Before Omnibus 106 departed for Ecuador, the PC warned us that the first few months would be filled with an intensive pre-service training program. Not an exaggeration. From Monday-Friday, we're in the training center from 8:00-5:00 perfecting our Spanish, memorizing security procedures, and learning to temporarily self-medicate until help arrives if our poops suddenly contain 6 foot worms or maggots begin growing under our skin (I wish I was kidding). We also engage in various supplementary projects ranging from running life-skills classes in local schools to planting tire gardens and basil around the training center.
Despite the intensive program, I still look around in awe about 198731897 per day and think “I get to live here.” Whether meandering through a local canyon during our lunch break, jogging along the ciclovia as the mist rises from the valley in the early AM, our sampling still-unknown fruits from local vendor, Ecuador still proves enchanting. Do I really get to live here?
Some highlights from the past few weeks:
Mascarilla:For my cultural trip, I had the opportunity to spend a night in Mascarilla, an Afro-Ecuadorian community of about 1200 people located in Imbabura about 4 hours north of Quito. While I enjoyed creating traditional masks, chewing on sugar cane,and learning to dance Bindo (I'm almost as good at it as I am at salsa...which is to say I need more than a little practice), the time spent just playing sports, drawing, and teaching community kids to use my camara proved truly unforgettable and clinched my desire to work in a small town.
I also loved staying with my host family...minus briefly believing that I was about to be kidnapped when someone began pounding on the unlocked front door that was 3 feet away from my bed at 3 AM. Apparently they weren't looking for me though. They just wanted one of the eight month old twins, which the mother promptly gave them. WTF?
On a more serious note, it was an interesting look at race and ethnicity in an Ecuadorian context. Ecuador boasts one of the strongest indigenous movements in Latin America, yet indigenous communities remain significantly poorer than the majority of their mestizo counterparts. The Afro-Ecuadorian community does not have an particularly strong advocacy organizations according to our hosts, and consequently remains one of the poorest and most marginalized demographics in the country. Our hosts told us of nearby Afro-Ecuadorian communities in which the majority of residents work on sugar cane farms for only a few dollars per day.
While numbers and anecdotes are certainly upsetting, it was a simple children's game that truly bothered me. The rules are essentially the same as those of “Sharks and Minnows,” but before the minnows ran across the street, the kids chanted the following:
Sharks: “Who wants to play with the Black Man”
Minnows: “No one wants to play with the Black Man”
Sharks: “Why not?”
Minnows: “Because he's black.”
Sharks: “What does he eat?”
Minnows: “Meat.”
Sharks:”What does he drink?”
Minnows: “Blood.”
Regardless of the community, this chant is disturbing. Yet, the children (all of whom were Afro-Ecuadorian) continued chanting it. In fact, they loved it. How do you address this form of institutionalized racism? The kids may not really pay attention to the words, but what ideas are they internalizing?
Racism is certainly not a uniquely Ecuadorian phenomenon. It exists in nearly every country around the world and needs to be addressed. But where to start? With social systems and structures or simple childrens' rhymes?
Iloa: Tumbaco, our lovely home during training, is surrounded by numerous mountains and hills including Iloa. Last Sunday, some PCTs and I decided to venture to the first cross and enjoy the view. Having enjoyed the trip, we decided to continue onto the summit after an old man assured us it was only 30 minutes further down the path. Well, we must have missed a turn because about 5 hour, 1 massive sunburn, 12389 bug bites, 1 charging horse, and innumerable stunning views later, we finally passed another cross and arrived in the town of El Tingo. Worth the trek? Of course.
To the Torres del Paine crew, reunion in the Ecuadorian Andes?
Deportes: Spending nine hours per day in the training center just isn't enough. So why not stay for a few more hours and perfect our ultimate frisbee and american football skills (I promise that I'll catch the ball/frisbee someday) or challenge the Ecuadorian staff to a soccer game? Deportes are actually one of my favorite parts of the week, especially when we walk home under the stars and the lights of Quito twinkle in the distance after a pseudo-intense game in which the score never matters and the last goal always wins.
PACA Projects: As a means of understanding the needs of a community, PCVs use numerous PACA tools to assess the town's perceptions of their own needs. For our first major assignment, we had to go to the nearby town of Pifo and put the tools into practice. In itself, this would be an awesome opportunity to explore a small town and enjoy the sunshine, but it was completely overshadowed by the town's guest: President Rafael Correa. As part of his current administration, he travels to a different small community each weekend and gives a speech. We just happened to be in Pifo on the same day so I had the opportunity to hear him speak and enjoy free bread and juice “gracias al presidente.”
