The plan is to have two parts to this post, Guayaquil and Sùa, however, I have to get back to Hostal Theresa as soon as I get a text that my next visitor is here, so I dont promise that I will be able to stick to that plan. The thing is that I live in Guayaquil, the BIG CITY with the airport and the major bus terminal. So I have had lots of visitors lately at my little home. Its fun, but it means that I am getting to my Omnibus New Years Beach Party late, and that I dont have lots of toilet paper. Ahhh, I do it to myself.
So Christmas in Ecuador. You would think that for a country that is so Christian that Christmas would be a crazy big deal. With the Mujeres, the phrase "Dios Bendiga" --God Bless You-- is used like "Aloha." In that its used for hello and goodbye...and how are you, and I am fine, and what time is it...thats an exaggeration, but Im saying, they use it a lot. I, who do not follow any specific religion (but when asked about religion, I reply that my mom goes to church every Sunday, its sort of the easy way out rather than explaining my multi-dios-religion idea), have almost caught myself saying it on more than one occasion. But no, Christmas could have easily passed without me even noticing, but for the planning of holiday parties in the barrio. I think what it boils down to is that folks here, at least folks that I know here, dont have a whole lot of dinero. For that reason, the focus on buying presents, giving presents, getting presents and all that goes away. And really, when you think about it, thats what all the hoopla in the States comes down to at this time of year. Except maybe in the churches. I am sure that in churches, both here and in the States, that Christmas is discussed not as a reason to buy the latest Barbie doll, pair of shoes, or Ambercrombie distressed jeans, but as you know, the birth of Christ. So I guess maybe I didnt notice Christmas so much because I dont go to church? Maybe its just ME who was so focused on the materialness of Christmas in the States...? Who knows, whatever, on with the story.
Like I said, I was, to some extent, involved in the planning of the Christmas party in the barrio with the Mujeres. Basically the way it goes is that every year, barrios across the city request toys and candy from people and organizations with money so that they can have a party for the barrio kids. The Mujeres, being the kick ass group that they are, are in charge of such activities every year in their barrio. In the weeks and days coming up to the party, which took place on the Sunday before Christmas, I was worried that it wasnt going to happen. There were no toys, no candy. At a meeting at my main organization's office, there was a long discussion amongst the promotores that their barrios were having the same problem. That they had "ni un caramelo" (not even one piece of candy) to give out to the kids. Side-note: this conversation was immediately followed by the planning of the office Christmas party, to which they planned to buy several turkeys, beer, champagne, salads, etc. that they would all chip in to pay for. I held my tongue that perhaps the better way to spend that money--turkey is a VERY expensive meat in this country, for whatever reason--would be to, oh, I dont know, buy some candies and toys for the barrio kids? I figured this happens every year, and that maybe there was something that I was missing...
Well, there was something that I was missing. I guess I failed to take into account that, generally speaking, in this country things happen at the last minute. When I left the barrio on Friday, there were no candies, no toys, no nothing for the party. When I came back on Sunday to help set up for the party, there was a room full of stuff to give out to the kids. I have no idea where it came from. I know that the candy came from the national children's rights organization here, the toys came from...? Dont know. Someone with a good heart. When I arrived, the Mujeres' president said "¡Aqui está una mujer de la lucha!" ("Here is a woman of the struggle!" but also Mujeres de Lucha is their group name), it might have been one of the greatest moments of my life, just sayin.
We started setting up the tables, chairs and streamers outside (weird! Christmas party outside! Its hot out, no snow!). Then the president and the member in charge of organizing the gifts called me into the gift room. They explained that they had various presents for boys and girls of different ages, and a bag of candies for each child. The president was arguing that we should wrap the gifts, the other member was saying that if we wrapped them, we wouldnt be able to tell them apart and plus we didnt have any wrapping paper. I thought to myself, "I'm confused. Dont we have this party every year?? How's about we do what we did last year...and why didnt we get some wrapping paper if we knew we were giving gifts?" Out-loud, I responded that much of the fun of a child getting a gift comes from opening it, so we should wrap them. And although we dont have paper, we do have a mass amount of holiday printed plastic bags, which we could cut and use to wrap the gifts. And to tell the gifts apart? Well, we could separate them into larger plastic bags once they were wrapped, and label said bags as gifts for young kids, girls under 10, boys under 10, girls 10 and over, boys 10 and over. Wow! Best idea ever! So we got to wrapping. As we were wrapping, there was constant discussion on if a gift should be for a boy or a girl. Dolls for the girls, guns for the boys. I held back my opinions that teaching this kind of gender roles is harmful to children and society, and that giving children guns desensitizes them to violence. Rather, I gently answered that the SpongeBob cell phone could easily be played with by both boys and girls, and dutifully put the Walkie-Talkie Spy set in the "boys 10 and over" bag.
So the party gets under way complete with the Christian-Latino-Band and a prayer led by the president of the Mujeres. The kids seemed to be having a good time, and I love watching happy kids, so I was having a good time as well. That goodness was temporarily halted by one little girl. Now, I hate to say bad stuff about kids. I have never been a real "loves to work with children" kind of person, but I like kids, they are cool with me as long as they are nice. This little girl was not so nice. I had noticed her at the beginning of the party cuz she was just sitting there staring at me. I am sort of used to that because there are not a lot of new faces in the barrio, so when there is one, you get stared at. I stared back and winked at her and stuck out my tongue. Thats my usual response to kids. Usually they know I am kidding and giggle and stick their tongue back out. She didnt. She just kept staring at me.
So later during the party, I was sitting with a barrio kid that I know on my lap (after he excitedly modeled his new shoes, jeans and tshirt to me, he's so cute!) watching a Simon Says type of game. The girl, I would guess age 7or 8 is sitting next to me. She sort of hits me on the thigh. I figure shes just playing around, so I tap her back on her thigh. She hits back, closed fist this time, a little harder. This continues for some time. She gets harder with each hit, but still, I figure shes a kid, she just doesnt realize it. I was wrong. After a while, she raises her hand in the air makes a fist and looks me straight in the eye. I say, "No. No me pegas." (Don't hit me). I'm not yelling, but I am speaking sternly, so that she knows that the game is over. She responds by pinching me! What! There is NO SUCH THING as a playful pinch. I tell her no again, she pinches me again. I grab her wrist as she goes for a third, and tell her "No seas malcreada." (literally means "Dont be poorly raised," but is used as "Dont be sassy"). "No seas malcreado/a" (depending on if you are saying it to a male of female child) is a phrase used often here in Ecuador. I really disliked the phrase until right then at that moment. Mostly because its usually a parent saying it to their own child, and I'm like, what? YOU raised her! If shes poorly raised, its your own damn fault. But, c'mon, pinching? Thats malcreada if you ask me. Her response? Not shame, not saying shes sorry, nope. She gets up, and spits on me! I am NOT kidding! This little rugrat kid spit on my jeans. MALCREADA! I get up, put the kid who is still sitting on my lap on the chair, and calmly walk away. I know how to discipline and lecture kids with patience in English, but I dont know those words in Spanish, especially not when I am pissed that some freaking kid just spit on my pants.
I watched the kid for the rest of the party. She got picked on a lot by the other kids. Her hair got pulled a lot, other kids hit her, kicked her, yelled at her. She always did it back, often she was even the one that started it. But it always ended with her rolling around on the ground, screaming her lungs out that someone had hit her. The most interesting thing was that no one seemed to care. Here is this little girl in the middle of a Christmas party, screaming bloody murder while the Christian Band plays a holiday hit, and no one does a thing. I felt horrible, because usually when kids are crying in the barrio (which is a common occurrence because kids fight A LOT here, might have to do with giving guns as presents, or the fact that violence against kids here is BEYOND common place) I will go over to them, and ask what happened. They usually respond by crying harder (you know how kids are, it always hurt more when someone's paying attention) and tell me tearily that someone hit them. I ask where it hurts, look at that spot, ignore what looks like a cigarette burn on their back, and tell them I dont see anything. I rub their back and tell them its okay, and wipe off their tears with my shirt. By then the kid that hit them, usually their sibling or neighbor, comes back and gets them and they run off playing again. But with this kid, I gotta say I was a little scared. She pinched me! AND she spit on me! What if she did it again?? I wanted to help her, but I didnt know what to do that wouldnt end up in making the situation worse. I saw someone trying to console her, and she just started pounding her fists at them. The only person who could console her was the president of the Mujeres, who she seemed to know (which was weird, because I have NEVER seen this kid before, and I know her grandchildren). I get the feeling that there is some crazy bad shit going on in this kid's house. No children come out of their mother responding to life by hitting, kicking, pinching and/or spitting. Children who behave this way, in my opinion, do so because they are malcreados. They have learned this behavior from their parents and caregivers, probably from direct experience.
So what do I do? My job in the States was to take kids who were being abused and neglected by their parents away from their parents, put them into a (usually) safe home, and help their parents learn how not to treat their children in this manner. That job doesnt exist here. I am pretty sure its not illegal to abuse your children here. And if it is, its probably one of those laws that gets ignored like not driving on the wrong side of the road, and not having your 6 year old sell candies on the bus, and not drinking while driving a city bus. I know for sure that my old job doesnt exist here. In fact, I have been told that I probably shouldnt discuss my old job in too much detail to people here, because it might result in them not trusting me. With a judge and a law behind me, I know what to do about child abuse. Without that system, I have found myself at a loss. I have found that I have become the well-meaning neighbor who rubs your kid's back when the your other kid hits them, and ignores the cigarette burns she sees there. I have become the passerby who averts her eyes when she sees your chasing your kid into the house with while waving a large stick in the air (the same stick I just saw you grab from your child's hand after he hit the neighbor kid with it), the passerby who cringes at his screams, but does not call the cops to intervene (because what would they say??). I have become the person who sees a teenager kick a kitten and tells her not to, but doesnt actually DO anything to get her to stop. Who have I become?
