Protejemos Pachamama

Following the ratification of the new Constitution in 2008, Ecuador became the first and only country in the world to afford the environment Constitutional rights. Yet, ironically, it still boasts the highest deforestation rates in South America. Highland forests have all but disappeared and the rainforest is vanishing at an alarming rate. National Parks supposedly protect 18% of the Ecuadorian wilderness; regardless, environmental destruction continues unabated as the laws dedicated to safeguarding the environment have proved utterly ineffective. This is particularly alarming given that Ecuador is one of the most ecologically-diverse nations on the planet, largely due to its geography in which is boasts extremely varied habitats  ranging from the frigid and dry Paramo in the highest reaches of the Andes to the hot humid jungles of the Amazon basin.  Scientists, in fact, estimate that it is home to roughly 17% of the total number of bird species found on Earth. Whenever bounding off rocks into the rivers near my house or meandering through the forests, I spot some odd looking bird or snake. There are animals everywhere.

Given that it is highly valued by the international community, why have politicians failed to protect the environment?  The reasons are complex, but the Ecuadorian government is ultimately unable to protect the wilderness due to the underdeveloped economy and persistent poverty in rural pockets of the country. Ecuador boasts one of the fastest growing economies in the world; it is projected to grow at a rate of 6.5% in 2012. Yet, most of the economy is based on extractive industries such as oil and mining. Not only are these industries unsustainable given that there are a finite quantity of resources beneath the soil, but they wreak irreversible havoc on the environment. In the northern Amazon region, for example, oil drilling lead by Chevron scarred much of the rainforest; some rivers can now literally be lit on fire. This not only devastated wildlife, but it also had an extraordinarily large impact on both mestizo and indigenous communities in the area. In fact, an Ecuadorian court recently awarded local residents billions of dollars after they filed a class action suit against Chevron claiming that the multi-national giant based in the United States had knowingly dumped thousands of gallons of waste into rivers damaging residents´ health and the environment.

Extractive industries not only threaten the oil-rich northern Amazon, but all of Ecuador. In the southern Amazon—my home-- there is no oil beneath the trees. Yet, there are significant reserves of various precious metals ranging from gold to uranium. The Ecuadorian government, therefore, recently sold large concessions to both Chinese mining firms and Kinross, a Canadian multi-national despite significant local objection to the sale. Both projects have been quite controversial, but they are proceeding according to plan. Zamora has recently undergone a “Chinese Invasion” and there has been some muttering about the need for Chinese classes as opposed to English ones.

Regardless of the environmental effects of mining, the income generated from such concessions is needed throughout the country. President Rafael Correa has promoted Plan ITT- a scheme in which the international community pays Ecuador the value of the oil beneath the rainforest and Ecuador consequently takes measures to protect the jungle from exploitation, but it has not been embraced by foreign governments; the deadline has long since passed and Correa has not received the money needed to protect the oil, which ironically happens to lie in Yasuní National Park. Without the money, the oil exploration will occur much to the detriment of both the environment and indigenous communities living within the park.

Oil exploration is not only harmful due to the physical act of extracting oil, the blood of the Earth according the Awa beliefs, but also due to the increased infrastructure resulting from it. In Yasuní National Park, oil exploration will result in the creation of roads, thus drawing squatters into the park. Many such squatters, searching for land due to overpopulation in the Sierra, will then utilize slash and burn tactics to build farms, thus destroying the rainforest. Moreover, the arrival of sedentary farmers will destroy the livlihoods of nomadic indigneous clans within the park; as the region becomes settled, the resources and animals on which they survive will disappear.

The Ecuadorian government consequently faces a seemingly impossible decision. Does it protect the environment? Does it promote the well-being of its people by generating much-needed income through mining and oil exploration? Luckily, the solution need not be extreme. Throughout the country, there is a growing movement to promote eco-businesses or business models capable of generating income without destroying the environment.

Ultimately, those living in remote areas need improved access to social services (which must be funded by a cash-strapped government) and income-generating opportunities.  Yet, these resources cannot come at the expense of the environment. After all, my greatest weekends in Ecuador are often spent leaping off rocks into the pristine waters of the Bombuscaro and chasing enormous butterflies past orchids and waterfalls on my long runs through the campo.

