Part of this entry is a little dated, but I added some extra bits. I'm in Quito now, after spending about two weeks in Esperanza. The first half week was dedicated to organizing a three-day summer camp for 55 children in Esperanza (part of the nature of non-profits is getting sucked into other random projects). We spent way more time than necessary trying to contract a bus that could leave the province (we went to Salinas de Bolivar, a small community consisting of cooperative businesses, specializing in artesanal chocolates, cheeses, salamis, sweaters, soccer balls, porcini mushrooms, salt). To make a really long and frustrating story short: trying to navigate through a mestizo-dominated Ecuadorian bureaucracy to make it possible for indigenous children to enjoy an end-of-school educational trip is absolutely despicable. We had an amazing time in the end, and it was a beautiful way of building relationships with the kids and their families.
And now for something completely different. About 99% of the comuneros in Esperanza are Evangelical, while the remaining 1% are Catholic (this figure was given to me by one of the few Catholics in the community). This is a little shocking, for the entire province of Chimborazo was swept by Evangelical missionaries in the 70's and 80's. Before Evangelical conversion, Kichwa communities were Catholic.
I've been going to church regularly most every Sunday(as a part of getting to know the community and for my own academic interests). Services start anywhere between 4 and 4:30 pm (things are rarely punctual in Ecuador) and usually an average of about 40 people attend services.
The most special oculto service I've attended was just outside of Riobamba. A few of the pastors and comuneros from Esperanza have begun a church planting project, that is in the process of building a sister church to the one in Esperanza (Oculto "Cristo El Rey"). It was a thursday night, and the entire community had chartered a bus, "El Llin Llin", that made the dangerously steep treck up the mountain to pick everyone up. Additionally, we squeezed ourselves along with 15 other little kids in the bed of the AD pickup truck. The sky was clear and the air was freezing cold, as we played underneath a billowing plastic tarp to keep warm (nevermind about the risk of suffocation).
We arrived at the oculto, which pretty much consisted of hardly half-finished brick walls, a straw floor, a few lightbulbs, and open fire. There was no roof, so we were free to see the milky way and the towering snowy summit of Chimborazo in its ominous volcanic glory. We were lovingly greeted by everyone in the community (there were also people from surrounding communities in the church). The customary greeting is to shake hands with everyone you meet, accompanied by good morning, good afternoon, or good evening (this pretty much exists everywhere I've been in Ecuador...both in el campo and the city, though it's usually in Kichwa in this setting). We all sat down on a warm bed of straw and had a bowl of chicken quinoa soup to warm up.
Despite the shoddy light system (I kid you not, the lightbulbs were hanging from open wires), there was somehow enough electricity to outfit three 4 ft. tall speakers, two amplifiers, a sound board connecting to 3 mics, and an electric bass, guitar, and piano. One of the four pastors was revising and studying his sermon on a laptop. The sermon began with everyone singing psalms with verses alternating from Spanish to Kichwa. Each person clapped along to the rhythm of the music, but without dancing, and usually looking fairly disinterested. Some individuals swayed from side to side and closed their eyes. The pastors, on the other hand, reminded me of battling rappers (close your eyes and enjoy that visual imagery for a moment), for each one held a microphone and danced around with various hand gesticulations taking turns between the Spanish and Kichwa verses.
The sermons were very emotive, each pastor drawing comparisons between daily life in Esperanza and biblical times. The most expressive pastor (the one with the laptop) drove home the message that although Jesus was poor, he always made sure to wash the feet of those who entered his house. He said it was important for people to take this message and always have a glass of water ready or some food available for a guest that enters their house. Much of the sermon was conducted in Kichwa, but his gesticulations were very well-rehearsed and my Kichwa is getting a little better, to the point that I could follow his narrative.
