The Down Side

So, here is the other half of the story. The down side of the last two weeks...We got a visit from from a historian from the States who studies people of African descent around the world. I am not going to mention his name, and I am going to be as vauge as possible about him, just out of respect to him. I would like to believe that he his a far better person than the version that he presented to me here in Guayaquil, and out of respect for that, I will try to keep him anonymous here...

So within a few days at site, I was informed that some historian from the United States would be coming to Ecuador to learn about Afro-descentant people here. I was told that he spoke no Spanish, so it was asked that I assist with translation. Sure! I said, eager and excited to have work. My days at the time were filled most usually with aimless searching of the free internet in the office, so any definition of real work was welcomed. As time went on, work picked up, I still knew this historian was coming. But I was still pumped about it, I was pumped to assist my organization in sharing the work that they do with someone who would further share this informtion with interested parties in the States and elsewhere.

Well, when the time actually came, it became immediatly tainted with badness. First of all, I had made plans to be visiting with a group in one of the barrios. I had to cancel those plans because, without mentioning anything to me, the president of my organizaion had made plans for me to be at the airport with him and some other guys from the organization to pick the historian up. I was not happy at all about that, its a group thats not part of Proceso, but has a history of working with PCVs in Guayaquil, I have yet to meet with them and have cancelled on them many times already for one reason or another. But I had a prior committment from back when I said I would help with translation, so I figured I would stick to that.

The plane was late. No big deal, and more or less to be expected. How will we know which one he is? I ask the guys from the office. Well, we will just look for an Afro (Ecuador politically correct version of saying "black") person to come through the arrivals gate. Those plans were foiled as a steady stream of black men came thru the gate...there are parties here in Guayaquil right now (of course!) for the city´s anniversery, so lots of people are travelling into town. Most of the black dudes getting off were young musicians, so when an older gentleman not carrying any musical instruments came through, we rose to our feet expectantly. "You here for me?" he asked. We knew it was him, hes speaking in English. "Which one of you speaks English?" He asks, and my work as a translater begins. He greeted us in a gruffy manner, immediatly explaining that there is "already a problem" as his bags were not transferred to his plane and we would have to wait for them to come in later. He asks my name, I say its Theresa, pronounced Teresa in Spanish. He pronounces his name (which is a super difficult name to pronounce, I think its an African name of sorts) and says that its pronounced "the same in English and Spanish and any other language." Well, okay then.

He treats us to beers (coffee for me, still dont drink beer) which was very nice of him. He asks the org president if he remembers their being at the same conference in 1999? The president says no, apologetically, that was a long time ago. The historian responds that his time in Ecuador (hes been here about a week already) has already proved itself to be a humbling experience, he is not accostomed to people forgetting him. He showers some praise on the president and the work that he does, who responds by saying how great the organization is and how proud he is of them. The historian responds by saying that the president is a very humble man in not taking responsiblity for his own accomplishments, and that Theresa is a very beautiful woman. Why thank you. Weird, cuz you are old enough to be my father, I think. But thank you, nonetheless. We make plans to all meet at his hotel the next morning at 10am to go to some museums he has read about in his Lonely Plant Guidebook.

I get to the hotel on time. I left the house early because I wasnt exactly sure how to get there, and I didnt want to be too late. But we are in Ecuador, so I knew that no one else would be on time...but still. The historian was ready to go, the guys from the office were not there. One came by a few minutes later, explaining that the president, who works as a school teacher, would be there soon. He had to go to school in the morning to make sure the students were ready to go with the subsitute, but he would be here, ya mismo. I explained to the historian that ya mismo means in an ungiven amount of time...a few minutes, an hour, next year...dont get your hopes up, it could be a while. I figured that it was no big deal, at least we know he´s on his way, a little waiting never hurt anyone. Well, he disagreed. He proceeded to get very irritated and insulted the president for his tardiness. I tried to explain that at least he had called to say he was on his way, and that is all that matters really around here. He said that he is accostomed to America/European concepts of timelyness, and that nothing would ever change that. Okedoki.

