Haha, thats my nod to my favorite section of the trash magazines from the States. Like its important to know that Ashton Kutcher plugs the toll on his own meter. Ah, but I cant help but look...Anyhow, on to the post.
This problem I have right now is multisided, multidimensional, multiplying with each coming day. In Ecuador, migration is a major problem. Have we discussed this? I think so. Its two sided: adults leave Ecuador to go live and work in other countries, especially the States, Spain and Chile (at least in the families that I know). Then they send money back to their families here in Ecuador. Sounds like a good enough thing, but the problem is that most of the time they leave their kids behind. And as much as money is helpful in raising kids, (in my opinion) a present parent is far more valuable. Interesting factoids: Of the total Ecuadorian population (about 13 million people), about 15% live outside of the country; and money sent from family members who migrated to other countries is the second leading source of revenue in Ecuador (second to oil. I think I previously said it was the third, but I was wrong). So, obviously, migration is a big problem in the country, because it leaves lots of kids behind; but its totally necessary in the country, because it creates revenue.
So there are the statistics. Here is a piece of the reality, in my admittadly skewed, American way of seeing it. I work with teens in one barrio here in Guayaquil, and I work with an am very close with children in another barrio here in the city. The teens I work with are incredibly wonderful. In fact, they just threw me a surprize birthday party last week and pushed my face into the cake. It was wonderful and I love those kids! They are smart, they come to meetings twice a week, and they are generally interested in learning about values, self esteem, and of course, sex. We had a charla the other week about the human genital parts. They were so freaking attentive during that charla, it was scary! It was so much fun, such a rush, to see them connect the pieces together...the pain near your pelvic bone when your ovary releases an egg, the fact that the penis fills with blood (not sperm) to create an erection, the concept that the vagina expands in such extreme ways that it allows a new child to pass through into the world. I would not trade the work that I do with them for anything, it is a major part of my life here.
Like I said, they are really great, wonderful kids. They are well cared for, they have adults in their lives who look out for their well being. But the fact is that they are not the only teens living in their barrio. Consistantly there is a group of about 9 kids that come every week, but there are hundreds of teens living in that barrio. When I get off the three-wheeled moto in Isla Trinitaria, I pass by lots of teens sitting around on street corners, doing a whole lot of nothing. They gather and play cards, they probably drink a beer or two if they can get their hands on some. They whistle at girls who pass by, they struggle to carry the children that they had years before they were ready to care for them. Thats just reality. I love my jovenes, but that doesnt mean that I dont notice all the teens that dont come to the meetings. I care about my jovenes, but that doesnt mean that I dont worry just as much (if not more) about the kids gathered on the corner.
As you know (if you have been keeping up), I spend most of my time out in Calle 8. Since I am there for several hours a day, 6 days a week, I have come to be that Peace Corps Volunteer that kids run up to screaming "Tia!!!" (which means Aunt). They grab my hands and ask me if we have class that day (art class), ask if we can play a game, ask me for 5 cents so they can buy a frozen treat (I never give it, but they keep asking). There are a couple of kids that I see very often, and am becoming very attached to. Two are a set of brothers, two are a set of sisters, both live with grandparents. The boys' mom live here in Guayaquil. When I ask adults where she is, I get told that shes "Over there" with a motion leading out of the barrio. When I ask what shes doing, and why shes hardly ever around, I get shrugs. What is she doing? Drugs? Who knows. The girls' mom has migrated to another country. She comes back to visit about once a year, an event that is coming up right now with much anticipation from her daughters and mother. And me. I want to know her, I want to not be so mad at her all the time. I want to understand her intentions, because I am sure they are good.
Ah, this is hard. Out of respect for the kids and their families, I dont want to give too many details. But I want you to know these kids. I want you to come to lunch and meet them, to see how they all but beg be be spoon fed their soup, despite the fact that they are 7 years old. I want you to see how giving them one little hug results in them crawling up on your lap, cradling themselves in your arms like an infant. I want you to feel this constant tug on my heart that these kids make.
