Winter Vacations

After School Program Update-

The rainy season has come to Arbolito, bringing in the mud, grillos (giant crickets that fly), and heat. The change in climate has coincided with the start of school vacations (until April). At Semillas, our attendance which has been a consistent 40 children has now risen to about 80-100 everyday. With the kids out of school, we have a new sense of purpose for the program. We are becoming more academic. Instead of helping with homework, we can now make the lesson plans to help the children with reading comprehension and math. We still want to have fun with the kids, but we want them to improve their basic skills. An example is that we have written an article about Guayaquil´s soccer team, or Che Guevera and challenge our kids to read it and respond to questions. Literacy is not taken for granted here.

On a lighter note, we have really begun to fall in love with the children at Semillas. There is about a pool of 200 kids that come, and we are now very familiar with names, faces, and especially, personalities. Every Friday we have been having games and competitions that have been fun for the kids where we give out prizes. Obstacle courses, soccer competitions, relay races, and capture the flag with the kids 4-7years old is always amusing to watch. We have also had field trips, taking the kids to Downtown Guayaquil, Local parks, an Iguana Park, and Cathedral. Next Friday, we are plannign to take them to a local pool.

holidays

so the holidays are over in duran

for christmas, there were no presents under the tree

for news years eve, there was no alcohol

but that does not mean there was no holiday spirit.

for christmas, we celebrated at mass twice. during the night mass, i played joseph in the nativity play. the next morning, we exchanged secret santas that we spent under a dollar for. then we spent some time greeting our neighbors and ended up at damien house to wish all of our friends over there a happy holiday. it was a simple christmas here. i was glad to get a phonecall from my family. hearing their voices reminded me that christmas is coming together and celebrating with loved ones. celebrating the life of Christ and the community we have.

new years eve was spent outside. the day before we made our äño viejo¨which is a paper machet doll that is to be blown up at midnite. after it was painted and ready to go, we stuffed it with firecrackers and soaked it in gasoline. there was no countdown, which made it a little bit easier to be away from tiffany. but at midnite, we lit the fire and you could see the whole neighborhood light up with fires outside of every house, and fireworks in the air. then our neighbors came around saying feliz año and we spent the night dancing. remember that full moon?

the celebrations were a bit different, and i surely missed you all. but i was still able to be in the present moment, in duran, with my new friends, in my new culture, with my new community, with my new family.

and next week, tiffany is coming in to visit. life is pretty good here.

Xmas eve

Laura at Damien House on Christmas with our friend, Fortunatu. She woke up at 6:30am that morning to do wound care for all the patients

Getting ready for 2010


Happy New Year!

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.