As we waited, he commented on how Ecuadorian women tend to dress in a seemingly provocative manner. I agreed, its the truth (its also the basis of my upcoming Halloween costume!). Especially here on the coast, but its understandable, its ungodly hot out all the time, and this is the cold season. I said that I have even been altering how I dress to accomodate to the weather, a t-shirt with a tank underneth means way more sweat than just wearing the tshirt. Besides that, the women in the office pick on me when I dress with more than one shirt on, they are on a quest for me to join the mesh-shirt concept of fashion. He glanced towards my chest and my v-neck shirt and said that he "couldnt help but notice" that I was dressed in such a manner today, but that I looked "quite cute." Thanks...? He went on to say that I reminded him of his first wife, "idealistic and out to save the world." Anyone who knows me would know that I would take such a thing as an insult. I am not idealistic, nor do I want or believe that I am saving anyone. I told him so, in a polite manner, he responded that he has never lost his idealism that he can change the world. I told him that 2 years in child protection will do that to a person...

We finally got out on our way about an hour later. He got immediatly irritated at the first museum, there was nothing there about Afro people. The org president explained that that is part of the problem. That the museums are funded by the government, and that Afro history is not a priority. The president suggested that we skip the museums and go to the barrios, because all of the museums would be the same. The historian repsonded with several comments on how he found it hard to believe that there was nothing at any of the museums, I translated his words the best I could, usually trying to make them sound less rude than the version that he was giving me. We went out to the barrios, he greeted everyone in English. Okay, I know you dont speak Spanish. But really, if you say that you want to learn about a people, the least you can do is buy a copy of Spanish for Dummies and practice some basic phrases. My irritation is growing...

During the taxi rides he tells me stories of his travels. He has been all over the world, studying Afro people in every corner. What he does really did sound quite interesting. He told me of meeting groups of the untouchables in India, of giving speeches there that so enraged the powers that be that he is not allowed to return to the area. I think I was supposed to be very impressed, lets just say that modesty was not his strong suit. He asked questions of the guys from the office about the status of Afro-Ecudorians, the answers were really interesting. If nothing else, I was glad to have heard them for myself. I really did learn a lot. He had been in Ecuador for about a week already, going to different areas to meet with groups of Afro folks. He had been to Mascarilla, I was so excited to hear that! I asked if he met the PCV there, I told him that was the site I wanted to be assigned to. He asked if she was black? No...shes not, I say. He wouldnt be interested in meeting her if shes not black. This guy is trying on my patience...I am getting flashbacks of arguments I had in high school, I cannot stand people who think like that.

In one of the barrios, he handed out a $20 bill to a group of women who were telling him about the lunch program they provide to kids in the barrio. They were explaining that money is a constant difficulty: food and energy bills cost more than they can afford, but they dont want to raise the price of lunch because they know that the kids´mom´s cant afford it. It didnt appear to me that they were asking for handouts, but they were thankful for what he gave. Not like $20 is really going to pay for much of anything, in the time we were there they were feeding at least 25 kids. In another barrio, he handed a $1 coin to two boys who were following us around. "There, I just made their day" he said. Cavities, I thought. Cavities as a result of a candies they will buy with that dollar. The kids smiled and said Gracias. He responded with Your Welcome, in English. My irritation rises, speaking English and spreading the idea that Americans are just made of money and we can solve all your problems by tossing a dollar at you. Great.

We get back to the hotel for lunchbreak. By this time it is 3pm. I am beyond tired and have fully erased any thoughts I ever had as ever working as a translator should my Spanish ever get good enough to do so. I dont like saying other people´s words. What if I disagree? I still have to say the words. And I dont like surrounding myself with people who bring down my mojo, and that is basically what I had done in agreeing to spend my day helping to interepret for this guy.