I thought this experience was going to make me a better person, but sometimes I wonder what effects its really having on me. We were told a story at training of a house warming party that a volunteer had, and a woman who came to the party without her husbands permission. The husband came over, told her to come home, and she ignored him. He came back over and proceeded to beat the woman on the volunteer's porch. When the volunteer tried to intervene, the rest of the community told her it was best not to, for her won safety. A friend of mine told me about a woman who lifted her sunglasses to show a bruised eye in response to a question about domestic violence in her community. I told my friend to go back over and talk to the woman, even just to tell her that someone wants to hear her story. I think thats the right thing to do, to listen. And I WANT to listen to these kids. The problem is, I dont know HOW. I know better than to just bust into their homes and try to stop whats going on, I have been the social worker who hears from a 12 year old that she got whipped even harder after the teacher reported the abuse and her mom found out. So what do I do? How many times can I ask that in one post? What do I do?
I guess all I can do is to help the community in more round about ways. Maybe I can start some kind of afterschool program with some kids? Something to get their minds thinking, to get their self esteem rising, to get their hands moving in peaceful manners. I can keep helping the Mujeres, as they are helping the community. They might not be stopping the kids from getting hit, but putting food on a family's table is better than doing nothing at all. I have been helping the Mujeres in applying for some grants recently--one to get some much needed supplies for the bakery (they make the bread by hand--every step except the baking in the oven is done by the hands of one of two women. Very time consuming, but the machines to make bread are very expensive). The other is to get supplies for the lunch program, like larger pots, cooking spoons, plates, cups, silverware, that kind of stuff (which is also wildly expensive here, which is why I only own about 3 spoons and forks, not a very good thing for a psuedo-hostal owner, but I make sure my guests know that food is not included in their stay). That grant is also for money to cover kids who's families cant pay for their lunch. Also, the US Consulate's office organized a Christmas Food Drive for the Mujeres. They ended up donating over 1000 pounds of food to the lunch program, it was AMAZING. The food wont last for long, but it will allow the lunch program to pay off some debts to the store, and aid in this crazy game of catch-up that is going on. The Mujeres were so happy, the woman who makes all the food for the lunch program started crying. They are just not used to people caring or noticing the work that they do.
They try to teach the kids to be polite when they are getting their food, but saying a simple "Gracias" is something they often need to be reminded to do. Again, I blame it on the malcreado. I noticed the same problem at the Christmas party, some kids didnt say thank you for their gifts, the soda, or the food. And you know what? Neither did most of the parents. I swear I saw one lady come up with a kid to get a bag of candy, and then come back later with a different kid to ask for more. I recognized her, but not the kid, so I told her that I had already given her candy. She said she had two kids, I responded that we didnt have enough for everyone. What I really thought was that we are giving baggies of candy (chewy and hard candy) and even if they both really were her kids, they were both under the age of 3, and really didnt need a baggie of candy each. And that she was a bit malcreada herself for asking.
Ah, this life that I live. Sometimes I just get so frustrated. Sometimes it feels like looking at a huge snowy mountain waiting to be climbed, and all I am wearing is a swimming suit and flipflops. Sometimes I just dont know what to do.
Wow, sorry if that post brought you down a bit, I just read through it myself again. I promise that my Christmas wasnt bad. Thats part 2 to this post: Christmas in Súa with some volunteer friends. I just hope I get the time to get around to writing it...but not today. Hasta Luego, folks.
Theresa
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
I have No Idea what Keeps them Coming Back.
With a title like that, this post could easily be about my roommates. Roommates? But you thought I lived alone now? Oh, I do. Alone with a shit-ton of ants. I dont know what keeps them coming back, but a fellow volunteer believes that the ants in the bathroom are attracted to some kind of mold that forms on the bottom of sinks. Dont judge, I am sure you have it on your sink, too! My solution (in case you also have ants and are too cheap to buy ant-killer, too embarrased to tell your landlord that you are afraid of a bunch of ants, and sick of your home smelling like nail-polish remover from spraying ants dead all the time) is tape. Heavy duty Scotch tape. I used it to seal up the space between where my faucet connects to the wall, because (after much time spent studying their routes and behaviors) I determined that that is where the ants are coming from. This was only after I flooded a million of them out of the sink and then doused them with nail polish remover. But the solution worked. The ants always come in the morning, so the first morning I ran downstairs like there were presents waiting for me under a Chirstmas tree and went to see if there were any ants. And there were! There were tons of ants crawling all around the inside of my Scotch tape trap, wondering in their ant-like-way why they could not get out. Haha! I am bigger and stronger and will always win! They havent come back in three days now...
Anyhow, I could write a whole post about the ants that I kill on a daily basis (not ALL the ants come from that opening, so there are still many an ant in my home. Especially if I leave food in the sink over night...) but I wont. Mostly just for your own benefit, because I am sure that reading about ants in my home is not what you want to learn about my wild, exotic, Peace Corps adventures.
Instead, I write to you today about the Jovenes de Afromix. That is the group of kids that I work with out in Isla Trinitaria. Last week a volunteer friend of mine said she would like to come out and meet said jovenes, to try and figure out what it is that keeps them coming back every week. I told her I have know idea what it is, but I hope it keeps happening.
Now, I will not idealize the situation for you, its not all rainbows and butterflies and well formed groups. The Afromix kids are like most teenagers: inconsistant. There is a steady group of about 7 or 8 kids that are there every week, without fail. Then there is a trickle-in group of about 5 or 6 more that sometimes are there and sometimes are not. Then there is a large group of kids that I barely ever see. But either way, its more than I can ask for. I got lucky with my site placement, in that there were decently formed groups already here when I arrived, and Afromix was one such group. In the 3ish months that I have been here, we "formed" Afromix by joining two neighboring groups together. On Tuesdays we generally do charlas and on Thursdays we do hiphop dance class. Like I said, the number of kids varies a lot, and I have become pretty worried in the last few weeks because the majority of guys in the group have stopped coming. I think they get embarrased to be dancing and dont want to do that, and since they stopped coming for a few weeks maybe they just dont feel like coming back...? I am not really sure. But I have chosen not to blame myself for that one and just be happy with what I have got, which is a super great group of young ladies and a few young men when we are lucky.
Last week Thursday and this week Tuesday got cancelled due to lack of keys to enter the building where we meet. I was disappointed, but it was a good thing at the same time. The kids still came out both days (because no one knew we didnt have keys until we got there) and were super disappointed to not have a meeting. I know I shouldnt be happy about disappointed kids, but I gotta admit I was happy when one girl was like, "But I wanted to dance!" and when another said, "Thursday lets do a charla and not dance, because I like the charlas better!" And this week when we finally met, one said that we should go until 8:30 instead of 8, because "We didnt meet on Tuesday, and thats not fair!" We participated in a really great dance program at the end of last month, and all of my kids were super pumped about it. I dont think they get to get out of the barrio much except to go to school, so going downtown to dance in a show was pretty cool for them.
As much as I love dancing, teaching dance, learning dance (my girls started teaching the Reggaeton dance last night, complete with a "get low" section where you make an "ass smaking motion"), and seeing my kids dance around all happy, what I really love is the charlas. The point of a charla is to get the kids thinking, talking, and learning about new things. Most of what we have focused on thus far is sex and the human body. The thing is that no one really talks to kids here about those kinds of things, so many of them dont know what is going on inside of their own clothing. Enter Theresa, who is not at all embarrased to speak openly about orgasms, the G-spot, wet dreams and semen. Its pretty common here, as it is in the states, for kids to start experimenting with sex at a pretty early age. All of my jovenes are over the age of 16, and I am pretty sure that most of them have already lost their virginity. I find it really concerning when kids (or adults) are having sex without really taking the time to understand their own bodies. So for that reason, I like so speak openly with the jovenes about these kinds of things, and because I want to help them create a "safe space" where it is okay to speak openly.
The most fun charla that we have done so far was one that I call "Musical Chairs of Truth" where I prepare pieces of paper with words on them. Each paper is put on a chair, and I play music from my Gpod (thats a Generic Ipod, for those of you who are not hip to the lingo) as they go around the chairs. When the music stops, they have to write down the first thing that comes to their mind when they see the word on the paper. When everyone has gone to each chair, we all sit down and go around the circle reading all the comments and discuss. It was interesting to see what they thought of the different words, and the discussion that followed was always interesting as well. A few observations...
1. Menstration
"Dirty. Ugly. Why does it come every month?"
We talked about why it comes every month, and the prometora from the area (who I believe is in her 50s) told them that for her it is nothing but a memory, so we talked about how your period stops when you get older. Then I tried (relatively unsuccessfully) to tell them that your period is wonderful thing, and should serve as a reminder that the female body can make life. They were like, "Yaaaa, Tere. ¡Es feo!" (Whatever, Theresa. Its gross!).
