How do we do Great Work?

Last week, our black Rottweiler-Doverman mutt, took in a little white kitten. The kitten must have snuck in under our steel fence, only to be greeted by our guard dogs. Why the kitten came, I am still unsure.

Condesa, our female guard dog, took in the kitten like a mother. She licked the newborn like her own. When the kitten would wonder off, we would see Condesa retrieving it with her mouth. The relationship was amazing. I never would have guessed that our guard dogs would take in such a stranger and make it feel like part of the family.

This was an example of true love. Condesa didnt want anything out of the kitten. She only had compassion towards the lost creature. She felt for the kitten, and cared for her well being. When our other male guard dog would come near, Condesa would grawl, reveal her teeth, and protect her new child. Condesa even began to make milk!

The relationship ended after a couple days. The honeymoon was over for the new mother, and the child. The kitten passed away. There was nothing that Condesa could do for the kitten, and it died.

This is a true story, and it is not meant to be a metaphor. But it does have a lesson. The lesson is one of compassion. Compassion literally means to suffer with something. To not notice the differences all living beings have, but to feel our unity. A giant black dog, and a tiny white cat. For Condesa, that was unimportant. What was, is that we are all living beings, and all living beings deserve love. Even if they are not in your family, from your group of friends, race, nation. We are all in this world together. This is the Truth, that a dog can demonstrate.

Secondly, we learn about the tragedies that are rooted in good intentions. Condesa took in the kitten and had the best intentions to take care of it. Condesa failed in understanding the Nature of the kitten. What where its needs? The problem is that Condesa imposed her ideas of what the kitten needs. She wanted to fix the kitten, and could never truly take care of it.

When we are in relationship, we need to have compassion. We need to understand that we all belong to the same human family. This is the bottle neck to so much Great Work (that we are all brothers and sisters), and even my dog can understand this! We are all in this together... Once we get past that and we want to make a change, when we try to help someone, or something, we need to understand its true nature. We need not to impose our will on the world. But we do need to look deeply into relationships and understand the needs of the ¨kittens¨ in our life. Only then, can we truly do Great Work.

public utilities

trash cans are water cans

Outside of every house, there are trash cans filled with water. My neighbors wake up at 5am everymorning to get the attention of the water truck. Lately, they have to wait about 3 days to get that attention. These barrels are not even clean to drink.

toilet paper is trash paper

Poor sewage = toilet paper cant go in the tiolet

Weekend Update, Happy Thanksgiving

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.

Tripping Out

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

Hanging out some tobacco

Rolling up a cigar

Cutting down some plantanes for us

Closeup of the Laguna Quilotoa

Catching a ride through the Andes

A beer on the lake

Back in Duran

So we had our first retreat this weekend. We left Duran on a Friday morning. The 10 of us filled up a van and a pickup truck and made our way to the beach. The streets were crowded while everyone was on their way to work. We waved to our neighbors as we left Arbolito. We have the opportunity to escape this city.

After getting on the Pan American Highway (that stretches from Alaska down to Chile), we started making our way North through Guayaquil. The City is immense. Cane houses completely cover hills that can be seen on the horizon. Imagine the green rolling hills of Virginia, and their beuty that can be seen for miles on the horizon. Or even better, Vermonts majestic hills that last month radiated with a mosaic of green, red, yellow, and orange along I89. Now in Guayaquil, we have the same hills here, but they are blamketed in grey from the concrete. Smoke from burning trash rises in the grey skies. If poverty had a color, it would be grey.

The city´s poverty is rampent and can not be hidden away. As we drive stop at every traffic light, we are undoubtedly approched by a gang of street vendors who try to sellce peanuts, oranges, lottery tickets, sunglasses and every other want you could imagine. The men are and instinctively flock to the truck filled with gringos. We have money, and its no secret.

Passing through the Guayaquils Grey Hills (this is not there real name) my sense of smell is being put to the test. The industry, polution, and lack of sewage in the city make me cover my nose with my shirt while I drive. Its cloudy today, but is this just because of the smog? The exhaust from these trucks is black. Trash dances in the streets. People play Frogger to cross the highway. There are crowds of 30 every quarter mile who are waiting for their bus. Everyone seems quiet, but the highway is deafening. After about an hour of driving through these concrete hills, we make our way of the city to the beaches that line the west coast.