The girls' dad lives in Guayaquil, too. He was supposed to take care of them for the school year, but when confronted with the reality that he would then also have to be financially responsible for them, he ran off with his 'other woman.' The girls dont seem to mind, I wonder if this was the first time. While taking a nap the older one heard her grandmom say that someone had called earlier. She woke from her slumber and asked, 'Who called? My dad? Is he coming to get me? Did my mom call? Who called, grandma?' We all just looked at her...what do you say? Your dad doesnt....doesnt want...doesnt want to what? To care for you? To pay for you lunch? To hold you when youre sleepy? To play with you? To what? And your mom? How do you explain to a seven-year-old that mom loves you SO much that she moved far, far away so that she can send money home to pay for you to go to school?
I just worry about my kids, thats all. I want to take them all home with me, to love them all like they are my own and to remind them everyday, every hour and every minute how beautiful and wonderful and special they are. I do not want them to grow up to be those kids who hang out on the corner and do God knows what. I want, I want, I want them to be okay. But, at the same time, I know that I am not the solution. As much as those kiddos love me and I love them, I am Tia, not mom. I tell them that I love them all the time, I braid their hair, I kiss their boo-boos, I draw pictures with them. But I am Tia Tere, and thats just reality. I just hate reality, thats all. I want to be able to some how change it, somehow make it "better" or at least "easier." But what do I know? And more importantly, what can I do?
...ah, I hate stressing so much. Continue with art classes (in celebration of Earth Day they each decorated little cups and got little plants to take home and care for). Hold hands as we walk down the street. Blow on spoonfulls of soup to cool it off. Kiss boo-boos. Be Tia. Thats all I can do.
Go home and kiss your kids,
Tia Tere
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
I´m not Ungrateful, I just suck at Small Talk
Before we get to the story, let me add that I turned 25 on Monday! Happy Birthday to me, to me, to me! haha. Did you know that in Ecuador they sing the Happy Birthday song first in Spanish and then always followed by the English version? I dont think that most people even know what they are saying, but they sing it all the same...I was serenated by both the staff at Applebees in Quito and by the Mujeres de Lucha. Good times. The best birthday wish I got? From my little sister who posted on my Facebook wall: "Feliz Navidad sista! Hope you had a fiesta fantastica!" hahaha! Clearly she doesnt always know what the words in songs she hears mean, either....as in "Feliz Navidad...I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart." Ohhh, too funny little sis. Feliz Navidad to you, too.
So what does a Peace Corps Volunteer do for her 25th birthday? Well, this one went out dancing one night, had a party with the Mujeres de Lucha another day, went to dinner with friends a couple of times, and oh yes, gave a charla about homosexuality in Ecuador. Ahhh, duty calls.
The newest Omnibus 99 arrived in Ecuador in January, and now they are just getting set to head out to their sites. They are the Agriculture and Habitat Conservation Groups, so you know, their PC life is gonna be just a liiiittle bit different than mine is. Nonetheless, their training site is the same place where I used to live: in Tabacundo (lindo de mi corazon, eres la tierra de mi pasión). As a member of the PC-Ecuador GLBT Interest group, I was invited to give a charla about homosexuality in Ecuador along with a friend of mine from the group. I took the night bus up to Quito on Sunday night so that we would have Monday (the day I became a quater of a century years old) to plan. Yeeeaaaah...she has a tv so instead we watched movies and dvds of The L Word. But I mean, hey, watching The L Word is sorta like planning a GLBT charla, right? So yeah, the charla didnt end up getting planned until basically the morning of the charla, which was the next day. No big deal because we were just replicating the charla that was given to us several short months ago when we were eager to learn trainees.
So we head out on the bus to Tabacundo. I wanted to stay awake and alert so that I would see my old surroundings coming in around me again, and relish in the beauty that is the sierra of Ecuador. Instead I fell asleep on the bus...oops. When we got there, I called my old host family. Heres the thing--I have done a real crappy job of keeping in touch with those folks. And its not because I dont love them, because I do love them. They are wonderful and absolutely the best host family match for me and I wouldnt trade them for the world. The problem is that keeping in touch requires a skill called "small talk." Thats something I have always stuggled with, and it doesnt get any prettier in Spanish. I did text my host sister once to tell her that I was reading all the wonderful things that I had written about her in my journal and that I missed her. But then she didnt call me back. In fact, they have called me no more than I have called them, which is not at all. So then I didnt feel so bad, you know?