2. Orgasm
There was a woman in the group who has two children (she's married and older than the rest of them). She did not know what an orgasm was. She thought that I had written it wrong and meant to write "organ" or something. Most of my jovenes were unsure about what it was, too. My counterpart and I did our best to explain. We said that it is a sensation that you feel inside of your own body when you are sexually pleased. The response was raised eyebrows, some girls said they think they have had one. We told them that if they are not sure, they probably were not having an orgasm.
3. Tampons
It is widely believed in Ecuador that tampons cause you to loose your virginity. Most of my girls already knew that I use tampons, because they have found them in my backpack. I have already talked to some of them about how to use a tampon--where you insert it, what happens when its inside of you, no-it wont get lost inside of you, no-it doesnt make you not a virgin (which reminds me that I should give a charla about "virginity" and if its a physical or a mental concept...), and let them take one home to put in water to see what it looks like when it expands. When we did the musical chairs, some of the girls that I have already talked to about tampons nodded their heads as I was explaining it to the group, but one girl was adamant that she would not use them because she is a virgin.
4. Oral Sex
"Es feo, okey."
I was totally shocked that they thought oral sex was gross. I remember being their age and being super curious about oral sex, it was openly discussed among my group of friends, and we would trade horror stories about our experiences. We might have thought it was weird, but I dont think we thought it was gross. And (at least it seemed) it was something that most people my age were doing. Here, that is not the case. All of my jovenes seemed to agree that it was gross and that they would never want to give or receive oral sex. Luckily, this one came after we had already talked about virginity and how they all thought it is a good thing to be a virgin when you get married (whether or not they are all still virgins we did not discuss). So I asked them if vaginal sex is out of the question so as to save your virginity, why was oral sex considered "gross" and not an alternative? The response was raised eyebrows (which is really all I am looking for sometimes, I guess).
5. Pregnancy
Gracias a Dios, most of the girls said that its something they are not ready for. Lets hope that translates into using condoms...(wishful thinking, I know. But at least we talked about it).
So what keeps them coming back? I hope they come back because they have this space and this time to talk about these things that they think about but are not supposed to talk about. I hope they come back because they know that I will be there, and that I will not ditch out on them. I hope they come back because they feel like they are actually learning something. I just hope they keep coming back.
So there you have it, thats what I do on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I hang out with a rad group of teenagers, dance around to reggaeton and hiphop music, and talk about sex.
Until next time...
Sweet (wet) dreams,
Theresa
Anyhow, I could write a whole post about the ants that I kill on a daily basis (not ALL the ants come from that opening, so there are still many an ant in my home. Especially if I leave food in the sink over night...) but I wont. Mostly just for your own benefit, because I am sure that reading about ants in my home is not what you want to learn about my wild, exotic, Peace Corps adventures.
Instead, I write to you today about the Jovenes de Afromix. That is the group of kids that I work with out in Isla Trinitaria. Last week a volunteer friend of mine said she would like to come out and meet said jovenes, to try and figure out what it is that keeps them coming back every week. I told her I have know idea what it is, but I hope it keeps happening.
Now, I will not idealize the situation for you, its not all rainbows and butterflies and well formed groups. The Afromix kids are like most teenagers: inconsistant. There is a steady group of about 7 or 8 kids that are there every week, without fail. Then there is a trickle-in group of about 5 or 6 more that sometimes are there and sometimes are not. Then there is a large group of kids that I barely ever see. But either way, its more than I can ask for. I got lucky with my site placement, in that there were decently formed groups already here when I arrived, and Afromix was one such group. In the 3ish months that I have been here, we "formed" Afromix by joining two neighboring groups together. On Tuesdays we generally do charlas and on Thursdays we do hiphop dance class. Like I said, the number of kids varies a lot, and I have become pretty worried in the last few weeks because the majority of guys in the group have stopped coming. I think they get embarrased to be dancing and dont want to do that, and since they stopped coming for a few weeks maybe they just dont feel like coming back...? I am not really sure. But I have chosen not to blame myself for that one and just be happy with what I have got, which is a super great group of young ladies and a few young men when we are lucky.
Last week Thursday and this week Tuesday got cancelled due to lack of keys to enter the building where we meet. I was disappointed, but it was a good thing at the same time. The kids still came out both days (because no one knew we didnt have keys until we got there) and were super disappointed to not have a meeting. I know I shouldnt be happy about disappointed kids, but I gotta admit I was happy when one girl was like, "But I wanted to dance!" and when another said, "Thursday lets do a charla and not dance, because I like the charlas better!" And this week when we finally met, one said that we should go until 8:30 instead of 8, because "We didnt meet on Tuesday, and thats not fair!" We participated in a really great dance program at the end of last month, and all of my kids were super pumped about it. I dont think they get to get out of the barrio much except to go to school, so going downtown to dance in a show was pretty cool for them.
As much as I love dancing, teaching dance, learning dance (my girls started teaching the Reggaeton dance last night, complete with a "get low" section where you make an "ass smaking motion"), and seeing my kids dance around all happy, what I really love is the charlas. The point of a charla is to get the kids thinking, talking, and learning about new things. Most of what we have focused on thus far is sex and the human body. The thing is that no one really talks to kids here about those kinds of things, so many of them dont know what is going on inside of their own clothing. Enter Theresa, who is not at all embarrased to speak openly about orgasms, the G-spot, wet dreams and semen. Its pretty common here, as it is in the states, for kids to start experimenting with sex at a pretty early age. All of my jovenes are over the age of 16, and I am pretty sure that most of them have already lost their virginity. I find it really concerning when kids (or adults) are having sex without really taking the time to understand their own bodies. So for that reason, I like so speak openly with the jovenes about these kinds of things, and because I want to help them create a "safe space" where it is okay to speak openly.
The most fun charla that we have done so far was one that I call "Musical Chairs of Truth" where I prepare pieces of paper with words on them. Each paper is put on a chair, and I play music from my Gpod (thats a Generic Ipod, for those of you who are not hip to the lingo) as they go around the chairs. When the music stops, they have to write down the first thing that comes to their mind when they see the word on the paper. When everyone has gone to each chair, we all sit down and go around the circle reading all the comments and discuss. It was interesting to see what they thought of the different words, and the discussion that followed was always interesting as well. A few observations...
1. Menstration
"Dirty. Ugly. Why does it come every month?"
We talked about why it comes every month, and the prometora from the area (who I believe is in her 50s) told them that for her it is nothing but a memory, so we talked about how your period stops when you get older. Then I tried (relatively unsuccessfully) to tell them that your period is wonderful thing, and should serve as a reminder that the female body can make life. They were like, "Yaaaa, Tere. ¡Es feo!" (Whatever, Theresa. Its gross!).
2. Orgasm
There was a woman in the group who has two children (she's married and older than the rest of them). She did not know what an orgasm was. She thought that I had written it wrong and meant to write "organ" or something. Most of my jovenes were unsure about what it was, too. My counterpart and I did our best to explain. We said that it is a sensation that you feel inside of your own body when you are sexually pleased. The response was raised eyebrows, some girls said they think they have had one. We told them that if they are not sure, they probably were not having an orgasm.
3. Tampons
It is widely believed in Ecuador that tampons cause you to loose your virginity. Most of my girls already knew that I use tampons, because they have found them in my backpack. I have already talked to some of them about how to use a tampon--where you insert it, what happens when its inside of you, no-it wont get lost inside of you, no-it doesnt make you not a virgin (which reminds me that I should give a charla about "virginity" and if its a physical or a mental concept...), and let them take one home to put in water to see what it looks like when it expands. When we did the musical chairs, some of the girls that I have already talked to about tampons nodded their heads as I was explaining it to the group, but one girl was adamant that she would not use them because she is a virgin.
4. Oral Sex
"Es feo, okey."
I was totally shocked that they thought oral sex was gross. I remember being their age and being super curious about oral sex, it was openly discussed among my group of friends, and we would trade horror stories about our experiences. We might have thought it was weird, but I dont think we thought it was gross. And (at least it seemed) it was something that most people my age were doing. Here, that is not the case. All of my jovenes seemed to agree that it was gross and that they would never want to give or receive oral sex. Luckily, this one came after we had already talked about virginity and how they all thought it is a good thing to be a virgin when you get married (whether or not they are all still virgins we did not discuss). So I asked them if vaginal sex is out of the question so as to save your virginity, why was oral sex considered "gross" and not an alternative? The response was raised eyebrows (which is really all I am looking for sometimes, I guess).
5. Pregnancy
Gracias a Dios, most of the girls said that its something they are not ready for. Lets hope that translates into using condoms...(wishful thinking, I know. But at least we talked about it).
So what keeps them coming back? I hope they come back because they have this space and this time to talk about these things that they think about but are not supposed to talk about. I hope they come back because they know that I will be there, and that I will not ditch out on them. I hope they come back because they feel like they are actually learning something. I just hope they keep coming back.
So there you have it, thats what I do on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I hang out with a rad group of teenagers, dance around to reggaeton and hiphop music, and talk about sex.
Until next time...
Sweet (wet) dreams,
Theresa
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
This is What it Doing Nothing Looks Like
You know what happens when I come to the office too much? Well, besides being constantly accused of having anemia and anorexia (as if anorexia is something that you just catch, like the flu), what happens is that I write on my blog more often. You know why? Well, because the internet is free and there ain't a whole lot going on in the office. At least not that I have anything to do with...
Which leads me to the point of this blog. This blog can be filed under the "complaining about the life we have choosen for ourselves" catagory of bitching. My least favorite kind of bitching, but hey--indulge me. And if not? Well, you have been warned...
