had a day to rest before I hit the road again. This time we drove through miles and miles of banana plantations to give out medical supplies to former leprocy patients living in rural Ecuator. The isolation of these families is astounding. Children walk miles upon miles to go to school. Clean water is an empty promise. They live as small farmers, with the hens, the pigs, the dogs, and the expanse of their crops. This is not a romantic idea, considering that the household income is $35 dollars a week. No medicine. No doctors. No stores. Most tragically, no options. $35 is the weekly income for a family of 6.

We visited several houses from 7am-7pm. We had the oportunity to share food and conversation. The explained their lives, their hopes, their struggles. In the midst the symptoms of structural injustice, seeing the Dole brand name that reaps all the profits from these peoples´ land and labor, my eyes were sore. I saw so much, I met so many people. And then I left. I have the option to go back home. But do I do about this injustice? And, in my opinion, donations wont fix this one

The beginning of chocolate