Julian's Baptism: Yesterday, we baptized my 1.5 year old host nephew. The ceremony differed from the US in that it wasn't a mass. Rather, about a dozen people of all ages and their families assembled in the church just to be baptized. My family gave my the all-important role of paparazzi; I had to creep around the church and get the perfect shot. Much more challenging than it seems given that every other family had about 12 photographers also jockeying for positions. Added to my slight discomfort being the paparazzi (although it was clearly culturally-appropriate since EVERYONE was doing it), this made for an interesting ceremony.
Afterwards, we returned home y celebramos. It was my first large Ecuadorian family shindig and it brought back memories of Paraguay in that we ate crazy amounts of food and everyone shared a cup. At first the communal cup thing made me a bit wary of germs especially given the medical lectures about germs and diseases and whatnot. But I've decided I really like it. Whenever asked to “serve,” I had to walk around and pour everyone a glassa and chat with them as they chugged it. This gave me an excellent opportunity to learn names, meet my Ecuadorian family, and otherwise bond with everyone there.
Host Familia: Maybe I'm just lucky, but I seem to have won the host family lottery once again. Although I'm not home nearly as often as I would like, I definitely enjoy our meals together. Sometimes we chat; sometimes we watch telenovelas that make “Donde esta Elisa” seem realistic (is that possible); sometimes we watch the Ecuadorian “Deal or No Deal.” The show itself follows a similar format, except its sponsored by the omnipresent food company Nestle. Rather than pick numbered suitcases, contestants choose suitcases labeled as Nestle products (i.e. I'll take the Nescafe). Commercialization much?
I only wish we didn't follow such as Ecuadorian sleep schedule. We're all in bed sleeping (or trying to sleep thanks to the wonderful melofloquine-produced sleep disturbance currently disrupting my life) by 10.00 and up and about before 6.00 AM. Who would have thought I could function on this schedule a few months ago?
La Comida: Fruit. Tropical fruit. Amazing. Some other interesting cultural experiences...I ordered a corn on the cob from a vendor near the church. After grilling it, the man proceeded to douse it in mayonnaise. Uh? Maybe I'll just have a fried plaintain or twelve next time. On the bright side, I recently made a deal with the women who sells empanadas by the plaza. When we return from our tech trips, she'll teach me to make empanadas if I teach her English. I cannot wait. Hungry anyone?
With so much food, it's a good thing I've found my running crew. Unoffically-captained by the “Conejo Viejo” who has run upwards of 20 marathons and served as a PCV in Paraguay in the 70s, the five man team meets in the wee hours of the morning to jog through the valley. Starts everyday off right...especially since we have nescafe instead of folgers in our cup(s). (Although omnibus 106 does have a coffee club designed to satiate all of our real coffee withdrawal, at least while we're still at the training center).
Pictures will once again be posted on Facebook and Picasa.
Hay los vidrios (mi despedida preferida en este momento)!
Love,
Christy
26.6.11
7.6.11
Y por fin, llegamos!
We´re here. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the 62 members of omnibus 106 (the 106 group of PC volunteers in Ecuador)have arrived in Ecuador and settled in with our host families.
After our staging event (aka orientation) in Philadelphia, we departed from our hotel at 1:30 AM to begin an arduous 16 hour journey to Quito. In theory, it would have been a phenomenal opportunity to catch some zzzzzz´s. Unfortunately, excitement and a bit a apprehension made it impossible to sleep. While I needed rest, it did serve as a great opportunity to celebrate birthdays, bond with my fellow PCTs, and tone my biceps as I lugged too much luggage through some of the airports.
Upon arrival in Quito, PC Ecuador swooped us up and chauffered us to the PC training center in Tumbaco, a upper-middle class suburb outside of Quito. It was, unfortanately, already dark, thus making it impossible to enjoy the scenery.
The next few days could best be described as Tufts-in-Chile orientation week. We lived in dorms rooms on-site, played cards and ultimate frisbee, and attended various charlas conducted by speakers working in areas such as security and training. And we ate. A lot. All the time. Sound familiar?
Before lunch on Saturday, all 62 PCTs were herded on stage in front of the Ecuadorian host families and we were formally introduced to our new familias. I´m living with a mother, her 21-year-old daughter, and her 1 1/2 year old son and I absolutely love it. Although my internal clock has certainly been shaken up a bit. The family goes to bed around 9:00 and awakens around 5:00 everyday. The early bed time is for the best though; training starts at 8:00 each morning and its a bit of a commute.