So not last week but the week before we (as in the community promoters of my counterpart organization and myself) were wrapping up the HIV test campaign. It was a really huge deal, and I was really proud of the work that they had done. They set the goal waaaay back when to do 500 HIV tests in each of the 6 barrios that they work in. Each week of November they were out in the subcentros (sub centers? I dont really know, but it means like community clinic) to do the tests. The weekend before they would go door-to-door in the barrio that was having the tests the next week to get the word out and encourage people to come in and take the test. In the end, they met their goal, and then some, which is totally freaking awesome if you ask me.
Really, I don't know why I am using the pronoun "they," because I was there and I helped. My job was to take the datos, or the basic info about the person who was going to take the test: name, cedula number (like social security number), birthday, address, phone number. You would think that this would be an easy enough task that even a well trained monkey could do. And really, it would be, if that monkey was native to the language and land in which these datos were being given. Think if you had to write down the names of hundreds of Americans in your city... Most likely several names would be familiar to your ears, you would know how to spell the variations of the name, many names would be repeated, especially common last names to your city. You would also be familiar with the streets in your city, and the way in which addresses are written and understood. You would also know that if someone gave you a social security number with 8 digits instead of 9 that they had made some kind of mistake. Now, do that in Ecuador. Add in noise the prometores and nurses and people waiting for their tests and the fact that you already dont hear all that well. Add in the fact that its not uncommon in the barrio to know how to say your name, but not how to spell it. Nor is uncommon to have no clue what your birthday is or how old you are. Nor is it common to deal with gringas who don't really speak your language and don't always understand what you are saying, but when you do it is perfectly acceptable to be totally rude and condescending about how she does not know how to spell your name (even if you dont either...). So, my seemingly simple task quickly became relatively difficult, but I still got my butt out to the barrio almost everyday around 7 or 8am to do it. By the end of each week it got a little easier, as I would learn the streets in that area and the common last names, but then we would change to a new barrio with new streets and new names. Asi es la vida, no?
Like I said, I made it out to the barrio almost everyday for the tests. If I didnt make it out, it was because I was also moving apartments at that same time, and occasionally needed to run out to my new place to do totally unimportant things like sign my lease and pay my rent. Or because I was hosting the majority of the volunteers from my cluster for the "Fall Flu Shot Tour" at my house. Or maybe I needed to do something really selfish, like go to the grocery store (which needs to be done in the morning to avoid having to walk home at night). During the weeks of the test I also continued my regularly scheduled programming of working with the Mujeres, including the planning for and the visit from the Deputy Assistant Secratary guy that I already told you about; and working with the Jovenes de Afromix, including participation in a really great dance program that the Canadian volunteer who was with my organization had put together (we danced to "Errtime" by Nelly. Sounds corney, but it was basically the coolest thing EVER!). So, you would imagine my surprize when my main counterpart person told me that some people in the office had confronted her to ask her why Tere (thats what everyone calls me here, short for Teresa, duh) isn't doing anything. I believe the exact words that I was told were: "Why is Tere here? I thought she came to help us with the HIV/AIDS project, but she isn't doing anything but hanging out with the Mujeres de Lucha."
I'm sorry, what? This is what doing nothing looks like to you people? So I guess thats why I use the pronoun "they" whenever I refer to any work that I do with the promotores. Because they tend to make me feel like, no matter what I do, I am not a part of them. Of course my counterpart broke this news to me as we were walking to the bus to go to a meeting with the Jovenes. Good thing she was on the bus with me, because I became so preoccupied with self-analysis during that busride that I would have forgetten to get off if she had not called out my name. So anyone who knows me, especially my old boss and any of my old coworkers, knows that I am basically a workaholic. I basically will kill myself in effort to get the job done and to get it done well. I am my own worst critic, and if something isn't going well with something that I am working on, my first instinct is to blame my approach at the situation and try to find a better way to do it. I could easily blame this on UWGB Social Work program Competency number 4: Evaluation (reassess the plan and change as needed when the goals are not being met), or on Wisconsin State Statutes Chapter 48: parent has 15 months to meet court conditions, what reasonable efforts are being made by the Department to assist the parent in meeting the conditions? I could easily blame it on that kind of training that I have had to be a good social worker and find a way to approach the problem from a new direction. But I won't, because its really just me. Because any good social worker would tell you that you should never work harder than they are. That tends to be my problem, and without my boss and my coworkers around, I guess I forgot about that.
So anyhow, before I was reminded of the golden rule of never working harder than they are (luckily I called a friend, she set me straight. Shes reading this right now, because she is a blogstalker through and through...) I did what I always do:
Step 1. Overanalyze. As already described above.
Step 2. Cry your eyes out. Unfortunately, that step occured when I was sitting on the couch at one of my joven's houses. And I am talking full out, Theresa is really upset, heaping, shoulder shaking, voice jumping, sobbing. It was not pretty, folks. And my kids were like, "How could anyone say that you arent doing anything? You are here with us!" My counterpart was there, too, saying the same thing. She was like, "Tere, I could never think what they think. I work with you, I know what you are doing, they don't. Plus, this is just the way it is in Ecuador, everyone talks bad behind everyone else's back." I told her that I gave that up in high school. Not entirely true, but I mean really? You dont diss a person's work, thats as low as you can go for me. I also told her to try and put herself in my shoes. I left my friends, my family, my job, my LIFE; I left that all behind to come here and work. I am never comfortable here, because I am ALWAYS the extranjera (foreigner), I am always the outsider. This is the life that I have choosen, nobody said it was gonna be easy, but I would appreciate it if folks would have some freaking empathy, you know. Yeah, she didnt really understand, because no one can really put themselves in someone else's shoes. Aint that just the beauty of life.
Step 3: Continue overanalyzing, formalize approach. I wrote the prometores a letter (my counterpart joked that she hoped it wasnt my resignation letter, because then it would be her turn to cry). In this letter I kindly reminded them that I am here to help, and that since the HIV/AIDS project is coming to an end, I wanted to remind them of the plethora of charla themes that I can offer to them and their community. I then listed out some 30 different charla topics, and gave options of about 10 times during the week when I am available to give charlas to them; which they can then give in their community (with my help if they want it, because again, I am here to help them). I presented this letter at the next prometores meeting.
I will give you three guesses at what happened next. You guessed it! A whole lotta nothing, and more crying! Great! Just what I wanted! Yeah, I explained the letter and the response was blank stares. So then I asked my counterpart to explain, perhaps they didnt understand me. So she explains the letter again, and blatantly points out that the reason for the letter was because there were complaints that I was doing nothing to help, despite the fact that I have asked each of the prometores on several occasions what I can do to get involved in their barrio. Each of these times I have been told to come to a meeting, to do this or do that. Each time when I try to follow up with these requests, my text messages go unanswered, my phone calls are not answered, and in person I am given the almighty "ya mismo." Then one of the prometores, who is actually the prometora for the barrio where I work with the jovenes, said that she has no problem with the work that I am doing. The prometora for the barrio where the Mujeres are said the same. The one who I helped in planning the get-the-word-out for the HIV tests said the same thing. The one who neglected to respond to my text message on the morning that we had planned to meet with some kids in her barrio echoed these sentiments. This leaves the folks who were talking shit. None of them seemed to want to say anything when confronted directly with the shit they were slanging behind my back. So my counterpart called them out directly. They cowarded, of course. Backpeddled about what was said, made excuses, took the blame, blah blah blah. At one point one of the girls complained that until recently I wasnt attending to prometores meetings, and that I wasnt there to help plan for the HIV tests. I pointed out (between my sobs and sniffles) that the reason for this is because I was in the sewing room, reviewing the bags that were sewn that day, fixing broken machines, keeping track of how many bags were sewn and making sure that all the girls got paid on time. She continued on that the least I could have done was leave the room for the meetings when they were planning the get-out-the-word, that my ideas would have been appreciated. I replied that if thats what she wanted, all she would have needed to do was ask. And that besides that, only one prometora had asked for my help, and I did help her (I did not point out that it was my and this prometora's idea to do the door-to-door campaign and hand out flyers, which is what ended up being done in all of the barrios, which is what they credited the large test numbers to).
Eventually, the main prometora (who was one of the ones talking the shit) gave a long speech (she does that often) about how it was really no fault of my own, that they were to blame for not being more specific with what they wanted. But that she believes that the reason the organization requested a volunteer was to help with the goals of the organization. Not to go out and work the the Mujeres de Lucha all the time, since they are a separate group with their own agenda and goals. Seriously! This AGAIN?? I told them that actually, the application stated that I was to work with groups of jovenes and mujeres in the barrios, and that is exactly what I am doing. The application asked for support with the HIV/AIDS project, and thats what I am doing (despite the fact that I find it boring, but I didnt tell them that part). I explained AGAIN that no one ever told me about this whatever-rift between the larger organization and the Mujeres until after I was already working with them, and that if they want to think of it as something that I do in my freetime, thats just fine, cuz I have no intention of stopping my work with them. I said that it doesnt really matter who is to blame, because placing blame never solved anything. I wanted to tell them that placing blame is like making Rice Crispy Bars--its far too sticky and is bound to get on the spoon and the bowl. And that work I do tends to go overlooked because I dont tend to take credit for things, because credit is really just blame's pretty step-sister, and is just as sticky. I didnt tell them those things because I dont know how to say sticky or step-sister or Rice Crispy Bars in Spanish, but I think the point got across even without my analogies on life.