Jungle Doc

“The thing about rights is that in the end you can't prove what should be considered a right. So I can't show you how, exactly, healthcare is a basic human right. But what I can argue is that no one should have to die of a disease that is treatable.”

-Paul Farmer

Yet, they do. Worldwide, millions die from entirely preventable causes ranging from malnutrition to diarrhea. Some victims simply cannot afford medical care; even routine procedures or basic antibiotics can be prohibitively expensive. Others lack access to medical professionals, as is often the case in Ecuador. Although health care is free and universal in Ecuador, many remote communities lack medical facilities and trips to the nearest hospitals and health centers can be quite costly.


As a means of addressing the disparity, teams of doctors, such as the crew I accompanied to Palanda and Zumba in March, often travel to these villages and provide very low-cost health care. While these brigades are certainly needed, there short duration often severely compromises the quality of the care provided. As the doctors only visit once per year, they cannot adequately address chronic health issues plaguing their patients as there is no continuity of medical services. Yet, the doctors generally cannot visit more frequently; job and familial obligations in the United States and other countries obviously reduce their availability.


Given such limitations, the Timmy Foundation has devised a new formula for organizing medical brigades in Guatemala, Ecuador, and the Dominican Republic. In each country, they have adopted about 10 sites without access to adequate medical care. The non-profit organization, based in Indianapolis, then coordinates teams of doctors who visit the community ever two months to provide continuous care. If a physician determines that a patient needs more advanced care than can be provided in the community, the Timmy Foundation then subsidizes a trip to an advanced medical facility in a city.


Although an innovative system, it is not a panacea. As the doctors only commit to one annual visit, the attending physicians change each time. Thus, they are often unaware of the patient's history and the reasoning behind certain treatment regimens. Moreover, some treatment plans are simply too dangerous to administer with little oversight due to serious side effects. It is, therefore, too risky to prescribe psychotropic drugs even to patients in desperate need of such medication such as a twelve-year-old boy suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after being kidnapped (and later rescued) several years ago. Doctors can only prescribe fish oil and other placebos in these situations.


Regardless, the Timmy Foundation does much good in Ecuador and around the globe. I recently joined a team of five doctors, numerous medical students, and Timmy Foundation staff to provide medical care in numerous villages buried deep in the jungle...provided that we could arrive.


And arriving was never as easy as it sounds. Some villages are only accessible via boat. Others required that we ford raging rivers in our pick-up trucks. Occasionally, we just abandoned our vehicles in the muck and trudged along on foot carrying gigantic bins of medicine and multi-vitamins in our arms.


Yet, however challenging the journey, the reception always made it clear how needed the medical brigades are in many of these communities. As we appropriated outdoor classrooms and turned them into makeshift hospitals, residents began lining up to register and receive care. Prior to the consult, all patients receive a supply of multivitamins—which is especially important considering many eat rice for three meals per day and eat few fruits and vegetables—and a new toothbrush to protect their teeth. Children also receive a free fluoride treatment, and thanks to the support of the provincial government, a free haircut.


Once in the consult, most patients report problems relatively easily treated by the doctors. Oftentimes, the greatest complications result from the language gap between doctors and patients. While many staff members are bilingual—speaking Spanish and English—patients often only speak indigenous languages such as Kichwa and Huoarani thus necessitating multiple translations. Not only is it quite time-consuming, but much is lost in translation throughout this lengthy process.


Translation problems are not, however, the saddest complications. These arise when families' have already received qustionable medical advice from others that has imperiled their health. In one particularly tragic case, an emaciated woman arrived in our clinic. She was extremely skinny but her entire left side was covered with large tumors—although they cannot be sure without more testing, doctors believe that she is in the final stages of metastatic breast cancer. When asked why she had not sought help from an earlier medical brigade, she deliriously explained that she was seeing a local shaman. He had recently recommended that she stop eating and drinking for two months to cleanse her body of all the bad causing the growths. Although only a few days into the regimen, she was already hallucinating and so desperate for nourishment that she downed two liters of pediasure in a few minutes.



