I knew. Or I thought I knew. But on Saturday, I finally learned what it truly means to lack access to medical care.
My host family and I traveled to Bomboiza, a village consisting of a few hundred residents buried deep in the Amazon, on Saturday to visit some family friends and attend the town's festivals. The day passed tranquilly; we jumped in the river and frolicked amid raindrops and rainbows.
Unfortunately, the day took a radical turn from the worse when we returned to our friend's house. As we drove up, it was immediately evident that something was severely wrong. Dozens of individuals had gathered outside the house and huddled in small groups sobbing. An acquantaince had just revealed that he had passed the family's motorcycle about fifteen minutes outside town. It had been involved in a severe crash and, the man reported, their were no survivors; the family's fifteen-year-old son was believed dead.
As there is no hospital, centro de salud, or subcentro de salud in Bomboiza or within any nearby communities, the family had not even bothered to call for help. Lacking a car, they could not even go retrieve the bodies. Rather they were forced to wait helplessly until an acquantaince with a car (my host father Fausto arrived).
After Fausto departed to retrieve the corpses, the hoards remained outside the house. As I tried to console family members or distract toddlers, I felt utterly helpless in the midst of such tragedy. There was no cell phone signal; I couldn't even call for help had ambulances and EMTs actually existed. Hopelessness prevailed and rumors swirled. All four victims (two from each motorcycle) were believed dead and many feared bing attacked by the families of the other victims in an act of vigilante justice which highlighted the lack of a functioning justice system in the area.
After a painfully long time had passed, Fausto finally returned with the son and his friend. Miraculously, both had survived the crash although they were not wearing helmets. Though gravely wounded, they were brought to the hospital and continue improving. We later found out that the other victims survived as well, although too remain severaly injured.
In spite of the miraculous end to the terrifying events, the afternoon has left a resounding impression. Although I have long understood that many poor communities lack access to fundamental social institutions such as healthcare and justice, this problem is not simply manifested as a lack of services. Rather it creates a sense of hopelessness and fear. No one would wait to see the bodies before believing that all had died; they assumed the worst. Similarly, they assumed the worst of their neighbors when fearing mob violence. Their was no hope for the best, no trust, and, unfortunately, the lack of such fundamental emotions may be one of the most insurmountable obstacles facing those in Bomboiza as they search for a better tomorrow.
Although the near tragic accident certainly put a damper on our trip to Bomboiza, the night still had many bright spots. Whether listening to children boldly declare that they will be doctors so that they can live in Bomboiza and save people or listening to teenagers grumble about their classes but ultimately admit that any subject could be a means of escaping poverty, there we abundant signs that change may someday come. Although, while all deserve a better quality of life, I sincerely hope change does not require that the community abandon its cultural roots, since another highlight of the night was most definitely the indigneous dances celebrating the town's foundation however many years ago.
26.9.11
Moving Home
One month. It's unbelievable how quickly time has passed since the seemingly interminable 18 hour journey from the training center in Tumbaco to my new home in Zamora, Ecuador. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of introductions, English classes, and quick jaunts to various nooks in the Ecuadorian jungle.
Most of my time, unsurprisingly, has been dedicated to my work. As a TEFL volunteer, my primary project involves working as an English teacher in a local high school. Specifically, I co-teach with Ecuadorian teachers as a means of improving their English as well as that of our students. We plan together, practice together, and conduct classes in tandem; it sounds much easier than it is, but I've been extremely lucky in that the English teachers at Colegio 12 de Febrero have been extraordinarily welcoming and eager to work together.
In addition to adjusting to a co-teaching model which is unfamiliar to all involved, much of my work throughout the first few weeks has included adjusting to life within an Ecuadorian high school with students ranging from 11 -20 years old. Classrooms consist of roughly 40 students, grouped in accordance with their academic performance during previous years. The composition of the class never shifts as professors brave the rains to walk from classroom to classroom as opposed to the students. Moreover, most of the buildings lack windows; rather, they have metal slats enabling birds and other distracting wildlife to interrupt class at seemingly the least opportune moments.
I have not, however, been the only teacher adjusting to a new educational system at Colegio 12 de Febrero. Under new educational policies implemented by Correa's government, all teachers now must work eight hours per day. Therefore, we are at the school from 7:00-1:00, go home for lunch from 1:00-2:00, and return from 2:00-4:00 ostensibly to grade student work and plan our classes. As a new teacher, this schedule seems fair, but it is quite controversial amongst the Ecuadorian staff given that they now must work two more hours each day but did not receive a pay raise. In fact, many are earning significantly less money since they can no longer work second jobs during the afternoon or work during the night session at the Colegio as Correa also forbade individual's from earning two government salaries.