So anyhow, the meeting ended with as many plans for how to utilize Theresa as it started with. Zero. Pfft! I was told that rather than them filling out the survey I had made about what they want, I should attend the Plan for 2008 Meeting (which, by the way, was scheduled right there on the spot, and has already been cancelled). I wondered whats the difference between having a meeting to talk about what you want (a meeting that I knew was going to end up not happening) and filling out a form about it. But I figured, whatever. Dont work harder than they are. My counterpart and the other prometora from her barrio were like, "Whatever. If they dont want you help, thats just more time you have for us." They filled out the sheet and told me they are ready to start when I am. I then went with them to a vigil for World AIDS Day and met the president of the local LGBTQ organization there. I got his name and contact info so that I can hopefully start working with that group at some time, too. He hasn't grabbed my fro and told me that I am fabulous yet, but I am sure he will eventually.
So yeah, in case you ever wonder what I am up to, this is what I am up to. I am working. I am attempting to make little silent waves of change by way of charlas and dance with my jovenes, and helping out with the Mujeres. EcuaTranslation: I am doing a whole bunch of nothing.
I should get going now, because I have lots of nothing to do for my organization that I dont help.
Paz,
Tere
Ps, I didnt mean it Ecuador! I love you!
PPs, spell check still not working. Un mil disculpas....
Which leads me to the point of this blog. This blog can be filed under the "complaining about the life we have choosen for ourselves" catagory of bitching. My least favorite kind of bitching, but hey--indulge me. And if not? Well, you have been warned...
So not last week but the week before we (as in the community promoters of my counterpart organization and myself) were wrapping up the HIV test campaign. It was a really huge deal, and I was really proud of the work that they had done. They set the goal waaaay back when to do 500 HIV tests in each of the 6 barrios that they work in. Each week of November they were out in the subcentros (sub centers? I dont really know, but it means like community clinic) to do the tests. The weekend before they would go door-to-door in the barrio that was having the tests the next week to get the word out and encourage people to come in and take the test. In the end, they met their goal, and then some, which is totally freaking awesome if you ask me.
Really, I don't know why I am using the pronoun "they," because I was there and I helped. My job was to take the datos, or the basic info about the person who was going to take the test: name, cedula number (like social security number), birthday, address, phone number. You would think that this would be an easy enough task that even a well trained monkey could do. And really, it would be, if that monkey was native to the language and land in which these datos were being given. Think if you had to write down the names of hundreds of Americans in your city... Most likely several names would be familiar to your ears, you would know how to spell the variations of the name, many names would be repeated, especially common last names to your city. You would also be familiar with the streets in your city, and the way in which addresses are written and understood. You would also know that if someone gave you a social security number with 8 digits instead of 9 that they had made some kind of mistake. Now, do that in Ecuador. Add in noise the prometores and nurses and people waiting for their tests and the fact that you already dont hear all that well. Add in the fact that its not uncommon in the barrio to know how to say your name, but not how to spell it. Nor is uncommon to have no clue what your birthday is or how old you are. Nor is it common to deal with gringas who don't really speak your language and don't always understand what you are saying, but when you do it is perfectly acceptable to be totally rude and condescending about how she does not know how to spell your name (even if you dont either...). So, my seemingly simple task quickly became relatively difficult, but I still got my butt out to the barrio almost everyday around 7 or 8am to do it. By the end of each week it got a little easier, as I would learn the streets in that area and the common last names, but then we would change to a new barrio with new streets and new names. Asi es la vida, no?
Like I said, I made it out to the barrio almost everyday for the tests. If I didnt make it out, it was because I was also moving apartments at that same time, and occasionally needed to run out to my new place to do totally unimportant things like sign my lease and pay my rent. Or because I was hosting the majority of the volunteers from my cluster for the "Fall Flu Shot Tour" at my house. Or maybe I needed to do something really selfish, like go to the grocery store (which needs to be done in the morning to avoid having to walk home at night). During the weeks of the test I also continued my regularly scheduled programming of working with the Mujeres, including the planning for and the visit from the Deputy Assistant Secratary guy that I already told you about; and working with the Jovenes de Afromix, including participation in a really great dance program that the Canadian volunteer who was with my organization had put together (we danced to "Errtime" by Nelly. Sounds corney, but it was basically the coolest thing EVER!). So, you would imagine my surprize when my main counterpart person told me that some people in the office had confronted her to ask her why Tere (thats what everyone calls me here, short for Teresa, duh) isn't doing anything. I believe the exact words that I was told were: "Why is Tere here? I thought she came to help us with the HIV/AIDS project, but she isn't doing anything but hanging out with the Mujeres de Lucha."
I'm sorry, what? This is what doing nothing looks like to you people? So I guess thats why I use the pronoun "they" whenever I refer to any work that I do with the promotores. Because they tend to make me feel like, no matter what I do, I am not a part of them. Of course my counterpart broke this news to me as we were walking to the bus to go to a meeting with the Jovenes. Good thing she was on the bus with me, because I became so preoccupied with self-analysis during that busride that I would have forgetten to get off if she had not called out my name. So anyone who knows me, especially my old boss and any of my old coworkers, knows that I am basically a workaholic. I basically will kill myself in effort to get the job done and to get it done well. I am my own worst critic, and if something isn't going well with something that I am working on, my first instinct is to blame my approach at the situation and try to find a better way to do it. I could easily blame this on UWGB Social Work program Competency number 4: Evaluation (reassess the plan and change as needed when the goals are not being met), or on Wisconsin State Statutes Chapter 48: parent has 15 months to meet court conditions, what reasonable efforts are being made by the Department to assist the parent in meeting the conditions? I could easily blame it on that kind of training that I have had to be a good social worker and find a way to approach the problem from a new direction. But I won't, because its really just me. Because any good social worker would tell you that you should never work harder than they are. That tends to be my problem, and without my boss and my coworkers around, I guess I forgot about that.
So anyhow, before I was reminded of the golden rule of never working harder than they are (luckily I called a friend, she set me straight. Shes reading this right now, because she is a blogstalker through and through...) I did what I always do:
Step 1. Overanalyze. As already described above.
Step 2. Cry your eyes out. Unfortunately, that step occured when I was sitting on the couch at one of my joven's houses. And I am talking full out, Theresa is really upset, heaping, shoulder shaking, voice jumping, sobbing. It was not pretty, folks. And my kids were like, "How could anyone say that you arent doing anything? You are here with us!" My counterpart was there, too, saying the same thing. She was like, "Tere, I could never think what they think. I work with you, I know what you are doing, they don't. Plus, this is just the way it is in Ecuador, everyone talks bad behind everyone else's back." I told her that I gave that up in high school. Not entirely true, but I mean really? You dont diss a person's work, thats as low as you can go for me. I also told her to try and put herself in my shoes. I left my friends, my family, my job, my LIFE; I left that all behind to come here and work. I am never comfortable here, because I am ALWAYS the extranjera (foreigner), I am always the outsider. This is the life that I have choosen, nobody said it was gonna be easy, but I would appreciate it if folks would have some freaking empathy, you know. Yeah, she didnt really understand, because no one can really put themselves in someone else's shoes. Aint that just the beauty of life.
Step 3: Continue overanalyzing, formalize approach. I wrote the prometores a letter (my counterpart joked that she hoped it wasnt my resignation letter, because then it would be her turn to cry). In this letter I kindly reminded them that I am here to help, and that since the HIV/AIDS project is coming to an end, I wanted to remind them of the plethora of charla themes that I can offer to them and their community. I then listed out some 30 different charla topics, and gave options of about 10 times during the week when I am available to give charlas to them; which they can then give in their community (with my help if they want it, because again, I am here to help them). I presented this letter at the next prometores meeting.
I will give you three guesses at what happened next. You guessed it! A whole lotta nothing, and more crying! Great! Just what I wanted! Yeah, I explained the letter and the response was blank stares. So then I asked my counterpart to explain, perhaps they didnt understand me. So she explains the letter again, and blatantly points out that the reason for the letter was because there were complaints that I was doing nothing to help, despite the fact that I have asked each of the prometores on several occasions what I can do to get involved in their barrio. Each of these times I have been told to come to a meeting, to do this or do that. Each time when I try to follow up with these requests, my text messages go unanswered, my phone calls are not answered, and in person I am given the almighty "ya mismo." Then one of the prometores, who is actually the prometora for the barrio where I work with the jovenes, said that she has no problem with the work that I am doing. The prometora for the barrio where the Mujeres are said the same. The one who I helped in planning the get-the-word-out for the HIV tests said the same thing. The one who neglected to respond to my text message on the morning that we had planned to meet with some kids in her barrio echoed these sentiments. This leaves the folks who were talking shit. None of them seemed to want to say anything when confronted directly with the shit they were slanging behind my back. So my counterpart called them out directly. They cowarded, of course. Backpeddled about what was said, made excuses, took the blame, blah blah blah. At one point one of the girls complained that until recently I wasnt attending to prometores meetings, and that I wasnt there to help plan for the HIV tests. I pointed out (between my sobs and sniffles) that the reason for this is because I was in the sewing room, reviewing the bags that were sewn that day, fixing broken machines, keeping track of how many bags were sewn and making sure that all the girls got paid on time. She continued on that the least I could have done was leave the room for the meetings when they were planning the get-out-the-word, that my ideas would have been appreciated. I replied that if thats what she wanted, all she would have needed to do was ask. And that besides that, only one prometora had asked for my help, and I did help her (I did not point out that it was my and this prometora's idea to do the door-to-door campaign and hand out flyers, which is what ended up being done in all of the barrios, which is what they credited the large test numbers to).