Leaving with our host families also marked the first time that we were permitted to leave the PC compound. Ecuador is absolutely stunning; green mountains scrape the sky and flowers seemingly dot every tree. And the climate is amazing. Around 70 degrees and sunny every day in spite of what is reported by weather.com.
On Saturday, I spent the day meeting my host familia and exploring Tumbaco. After some intense soccer and volleyball games with my host nephew, we journeyed to the plaza, the fruteria (easily my favorite place in Tumbaco, and the soccer stadium to watch my my host brothers (who live down the street. actually, I think only family even lives on the street) game. Although the hincha wasn´t quite as crazy as that of cola cola, I think we could learn a few songs, paint our faces, and rival cola cola´s mob sometime soon.
After waking up embarrassingly late on Sunday (who knew that breakfast was at 7:00 on Sunday as well), we went on a paseo. My Spanish isn´t up to par and I thought we were merely going to the PC center so I could learn how to get to school, but we actually journeyed to an Andean town nearby - Quiche - to attend mass in the giant cathedral. It was absolutely loco; people were wandering around mid-prayer while police patrolled the crowds. We then meandered through the markets outside the church, listened to an Andean folk singer, and enjoyed a traditional almuerzo. Important note..when offered churros in Ecuador, don´t expect a fluffy pastry. Rather, expect a bag of snails in lemon juice and be expected to suck the snail out of the shell. Delicious but most definately a surprise.
During the week, almost all of our time is spent perfecting our Spanish, learning TEFL techniques, and constructing rooftop gardens at the PC center. I´ll try to update regularly, but I´m also without internet en casa, so I don´t expect to be on the computer too much.
After our staging event (aka orientation) in Philadelphia, we departed from our hotel at 1:30 AM to begin an arduous 16 hour journey to Quito. In theory, it would have been a phenomenal opportunity to catch some zzzzzz´s. Unfortunately, excitement and a bit a apprehension made it impossible to sleep. While I needed rest, it did serve as a great opportunity to celebrate birthdays, bond with my fellow PCTs, and tone my biceps as I lugged too much luggage through some of the airports.
Upon arrival in Quito, PC Ecuador swooped us up and chauffered us to the PC training center in Tumbaco, a upper-middle class suburb outside of Quito. It was, unfortanately, already dark, thus making it impossible to enjoy the scenery.
The next few days could best be described as Tufts-in-Chile orientation week. We lived in dorms rooms on-site, played cards and ultimate frisbee, and attended various charlas conducted by speakers working in areas such as security and training. And we ate. A lot. All the time. Sound familiar?
Before lunch on Saturday, all 62 PCTs were herded on stage in front of the Ecuadorian host families and we were formally introduced to our new familias. I´m living with a mother, her 21-year-old daughter, and her 1 1/2 year old son and I absolutely love it. Although my internal clock has certainly been shaken up a bit. The family goes to bed around 9:00 and awakens around 5:00 everyday. The early bed time is for the best though; training starts at 8:00 each morning and its a bit of a commute.
Leaving with our host families also marked the first time that we were permitted to leave the PC compound. Ecuador is absolutely stunning; green mountains scrape the sky and flowers seemingly dot every tree. And the climate is amazing. Around 70 degrees and sunny every day in spite of what is reported by weather.com.
On Saturday, I spent the day meeting my host familia and exploring Tumbaco. After some intense soccer and volleyball games with my host nephew, we journeyed to the plaza, the fruteria (easily my favorite place in Tumbaco, and the soccer stadium to watch my my host brothers (who live down the street. actually, I think only family even lives on the street) game. Although the hincha wasn´t quite as crazy as that of cola cola, I think we could learn a few songs, paint our faces, and rival cola cola´s mob sometime soon.
After waking up embarrassingly late on Sunday (who knew that breakfast was at 7:00 on Sunday as well), we went on a paseo. My Spanish isn´t up to par and I thought we were merely going to the PC center so I could learn how to get to school, but we actually journeyed to an Andean town nearby - Quiche - to attend mass in the giant cathedral. It was absolutely loco; people were wandering around mid-prayer while police patrolled the crowds. We then meandered through the markets outside the church, listened to an Andean folk singer, and enjoyed a traditional almuerzo. Important note..when offered churros in Ecuador, don´t expect a fluffy pastry. Rather, expect a bag of snails in lemon juice and be expected to suck the snail out of the shell. Delicious but most definately a surprise.
During the week, almost all of our time is spent perfecting our Spanish, learning TEFL techniques, and constructing rooftop gardens at the PC center. I´ll try to update regularly, but I´m also without internet en casa, so I don´t expect to be on the computer too much.