I am back to the Pacific.

Away. Away from the roosters calling at 3am. Away from the stray dogs barking in the streets. Away from the street vendors´ microphones. Away from the noise. Away from the crowded streets. Away from the crowded buses where personal space is a memory. Away from cars honking their horns incessantly. Away from the smell. Away from speaking Spanish for a weekend. Away from those buses. Away from the children. Away from the life as a volunteer-that can take its tole on any optimistic graduate.

I can hear the waves bringing in the tide. I can walk barefoot and feel the sand. I can see the miracle of a sand dollar. I can swim in silence and taste the salt water. I can feel the sea pull me out with the current. I feel nature. I have time to be quiet. To nap. To write. To draw a pìcture of home. And this weekend, I had time to connect with my new community. To talk about the importent things. To re-energize. To reconnect with our purpose as volunteers. To be thankful for this opportunity.

Ive been back for about a week now. That weekend at the beach was so important for me. To take a break and get away from it all. To recharge my battery. And when I came back, I was surprised with a couple packages from home. Candy, books, CDs, and cookies are really the best way to tell someone you love them.

I am glad to be back here in Duran. I am glad to be back with a new appreciation for my 5 senses (Thanks Ethan). And a new appreciation for this opportunity to be here. Coming back, I have come to realize that I have been taken into this community at this point. Three months ago I was in a sea of unfamiliarity. I know names. I can read signs. I know where people live. I can speak. This is my second validation of the theory-you really have to get away from a place to fully appreciate it.

Images from Arbolito

A piece of our garden

Regulars at Semilla's

July and our cancha at Semillas (concrete soccer field)

Neighbor's laundry

Typical Bonfire on our street

Sunset from our roof, my favorite hobby everyday at 6pm

Damien House's Story

Whats been keeping me busy at work...

In 1987, Annie Credido went to Guayaquil, Ecuador to teach pre-school at the foundation school Nuevo Mundo. Although she found great joy in the classroom, Annie was introduced to the patients living in an abandoned Hansen’s wing of the Infectious disease hospital. In seeing the horrendous conditions and disheartened spirits of the patients, Annie immediately felt God’s call to be a presence and advocate for those otherwise forgotten by society.

As it was found, the wing demanded immediate changes. The nearby disposal of hospital trash caused serious rat and roach infestations. The sewage pipes were eroded and damaged, leading to flooding in the patients’ bedrooms during the rainy season. Screens and windows were missing, and the hospital was rarely cleaned. The little food offered was often contaminated. Patients lived without dental care, resulting in worn down gums and difficulty eating. Due to the lack of water and nursing care, bed ridden patients were often dealing with scabies, lice, and bed sores. Basic medical care was nearly impossible to receive. Even worse, if a patient complained, they were asked to leave.

Annie did what she could with limited resources and prayed for help to meet these extensive needs. Her prayers were answered when she met Suzanne Belz over a cup of coffee. Suzanne asked “What do you need?” After that gesture, she then wrote the bylaws and handled the legal work with her husband Ed Belz, and Damien House Inc. was founded.

When donations started coming in from the US, the hospital wing began to transform. The plumbing and sewage was modernized to guarantee clean water while preventing flooding and rodent infestations. A nursing team and an Internist MD were hired and finally offered patients the medical care they deserved. Broken bed frames were repaired and new mattresses purchased. Clean bedding was provided for every patient. A nutrition program was initiated to ensure the food was clean, healthy, and appetizing. Visitors came, and started to paint vibrant murals over the grey walls. Flowering plants started to fill the empty hallways. Little by little, the patients’ spirits were uplifted. A newfound joy came from knowing that others cared about them and they were not abandoned. The positive atmosphere was contagious and evident to all. Meetings were held where the patients could speak freely about what their needs were, without the fear of being asked to leave. The patients were finally given a voice!

The non-profit organization channels tax exempt donations to Ecuador. All donations are used for the 24 hours a day, seven days a week, holistic care of the patients. The doors never close, and no one is ever turned away! Through the balance of wonderful friends and partner foundations, Damien House has become the home and refuge for our friends affected with Hansen’s disease.

Viva

I have a beard.

It hasnt rained since Ive been here.