Eventually, the main prometora (who was one of the ones talking the shit) gave a long speech (she does that often) about how it was really no fault of my own, that they were to blame for not being more specific with what they wanted. But that she believes that the reason the organization requested a volunteer was to help with the goals of the organization. Not to go out and work the the Mujeres de Lucha all the time, since they are a separate group with their own agenda and goals. Seriously! This AGAIN?? I told them that actually, the application stated that I was to work with groups of jovenes and mujeres in the barrios, and that is exactly what I am doing. The application asked for support with the HIV/AIDS project, and thats what I am doing (despite the fact that I find it boring, but I didnt tell them that part). I explained AGAIN that no one ever told me about this whatever-rift between the larger organization and the Mujeres until after I was already working with them, and that if they want to think of it as something that I do in my freetime, thats just fine, cuz I have no intention of stopping my work with them. I said that it doesnt really matter who is to blame, because placing blame never solved anything. I wanted to tell them that placing blame is like making Rice Crispy Bars--its far too sticky and is bound to get on the spoon and the bowl. And that work I do tends to go overlooked because I dont tend to take credit for things, because credit is really just blame's pretty step-sister, and is just as sticky. I didnt tell them those things because I dont know how to say sticky or step-sister or Rice Crispy Bars in Spanish, but I think the point got across even without my analogies on life.
So anyhow, the meeting ended with as many plans for how to utilize Theresa as it started with. Zero. Pfft! I was told that rather than them filling out the survey I had made about what they want, I should attend the Plan for 2008 Meeting (which, by the way, was scheduled right there on the spot, and has already been cancelled). I wondered whats the difference between having a meeting to talk about what you want (a meeting that I knew was going to end up not happening) and filling out a form about it. But I figured, whatever. Dont work harder than they are. My counterpart and the other prometora from her barrio were like, "Whatever. If they dont want you help, thats just more time you have for us." They filled out the sheet and told me they are ready to start when I am. I then went with them to a vigil for World AIDS Day and met the president of the local LGBTQ organization there. I got his name and contact info so that I can hopefully start working with that group at some time, too. He hasn't grabbed my fro and told me that I am fabulous yet, but I am sure he will eventually.
So yeah, in case you ever wonder what I am up to, this is what I am up to. I am working. I am attempting to make little silent waves of change by way of charlas and dance with my jovenes, and helping out with the Mujeres. EcuaTranslation: I am doing a whole bunch of nothing.
I should get going now, because I have lots of nothing to do for my organization that I dont help.
Paz,
Tere
Ps, I didnt mean it Ecuador! I love you!
PPs, spell check still not working. Un mil disculpas....
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
New Place, More Heat, Cold Showers
I moved! Yeah! I am now the proud renter of a wonderfully lovely little casita in Guayaquil. When you come and visit me (cough, hint, hint) you will absolutely love it! And then you will laugh at me for moving into the Ecuadorian version of my apartment in De Pere...
My new place is totally great. Its a casa interior, which means that it is located behind the main house on the property. In my case, its actually behind a house and 2 apartments; mine is the only one thats not connected to the other ones. On the outside it looks like a cute little dollhouse cabin. I described it to one of my friends here as being very handmade, which means that I kill lots of bugs. Ps, if you are looking for an effective and cheap insect killer, might I recommend mixing water, nailpolish remover and concentrated disinfectant household cleaner. It stops ants dead in their tracks, literally. But besides the ants (and the bees, and the flies, and the mosquitoes, and dont forget the lizards in the laundry room) my new place is great. I am, for my first time in Ecuador, living without a hot shower. You would think that a cold shower would take the joy out of showering, at least thats what I always thought. That is until the hot season came...My new place has a metal roof, which means that it heats up really quickly. That would be hugely useful if I lived in the mountains, but unfortunately I like in Guayaquil, the sweaty armpit of Ecuador. Its crazy hot, so the cold showers are kinda nice (once I get over the initial shock, I'm talking ice water, people).
My landlord is an Ingeniero (literally means enginer, but in Ecuador is used for all kinds of people with a college degree. In his case, I do believe he was an enginer in the English sense of the word) and he seems to enjoy the house repairs. However, he is a bit old (and going deaf and senile with Alzheimers, his words, not mine) so he doesnt really do the repairs himself anymore. Rather, there is a steady stream of señores who work on the different properties that he owns. Per Peace Corps rules (and my paranoia) a gate had to be installed on the sliding glass doors in the front of the house. I, foolishly, assumed that a gate would be purchased and installed. Nope! They made it by hand. Then they also made me a table for my stovetop, fixed some doors, installed several curtain rods, and a rod to give me more closet space. I paid them back in coffee, watered down juice and crackers. It was all I had to give, and they took it with a smile!
You might wonder whats inside of my house? Since anyone who knows me (or has half a brain) would know that I could not bring things like a fridge and a couch to Ecuador. Well, PC gives us a separate spending allowance to furnish our home. The amount that they give us is certainly not enough for everything that needs to be bought, if you take into account things like plates, cups, a broom, drapes (so that the señores dont see me when i am nakey...) and all the other misc. things that home requires. Enter lots of drama with my bank account. RARR! Yeah, as predicted I was given the "budget" line for why my money situation got all messed up. And I have broken down and spent money from my US account for the first time since that wild swearing-in week in gringo-lovin Quito (not counting buying new pants, but that was totally necessary because my old jeans fall off me without undoing the zipper). But I (obsessively) keep track of how much money I am spending, bien raro for me, since I am used to being frivoulous and out of control with my money. So hopefully I will get back on track with that at some point. And if not, well, what-are-ya-gonna-do? The whole point of living only within my PC means is to experience living at a level more like the people that I serve. But really, thats a crock, because the people that I serve could never afford to live in the neighborhood that I live in, and I could never live in their neighborhood because its too "dangerous." So really I am living at the level of a modest-means Ecuadorian, and the lesson that I have learned is that this is why no one owns forks AND spoons and many people (myself included) do not own a couch. Hopefully by the time I have company in my casita I will scrap together the money to buy a table, something to sit on thats not the floor or the stairs, and more than one fork. And if not, well, I guess we will eat pizza on my yoga mat. Probably not even that, though, because pizza is expensive and I dont own an oven to make it in either....
Buying the things to furnish my home was an adventure in and of itself. First of all, we got an email at the end of November that because of increased crime rates in December with the holiday season, PCVs were forbidden to be in Quito (the capital) and Guayaquil (yeah, thats where I live) because the cities are too dangerous. So, does that mean I get to move?!?!? Nope, it just means that my friends cant come visit me. On of my friends asked for clarification because she has to come to the city for work, and because she has to come here to buy stuff for her new house as well. She was told that she should try to limit the amount of time in the city, and that she should try to do her shopping in one day, to minimize risk. Really, folks, that makes no sense. Doing all the shopping in one day (which is what I did, beacause its cheaper) only makes you a humongous target if you ask me. What would you think about some chick hopping in and out of a pickup truck digging money out of her bra to pay for large items like a fridge, a bed, a stove, etc? Its not like the "bad-guys" dont know that this stuff costs a lot of money. So its not like the whole world didnt know I was carrying a whole lot of loot in my boobies.
But I was able to buy everything that I needed, which is good. The thing about Ecuador (or at least Guayaquil) is that if you go to a normal store, you are going to pay more. And second hand things basically dont exist. So you have to go to a store where they will barter the price. But if you go there with a grina-voice, you get the special-gringa-price. So one of the Mujeres de Lucha offered to go with me. It was really fun! It was almost like a game: the sellers gives a bogus price, she says "What do you think, Niña Tere?", I scrunch my face and say, "Ummm...I dont have that much...", she goes off into a schpeel about how I am a student/social worker/youth organizer who doesnt have a lot of money but deserves a good price because I am here to make life better for the Ecuadorian people. Basically the sellers dont care who I am or why I am here, but they go along with it anyhow. At one point we were standing in the street trying to decided where to go next and a security guard asked if we needed help. She said yes, gave him the schpeel, he led us to someone else and told that person to help us. When he left, the new guy asks if we know the security guard? She resonds, "Yes, he's my godfather." Without even a waver in her voice! Just flat out pulled it outta her butt like it was nothing! I just stared at the groud, I am a horrible liar!
Anyhow, we found all the stuff I needed to buy, and then came back 2 days later with the pickup truck to buy all the stuff. We moved it all into my new place (which she confirmed is "Bien bonita"), I put a brand new lock on the brand new gate, and ate my first dinner of silent house freedom! Its great to be living on my own again! Basically all the Mujeres and folks from the office want to come over. They ignore my protests that I have three chairs, no table and one fork. They say a house without a party is not yet a house. So I guess the party will be at my house this weekend....
Party on! (Just kidding, I still speng most of my time reading and laying in bed listening to cds...)
Theresa
(ps, spell check isnt working, sorry for the errors....bad liar, even badder speller...is badder even a word? the spell check would know...)