While her outlook isn't particularly bright in spite of the Timmy Foundation doctors' intervention, many other severe cases should have happier endings. Children suffering from severe infections received antibiotics; a baby girl with a heart deformity will go to Quito for surgery; a man with osteomyelitis will receive medication. And, barring complications, all will be well at least medically.

Even for the endless stream of children with easily-treatable ailments such as ameobas and parasites, the outlook is better. If they aren't crouching in the outhouse with debilitating diarrhea, they can go to school and get an education. And, perhaps I'm being a bit naïve, but maybe the schooling will enable them to break the cycle of poverty and create a better world for themselves and their children. After all, according to the Arabic proverb, “He who has health has hope, and he who has hope has everything.”

And the Party Rolls On...

As discussed in my last post, the act of eating is most certainly not universal. Nor is the need to sleep.

After a week of fiestas at the high school, it seems as if Will and I are the only staff members who value sleep. Although they celebrated until the wee hours of the morning and arising at dawn for the daily programming, our co-workers never seemed to tire. I, on the other hand, definitely needed some quality time with my pillow and could barely keep my eyes open by the final days of the celebration despite my colleagues constant urging to “ponte pilas” or “put in my batteries” (a common Ecuadorian expression).

The fiestas, which celebrated the high school, officially began Monday evening with the pregon or a costume parade in which all 1300 or so students marched through the city. After passing through the central plaza, the market, and several other key landmarks, they arrived at the high school and enjoyed a musical program featuring both talented students and local “celebrity” musicians.

Daytime festivities commenced Tuesday morning. Rather than attend classes, students were encouraged to cook traditional foods with their classmates and sell them to other students. Although admittedly a bit wary of the students' cooking skills, almost everything was delicious.  And, more importantly, it provided a good introduction to entrepreneurship for many of the younger students.

For many Peace Corps volunteers in Ecuador, the overwhelming lack of business skills is often incredibly irritating. In many corner shops, vendors would rather not sell their products than use their precious coins to make change. I have been told innumerable times that I cannot buy a gatorade or a water as I do not have the correct change and the store owner does not want to give me the coins in the drawer. Given that most shop owners do not rake in enormous profits, this absurd refusal to sell product is often a bit alarming. Wouldn't it be better to give me two quarters than lose my business completely?

Moreover, store owners rarely compete with one another. Most shops sell the same products; in the Loja bus terminal, for instance, roughly ten small stands sell the exact same products. They are clearly in direct competition; yet, none of the store owners offer deals nor discounts. Nor have the added new products. As they presumably would like to maximize their profits, this continually irritates me given that they do nothing to make their stand more attractive to potential customers. They do not seek a competitive advantage.

Thus, the traditional food sales provided an interesting opportunity for students to experiment with entrepreneurship. Many had to offer better deals than their competitors since they sold the exact same products. And it worked. I patronized the stands offering me free food with another purchase as opposed to those who did not offer any incentives whatsoever.

After enjoying a relaxing afternoon in my hammock, I returned to the high school at night for the annual crowing of the “reina.” As previously noted, female beauty is highly valued in Ecuador. Thus, pretty female students are invited to compete in a competition to be named the “queen” of the high school. After visiting each class to campaign, all students cast votes and, on Tuesday evening, they crowned the winner in a long elaborate ceremony with musical acts and profuse amounts of drinking (in spite of its location in the high school).

I did not, however, stay for the majority of the party as I had to help conduct the first official spelling bee during the Wednesday morning festivities. As a means of generating more enthusiasm for English classes, the English department conducted a spelling bee pitting the brightest students in 10^th, 11^th, and 12^th grade against one another. Although initially nervous that the participants would not adequately prepare for the competition, most of them blew us away. They had memorized every word on the list and, as time rolled on, we soon realized we would not be able to crown a winner. Unfortunate. Luckily, one individual had yet to err (each competitor was allowed one mistake before being eliminated) and we could, therefore, name him champion as time had long since run out. Not only were the students quite impressive, but the competition also served a more important purpose; it increased enthusiasm about English as noted by the hoards of younger students asking me if they will have the opportunity to compete (for the monetary prize) in the future.