31.5.11
En Números
14 months after submitting the initial application, 8 months after finishing my medical review, and 5 months after receiving my invitation to serve in Ecuador, I leave tomorrow for a 27 month stint as a TEFL volunteer. Por fin.
1 unforgettable senior week and graduation, 2 crammed suitcases, and 1982734912874 good-byes later, estoy lista (well, hopefully).
1 unforgettable senior week and graduation, 2 crammed suitcases, and 1982734912874 good-byes later, estoy lista (well, hopefully).
10.7.10
"How do you measure a year in the life?"
“Five hundrend twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
Five hundrend twenty five thousand
moments so dear
Five hundrend twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year”
-"Seasons of Love:" Rent
The measurement of time is clearly objective. Sixty seconds comprise a minute; sixty minutes comprise an hour and so forth. Yet, the way we perceive the passage of time is entirely dependant on our experiences. An hour spent languishing in a boring science lecture certainly feels significantly longer than one spent laughing with friends over a steaming cup of coffee.
Thus, it seems somewhat inaccurate to state that I have now officially been living in South America for a year. After all, any consider this unit of measurement as being a long stretch of time and I feel as if I only just arrived. Although my perspective, hopes, and dreams have been completely transformed by the abroad experience, I would not even blink if someone suggested that I had actually just boarded the plane a few weeks ago.
Units of time, therefore, seem like a rather frivolous way to quantify this past year. Yet, as an overly-organized individual, I feel the need to neatly categorize it in some manner, so I've turned to the lyrics of “Seasons of Love” as a means of finding the answer (clearly, I cannot deny the influence that the incredibly talented singers from Tufts-in-Chile have had on me).
Could it be in DAYLIGHTS? From the 19 hour days we enjoyed while trekking through Torres del Paine to the agonizing sunburns resulting from the powerful sun in Paraguay, the light of day always brought adventure.
Or in SUNSETS? The setting sun did not, however, signify much as the nights similarly brought much laughter as I my two left feet struggled to dance salsa.
Or in MIDNIGHTS? Given that the nightlife in Santiago has barely begun when the clock's hands meet at the twelve, I often watched the day technically begin while chatting with friends about topics such as the mysterious lack of a “linea 3” on the metro and the sociological reasons behind just about any phenomenon ranging from the lack of social mobility in Chile and the United States to our choices regarding who to date/marry.
Or in CUPS OF COFFEE? While these conversations never proved dull, I certainly needed to inhale coffee in order to study for my classes, from which I often gained insight into both the designated topic and Chilean culture.
Or in INCHES? Unfortunately, as a student interested in a variety of fields and enrolled in an interdisciplinary major, my class selection generally involved spending too much time crammed into the metro traveling between campuses. The opportunity to study at the different campuses was, however, in itself advantageous as I saw the very different attitudes and beliefs held by the majority of students within various departments at the same university and between the student bodies at two of the largest universities in the city.
Or in MILES? Although I oftened complained about the commute to class, these trips were significantly shorter than those necessary to arrive at my various internships revolving around topics as varied as environmental justice, property law, and education. Once again, the time spent in the sweltering metro proved worthwhile however. Without a doubt, the opportunity to conduct English workshops / substitute teach / monitor the computer room at a school for marginalized youth who have been excluded from the mainstream school system proved to be an eye-opening experience that reconfirmed my hopes to someday teach abroad regardless of the constant obstacles faced in the classroom and drastically changed my perceptions on education in both Chile and the world. Not to mention the inspiration that I drew from the spirit and resilience of some students at the school.
Or, as a devoted runner, maybe I should define miles in terms of the miles of roads explored as I ran in both the stifling heat of Paraguay and the frigid Andean air near Las Trancas.
Or in LAUGHTER? While I would love to measure a year in laughter, the amount of time spent laughing at my own blunders would be impossible to calculate. Who knew that “estar en rajas” does not necessarily mean go to sleep due to exhaustion? I certainly didn't.
Or in STRIFE? Luckily, I barely ever needed to raise my voice, let alone fight with anyone in Chile or Paraguay. Paraguay has, after all, been affectionately dubbed the land of friends.
Should I choose one of these terms to describe my year? No. Each of the concepts accurately describes a portion of my experience this past year, but none of them actually embody it as a whole.
Infive hundrend twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life
How about LOVE?