So anyhow, we get to Tabacundo and I call the host family, ask for Sra. Carmen. A man answers the phone...shit...its Don....Don...Don, shit! How can I forget my own host fathers name?!?! I'm like, Hi! Its Tere! How are you?? And he's like, Teresita?? I dont believe it! How are you, how have you been, how long its been since I have seen you, how is everything, how do you feel? Awww...did I ever mention how my host dad asks a minimum of 5 "how are you doing" questions at the beginning of EVERY phone conversation? Haha, I love that man. So we get to talking and he's like, We thought we would never hear from you again. Youre in Tabacundo? Where? Since when? When are you coming over? My wife and the kids will be home later today. I feel this immediate rush of happiness and nostalgia and wonderfulness and missing my host family like crazy. I tell him that I have to give this charla to the new group, but I will come over shortly after that. They have a new host daughter in the new group, he asks if I know her? (ps, at least as it relates to Peace Corps, in Ecuador the general assumption is that all gringos know each other). I say no, but I will look for her during the charla. After I hang up it hits me: Cesar! Don Cesar is his name! Man, Im an idiot.
Yay! So they dont totally hate me for not being the wonder-gringa that their last host daughter was who called them once a week and visited like once a month. And it seems like they want to see me, too, which makes my heart smile. So I head back over to the meeting site for Omnibus 99, and immediately one of the PCTs comes running up to me and is like, Oh my God! I was so excited to see you! I figured she was one of the girls who I had talked with online before they got here. But no, she thought I was a friend of hers from home. Haha. Funny how many people I look like. Anyhow, I find the new host daughter for my host family and introduce myself.
Then we get going on the charla, and all in all, it goes well. Well, I mean really, the main part of it totally crashed and burned because it based on a lie and they didnt really go along with it (kinda complicated to explain, but just trust me it didnt really work out). So I was like, heres a PC Lesson: Sometimes charlas dont work out. Haha. Then we had a productive discussion on how to improve the charla to do in their sites, their worries about doing a charla on such a hot-button issue like homosexuality, talked about intergrating into your site first, etc. Really we had a good little chat, it was fun. There are also 5 people in their group that are from Wisconsin, and they enjoyed my (still)very Wisconsin accent. It was really fun being the person who came to visit the new group. I remember when I was in training and all these random PCVs came in and gave us charlas and we (or at least I) were in such awe that they actually live all alone in this country and enjoy themselves and manage not to die. In case you dont recall, I totally fucking hated training, so it was always such a major refresher to see real life volunteers. Its a lofty goal, but I hope that maybe one of those 99ers was like, Dude, that Theresa chick was cool and is doing some cool work and I hope I become a cool volunteer like she is. Ahh, dreams. I did end up meeting a girl who had read my blog...so in case shes reading this now: Hello! Good luck at site!
So after the charla I ended up continuing to be a crappy host daughter and did not go out and see my host family. I just ran outta time because I went to coffee with some of the new group and we were chatting and I felt bad bailing out on them. But I went back out the next day. I got off the bus (I stayed awake this time, and yes: the sierra is still way prettier than the coast) and I was like, crap! How do I get to my house?? I lived in Tabacundo for 10 weeks, and I get back there and feel immediately lost. Then I took a deep breath and realized I knew exactly where I was and walked home. Im pretty sure I saw my host uncle in the paper store they own, but I didnt stop to say hi because I couldnt remember his name (although Im sure he doesnt remember mine either) and because that would result in the dreaded small talk game. I get to the house, open the front gate and walk up to the door. A car drives up behind me and a guy says "Who are you looking for?" and Im like, Eeeee! My family is here! (it was my host dad, I recognized his voice). We all hugged and headed inside and they took my bags and sat me down at the table.