After the spelling bee, we once again had the afternoon to relax prior to the Noche Deportiva—or sport's night. Surprisingly, the everning did not only highlight talented students. Rather, it pitted teachers versus other public servants, alumni versus alumni from other high school, as well as students. As an avid soccer player these days, definitely enjoyed the chance to play against the Consejo Provincial with a huge fan base (most of the students). Definitely did not enjoy losing 8-1 however.

Given that Friday was a national holiday, Thursday marked the final day of celebrations in the colegio. Unlike the other days, they were a much more solemn events. The day began with the “juramiento de la bandera,” a ceremony in which all 184 students projected to graduate this year walked up to the flag, touched it, and screamed “I swear” to denote their loyalty to the Republic of Ecuador. Radical patriotism is definitely never my thing but the excruciatingly long ceremony provided interesting insight into Ecuadorian culture. Given that many students in my high school wouldn't even stand for the pledge of allegiance, the patriotic display and the students' enthusiasm for it seemed to be a completely foreign event.  

The serious tone continued into the evening with the “Solomn Session”--a three hour long display of gratitude in which school officials formally thanked local politicians for investing in the school and its infrastructure.  Although there has been some investment in the school, it seemed as if the session mostly served to further inflate their egos given that almost every speech began with a 10-15 minute greeting naming all government officers by name. After thanking the politicians, the school representatives then began asking for additional funds for future projects. Many of the potential undertakings are certainly valid, but nothing concrete was decided during the marathon session. It will be interesting to see which projects are pursued in the coming years especially given the influx of money in the province coming from the new mining concessions.

Although exhausted following the marathon session, no one left upon its conclusion. Rather, more and more people continued arriving for the inaugeration of the roof over the basketball courts. Local officials cut a ribbon and the party commenced; hundreds swirled about dancing to salsa and merengue bands until the wee hours of the morning. Admittedly, I left much more promptly, but rumor is that the party continued until sunrise when the majority tumbled into bed to rest following a long albeit enjoyable week of fiestas in “Colegio 12 de Febrero”

Buen Provecho

Ten months ago, I would have scoffed if you had offered me a lukewarm cup of instant coffee. Ten months ago, I would have complained incessantly if anyone dared to make me grilled cheese with quesillo instead of good ole' cheddar cheese. Ten months ago, my local “supermarket” carried Jiff, Skippy, AND Peter Pan peanut butter instead of generic mashed peanuts. Ten months ago I could buy ready-made pasta sauce instead of chopping up vegetable and boiling them for eons. Ten months ago...

I most definitely would not snacking on an humita as I write this blog.

Food.

In the words of chef James Beard, “Food is our common ground, a universal experience.”  Across the globe, we all eat. Some eat more than others. Billions of individuals struggle to survive without enough food to eat. But, in order to live, all need a bit of nourishment each day.

Yet, this basic fundamental need for food is the only universal. What we eat and how we eat is inherently linked to our surroundings and culture. Beyond a base need to consume calories, eating is an intensely local experience.

Since moving to Zamora, the foods I ingest daily have changed as I have begun to incorporate many local treats into my diet. Favorites include humitas (ground corn and cheese with a “healthy” dose of pig fat), cevichochos (dried corn, plantains, tomatoes, and lime), empanadas (fried cheese pastries), and chocobananas (frozen bananas covered in chocolate...only 10 cents apiece!)  Beyond prepared dishes, the fruit and vegetable selection available in the chaotic Sunday market shames the selection found in most United States supermarkets. Guayabas, machete guayabas, zapotes, granadillas, uvillas, pitahayas, chontas, naranjillas, and tree tomatoes are abundant. Even fruits found throughout the United States come in more varieties; bananas can be either yellow, green, or red! 

Yet, as the variety of fruits found in my refrigerator has grown, other food have disappeared from my diet. Perhaps my favorite food in the United States—peanut butter—is hard to obtain here. I either have to buy a ground peanut substitute available in the local market or trek to SuperMaxi (a large and overpriced supermarket in Loja) and hope that they currently have either Peter Pan or Jiffy available for about $7.00 per jar. Craving Reese's Pieces? Forget about it. Want some Starbursts? Keep dreaming. Just as there are many more varieties of fruits and vegetables available here, there are many more varieties of packaged food available in the local Shaw's.