Given the importance of family in South America, many question how I can spend a year away from my parents. While I miss them, the answer is simple; I have found the love and support of innumerable other individuals who have made this year absolutely unforgettable. From my incredible Chilean host family who has treated me like a daughter ever since our first meeting at Laurita's baptism to my Paraguayan co-workers who adopted me over the holidays, I have never lacked the love of a pseudo-family.
And, if the language barriers proved overwhelming, the Tufts-in-Chile crew really did turn into a family as Katrina recently noted. While I am sure we will continue to spend time debating mundane philosophical topics,baking (250+) cookies, or showing off on the dance floor in Boston, I already miss your smiling faces.
Not to mention the countless other friends that I've made along the way. Whether playing soccer, checking out photo exhibits, chugging (too many) cups of coffee, bringing Mexican food to Chile, etc., these individuals have made this past year absolutely incredible. While I may not see some of them again, they will always stand out in my memories of my time spent in Chile and Paraguay.
So. Given the number of people who have impacted my life, I think it's fair to say that the only way to measure the year is to....
MEASURE IN LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE.
24.6.10
Chi-Chi-Chi. Le-Le-Le. VIVA CHILE!
When the semester first began, the entirety of Chile stopped momentarily to mourn the victims of the terremoto that shook in the nation in late February. Now, as the semester rolls to a close, the country is once again collectively pausing. This time, however, it is a much more joyous occasion: the World Cup. As Chile is in Group H, "La Roja" (as the squad is affectionately known in Chile) has only played two games and has won both.
Even more interesting than the 1-0 wins versus both Honduras and Switzerland is the raucous environment that consumes the center of the city on gameday. Hundreds congregate at La Moneda to watch the game on a big screen. Actually, watch is a bit of an understatement; in addition to watching, everyone screams, sings, jumps, etc. It almost constitutes a workout.
Moments after the final whistle blows, all begin marching towards Plaza Italia, or the center of the city. Not only do the hoards from La Moneda make their way to the square, but those from all corners of the expansive metropolis join them. Once in the plaza, it's a celebration that gradually devolves to mob violence and destruction; the damange to the city after the win against Switzerland was surprisingly widespread. What will happen if the revelers leave the game angry?
Although it often doesn't seem like it, life does go on away from the pitch. We study; we dance; we chatter; we laugh. We also have to begin the dreaded process of saying good-bye to the city, friends, and Chilean families we have come to know and love. Whether joking with the six other Tufts students at the official "despedida" last weekend or handing in a final paper in a class that has challenged and amused all semester, our time is here is all too quickly coming too a close. Last December, the semester students complained that it seemed as if their time in Chile had only just begun. Well, seven months later, I honestly feel the same.
Even more interesting than the 1-0 wins versus both Honduras and Switzerland is the raucous environment that consumes the center of the city on gameday. Hundreds congregate at La Moneda to watch the game on a big screen. Actually, watch is a bit of an understatement; in addition to watching, everyone screams, sings, jumps, etc. It almost constitutes a workout.
Moments after the final whistle blows, all begin marching towards Plaza Italia, or the center of the city. Not only do the hoards from La Moneda make their way to the square, but those from all corners of the expansive metropolis join them. Once in the plaza, it's a celebration that gradually devolves to mob violence and destruction; the damange to the city after the win against Switzerland was surprisingly widespread. What will happen if the revelers leave the game angry?
Although it often doesn't seem like it, life does go on away from the pitch. We study; we dance; we chatter; we laugh. We also have to begin the dreaded process of saying good-bye to the city, friends, and Chilean families we have come to know and love. Whether joking with the six other Tufts students at the official "despedida" last weekend or handing in a final paper in a class that has challenged and amused all semester, our time is here is all too quickly coming too a close. Last December, the semester students complained that it seemed as if their time in Chile had only just begun. Well, seven months later, I honestly feel the same.
6.6.10
Loving Our Messy and Dysfunctional World
“I tend to like messy dysfunctional countries where people are passionate about things.” - Anthony Bourdain
For the past several days, this phrase from an interview with this outspoken food critic has resonated in my mind. It isn’t particularly eloquent nor provocative; yet, I cannot forget the words as they speak to many of my more recent experiences in Santiago.
Generally speaking, Chile should not be considered a “messy” or “dysfunctional” country. As discussed in previous posts, it boasts a flourishing economy, reliable infrastructure, and many of the other hallmarks of a “developed” country. Yet, a surprisingly large proportion of the population does not have access to these institutions (Chile does, after all, boast on the largest gaps between the rich and the poor in the world as measured by the GINI index). The differences between the resources enjoyed by those living in generally wealthy neighborhoods and those relegated the poor communities on the fringe of the city continues to shock me whenever I venture to either my internship.