I was not happy, and the day was not over. The office had set up a conferencia for the historian to give a lecture. Sounds like a big deal conference, but really it was just a small meeting with some interested people. I tried to explain this to him. He said he understood. He paid for the taxi from the hotel to the conference location, only after complaining that he should have to pay for a taxi to his own conference. When we got into the room, there were a small handful of people seated, a few more milling in, and two people seated at the table in the front of the room. The org president greets us when we come in, saying we are ready to start. I tell the historian, he says we cannot possibly be ready, people are still coming in and what are those people doing sitting at the table up front? I translate this to the president. He says that we are not expecting too many more people, and that they are sitting there to give a welcome speech for the historian. I translate this back to him. He gruffs, we head up to the table anyways.

Okay folks, keep in mind I have already spent the day with this guy. I have already explained to him more than once, and he has already witnessed for himself that I am still learning the Spanish language. I certainly do not have a true mastery of it. So, then, why on EARTH would he not try to at least be nice and accomodate his words to this??? Perhaps he does not understand that when you are learning a language, you learn the simple words first. You dont know all the words, you know words that are used most often. But nooo....just keep on giving your speech with your big ass words, and keep on rolling your eyes at me when I respond that I dont know that word in Spanish. Just keep on telling me under your breath that you will never come back to Guayaquil because the experience here was sub-par. Just keep on complaining that the resources here are written in Spanish and not in English. Just keep on forcing me to translate your insults about my new friend´s choices of hairstyles. Just keep on making me to translate claims that teenaged AfroEcuadorian girls dont like having their picture taken because they have been taught that their skin is ugly (couldnt just be their hormones, right??). Just keep on saying that you will send books on African history here, but heck if you know where to find books in Spanish that anyone here could actually read. Just keep on keepin on, buddy.

At the end of the lecture, I was about ready to kill someone. I couldnt get out of there fast enough. I welcomed the arms the sewing room ladies and their excited comments on what I had missed from the office that day. I was so happy to fet out to the barrio for dance class. Here´s the thing: I had to cancel a meeting with a group of community members so that we could take a tour and flash some pictures and talk about community service to Afro-people around the world. Talk about teaching Afro-people to be proud of their history, talk about supporting their programs, talk about showing them by example of all they can accomplish. I cancelled action to talk. Then, to add insult to injury, I was late my class to do some more talking. Frustration does not even describe it.

Over dinner that night, I recounted my frustrations to the dueña. She understood. She agreed that it is rude and counterproductive to say you want to learn about a people if you do not want to take the time to actually speak to them. I told her how he had visited more than 80 countries, but from what I could tell, he spoke only English. She was equally as amazed at the ridiculousness as I was. She said that I should have said something. I shouldnt have just sat there and translated and let him crap all over my good mood. I told her that I try to live by Ghandi´s words that "We must be the change that we want to see in the world." That I dont like to tell people how they should behave, I would rather just behave in a matter that I find appropriate and hope that others might follow the example. She said thats all good and well for people who are willing to pay attention, but that sometimes you just got to speak up. She´s right. I have got to work on that. We laughed over the notion that I was anything like the historian´s first wife, but that if I was, that must be why they are no longer together.

I went to bed that night still frustrated, and still frustrated the next morning. I talked it out with my counterpart and the girls in the sewing room. I told them the truth about the things he said that I did not translate because I thought they were too rude. They agreed with the dueña, that I should have just let everyone know what he was really saying, because they deserve to know what he really had to say about them. They were right too.

I suppose we all see the world differently. They say that you know the world through your experience of it, and thats true. My time here in Ecuador is going to change the way that I see the world, but even still, I dont think that I have changed that much in my time here in Ecuador...I dont like when people are late or when plans are super unsolid and ever changing, but I also understand that thats just the way it is here. Yeah, I get irritated about lateness, but if people at least give me the heads up, I get over it. I cannot have changed that much...even as I sit here in this internet cafe, wasting away money in writing this, in honesty I am doing things I have always done. I am writing to you in an effort to avoid going to the grocery store, cleaning the bathroom and doing the laundry, and I am thinking seriously about going to Taco Bell for dinner to further my time away from the grocery store. Those parts of me, I think, will never change...

Our different lives give us different lenses on the way things are. All I can say is that I am glad that the historian and I do not share the same perscription.

Be well,
Theresa