I went to 2 fiestas since I last blogged. I am still convinced that there is no better way to meet people than during celebrations. The rule, as a volunteer, is that I cannot drink within my community. But there are no rules against listening to musice, dancing, and celebrating. The fact that I wasnt drunk, made it even more of a new experience for me.

The music here is so different. Salsa, Merengue, Reggaeton. The dancing is very different too, but I feel that I can still adjust, even if I look like an idiot. For me, life is about learning by jumping in head first.

The music was deafening, but I managed to maintain conversations in Spanish. I was in a group of all older guys (my security guards, the DJ, and a couple of complete strangers to me- I was easily the youngest), who were getting hammered, talking about philosophy. Yes, philosophy and religion. I was really happy that, for the first time since Ive been here, I was just hanging out with the guys. I couldnt understand everything, but I was able to slow them down and explain. I wanted to hear what they were saying about their lives and experiences. This time, I wouldnt settle for confusion. I kept up a conversation about Frued, then transitioned to Taoism, and eventually Christianity. We concluded that life is about balance. We concluded that we are all brothers and sisters in this world. We concluded that life is about celebration and helping each other out. We concluded that life is good.

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.

Damien House and Semillas

One of the reasons I was so drawn to Rostro de Cristo is because it offers volunteers two worksites- one in the morning and one in the afternoon. After much deliberation, for my morning site, I chose a place called Damien House. This foundation is a clinic and home for people with Hansen´s Disease, or more commonly known as, leprocy. Yes, I wrote leprocy. One more time, leprocy.

I chose this place becuase of it restores dignity to those who have been forgotten in our society. For those who have been neglected, standed, and exiled. Damien House is a place where their humanity is restored. It is run by a small, and outstanding staff, that has made me and Laura, the other Rostro Volunteer at Damien, feel at home. There are nice beds, clean sheets, and clean clothes. There are materials for arts and crafts and there are games to play. The inside is all concrete, but it is hard to find a wall that that isn´t painted with a parrot, sunset, beach, rainbow, tree, or underwater wildlife. The colors are vibrant and it gives the place life. To add more life, there is a dog, two cats, and plants all around. It is a place of comfort, a place of activities, a place of laughter. Every morning I leave mi casa at 7.45am and take the yellow number 5 bus to accompany the patients in the mornings- to play dominos, cards, and orchestrate other activities. I come to talk with them and hear their stories. To be amigos.

I was also drawn to Damien House because it is in need right now- financially. Since it relies on donations coming from the US, it have been forced to downsize its staff and programs considerably over the past couple years. Studying Business and Philosphy at Boston College, I wanted to connect the two areas of study. How to do business, and at the same time, how to serve those in need. I was attracted to the notion that non-profits need to start making profits in order to fully pursue their mission. Maybe this will be my oportunity to use my business degree and help Damien House start seeking new ways to generate revenue for their mission.

Yesterday, we visited their organic farm that is about 40 minutes outside Guayaquil. Yes, organic farm. Damien House is trying to create a farm where they can supply enough food for their patients. Its about sustainability. The farm needs alot of work, and my new boss´s eyes lit up when I said I had experience landscaping. It looks like this can be another time in my life where I can apply the skills I learned at Obriens Outdoor Services. The last place time was in Sydney Austrailia where I worked, as a landscaper, to fund my trips to the Great Barrier Reef, Fiji, and New Zealand. This time, I am excited for my skills to be applied to something bigger than my own travels.

Damien House looks like it will offer me a lot of opportunities to use my business and landscaping backgrounds. I really look forward to helping out the foundation from a business background, but I cannot forget that I am there to accompany the patients. If I can help the foundation become a bit sturdier, great, but my real goal is to create relationships with the people who are in need of a friend.