People are very willing to discuss their faith here, but it isn't until you talk to them for awhile that they begin to open themselves up and discuss things that Evangelicalism usually prohibits (like shamanism, for example). I spoke with one comunero who knew a great deal about curanderismo, a sort of traditional style of healing (which now often falls under the less- stigmatized name of naturalist healing). He told me that guinea pigs (cuy) function similarly to MRI and X-ray scans. Whatever illness an individual may have can be detected by looking at the body of a live guinea pig, after anointing it in oil, blowing cigarette smoke over it, and passing it around the body of the sick person. Some people cut open the guinea pig, and whatever part of it "looks sick" is said to be the part affecting the person. This isn't really used that often anymore in the community, but when it does, it's usually pretty underground (because Evangelicalism prohibits "the old in favor of the new," or so it is often put).
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
La Siembra
Last week, I began working with the community of Lupaxi Bajo and Alberto, an agronomist from CEMOPLAF in effort to create several types of community garden spaces. It was nice to actually begin the process after having met several times with the community throughout the past month. Lupaxi Bajo is a small agricultural community residing on the side of the Panamerican Highway (la pana). Most everything in the region is planted on the steep inclines of the Andes, giving the horizon the appearance of a neverending quilt consisting of shades of green, yellow, orange, and red. Because of the uneveness of the terrain, certain families have very small amounts of land to grow enough produce to sell in the markets (primary source of income) let alone to feed their families. To address this problem, one family has donated a bit of their extra land in effort to create a community garden where everyone would be responsible for its maintenance and benefit from its produce. The garden fence will be comprised of native plants and trees.
In addition to the community garden, another plot of land was prepared for being a semillera, or a plot of land that would solely be used as a self-sustaining seed supply. This would prevent the community from having to purchase expensive seeds at the end of the agricultural cycle. I couldn't believe how quickly the soil was transformed from a 10 m x 15 m uneven plot of weeds to a terraced seed supply. We planted cilantro, parsley, beets, onion, zanahoria blanca ("white carrot,"I think it's dicon), and mashua (a tuber not grown in the US). I learned a pretty sweet relatively natural method that helps preventing pests from eating seeds and contaminating the soil. Apparently, if you scatter ash from the kitchen (usually from burnt wood or paper) onto the soil before and after planting the seeds, the little plants will grow healthily.
I've been learning a great deal about the local agricultural practices here. Plants within each garden have a special place and energy balance, called a Chakra (it's Kichwa, not New Agey). Each community has a locally specific Chakra and secrets for planting seeds. Sometimes crops are planted together, for example: quinoa and potatoes, raddish and zanahoria blanco, habas (I guess the equivalent is cassava beans) and potatoes. In this chakra, medicinal plants (mostly native) will also be grown, ordered into categories of illness.
The project in Lupaxi Bajo is a sort of pilot project for one we will be working on in Esperanza later this summer. I've been working with teachers in Esperanza to work towards integrating a school garden into the curriculum. The school system in the sector is based on a bilingual model called Yachaypak Kukayu Pedagógico (KUPEDs) or the Senderito de Saber (SENSAB), which roughly translated from Kichwa is "sharing the hunger of knowledge". This model is especially designed for Kichwa communities, with the understanding that they are living in a plurinational country (not to be confused with the term "multicultural," which holds the negative connotation here of "separate but anything indigenous is primitive and backwards"). As a side note, indigenous activists all around the country are fighting for official governmental recognition of Ecuador as a plurinational country in the constitution that is in the process of being rewritten. The KUPED model places equal importance on learning both Spanish and Kichwa, with learning experiences occuring both inside and outside the classroom. Additionally, the source of knowledge is not supposed to originate solely from the teachers, but from students themselves and their families (a "self-evaluative process").