Despite my anger at the inequalities facing my students, I eagerly look forward to my treks to the school in La Granja each week and I love every moment that I spend there. The poverty, disparity, and challenges obviously enrage me, but students‘ energy and curiosity continues to inspire me. Whether working 60 hours a week at Lider (which is owned by Wal Mart by the way)or trying to raise a child at fifteen, the students somehow manage to confront these challenges without forgetting to laugh or losing their curiosity about the world around them.
To succeed, these students must employ the passion described by Bourdain in the aforementioned quote. Absolutely nothing will be given to them. Similarly, children from more privileged backgrounds earn their achievements, but don’t quite need the same spirit. It’s almost as if the wealthier students are running the 5k on the track; your muscles scream in pain and it takes effort, but it’s a controlled, planned trek. Those from more marginalized communities, on the other hand, are competing in the 5k cross country race. Rather than a smooth, predictable surface, each turn can bring another mountain, some unexpected roots, or a small river. Given the route, they need a certain passion and spirit not always found in other communities and, like Bourdain, this attracts me to communities that may not always be considered developed.
That being said, however desirable this spirit, it should not need to exist and the global community must begin to address the disparities between the wealthiest and poorest neighborhoods in Santiago and the world. Such passion can obviously grow without such deprivation.
*********************************************
When not teaching English, my days have overflowed with both the routine and some extraordinary opportunities. Classes consume most of my week, although I still find time to pretend I can salsa, meander through the city in my running shoes, devour too much white bread and palta at the nightly once, and laugh with friends. I cannot believe that I only have a few short weeks left with them (although it is not “if I return” it is “when I return“…just to clarify).
And interspersed amongst the habitual activities are the extraordinary ones (although I would argue that the daily routine may in many ways prove more memorable). A few weeks ago, I represented Fundación Paraguaya at a conference on multi-dimensional poverty held in Santiago. Several experts debated what it means to be poor (consensus…it isn’t just economic. duh), before assessing various means used measure it around the world that can be applied both objectively and across cultures. The speakers hailed from bodies as varied the United Nations, the Chilean government, and TUFTS UNIVERSITY. Well, Fletcher. But that’s part of Tufts…right?
I’ve also had the chance to escape the city and explore the Chilean countryside. A friend’s professor recently commented that all of Chile’s development is centered around it’s highways (which obviously run from the north to south given the country’s geography) and this is understandably true. Stepping away from the highways is like stepping back in time; the countryside is truly another world and unsurprisingly a much less developed one. On a recent Tufts trip to Coinco and Donihue, we explored much of this countryside and took part in traditional crafts such as chamanto weaving and the baking of pan amasado. While the artisan work proved interesting, the devastating wounds left on these communities from the terremoto remain some of my biggest memories. Walking around Santiago on a daily basis, it is easy to forget the disaster that rocked Chile only a few months ago. Yet, for many living in rural communities especially in the south, the devastation is a daily reality. Hundreds, if not thousands, are still without homes as the winter rains have begun to roll in (and those living in temporary houses have unfortunately discovered that temporary housing does not necessarily denote a roof that doesn’t leak or good construction).
The countryside isn’t devastated in its entirety however. I also spent a weekend in the Termas de Chillan, or an exclusive ski resort area nestled among some Andean volcanoes. We arrived a little to early to do any skiing, but did enjoy the exquisite views and the first snow fall of the season. Although it is cold in Santiago, it never snows so it was nice to enjoy some of the powdery white fluff that I avoided by spending the northern hemisphere’s winter in the steamy tropical heat of Paraguay.
Pictures, have of course, been posted on Picasa…po.
And a quick note regarding my lack of posts: I’m simply too busy and given the rapid decay of my English skills lately, it isn’t quite as easy for me to write in English anymore. Some things, such as terremotos and palta, that never really affected my life in the USofA have forever been converted into Spanish concepts for me!
For the past several days, this phrase from an interview with this outspoken food critic has resonated in my mind. It isn’t particularly eloquent nor provocative; yet, I cannot forget the words as they speak to many of my more recent experiences in Santiago.
Generally speaking, Chile should not be considered a “messy” or “dysfunctional” country. As discussed in previous posts, it boasts a flourishing economy, reliable infrastructure, and many of the other hallmarks of a “developed” country. Yet, a surprisingly large proportion of the population does not have access to these institutions (Chile does, after all, boast on the largest gaps between the rich and the poor in the world as measured by the GINI index). The differences between the resources enjoyed by those living in generally wealthy neighborhoods and those relegated the poor communities on the fringe of the city continues to shock me whenever I venture to either my internship.