For the next several hours I kicked myself over and over again and wondered what the hell had kept me from calling them all this time. I mean, its been SEVEN MONTHS! And believe me, they reminded me of it. My host mom even joked that they thought maybe I was just ungrateful. At least I think thats what the word meant...and I was like NOOOO! I think about you all the time, Im just not good at calling. Turns out they had my phone number wrong, so the ball was all in my court and I totally didnt pick it up. They were full of questions about my life in Guayaquil, my work, and how I am adjusting. They (I, we all, everyone) were very worried when I went to site because I was so completely terrified at the prospect of living in Guayaquil. I assured them that all was well, that I was living in a nice house with a nice landlord who also lives on the same plot of land. They said they were really glad that I was safe and happy. My host sister said shes glad I have a place and now she can come and visit me! Yes! I hope she meant it! We talked about the difference between life on the coast and life in the sierra: how I was shivering cold now in Tabacundo because I had gotten used to it being 90 degrees out everyday. How men on the coast stand around with their shirts lifted up over their beer bellies on the side of the road. How Guayaquil is totally crazy and practically its own little world. How I talk weird, fast, slurred coastal Spanish now, instead of the slow, clear sierran Spanish. And as we spoke I realized how much I have grown up since I was in Tabacundo. I dont know that I have really matured (well, maybe I have...) but I am certainly more myself now than I was then. Talking with them came so much more naturally than it did when I was in training. And being myself was less of an effort, as well. I think as I spend more time here in Ecuador Theresa and Tere are becoming more of the same person. Thats a good thing. I dont quite know that we are one yet, but we are getting there.
I also chatted quite a bit (in English and Spanish) with their new PCT. She is really nice, shes 30 and from Florida and her site will be with the Tsachilas (the super cool indigeounous group that I visited during a tech trip waaaay back when). She seems to be real nervous about going to site and being out on her own. Shes still really stuggling with Spanish and worried about that, I told her that when you stop being surrounded by gringo PCTs and are at your site, you have no choice but to learn Spanish. She seemed a bit awed that I was gonna hop on a bus all alone (at night time nonetheless, how DANGEROUS!) and go to Quito and then back to Guayaquil. She said that the other day she took the bus to Cayambe (which is about 20 minutes from Tabacundo) and she was terrified. I tried not to laugh, because I can totally remember feeling exactly that way just a short time ago. I told her that PC tells you a lot of things are dangerous, but when it comes down to it, you gotta just learn to be yourself and live your life here in Ecuador. Following all the PC rules about night buses, sleeping on buses, taking pictures with your digital camera, eating meat sold on the street, eating strawberries, brushing your teeth with the water, all that stuff. I mean, they say it all for your own good, and any one of those things could turn out to be "dangerous" but its worse not to do them, I think. Except for the strawberries: do NOT eat the strawberries.
So anyhow, thats what I learned on my 25th birthday. I learned that keeping in touch is only difficult in theory, and that once you do it feels oh so good (you also get a delicious home cooked sierran dinner and amazing peach flavored Quaker outta it--thats a drink made out of water strained from Quaker oatmeal, my host mom makes it better than anyone on the freaking planet. Ecuadorians think its totally weird that in the States we actually eat the oatmeal instead of straining it and drinking the water. They also refuse to believe that its pronounced "Quake-er" and not "Quwaak-er" hahaha!). I learned that this life I live here is making the different parts of myself more like one whole self. I was reminded of how terrifying it is to be a PCTrainee, and how good it feels to look back on how far I have come. I learned to try to stay awake and watch the view.
I also scheduled a gyno appointment, so it wasnt all good times...haha.
Besos mijitos,
Tere, Theresa and somewhere inbetween
So what does a Peace Corps Volunteer do for her 25th birthday? Well, this one went out dancing one night, had a party with the Mujeres de Lucha another day, went to dinner with friends a couple of times, and oh yes, gave a charla about homosexuality in Ecuador. Ahhh, duty calls.
The newest Omnibus 99 arrived in Ecuador in January, and now they are just getting set to head out to their sites. They are the Agriculture and Habitat Conservation Groups, so you know, their PC life is gonna be just a liiiittle bit different than mine is. Nonetheless, their training site is the same place where I used to live: in Tabacundo (lindo de mi corazon, eres la tierra de mi pasión). As a member of the PC-Ecuador GLBT Interest group, I was invited to give a charla about homosexuality in Ecuador along with a friend of mine from the group. I took the night bus up to Quito on Sunday night so that we would have Monday (the day I became a quater of a century years old) to plan. Yeeeaaaah...she has a tv so instead we watched movies and dvds of The L Word. But I mean, hey, watching The L Word is sorta like planning a GLBT charla, right? So yeah, the charla didnt end up getting planned until basically the morning of the charla, which was the next day. No big deal because we were just replicating the charla that was given to us several short months ago when we were eager to learn trainees.