Most theoretical models, as well-intentioned as they may be, often lose their value in practice. Unfortunately, many teachers do not place equal weight on the inside/outside bilingual model so ideally set forth in the KUPEDS. This occurs for various reasons. Because corruption is high, many schools do not receive adequate funding for books and educational supplies. Additionally, many of the teachers live in urban centers and are of mestizo ethnicity and so do not place as much emphasis on learning Kichwa (racism is just as bad here as it is at home). I've talked with many people in the communities and even teachers who have expressed their frustration with the problems of the system, and it seems pretty terrible. Only within the past few weeks working with teachers amidst trying to plan a summer camp and navegating the ludicrous Ecuadorian bureaucracy have I too become frustrated with the prejudiced system. Some teachers are totally on board with the KUPEDs, but are limited by their educational superiors from fully implementing them. If the director of a school doesn't support the importance of learning Kichwa in the classroom, anyone (teacher, parent, student) is bound to have difficulty changing the system. But I guess this is usually the case when one has the power over many. I am seeing a growing intolerance for this type of behavior, and slowly but surely, people are beginning to stand up for themselves.
This is where the gardens project comes in. I was surprised to find that the idea already existed within the curiculum, it just needs to be brought into reality and treated with importance. The first week of being in Esperanza earlier in the month, I found that one teacher had already planted a small garden. So what's being done now is to actually kick start this project and to continue motivating teachers and students. Most things are understood in the communities in terms of cycles. Using this idea within the curriculum, each community will create a calendario agrofestivo, which consists of a circle divided into pie sections, codifying the schedule of planting particular vegetables, the locally-specific knowledge for doing so, and secrets that have been used by los viejitos (older community members).
I think I've written enough for the time being. Things are awesomely busy here.
Desde Ecuador con mucho amor!
In addition to the community garden, another plot of land was prepared for being a semillera, or a plot of land that would solely be used as a self-sustaining seed supply. This would prevent the community from having to purchase expensive seeds at the end of the agricultural cycle. I couldn't believe how quickly the soil was transformed from a 10 m x 15 m uneven plot of weeds to a terraced seed supply. We planted cilantro, parsley, beets, onion, zanahoria blanca ("white carrot,"I think it's dicon), and mashua (a tuber not grown in the US). I learned a pretty sweet relatively natural method that helps preventing pests from eating seeds and contaminating the soil. Apparently, if you scatter ash from the kitchen (usually from burnt wood or paper) onto the soil before and after planting the seeds, the little plants will grow healthily.
I've been learning a great deal about the local agricultural practices here. Plants within each garden have a special place and energy balance, called a Chakra (it's Kichwa, not New Agey). Each community has a locally specific Chakra and secrets for planting seeds. Sometimes crops are planted together, for example: quinoa and potatoes, raddish and zanahoria blanco, habas (I guess the equivalent is cassava beans) and potatoes. In this chakra, medicinal plants (mostly native) will also be grown, ordered into categories of illness.
The project in Lupaxi Bajo is a sort of pilot project for one we will be working on in Esperanza later this summer. I've been working with teachers in Esperanza to work towards integrating a school garden into the curriculum. The school system in the sector is based on a bilingual model called Yachaypak Kukayu Pedagógico (KUPEDs) or the Senderito de Saber (SENSAB), which roughly translated from Kichwa is "sharing the hunger of knowledge". This model is especially designed for Kichwa communities, with the understanding that they are living in a plurinational country (not to be confused with the term "multicultural," which holds the negative connotation here of "separate but anything indigenous is primitive and backwards"). As a side note, indigenous activists all around the country are fighting for official governmental recognition of Ecuador as a plurinational country in the constitution that is in the process of being rewritten. The KUPED model places equal importance on learning both Spanish and Kichwa, with learning experiences occuring both inside and outside the classroom. Additionally, the source of knowledge is not supposed to originate solely from the teachers, but from students themselves and their families (a "self-evaluative process").