My new place is totally great. Its a casa interior, which means that it is located behind the main house on the property. In my case, its actually behind a house and 2 apartments; mine is the only one thats not connected to the other ones. On the outside it looks like a cute little dollhouse cabin. I described it to one of my friends here as being very handmade, which means that I kill lots of bugs. Ps, if you are looking for an effective and cheap insect killer, might I recommend mixing water, nailpolish remover and concentrated disinfectant household cleaner. It stops ants dead in their tracks, literally. But besides the ants (and the bees, and the flies, and the mosquitoes, and dont forget the lizards in the laundry room) my new place is great. I am, for my first time in Ecuador, living without a hot shower. You would think that a cold shower would take the joy out of showering, at least thats what I always thought. That is until the hot season came...My new place has a metal roof, which means that it heats up really quickly. That would be hugely useful if I lived in the mountains, but unfortunately I like in Guayaquil, the sweaty armpit of Ecuador. Its crazy hot, so the cold showers are kinda nice (once I get over the initial shock, I'm talking ice water, people).
My landlord is an Ingeniero (literally means enginer, but in Ecuador is used for all kinds of people with a college degree. In his case, I do believe he was an enginer in the English sense of the word) and he seems to enjoy the house repairs. However, he is a bit old (and going deaf and senile with Alzheimers, his words, not mine) so he doesnt really do the repairs himself anymore. Rather, there is a steady stream of señores who work on the different properties that he owns. Per Peace Corps rules (and my paranoia) a gate had to be installed on the sliding glass doors in the front of the house. I, foolishly, assumed that a gate would be purchased and installed. Nope! They made it by hand. Then they also made me a table for my stovetop, fixed some doors, installed several curtain rods, and a rod to give me more closet space. I paid them back in coffee, watered down juice and crackers. It was all I had to give, and they took it with a smile!
You might wonder whats inside of my house? Since anyone who knows me (or has half a brain) would know that I could not bring things like a fridge and a couch to Ecuador. Well, PC gives us a separate spending allowance to furnish our home. The amount that they give us is certainly not enough for everything that needs to be bought, if you take into account things like plates, cups, a broom, drapes (so that the señores dont see me when i am nakey...) and all the other misc. things that home requires. Enter lots of drama with my bank account. RARR! Yeah, as predicted I was given the "budget" line for why my money situation got all messed up. And I have broken down and spent money from my US account for the first time since that wild swearing-in week in gringo-lovin Quito (not counting buying new pants, but that was totally necessary because my old jeans fall off me without undoing the zipper). But I (obsessively) keep track of how much money I am spending, bien raro for me, since I am used to being frivoulous and out of control with my money. So hopefully I will get back on track with that at some point. And if not, well, what-are-ya-gonna-do? The whole point of living only within my PC means is to experience living at a level more like the people that I serve. But really, thats a crock, because the people that I serve could never afford to live in the neighborhood that I live in, and I could never live in their neighborhood because its too "dangerous." So really I am living at the level of a modest-means Ecuadorian, and the lesson that I have learned is that this is why no one owns forks AND spoons and many people (myself included) do not own a couch. Hopefully by the time I have company in my casita I will scrap together the money to buy a table, something to sit on thats not the floor or the stairs, and more than one fork. And if not, well, I guess we will eat pizza on my yoga mat. Probably not even that, though, because pizza is expensive and I dont own an oven to make it in either....
Buying the things to furnish my home was an adventure in and of itself. First of all, we got an email at the end of November that because of increased crime rates in December with the holiday season, PCVs were forbidden to be in Quito (the capital) and Guayaquil (yeah, thats where I live) because the cities are too dangerous. So, does that mean I get to move?!?!? Nope, it just means that my friends cant come visit me. On of my friends asked for clarification because she has to come to the city for work, and because she has to come here to buy stuff for her new house as well. She was told that she should try to limit the amount of time in the city, and that she should try to do her shopping in one day, to minimize risk. Really, folks, that makes no sense. Doing all the shopping in one day (which is what I did, beacause its cheaper) only makes you a humongous target if you ask me. What would you think about some chick hopping in and out of a pickup truck digging money out of her bra to pay for large items like a fridge, a bed, a stove, etc? Its not like the "bad-guys" dont know that this stuff costs a lot of money. So its not like the whole world didnt know I was carrying a whole lot of loot in my boobies.
But I was able to buy everything that I needed, which is good. The thing about Ecuador (or at least Guayaquil) is that if you go to a normal store, you are going to pay more. And second hand things basically dont exist. So you have to go to a store where they will barter the price. But if you go there with a grina-voice, you get the special-gringa-price. So one of the Mujeres de Lucha offered to go with me. It was really fun! It was almost like a game: the sellers gives a bogus price, she says "What do you think, Niña Tere?", I scrunch my face and say, "Ummm...I dont have that much...", she goes off into a schpeel about how I am a student/social worker/youth organizer who doesnt have a lot of money but deserves a good price because I am here to make life better for the Ecuadorian people. Basically the sellers dont care who I am or why I am here, but they go along with it anyhow. At one point we were standing in the street trying to decided where to go next and a security guard asked if we needed help. She said yes, gave him the schpeel, he led us to someone else and told that person to help us. When he left, the new guy asks if we know the security guard? She resonds, "Yes, he's my godfather." Without even a waver in her voice! Just flat out pulled it outta her butt like it was nothing! I just stared at the groud, I am a horrible liar!
Anyhow, we found all the stuff I needed to buy, and then came back 2 days later with the pickup truck to buy all the stuff. We moved it all into my new place (which she confirmed is "Bien bonita"), I put a brand new lock on the brand new gate, and ate my first dinner of silent house freedom! Its great to be living on my own again! Basically all the Mujeres and folks from the office want to come over. They ignore my protests that I have three chairs, no table and one fork. They say a house without a party is not yet a house. So I guess the party will be at my house this weekend....
Party on! (Just kidding, I still speng most of my time reading and laying in bed listening to cds...)
Theresa
(ps, spell check isnt working, sorry for the errors....bad liar, even badder speller...is badder even a word? the spell check would know...)
Monday, December 3, 2007
Thanksgiving, what is Thanksgiving? We can never go back to Russia. Even if we wated to, we could not.
That blog title was just for my sisters, love you girls. Miss you tons. If anyone else recognizes it, that makes you the coolest person ever because I LOVE Molly's Pilgrim.
Yeah, so on to the post. Rarr, I hate being so busy that I neglect my blog. What a bad mother I am (to blogs and to birds...may they rest in peace).
So Thanksgiving in the Land of Ecua! Here's how it went down...
Thanksgiving does not exist in Ecuador. I would say that most people I spoke with did not know what it was, but for those who do it is called Dia de Accion de Gracias. They asked me what Thanksgiving is: is it a religious holiday? they wanted to know. Ummm...yeah, I didnt really like answering that question. Because really, there is no easy, elementary level Spanish (because of my abilities to speak, not theirs to understand) explanation for Thanksgiving. Basically what I told them that the story goes that the pilgrims went to the land that is now called the States, made friends with some "Indians" and they all sat down at a pretty little table and ate turkey. Then I explain that in reality, the pilgrims are what Latin America refers to as conquistadores, and that they stole the land from the native people, and that I am not sure if there ever really was a pretty table with turkey. But either way, turkey is my favorite meat i.e. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. On a side note, in training we had a really interesting session about the difference between the US view of "settlers" and "pilgrims" vs. the Latin American view of "conquistadores." Think about it: basically they were doing the same thing, right? Folks from Europe travelling around trying to see what was on the other side of the world. US America sees them as "settlers" who are the basis of the "equality" that we pride ourselves on. Latin America sees them as conquestors who are the basis for the inequality between the haves and the have nots. Same thing, different view point; or different thing altogether? You be the judge. Food for thought...but back to the turkey, cuz thats far more tasty.
So for Thanksgiving I travelled to Zaruma, a city further south in Ecuador in the province of El Oro. Yeah, basically I spent the weekend being jealous that my friend, another volunteer, who lives there while I live here in nasty ass Guayaquil. Zaruma was CRAZY beautiful. Its still on what is considered the coast, but its not crazy gross hot (we are in the "winter" here, which means (more) hot and rainy, fabulous!) and there are mountains! I think its actually considered to be in the transitional zone, which means not quite sierra (mountains) and not quite coastal. Yeah, so anyhow, its beautiful. And there is no crime and no drugs and no HIV/AIDS...haha. Thats a joke with my Omnibus, thats what the counterpart from Zaruma said during the site presentation. We were all like, yeah...so why do you need a volunteer? But the chick who got placed there is doing some cool work, working with a bunch of local schools. But I digress...Zaruma is beautiful. We rode on the top of this big ass truck to go swimming in a freaking waterfall. How cool is that???
Thanksgiving was, well, it was an EcuaThanksgiving. Se fue la luz y el agua. That means that the lights and the water went out. Yeah, on Thanksgiving. But it was fine! The volunteers who planned the get-together were concerned, but everyone else was like, No Worries! The stoves are gas, so the turkey and the fixins cooked just fine. We went to the neighbor's house to use some of their clean water supply that they keep. We lit lots of candles, and the volunteer who carved the turkey did so while wearing his headlamp (yeah, thats a flashlight that you attach to your head. We are a rugged crew).