After Damien, I take the same yellow bus back to Duran, eat either cold rice and beans from the night before (no microwave here) or cheese sandwiches. Yummmm. After ¨lunch¨I hop up on the hammock, read a book, and relax. At 3pm Jamie, Karla, and I hed over to our afterschool program, called Semillas. Semillas has two outdoor classrooms and a cancha- or concrete soccer ¨field.¨ There are anywhere from 30-100 kids everyday that come for a safe place to do their homework, play, or simply to get out of the house. Semillas is a minute walk from our house and the program runs for about 2 hours. The first hour, 2 of us conduct activities and the other helps out with homework. For the rest of the time, we control the choas of recess. To be honest, I just play soccer with the kids. Semillas, to me, is exactly like the Boys and Girls Club in Boston. We start off with structure and finish with soccer. The only difference is instead of the Brazilian kids in Boston speaking Portuguese, here, we ALL speak Spanish. There is alot less structure here, and we are the adults. Weird. But its still the same song. I liked it back in Boston, and I like it here in Duran.

Yesterday was my first day to lead an activity for the kids. There were about 30 of them, and I had to conduct an educational activity. When I was brainstorming for ideas of what to do, I figured it would be best to stick with my strong-suit, English. I gave a lesson for 40 minutes, introducing simple words and phrases, then we finished with a game. It went well, unbelievable well. And after, I was in the best mood, shellshocked that it went so well. This success came after a couple of days of failure- the day before I couldnt explain to a little girl that 1/5= 2/10. I didnt know the words for numerator, denominator, fraction, and I definitely didnt know how to describe the lowest common denomitater.

But thats how the days go here. Up and Down. The highs are high, and the lows are low. Some days I will sit in awkward silence next to a Hansens patient because I cant understand A WORD he is saying. I ask myself, why am I here? I feel useless, I cant even communicate. But other days I can be in a great one on one conversation in Spanish. Other days, I am just happy to walk into work and have ten children run at me screaming ¨Danieeeeeeel!¨ No matter how well or poorly any day goes, I feel I am moving forward with my ability to connect with others. For example, after I failed one day because I did not know the language for math- I went home and figured out how to explain it in Spanish. Today, I succeeded in explaining fractions. It can be frustrating here, but there is always hope.

There are always going to be hard days here, and there are always going to be great ones. Days that make me question myself here, and days when I cant get the smile off of my face as I walk down our dirt roads. The key for me is to take the good in with the bad- thats life. I cant let success or failure define me- My goal, everyday, is to have patience and to find gratitude in my opportunity here- I have so much to learn- not just a new language-but to learn about people, about the world, about myself.

Arbolito

I am writing my first blog from El Arbolito (little tree) in Duran, Ecuador. I have been here for a week that has seemed like a month. To start, I´d like to talk a little bit about my program- Rostro de Cristo (Face of Christ). Who would have thought I would be spending a year, living in simplicity with a Christian community. But I really dig it- My whole life I have hated on large institutions, including the church. But Rostro de Cristo is truly an amazing program that will give me an opportunity to experience a new culture and live out my faith. I am determined to keep in touch with my roots, but embrace the ideas of my new community. The programs mission is, simply, to live amongst and work with the Ecuadorian people to, accompany them in their joys and struggles and offer any help to find sustainable solutions for their community´s needs. After my two week orientation, I have come to realize that I will not be hammering nails, laying bricks, starting up businesses, or paving streets. I might never see anything built. My role, here, is to talk with people- to listen to them, and make relationships. More simply to be fully present. (more will come when I find out where I will be working)

To start, I need to overcome this language barrier. I went through Rosetta Stone over the summer and have attempted to build a small foundation. With the few words and phrases I know, my first test was at an afterschool program, two bus rides away, called ¨Manos Abiertas¨ or open hands. Located, litterally cerca of a dump, or nicely labeled, land fill. After getting off the bus, I was perplexed, where is the program held? There were scattered houses made of bamboo and elevated about 6 feet off of the ground to prevent snakes, scorpions, and mostly flying trash from, enetering their casitas. After walking for a while, amoundst the thick dust, and unidentifiable smells, probably from a burning trash pile, We saw about 40 screaming children stampeeding us with joy. The former volunteers, Danny and Elyse guided us into the outdoor facilty. The facilty, in the center of a wasteland, was beautiful inside the concrete walls. Colorful murals illuminat the inside. The childrens laughter give the place life. There are blossoming trees with orange flowers. There is so much color, such a contrast from outside of the walls. Outdoor classrooms?! With the children, I jumped right into ¿como estas?, me llamo Daniel, tengo veintidos años. etc... I was feeling really good, especially since there were other volunteers around me. Then I jumped right into homework help- just like the Boys and Girls Club, right? Try explaning the square root 4236 in spanish- not easy. My first test was not easy, but the children here are HAPPY to learn, they are patient to understand me, they want me there. The first day flew by, and, as everyday goes, I feel that I belong here. (Psychologists call this the honeymoon phase of culture shock, in which I am destined to come off of, but why not enjoy it while I can, right?)