Most theoretical models, as well-intentioned as they may be, often lose their value in practice. Unfortunately, many teachers do not place equal weight on the inside/outside bilingual model so ideally set forth in the KUPEDS. This occurs for various reasons. Because corruption is high, many schools do not receive adequate funding for books and educational supplies. Additionally, many of the teachers live in urban centers and are of mestizo ethnicity and so do not place as much emphasis on learning Kichwa (racism is just as bad here as it is at home). I've talked with many people in the communities and even teachers who have expressed their frustration with the problems of the system, and it seems pretty terrible. Only within the past few weeks working with teachers amidst trying to plan a summer camp and navegating the ludicrous Ecuadorian bureaucracy have I too become frustrated with the prejudiced system. Some teachers are totally on board with the KUPEDs, but are limited by their educational superiors from fully implementing them. If the director of a school doesn't support the importance of learning Kichwa in the classroom, anyone (teacher, parent, student) is bound to have difficulty changing the system. But I guess this is usually the case when one has the power over many. I am seeing a growing intolerance for this type of behavior, and slowly but surely, people are beginning to stand up for themselves.
This is where the gardens project comes in. I was surprised to find that the idea already existed within the curiculum, it just needs to be brought into reality and treated with importance. The first week of being in Esperanza earlier in the month, I found that one teacher had already planted a small garden. So what's being done now is to actually kick start this project and to continue motivating teachers and students. Most things are understood in the communities in terms of cycles. Using this idea within the curriculum, each community will create a calendario agrofestivo, which consists of a circle divided into pie sections, codifying the schedule of planting particular vegetables, the locally-specific knowledge for doing so, and secrets that have been used by los viejitos (older community members).
I think I've written enough for the time being. Things are awesomely busy here.
Desde Ecuador con mucho amor!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Esperanza to Quito
We´ve returned to Quito for the weekend to gather our thoughts, materials, and a few extra volunteers. This past week was filled with meetings with directoras de educación, community governments, agronomists, and public health workers as we begin to work on the Huertos Escolares program (school gardens). The goal of this project is to work with local school teachers to come up with an integrated curriculum, where children will learn about nutrition and what is in the food they eat, while simultaneously growing and caring for plants rich in nutrients. Medicinal plants will also be cultivated in the gardens, utilizing herbs native to the region. Each section of the garden will be organized by nutrient or illness to be treated (parasites, cold, muscle aches, etc). So far, each community we have met with has expressed enthusiasm for this project, some even additionally asking for help in creating smaller gardens for each family.
I´ve been incredibly impressed by how many people I have met working on this project so far have jumped on board, offering their time and expertise to make it possible. I can certainly say that I would be nowhere without them. Things are beginning to unfold, as we have a set list of communities, and seeds to plant...the only thing that we have yet to take care of, and is likely going to be the most difficult, is designing each particular garden and figuring out what can grow where, as the terrains are extremely different. As we are high up in the Andes, most of the plots of land are on either steep or uneven terrain, making water runoff a concern.
I´ve also been working mornings at the CEMOPLAF clinic (roughly the Ecuadorian equivalent of planned Parenthood) in Cajabamba. I worked here last summer, but I would definitely say things have changed. I´ve been working in the clinic with a reed alum, who is also completing her residency as an opthalmologist. One day last week, one of the CEMOPLAF gynecologists informed us that we would have to take over the clinic for a day because she had an important meeting in Quito that day. In one day, we underwent a crash course in gynecology, what to prescribe for various infections, how to perform pap smears, administer depo-provera injections, and to take care of other family planning issues. Fortunately the resident was a licensed GP, so we weren´t totally out in the dark.
In those first two days, we had to tell two very young women that they were pregnant. Neither of them were married, and explained that they had no one to help them take care of their potential children. They both asked for abortions (one essentially begged), and we had to tell them that there was nothing we could do for them, because abortion is illegal in Ecuador. The only thing we could offer was a birth plan and if they did decide to go get an abortion at some underground establishment, to immediately come back for a checkup and to start on a family planning program. The province of Chimborazo (we´re located in Cantón Colta or Colta County) is home to Ecuador´s largest population of indigenous Kichwa Catholics and Evangelicals, so going home to one´s religious community pregnant without being married brings about a great deal of potential conflict and strife for the pregnant woman.