So we head out on the bus to Tabacundo. I wanted to stay awake and alert so that I would see my old surroundings coming in around me again, and relish in the beauty that is the sierra of Ecuador. Instead I fell asleep on the bus...oops. When we got there, I called my old host family. Heres the thing--I have done a real crappy job of keeping in touch with those folks. And its not because I dont love them, because I do love them. They are wonderful and absolutely the best host family match for me and I wouldnt trade them for the world. The problem is that keeping in touch requires a skill called "small talk." Thats something I have always stuggled with, and it doesnt get any prettier in Spanish. I did text my host sister once to tell her that I was reading all the wonderful things that I had written about her in my journal and that I missed her. But then she didnt call me back. In fact, they have called me no more than I have called them, which is not at all. So then I didnt feel so bad, you know?
So anyhow, we get to Tabacundo and I call the host family, ask for Sra. Carmen. A man answers the phone...shit...its Don....Don...Don, shit! How can I forget my own host fathers name?!?! I'm like, Hi! Its Tere! How are you?? And he's like, Teresita?? I dont believe it! How are you, how have you been, how long its been since I have seen you, how is everything, how do you feel? Awww...did I ever mention how my host dad asks a minimum of 5 "how are you doing" questions at the beginning of EVERY phone conversation? Haha, I love that man. So we get to talking and he's like, We thought we would never hear from you again. Youre in Tabacundo? Where? Since when? When are you coming over? My wife and the kids will be home later today. I feel this immediate rush of happiness and nostalgia and wonderfulness and missing my host family like crazy. I tell him that I have to give this charla to the new group, but I will come over shortly after that. They have a new host daughter in the new group, he asks if I know her? (ps, at least as it relates to Peace Corps, in Ecuador the general assumption is that all gringos know each other). I say no, but I will look for her during the charla. After I hang up it hits me: Cesar! Don Cesar is his name! Man, Im an idiot.
Yay! So they dont totally hate me for not being the wonder-gringa that their last host daughter was who called them once a week and visited like once a month. And it seems like they want to see me, too, which makes my heart smile. So I head back over to the meeting site for Omnibus 99, and immediately one of the PCTs comes running up to me and is like, Oh my God! I was so excited to see you! I figured she was one of the girls who I had talked with online before they got here. But no, she thought I was a friend of hers from home. Haha. Funny how many people I look like. Anyhow, I find the new host daughter for my host family and introduce myself.
Then we get going on the charla, and all in all, it goes well. Well, I mean really, the main part of it totally crashed and burned because it based on a lie and they didnt really go along with it (kinda complicated to explain, but just trust me it didnt really work out). So I was like, heres a PC Lesson: Sometimes charlas dont work out. Haha. Then we had a productive discussion on how to improve the charla to do in their sites, their worries about doing a charla on such a hot-button issue like homosexuality, talked about intergrating into your site first, etc. Really we had a good little chat, it was fun. There are also 5 people in their group that are from Wisconsin, and they enjoyed my (still)very Wisconsin accent. It was really fun being the person who came to visit the new group. I remember when I was in training and all these random PCVs came in and gave us charlas and we (or at least I) were in such awe that they actually live all alone in this country and enjoy themselves and manage not to die. In case you dont recall, I totally fucking hated training, so it was always such a major refresher to see real life volunteers. Its a lofty goal, but I hope that maybe one of those 99ers was like, Dude, that Theresa chick was cool and is doing some cool work and I hope I become a cool volunteer like she is. Ahh, dreams. I did end up meeting a girl who had read my blog...so in case shes reading this now: Hello! Good luck at site!