Every day I carry my pen and notebook and write down new words, phrases, and NAMES. Hay muchos nombres aqui. Writing down that Edison , the boy who I met after church, likes Michael Jackson, will come into play later, because he is my neighnor, I will see him again. And thats why I love it here. Everyday I learn so much. I will meet most of my neighbors, here. And when you pass by someone on the streets, you always say buenos dias, buenas tardes, buenas noches, always. I get such good vibes from this community, how they prioritize the person and politness. The more and more I learn, the more I like about Duran.

I still don´t know where I will be working this year, we have been taking tours at our partner foundaciones, seeing where the 11 of us will fit. I have been overwhelmed with the posibilies and the next time I write, I will know what I will be doing. As for now, I can only talk breifly about my new home. El Arbolito is in Duran and Duran the city outside of Guayaquil, Ecuador. This is what Bob Marley called the Concrete Jungle. Streets are rarely paved. There are stray dogs everywhere you look. They are even on the roofs! Smells vary from street to street. Sometimes you walk past a panadanerie, but more commonly you walk by burning trash. Fires are more common than stop signs. People drive crazy here, its like a videogame with all the bikes, people in the streets, dogs and everything else. Everything is exotic to me. Everything in new, not a word is familiar. No buildings are more than two stories. Most are made of bamboo, some of concrete. Every window is barred with steel. Street vendors are allways trying to make a buck. And everysunset is beautiful. By the way, its fucking hot here. All day- everyday.

And amongst all this chaos in the streets, everyone is warm and welcoming. My house, nonetheless has a security guard at all times, common for South America. We have two rottweiler/doverman mutts that are intimidating, yet friendly (Clubber and Condesa). They lied next to me while I was reading Thomas Merton on our hammock this morning- Did I mention I love it here? Our house is really nice, lots of trees, an orange, a mango, and we even have a little pinapple growing- I know this because I talk with our guards. They have been awesome. They know the town, know the people, know where to buy whatever we need. And they are really helping me with my Spanish.

Other than my day to day impressions, I want this blog to follow my spiritual journey this year. First of all, I have quieted my life down, alot. alot. I have been waking up early in stead of staying up late. I have been eating bananas, pinapple, tomatoes, peppers, beans, brocoli, cucumbers, rice, plantanes, bread, watermelon instead of hamburgers and fries. No cell phone. No cable TV. No internet en mi casa. I have stopped drinking in excess, but will never stop celebrating life. Simplicity and Solidarity are my purposes for this change in lifestyle. Not only do I want to learn alot here, I want to grow alot, and mature. God put all these beautiful things on this earth for man to enjoy, and throughout my life, I have either taken them for granted, or abused them. Moderation is my new path. Contemplation is my new concern, always looking for ways to deeper my self-cultivation. Prayer, meditation, journaling, and reading are my new hobblies.

I want to end my first entry with a couple words of gratitude, for this opportunity, was not my decision. If you are reading this blog, it is because you have inspired me. Yes, you have inspired me. I am so grateful for everyone who is taking the time to keep in touch with me through this blog. When I first came to Ecuador, I felt this extreme guilt for leaving everyone for a year. I thought, How could I leave behind all the people and places that have made me feel so at home, so loved in this world? Why did I leave? And after much thought, it is because you have inspired me to go out into the world to, live a lot, and love a lot. Yes, that is my philosophy right now- live a lot, and love a lot. Thank you for listening and please keep in touch, I am even more excited when I come to this internet cafe, on this computer from the 1990´s, to read what YOU are doing, rather than to let you know what I am doing.

Phone number is - 011.593.80187996 or 011.593.85489862. Ciao!

Dan Gagnon o Megan Radek
Casilla 09011024
Guayiquil, Ecuador, South America

And ps- no pictures for a while. poverty=crime and also, it goes as far as my purpose here, not to be on a poverty tour. As they say here, Algun dia, I will have some to share.