In spite of the long hours, I have still begun exploring potential secondary projects. Immediately after arriving, Jarrett, Manny, Will, and I conducted English courses for teachers' from throughout the province and, as suggested by staff from the Ministry of Education, we will most likely by hosting more workshops in the future. Moreover, the librarian at the Colegio recently approached me and another volunteer about helping at a center for disabled members of the community. Until recently, disabled Ecuadorians were essentially institutionalized and segregated from the populace. Recent laws have mandated their inclusion in schools, but inclusion most certainly does not denote that they receive adequate support. Thus, the center seeks to provide support and resources to the disabled and their families. Although the details of a project have yet to be discussed, I greatly enjoyed meeting the center's constituents at a recent birthday party at the center. Other potential projects proposed by staff at the colegio include creating a nutrition program for students, microconsignment work with some of my former colleagues in Paraguay who now work in southern Ecuador, and coaching girls' sports teams.
In spite of an ever-increasing workload, I have still managed to find time to explore Zamora and its surroundings with my host family, friends, and others PCVs. Some of my favorite spots: my host grandfather's farm outside Yantzaza where I've learned to make homemade empanadas (maybe I no longer qualify as a karishina?) and maintain a herd of cattle, Loja where the entirety of Southern Ecuador convened to celebrate the Virgen del Cisne at the beginning of September by attending a massive fair and my Peace Corps cluster convened to relax and meet nearby volunteers, El Pangui where I sat under the stars chomping on street meat in the midst of a hot, humid jungle night, and the road to Podocarpus where I long run each weekend and enjoy amazing views of the jungle, mountains, and so many birds.
Most of my time, unsurprisingly, has been dedicated to my work. As a TEFL volunteer, my primary project involves working as an English teacher in a local high school. Specifically, I co-teach with Ecuadorian teachers as a means of improving their English as well as that of our students. We plan together, practice together, and conduct classes in tandem; it sounds much easier than it is, but I've been extremely lucky in that the English teachers at Colegio 12 de Febrero have been extraordinarily welcoming and eager to work together.
In addition to adjusting to a co-teaching model which is unfamiliar to all involved, much of my work throughout the first few weeks has included adjusting to life within an Ecuadorian high school with students ranging from 11 -20 years old. Classrooms consist of roughly 40 students, grouped in accordance with their academic performance during previous years. The composition of the class never shifts as professors brave the rains to walk from classroom to classroom as opposed to the students. Moreover, most of the buildings lack windows; rather, they have metal slats enabling birds and other distracting wildlife to interrupt class at seemingly the least opportune moments.
I have not, however, been the only teacher adjusting to a new educational system at Colegio 12 de Febrero. Under new educational policies implemented by Correa's government, all teachers now must work eight hours per day. Therefore, we are at the school from 7:00-1:00, go home for lunch from 1:00-2:00, and return from 2:00-4:00 ostensibly to grade student work and plan our classes. As a new teacher, this schedule seems fair, but it is quite controversial amongst the Ecuadorian staff given that they now must work two more hours each day but did not receive a pay raise. In fact, many are earning significantly less money since they can no longer work second jobs during the afternoon or work during the night session at the Colegio as Correa also forbade individual's from earning two government salaries.
In spite of the long hours, I have still begun exploring potential secondary projects. Immediately after arriving, Jarrett, Manny, Will, and I conducted English courses for teachers' from throughout the province and, as suggested by staff from the Ministry of Education, we will most likely by hosting more workshops in the future. Moreover, the librarian at the Colegio recently approached me and another volunteer about helping at a center for disabled members of the community. Until recently, disabled Ecuadorians were essentially institutionalized and segregated from the populace. Recent laws have mandated their inclusion in schools, but inclusion most certainly does not denote that they receive adequate support. Thus, the center seeks to provide support and resources to the disabled and their families. Although the details of a project have yet to be discussed, I greatly enjoyed meeting the center's constituents at a recent birthday party at the center. Other potential projects proposed by staff at the colegio include creating a nutrition program for students, microconsignment work with some of my former colleagues in Paraguay who now work in southern Ecuador, and coaching girls' sports teams.
In spite of an ever-increasing workload, I have still managed to find time to explore Zamora and its surroundings with my host family, friends, and others PCVs. Some of my favorite spots: my host grandfather's farm outside Yantzaza where I've learned to make homemade empanadas (maybe I no longer qualify as a karishina?) and maintain a herd of cattle, Loja where the entirety of Southern Ecuador convened to celebrate the Virgen del Cisne at the beginning of September by attending a massive fair and my Peace Corps cluster convened to relax and meet nearby volunteers, El Pangui where I sat under the stars chomping on street meat in the midst of a hot, humid jungle night, and the road to Podocarpus where I long run each weekend and enjoy amazing views of the jungle, mountains, and so many birds.
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