So after the charla I ended up continuing to be a crappy host daughter and did not go out and see my host family. I just ran outta time because I went to coffee with some of the new group and we were chatting and I felt bad bailing out on them. But I went back out the next day. I got off the bus (I stayed awake this time, and yes: the sierra is still way prettier than the coast) and I was like, crap! How do I get to my house?? I lived in Tabacundo for 10 weeks, and I get back there and feel immediately lost. Then I took a deep breath and realized I knew exactly where I was and walked home. Im pretty sure I saw my host uncle in the paper store they own, but I didnt stop to say hi because I couldnt remember his name (although Im sure he doesnt remember mine either) and because that would result in the dreaded small talk game. I get to the house, open the front gate and walk up to the door. A car drives up behind me and a guy says "Who are you looking for?" and Im like, Eeeee! My family is here! (it was my host dad, I recognized his voice). We all hugged and headed inside and they took my bags and sat me down at the table.
For the next several hours I kicked myself over and over again and wondered what the hell had kept me from calling them all this time. I mean, its been SEVEN MONTHS! And believe me, they reminded me of it. My host mom even joked that they thought maybe I was just ungrateful. At least I think thats what the word meant...and I was like NOOOO! I think about you all the time, Im just not good at calling. Turns out they had my phone number wrong, so the ball was all in my court and I totally didnt pick it up. They were full of questions about my life in Guayaquil, my work, and how I am adjusting. They (I, we all, everyone) were very worried when I went to site because I was so completely terrified at the prospect of living in Guayaquil. I assured them that all was well, that I was living in a nice house with a nice landlord who also lives on the same plot of land. They said they were really glad that I was safe and happy. My host sister said shes glad I have a place and now she can come and visit me! Yes! I hope she meant it! We talked about the difference between life on the coast and life in the sierra: how I was shivering cold now in Tabacundo because I had gotten used to it being 90 degrees out everyday. How men on the coast stand around with their shirts lifted up over their beer bellies on the side of the road. How Guayaquil is totally crazy and practically its own little world. How I talk weird, fast, slurred coastal Spanish now, instead of the slow, clear sierran Spanish. And as we spoke I realized how much I have grown up since I was in Tabacundo. I dont know that I have really matured (well, maybe I have...) but I am certainly more myself now than I was then. Talking with them came so much more naturally than it did when I was in training. And being myself was less of an effort, as well. I think as I spend more time here in Ecuador Theresa and Tere are becoming more of the same person. Thats a good thing. I dont quite know that we are one yet, but we are getting there.
I also chatted quite a bit (in English and Spanish) with their new PCT. She is really nice, shes 30 and from Florida and her site will be with the Tsachilas (the super cool indigeounous group that I visited during a tech trip waaaay back when). She seems to be real nervous about going to site and being out on her own. Shes still really stuggling with Spanish and worried about that, I told her that when you stop being surrounded by gringo PCTs and are at your site, you have no choice but to learn Spanish. She seemed a bit awed that I was gonna hop on a bus all alone (at night time nonetheless, how DANGEROUS!) and go to Quito and then back to Guayaquil. She said that the other day she took the bus to Cayambe (which is about 20 minutes from Tabacundo) and she was terrified. I tried not to laugh, because I can totally remember feeling exactly that way just a short time ago. I told her that PC tells you a lot of things are dangerous, but when it comes down to it, you gotta just learn to be yourself and live your life here in Ecuador. Following all the PC rules about night buses, sleeping on buses, taking pictures with your digital camera, eating meat sold on the street, eating strawberries, brushing your teeth with the water, all that stuff. I mean, they say it all for your own good, and any one of those things could turn out to be "dangerous" but its worse not to do them, I think. Except for the strawberries: do NOT eat the strawberries.
So anyhow, thats what I learned on my 25th birthday. I learned that keeping in touch is only difficult in theory, and that once you do it feels oh so good (you also get a delicious home cooked sierran dinner and amazing peach flavored Quaker outta it--thats a drink made out of water strained from Quaker oatmeal, my host mom makes it better than anyone on the freaking planet. Ecuadorians think its totally weird that in the States we actually eat the oatmeal instead of straining it and drinking the water. They also refuse to believe that its pronounced "Quake-er" and not "Quwaak-er" hahaha!). I learned that this life I live here is making the different parts of myself more like one whole self. I was reminded of how terrifying it is to be a PCTrainee, and how good it feels to look back on how far I have come. I learned to try to stay awake and watch the view.
I also scheduled a gyno appointment, so it wasnt all good times...haha.
Besos mijitos,
Tere, Theresa and somewhere inbetween
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