Beyond the food on my plate, the experience of eating has been transformed since moving to the southern hemisphere. Growing up, dinner was always the most important meal. Although frequently interrupted by a plethora  of sports practices, scout meetings, and the like my mother always tried to serve the family together. It was the largest meal of day after all; we groggilly ate cereal for breakfast before dawn and brought either sandwiches or yogurt to either school or work.

In Ecuador, however, lunch is the most important meal of the day. After school ends at 1:00, teachers and students alike return to their houses to eat with their families. The teachers and staff then return to the school at 2:00 under the controversial new education law requiring all public servants to work for at least 8 hours per day. Such a small window for lunch requires significant adjustment. By the time teachers arrive at home, they have barelyenough time to guzzle down the obligatory appetizer, namely a big steaming bowl of soup regardless of the soaring temperatures outside. As soon as the last drops of broth have been scraped from the bowl, all must dive into the second platter with a vengeance if they plan to return to work ontime. Not only does the plate contain a massive heap (Chimborazo if you will) of rice, but there is typically also a bit of meat or chicken and a spoonful of salad (which generally consists of only one or two vegetables maximum).  The meal isn't over after downing such a large quantity of food, however. A large glass of lukewarm “refresco” or “horchata” is still waiting as Ecuadorians almost never touch their beverage until they have devoured all of their food.

Teachers successfully returning to work on time need to eat with focus given how much food arrives with a typical lunch. Luckily, the majority of Ecuadorians do not seem to talk much once receiving their plates (which are always filled with food in the kitchen). As soon as the plate arrives—whether the others at the table have received their portion or not—an individual will typically dive into their food with admirable focus. In spite of the importance of familial meals, conversation is somewhat rare. Each person focuses on finishing their food before conversing. Although I do not know the reasoning behind this, I suspect it may stem from a desire to avoid the legions of  bugs apt to arrive whenever food is left around for more than a few seconds.

Moreover, many Ecuadorians forgo forks and knives in favor of large spoons. Thus, it is possible to eat significant quantities of food quite rapidly given how much fits into each spoonful. Anything that needs to be cut—such as meat—is simple torn with one's fingers. Quite efficient. Quite messy. Luckily, as I have somewhat recently become a vegetarian to protest the impact of the meat industry on the rainforest, by hands remain clean both literally and figuaratively.

Thus, as I sit spooning heaping spoonfuls of rice with nary a drop of water to wash it down, it is clear that the need for food may indeed be universal but the act of consuming it most certainly is not.

Ridin` Dirty

We made it. Miraculously, we made it.

Travel in Zamora-Chinchipe is always an adventure. In spite of the omnipresent “Revolución Cuidadania”--a public works program headed by President Rafael Correa that seeks to improve infrastructure throughout the country—travel in rural Ecuador remains perilous especially during the rainy season. The vast majority of roads are dirt. This is not problematic in dryer zones, but in the Amazonian provinces, for example, the roads often turn into impassable mud pits riddled with pot holes. Given that the entire province on Zamora-Chinchipe only has one paved road connecting different towns and communities (within individual cities/towns small roads are often paved), travel can be quite difficult. Some parts of the province, namely the southern counties of Chinchipe and Palanda, have no paved roads connecting towns whatsoever.

Moreover, muddy roads are not the only problem plaguing the transportation system. Given that Zamora-Chinchipe lies in the foothills of the Andes, most roads wind around mountain ridges. Landslides, therefore, are a constant threat. Roads are frequently closed, travelers stranded, and communities isolated until road crews can clear the way.  Unfortunately, landslides are not entirely avoidable; they are a natural part of the mountainous ecosystem in which I live. Yet, the problem is exacerbated by road construction, agriculture, and deforestation. Natural landslides are generally only a couple of meters wide; the landslides common throughout the province often span a dozen meters.

Why so much frusteration with the road system? A friend had invited a group of our friends to pick fruit at his farm in the countryside. Finally, after several failed attempts to visit, we ventured to his town, Numpam,he  early Saturday morning. It initially seemed like an easy trip; we needed to take the 8.45 bus to the town of Guadalupe and walk about thirty minutes to the Shuar community. Yet, our plans were immediately smashed when we discovered that the needed bus rout had been unexplicably removed the day before. Typical.