One of the women in the communities we work in recently gave birth to a child out of wedlock. The baby was healthy, but due to various pressures, the mother let the child die. It is relatively known by people in the community what happened, but when asked about what happened or how the mother is doing, people shrug their shoulders in effort to avoid discussion. This is only the second time this has happened in that particular community, but it is a fairly common problem in this area. Women who have their first sexual experience in this province have often received little or no sex education or information about family planning (due to community restrictions, although thanks to CEMOPLAF, this pattern is changing) and often become pregnant. I can´t imagine how difficult it must be to be told that there are no safe options for receiving an abortion.
I´ve been incredibly impressed by how many people I have met working on this project so far have jumped on board, offering their time and expertise to make it possible. I can certainly say that I would be nowhere without them. Things are beginning to unfold, as we have a set list of communities, and seeds to plant...the only thing that we have yet to take care of, and is likely going to be the most difficult, is designing each particular garden and figuring out what can grow where, as the terrains are extremely different. As we are high up in the Andes, most of the plots of land are on either steep or uneven terrain, making water runoff a concern.
I´ve also been working mornings at the CEMOPLAF clinic (roughly the Ecuadorian equivalent of planned Parenthood) in Cajabamba. I worked here last summer, but I would definitely say things have changed. I´ve been working in the clinic with a reed alum, who is also completing her residency as an opthalmologist. One day last week, one of the CEMOPLAF gynecologists informed us that we would have to take over the clinic for a day because she had an important meeting in Quito that day. In one day, we underwent a crash course in gynecology, what to prescribe for various infections, how to perform pap smears, administer depo-provera injections, and to take care of other family planning issues. Fortunately the resident was a licensed GP, so we weren´t totally out in the dark.
In those first two days, we had to tell two very young women that they were pregnant. Neither of them were married, and explained that they had no one to help them take care of their potential children. They both asked for abortions (one essentially begged), and we had to tell them that there was nothing we could do for them, because abortion is illegal in Ecuador. The only thing we could offer was a birth plan and if they did decide to go get an abortion at some underground establishment, to immediately come back for a checkup and to start on a family planning program. The province of Chimborazo (we´re located in Cantón Colta or Colta County) is home to Ecuador´s largest population of indigenous Kichwa Catholics and Evangelicals, so going home to one´s religious community pregnant without being married brings about a great deal of potential conflict and strife for the pregnant woman.
One of the women in the communities we work in recently gave birth to a child out of wedlock. The baby was healthy, but due to various pressures, the mother let the child die. It is relatively known by people in the community what happened, but when asked about what happened or how the mother is doing, people shrug their shoulders in effort to avoid discussion. This is only the second time this has happened in that particular community, but it is a fairly common problem in this area. Women who have their first sexual experience in this province have often received little or no sex education or information about family planning (due to community restrictions, although thanks to CEMOPLAF, this pattern is changing) and often become pregnant. I can´t imagine how difficult it must be to be told that there are no safe options for receiving an abortion.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
A Princess in the Tower: or Why Machismo is the Scum of the Earth
Today I was reminded of how my identity as a female takes on a meaning different than from what I am comfortably used to in my happy liberal existence on the West Coast. That´s right, I´m not just a human being who happens to be walking down the street, but I apparently bear similar physical properties (and perhaps mental in the eyes of some) to that of a slow-cooked shawarma (a delicious and popular snack in La Mariscal, the part of Quito I´m currently living ing). I was walking with a friend to go to an art exhibition put on by a formerly exiled feminist artist (her work is amazing. Check it out: http://sandrafernandez.info/default.php), when a man of about 75 years of age drove by, licking his lips and saying "how tasty" in our direction. Nearly moments after that, upon entering the museum, another gentleman decided it would be ok to stroke my arm as he passed by. I could feel myself boiling with anger, yet I didn´t have the desire to make anything else of it. I shrugged off the disconted at having been so disrespected and continued to enjoy the rest of the day.