Despite my anger at the inequalities facing my students, I eagerly look forward to my treks to the school in La Granja each week and I love every moment that I spend there. The poverty, disparity, and challenges obviously enrage me, but students‘ energy and curiosity continues to inspire me. Whether working 60 hours a week at Lider (which is owned by Wal Mart by the way)or trying to raise a child at fifteen, the students somehow manage to confront these challenges without forgetting to laugh or losing their curiosity about the world around them.
To succeed, these students must employ the passion described by Bourdain in the aforementioned quote. Absolutely nothing will be given to them. Similarly, children from more privileged backgrounds earn their achievements, but don’t quite need the same spirit. It’s almost as if the wealthier students are running the 5k on the track; your muscles scream in pain and it takes effort, but it’s a controlled, planned trek. Those from more marginalized communities, on the other hand, are competing in the 5k cross country race. Rather than a smooth, predictable surface, each turn can bring another mountain, some unexpected roots, or a small river. Given the route, they need a certain passion and spirit not always found in other communities and, like Bourdain, this attracts me to communities that may not always be considered developed.
That being said, however desirable this spirit, it should not need to exist and the global community must begin to address the disparities between the wealthiest and poorest neighborhoods in Santiago and the world. Such passion can obviously grow without such deprivation.
*********************************************
When not teaching English, my days have overflowed with both the routine and some extraordinary opportunities. Classes consume most of my week, although I still find time to pretend I can salsa, meander through the city in my running shoes, devour too much white bread and palta at the nightly once, and laugh with friends. I cannot believe that I only have a few short weeks left with them (although it is not “if I return” it is “when I return“…just to clarify).
And interspersed amongst the habitual activities are the extraordinary ones (although I would argue that the daily routine may in many ways prove more memorable). A few weeks ago, I represented Fundación Paraguaya at a conference on multi-dimensional poverty held in Santiago. Several experts debated what it means to be poor (consensus…it isn’t just economic. duh), before assessing various means used measure it around the world that can be applied both objectively and across cultures. The speakers hailed from bodies as varied the United Nations, the Chilean government, and TUFTS UNIVERSITY. Well, Fletcher. But that’s part of Tufts…right?
I’ve also had the chance to escape the city and explore the Chilean countryside. A friend’s professor recently commented that all of Chile’s development is centered around it’s highways (which obviously run from the north to south given the country’s geography) and this is understandably true. Stepping away from the highways is like stepping back in time; the countryside is truly another world and unsurprisingly a much less developed one. On a recent Tufts trip to Coinco and Donihue, we explored much of this countryside and took part in traditional crafts such as chamanto weaving and the baking of pan amasado. While the artisan work proved interesting, the devastating wounds left on these communities from the terremoto remain some of my biggest memories. Walking around Santiago on a daily basis, it is easy to forget the disaster that rocked Chile only a few months ago. Yet, for many living in rural communities especially in the south, the devastation is a daily reality. Hundreds, if not thousands, are still without homes as the winter rains have begun to roll in (and those living in temporary houses have unfortunately discovered that temporary housing does not necessarily denote a roof that doesn’t leak or good construction).
The countryside isn’t devastated in its entirety however. I also spent a weekend in the Termas de Chillan, or an exclusive ski resort area nestled among some Andean volcanoes. We arrived a little to early to do any skiing, but did enjoy the exquisite views and the first snow fall of the season. Although it is cold in Santiago, it never snows so it was nice to enjoy some of the powdery white fluff that I avoided by spending the northern hemisphere’s winter in the steamy tropical heat of Paraguay.
Pictures, have of course, been posted on Picasa…po.
And a quick note regarding my lack of posts: I’m simply too busy and given the rapid decay of my English skills lately, it isn’t quite as easy for me to write in English anymore. Some things, such as terremotos and palta, that never really affected my life in the USofA have forever been converted into Spanish concepts for me!
4.5.10
La Llegada del Otoño
Although the temperature has soared recently, fall has certainly arrived in Santiago. Golden leaves sparkle in the sunlight and their fallen counterparts make a delightful crunch as I jog through the city. Outside Santiago's confines, the plump fruits and vegetables wait to be plucked off the vine.
A few weeks ago, Tufts-in-Chile students had the opportunity to help with the harvest at Vina Casas del Bosque located in the beautiful Casablanca Valley. Although we did each fill a few baskets, I think we may have done a slightly better job sampling both merlot and sauvignon blanc grapes than actually filling our crates. And we didn't stop gourging ourselves when we left the fields as the Tufts program treated us to an oversized lunch and far too many glasses of wine after the tour.