Given that the student does not have cellular phone service in his home, we could not call and cancel. We had to find another way to trek into the countryside. We eventually decided to take a bus destined for Yantzaza. We did not go all the way to Yantzaza, however. Rather we disembarked in La Saquea and began asking for a ride to Guadalupe. Luckily, a provincial fireman in the pickup truck was heading in that direction and he allowed the five of us to pile into the back of the truck. For a moment, it seemed as if we would make it after all.

Unfortunately, our plans were dashed about fifteen minutes later. A mountainside had collapsed the night before. The road was blocked. No había paso.

Once again, we were in luck. The young fireman needed to find a way to Guadalupe and he thus suggested returning to La Saquea and returning via the “bad” road on the other side of the river. Ironically, the “good” road as impassable, thus resulting in a trip along the muddy narrow track on the other side of the river. We eagerly agreed and, mud-flying, we were soon whizzing along the narrow curves until arriving in Guadalupe.

Although the fireman stayed in the town, our trip was not over. We continued on foot for another thirty minutes until reaching the Shuar community of Numpam. Although motorcycles can traverse the muddy road , the majority of residents trek on foot. It's a stunning walk and, for the majority, this is an easy, albeit time-consuming, trip. Some, however, such as the father of my friend, can no longer make such a long journey on foot due to medical problems stemming from both old-age and a lifetime of arduous agricultural work. He  is, therefore, confined to his home. It is simply too difficult to leave.

           

We would, on the other hand, be leaving in a few short hours and our hosts wasted no time in welcoming us to their community. As soon as we finished greeting what seemed to be every member of the extended family or the entire town, we were handed glasses brimming with chicha de yucca. Chicha de Yucca—fermented yucca juice—is vile and far too alcoholic to consume at 11:30 am. Moreover, traditional recipes require that the cooks or our hosts chew the yucca before allowing it to ferment. Not an appealing midmorning snack. Regardless, refusing was not an option; to refuse an offer of chicha de yucca is extremely rude and inconsiderate.

After struggling to down glass after glass of yucca de chicha, we began exploring the farm. As we roamed through the fruit trees growing amid the rainforest, we gourged ourselves on jungle treats  such as chonta, guava,  guayaba, and maracaña. We grabbed long-hanging fruits from the lowest branches as children scaled trees and tossed us fruits from above. Their agility was impressive; without fear nor caution they shimmied along  branches several meters above the ground.

Within an hour, I was not only impressed by the amount of food we had eaten and stored in giant grain sacks, but by our hosts' insights into the uses of different plants. Regardless of the plant, they seemed to know how to prepare it for human consumption. If a plant proved toxic berries, for instance, they always could provide another use. The toxic greenish-blue berries down yonder? Feed them to the fish so they die and float to the surface; then, they can easily be caught and cooked by humans (the berries consequently do not poison humans). As one woman aptly pointed out, the forest can provide plenty of food to feed impovershed communities (87% of Shuar live beneath the poverty line). Yet, they still need money—school materials, clothes, etc. don't grow on trees...even in the rainforest.

Making money, unfortunately, is not particularly easy to agricultural communities buried in the rainforest. Produce sells for shockingly low prices in the market—six pounds of potatoes only garners $1.00 in the Sunday market. Yet, there is home. Many members of the community hae recently built an organic fish farm with the help of experts at a nearby agro-pecuarian program. Moreover, others are finding jobs in nearby mining projects run by foreign conglomerates from countries ranging from China to Canada. While these projects are extraordinarily controversial given their environmental impacts, and their effects on local communities such as increased alcoholism (as demonstrated by a study conducted by Save the Children), they have already begun bringing work, albeit often low-paying and dangerous work, to remote corners of the jungle.

Will the economic situation improve in the next few years? Given that the reserves of uranium, gold, and silver are expected to value several billion dollars, one hopes that the proceeds will trickle down to area residents. After all, they will be the ones enduring the environmental damages imperiling the very jungle on which they now rely for much of their food and their livlihoods. Will the mining be for the best? For the worst? Only time will tell, but for now, the debate rages on in Ecuador and beyond.

Thirty-Three

33.