No lights, no water, no problem. The day went just fine, and the food was great! Some of the volunteers made a gumbo with cuy. It was DELICIOUS! I am sorry guys, but I freaking love the guinea pig. I dont know why we keep them as pets in the States, cuz they are freaking tastey. They give me gas, but so does everything...yeah, I am sure you dont care to know more about that. The only thing that was missing was sweet potato pie with marshmellows! Thats my favorite part! I will have to make it for Christmas and Thanksgiving next year, lots of folks didnt even know what it was. Is it a Wisconsin thing? Or maybe its an African-American thing? I am not sure. Oh! Speaking of Wisconsin things...my accent. Yeah, it hasnt gone away. One of the folks at Thanksgiving who I hadnt met yet asked where I was from and when I said Wisconsin he was like, "Yeah, thats what I thought. Dontcha know Bobby..." Hahaha.
The Thanksgiving gathering was also a cross-program event. Here's the thing: I am going to give it to you straight. This is something that we PCVs in Ecuador dont talk about too openly, unless its just with people from your own program. There are two breeds of PCVs in Ecuador. There are the Odd-Omnibuses, and there are the Even-Omnibuses. Or as some (not I!) refer to it as the Green Groups and Peace Corps Lite. The Odds (Green Groups) come in January/February; they are the Agriculture and Habitat Conservation kids. The Evens (or Peace Corps Lite as some refer to us, although its totally not true!) come in June/July and are the Health and Youth and Families folks. So obviously, by nature of their jobs, there Odd groups tend to get a bit more dirty. You know, they work on farms and stuff. They start chicken farms and gardens (at least thats what I think they do...). The Evens do stuff like I do. Some of us live in big cities, some in more rural areas, but we probably dont get as physically dirty on a daily basis as the Odds (not counting the huge amounts of dirt that is currently residing in my lungs as a direct result of all of the city buses in this city).
You know what else we dont do in the city? We dont eat worms. Yeah, worms. One of the girls at Thanksgiving brought worms, which she cooked by boiling them with the heart of a Palm tree. I was like, "What the hell is that?" And she was like, "Worms, of course. What, you dont eat them at your site?" I was like, "Um, no. We dont eat worms in Guayaquil." You know why? Because we have Burger King, thats why. Would you eat worms when you could eat a burger? I dont think so, so hop on down from that high horse, girly. Then, when we were walking back to the hostel, some Odds were leading the way. I swear to you they took us through the muddiest freaking path that we could have possibly taken. And I really think it was just to laugh of us, and I'm not gonna lie, it probably was a funny sight to see. My Old Navy flip flops broke! I was so mad! I freaken loved those flips! And my EcuaPedicure? Yeah, it was ruined. They probably all though, "Pfft, freaking city-girl PC Lite and her stupid pedicure." But you know what? If you could get pretty flowers painted on your toenails for $1.50, you would, too. Dont judge.
So anyhow, Thanksgiving went well. It wasnt half as nice as it would have been if I was at home with my family, but it was as good as it can be when I am miles aways from home. I was worried that the holidays would be really hard on me here. My solution to that is to travel during the holidays and try to ignore the fact that it is a holiday. The upside is that its hot (thats the ONLY positive aspect of this weather) so its easier to forget what time of year it is. When I am pitting through my shirt after 5 seconds of walking outside, December is nothing more than a word or number that I write down. Its easy to forget (at least thats the mantra that I am going to keep repeating until I believe it....).
Miss you all tons.
Hasta luego,
Theresa
Yeah, so on to the post. Rarr, I hate being so busy that I neglect my blog. What a bad mother I am (to blogs and to birds...may they rest in peace).
So Thanksgiving in the Land of Ecua! Here's how it went down...
Thanksgiving does not exist in Ecuador. I would say that most people I spoke with did not know what it was, but for those who do it is called Dia de Accion de Gracias. They asked me what Thanksgiving is: is it a religious holiday? they wanted to know. Ummm...yeah, I didnt really like answering that question. Because really, there is no easy, elementary level Spanish (because of my abilities to speak, not theirs to understand) explanation for Thanksgiving. Basically what I told them that the story goes that the pilgrims went to the land that is now called the States, made friends with some "Indians" and they all sat down at a pretty little table and ate turkey. Then I explain that in reality, the pilgrims are what Latin America refers to as conquistadores, and that they stole the land from the native people, and that I am not sure if there ever really was a pretty table with turkey. But either way, turkey is my favorite meat i.e. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. On a side note, in training we had a really interesting session about the difference between the US view of "settlers" and "pilgrims" vs. the Latin American view of "conquistadores." Think about it: basically they were doing the same thing, right? Folks from Europe travelling around trying to see what was on the other side of the world. US America sees them as "settlers" who are the basis of the "equality" that we pride ourselves on. Latin America sees them as conquestors who are the basis for the inequality between the haves and the have nots. Same thing, different view point; or different thing altogether? You be the judge. Food for thought...but back to the turkey, cuz thats far more tasty.
So for Thanksgiving I travelled to Zaruma, a city further south in Ecuador in the province of El Oro. Yeah, basically I spent the weekend being jealous that my friend, another volunteer, who lives there while I live here in nasty ass Guayaquil. Zaruma was CRAZY beautiful. Its still on what is considered the coast, but its not crazy gross hot (we are in the "winter" here, which means (more) hot and rainy, fabulous!) and there are mountains! I think its actually considered to be in the transitional zone, which means not quite sierra (mountains) and not quite coastal. Yeah, so anyhow, its beautiful. And there is no crime and no drugs and no HIV/AIDS...haha. Thats a joke with my Omnibus, thats what the counterpart from Zaruma said during the site presentation. We were all like, yeah...so why do you need a volunteer? But the chick who got placed there is doing some cool work, working with a bunch of local schools. But I digress...Zaruma is beautiful. We rode on the top of this big ass truck to go swimming in a freaking waterfall. How cool is that???
Thanksgiving was, well, it was an EcuaThanksgiving. Se fue la luz y el agua. That means that the lights and the water went out. Yeah, on Thanksgiving. But it was fine! The volunteers who planned the get-together were concerned, but everyone else was like, No Worries! The stoves are gas, so the turkey and the fixins cooked just fine. We went to the neighbor's house to use some of their clean water supply that they keep. We lit lots of candles, and the volunteer who carved the turkey did so while wearing his headlamp (yeah, thats a flashlight that you attach to your head. We are a rugged crew).
No lights, no water, no problem. The day went just fine, and the food was great! Some of the volunteers made a gumbo with cuy. It was DELICIOUS! I am sorry guys, but I freaking love the guinea pig. I dont know why we keep them as pets in the States, cuz they are freaking tastey. They give me gas, but so does everything...yeah, I am sure you dont care to know more about that. The only thing that was missing was sweet potato pie with marshmellows! Thats my favorite part! I will have to make it for Christmas and Thanksgiving next year, lots of folks didnt even know what it was. Is it a Wisconsin thing? Or maybe its an African-American thing? I am not sure. Oh! Speaking of Wisconsin things...my accent. Yeah, it hasnt gone away. One of the folks at Thanksgiving who I hadnt met yet asked where I was from and when I said Wisconsin he was like, "Yeah, thats what I thought. Dontcha know Bobby..." Hahaha.
The Thanksgiving gathering was also a cross-program event. Here's the thing: I am going to give it to you straight. This is something that we PCVs in Ecuador dont talk about too openly, unless its just with people from your own program. There are two breeds of PCVs in Ecuador. There are the Odd-Omnibuses, and there are the Even-Omnibuses. Or as some (not I!) refer to it as the Green Groups and Peace Corps Lite. The Odds (Green Groups) come in January/February; they are the Agriculture and Habitat Conservation kids. The Evens (or Peace Corps Lite as some refer to us, although its totally not true!) come in June/July and are the Health and Youth and Families folks. So obviously, by nature of their jobs, there Odd groups tend to get a bit more dirty. You know, they work on farms and stuff. They start chicken farms and gardens (at least thats what I think they do...). The Evens do stuff like I do. Some of us live in big cities, some in more rural areas, but we probably dont get as physically dirty on a daily basis as the Odds (not counting the huge amounts of dirt that is currently residing in my lungs as a direct result of all of the city buses in this city).
You know what else we dont do in the city? We dont eat worms. Yeah, worms. One of the girls at Thanksgiving brought worms, which she cooked by boiling them with the heart of a Palm tree. I was like, "What the hell is that?" And she was like, "Worms, of course. What, you dont eat them at your site?" I was like, "Um, no. We dont eat worms in Guayaquil." You know why? Because we have Burger King, thats why. Would you eat worms when you could eat a burger? I dont think so, so hop on down from that high horse, girly. Then, when we were walking back to the hostel, some Odds were leading the way. I swear to you they took us through the muddiest freaking path that we could have possibly taken. And I really think it was just to laugh of us, and I'm not gonna lie, it probably was a funny sight to see. My Old Navy flip flops broke! I was so mad! I freaken loved those flips! And my EcuaPedicure? Yeah, it was ruined. They probably all though, "Pfft, freaking city-girl PC Lite and her stupid pedicure." But you know what? If you could get pretty flowers painted on your toenails for $1.50, you would, too. Dont judge.
So anyhow, Thanksgiving went well. It wasnt half as nice as it would have been if I was at home with my family, but it was as good as it can be when I am miles aways from home. I was worried that the holidays would be really hard on me here. My solution to that is to travel during the holidays and try to ignore the fact that it is a holiday. The upside is that its hot (thats the ONLY positive aspect of this weather) so its easier to forget what time of year it is. When I am pitting through my shirt after 5 seconds of walking outside, December is nothing more than a word or number that I write down. Its easy to forget (at least thats the mantra that I am going to keep repeating until I believe it....).
Miss you all tons.
Hasta luego,
Theresa
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