While the most enjoyable part of the day was definately the harvest experience, it was vaguely uncomfortable as actual laborers toiled only a few rows away. I have no reason to believe that they are mistreated or underpayed, but I highly doubt their job is desirable. After all, they most likely work long hours in the sun while bent over. Thus, it seems a little odd that a groups of relatively affluent tourists flock to the vineyard to mimic (dare I say mock?) their experiences. Not sure why, but the entire tour seemed to belong on the website entitled "The Stuff White People Do."
When not frolicking in the countryside, I spend most of my time absorbed in schoolwork and internships, much as I would if I were at Tufts during the fall semester. This semester, rather than focusing on environmental justice, my internship involves education in Chile. I'm working with Sumate, a group dedicated to providing children from marginalized backgrounds with an education capable of allowing them to leave poverty.
Once a week, I meet with a few students in the "Becas Ed. Tec. Superior" program and provide English tutoring. This initiative provides youth from impoverished families with the tools needed to attend technical colleges and learn skills that will lead to well-paying jobs. Not only does the program give them financial assistence, but it also includes mandatory workshops and tutoring services. This, I believe, proves key in ensuring that most of the recipients graduate from their respective schools. Many of the students come from families without the cultural capital to navigate the system; with the help of Sumate, they will be given some of the resources children from more priviledged backgrounds often take for granted.
In addition to tutoring these students, I also teach English workshops at Escuela Hogar de Cristo as part of the "Reinsercion Educativa" program. This school accepts students who are, for whatever reason, no longer involved in the mainstream system. For instance, many of the girls have children and other students previously dropped out of school. Even after only a few visits to the school, it has become clear that these workshops will be both the amongst the most challenging and enjoyable projects I have undertaken while in Chile.
Although I may occasionally be a workaholic, I still do find time to relax. I've even taken up a new sport: soccer. Well, not quite new, but I haven't played in years. And I am, of course, still rocking out at salsa lessons, spending time with friends, and enjoying fall in Santiago!
A few weeks ago, Tufts-in-Chile students had the opportunity to help with the harvest at Vina Casas del Bosque located in the beautiful Casablanca Valley. Although we did each fill a few baskets, I think we may have done a slightly better job sampling both merlot and sauvignon blanc grapes than actually filling our crates. And we didn't stop gourging ourselves when we left the fields as the Tufts program treated us to an oversized lunch and far too many glasses of wine after the tour.
While the most enjoyable part of the day was definately the harvest experience, it was vaguely uncomfortable as actual laborers toiled only a few rows away. I have no reason to believe that they are mistreated or underpayed, but I highly doubt their job is desirable. After all, they most likely work long hours in the sun while bent over. Thus, it seems a little odd that a groups of relatively affluent tourists flock to the vineyard to mimic (dare I say mock?) their experiences. Not sure why, but the entire tour seemed to belong on the website entitled "The Stuff White People Do."
When not frolicking in the countryside, I spend most of my time absorbed in schoolwork and internships, much as I would if I were at Tufts during the fall semester. This semester, rather than focusing on environmental justice, my internship involves education in Chile. I'm working with Sumate, a group dedicated to providing children from marginalized backgrounds with an education capable of allowing them to leave poverty.
Once a week, I meet with a few students in the "Becas Ed. Tec. Superior" program and provide English tutoring. This initiative provides youth from impoverished families with the tools needed to attend technical colleges and learn skills that will lead to well-paying jobs. Not only does the program give them financial assistence, but it also includes mandatory workshops and tutoring services. This, I believe, proves key in ensuring that most of the recipients graduate from their respective schools. Many of the students come from families without the cultural capital to navigate the system; with the help of Sumate, they will be given some of the resources children from more priviledged backgrounds often take for granted.
In addition to tutoring these students, I also teach English workshops at Escuela Hogar de Cristo as part of the "Reinsercion Educativa" program. This school accepts students who are, for whatever reason, no longer involved in the mainstream system. For instance, many of the girls have children and other students previously dropped out of school. Even after only a few visits to the school, it has become clear that these workshops will be both the amongst the most challenging and enjoyable projects I have undertaken while in Chile.
Although I may occasionally be a workaholic, I still do find time to relax. I've even taken up a new sport: soccer. Well, not quite new, but I haven't played in years. And I am, of course, still rocking out at salsa lessons, spending time with friends, and enjoying fall in Santiago!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)