La Mariscal, (un)affectionately known as Gringolandia, is the place to go if you´re between the ages of tall-enough-to-reach.-the-bar and 50, providing a garden-variety bars, discotecas, fancy cafes, and kitschy tourist shops. It´s also the hippest spot to go if your a pick-pocket, as there are many gringos around with pockets wide open (I actually met someone who got $1,000.00 stolen out of his pocket yesterday...oops). Having street smarts in a place like this is a necessary skill. If one lacks them, they will learn them quickly here.
Walking back from a movie, a friend and I skillfully dodged being accosted by another individual. Rather pissed off and racing with adrenaline, we returned to our abode, or the tower as we have come to call it, where we find ourselves kept safe and sound behind 5 locks (that´s the norm for most houses in Ecuador, btw). It was 9:30 and we were stuck behind these infernal bars of safety, knowing that our identities as females made us vulnerable. I hate feeling like a victim just as much as I hate describing myself as such. But, plainly put, it sucks when you become aware of the fact that your actions and your sense of agency are suddenly limited by the world around you. I am grateful for the fact that I am priviledged enough in that I don´t usually come across this type of sexism, yet it´s experiences like these that make social/racial/gender inequalities much more of a reality. I´m stuck in a rut, because I know that my experience of machismo as a priviledged white woman is perhaps different from that of an Ecuatoriana (because our politically correct selves can´t pretend that this power dynamic is invisible), and as problematic as that may be, I still feel anger for having my personhood (and that of others)diminished.
La Mariscal, (un)affectionately known as Gringolandia, is the place to go if you´re between the ages of tall-enough-to-reach.-the-bar and 50, providing a garden-variety bars, discotecas, fancy cafes, and kitschy tourist shops. It´s also the hippest spot to go if your a pick-pocket, as there are many gringos around with pockets wide open (I actually met someone who got $1,000.00 stolen out of his pocket yesterday...oops). Having street smarts in a place like this is a necessary skill. If one lacks them, they will learn them quickly here.
Walking back from a movie, a friend and I skillfully dodged being accosted by another individual. Rather pissed off and racing with adrenaline, we returned to our abode, or the tower as we have come to call it, where we find ourselves kept safe and sound behind 5 locks (that´s the norm for most houses in Ecuador, btw). It was 9:30 and we were stuck behind these infernal bars of safety, knowing that our identities as females made us vulnerable. I hate feeling like a victim just as much as I hate describing myself as such. But, plainly put, it sucks when you become aware of the fact that your actions and your sense of agency are suddenly limited by the world around you. I am grateful for the fact that I am priviledged enough in that I don´t usually come across this type of sexism, yet it´s experiences like these that make social/racial/gender inequalities much more of a reality. I´m stuck in a rut, because I know that my experience of machismo as a priviledged white woman is perhaps different from that of an Ecuatoriana (because our politically correct selves can´t pretend that this power dynamic is invisible), and as problematic as that may be, I still feel anger for having my personhood (and that of others)diminished.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Embarcamos! We begin!
Hello dearest friends and family!
Instead of sending out mass emails, I thought setting up a blog might be in order. I have no idea how much computer access I´ll have (it depends on how much time I spend out of Quito), but I figure it would be far less obnoxious for you to check up on the happenings down here at your own leisure than for me to bombard your mailboxes.
I promise I will make upcoming posts more exciting, but I am losing the battle against the jet lag behemoth, so I only have the energy to set things up. more to come!
much love!
robin
Instead of sending out mass emails, I thought setting up a blog might be in order. I have no idea how much computer access I´ll have (it depends on how much time I spend out of Quito), but I figure it would be far less obnoxious for you to check up on the happenings down here at your own leisure than for me to bombard your mailboxes.
I promise I will make upcoming posts more exciting, but I am losing the battle against the jet lag behemoth, so I only have the energy to set things up. more to come!
much love!
robin
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