Since February 20^th, we have only had 33 days of school in a period in which were 55 weekdays. We have,  therefore, enjoyed 22 days off as well and very few of these vacation days correspond with national and provincial holidays. Rather, classes have been cancelled for nearly every reason imaginable ranging from intra-school soccer and basketball tournaments to “Día del Maestro” or Teacher's Day.

Although I've enjoyed lounging in my hammock with a book, I'm becoming increasingly concerned about the lack of classes. By cancelling school constantly, the administration inherently devalues the education it provides to students. It often appears as if soccer is more important than mathematics. Moreover, the quality of the education suffers as teachers struggle to introduce new material as the students constantly need to review after long breaks. We seemingly need to restart each unit six times before we can string together enough classes to accomplish anything.

Yet, in spite of my reservations about the lack of school, the past few months have proved quite enjoyable. At the beginning of April, we enjoyed a week-long break for Semana Santa. Even though—given that 95% of Ecuadorians identify as Roman Catholic—this is clearly a very important holy week for most, the vast majority of public institutions and schools in Ecuador only had two days of vacation (Thursday and Friday). Even fisco-misional schools, which are religious institutions funded by the state, had classes for most of the week. Yet, students attending colegio “12 de febrero” enjoyed five days off.

Although I considered travelling over the extended break, I ultimately decided to remain in Zamora for various reasons. In addition to relaxing in my hammock and devouring the first two books of the Millenium trilogy, I continued volunteering in APNELE (a center for disabled individuals), which remained open in spite of the holiday. Not only did we continue with our normal activities—training for the special Olympics, occupational therapy, etc.,--but we also cooked fonesca, a traditional Ecuadorian soup consumed during holy week. It consists of various grains as well as cheese and vegetables but no meat. Quite delicious.

Stomachs overflowing after our gourmet lunch of fried tilapia, a local specialty, and fonesca, the other staff members and I began the clean-up. As I was collecting stray soccer balls in the dirt lot behind the center, I was approached by a shy little girl hanging clothing on the line. Given that APNELE shares a building with a state-run foster home, I immediately assumed that the petite ten-year-old lived in the institution and after briefly talking with the girl discovered that I was indeed correct. Although not technically an orphan, the young lady had always lived deep in the campo in extreme poverty. She was ten-years-old and had never even been to school. Soon, I was playing soccer and tutoring the girl as well as her pseudo-siblings also living in the house and an afternoon of laughing was transformed into a semi-project in which I “mentor” the youngsters living in the home. Although I enjoy spending time with the children, my already overflowing schedule is making it difficult to make a regular commitment to them but I am hoping to have more free time come summer vacation.

Following the prolonged vacation for semana santa, I expected several full weeks of school. After all—apart from Marathon Monday—there arn't any major holidays in April. Somehow, I managed to forget Teacher's Day; after only three days of classes, students once again enjoyed two days of vacation. Meanwhile, teachers spent Thursday playing soccer and frolicking under the sun at a school-sponsored party. Good times. Bad sunburn. And no worries about exhaustion on Friday because the following day was also declared feriado and students did not go to school.

Completely rested after the long weekend, I returned to school ready for five days of classes. Students only had two days of work; due to juntas del curso, students enjoyed vacation on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Teachers—not including Peace Corps volunteers-- on the other hand, had to attend sessions in which they submitted students grades for the past quimester and discuss their behavior. As I did not attend juntas, I will not comment on the utility of such meetings but three days of classes cancelled once again? Do Zamoran students EVER go to school?

Miraculously, we had a full week of school following the juntas del curso. This week also marked the beginning of the annual sports tournament between the staff of  all public institutions in Zamora ranging from the hospital to the high schools. Given the emphasis on appearance in Ecuadorian culture, all teams had to march in a parade through town in their full uniforms prior to the tournament. This was the fifth parade in which I have marched since arriving in Zamora less than a year ago. Insane. The tournament has been quite enjoyable though; I'm playing soccer and basketball which has been a completely different experience than in the US of A given that I tower over almost every other Ecuadorian in this Amazonian town.

And so life rolls on in my jungle paradise. Even with all the vacation from school, there is little time fo boredom. Other projects, dirt roads open for running, rainforest hikes, and my hammock call my attention. Eleven months have gone by since I arrived in the southern hemisphere, but it's passing in a blink.