Agua Blues and United America

A line from a song keeps repeating in my head, "Hold on to yourself, for this is gonna hurt like hell." I think we make decisions in life, knowing that they're going to hurt like hell, but expecting great things to come from the experiences that result from them. If it goes badly, we still have learned something. Here in the jungle, after my first session of teaching is nearing an end, I have decided to hold on hope. Things haven't been perfect, as a matter of fact, there have been plenty of obstacles and difficulties. First, to the problems.                                                                                   One of my principal sources of frustration has been a water pump. I know it sounds pretty trivial, but let me explain. At the high school, we have a water pump with a small, pull-start, Honda 4.0, which brings water down when it refuses to do so naturally. Strangely enough, even though we've had plenty of rain lately, the pump has been needed every day for the past couple of weeks. Without running the pump for about 15 minutes, we have no water, which means no water for the very frustrated cook and no water for the people who come out of the showers with shampoo still in their hair. We definitely want to keep the cook happy, he cooks much better when he's happy. This really hasn't been a big issue; the pump works very well, it's not difficult to start and it gets the job done, that is, until someone breaks it. As I mentioned before, the pump runs for about 15 minutes and must then be shut off before it burns up. During one such occasion, last week, I started up the pump during a rainstorm (it's covered by its own little shed). After 10 or 15 minutes, I went running to cut it off and conveniently found, on my way, a perfectly hidden little hole to turn my ankle in and I bit it hard. I know I'm not that old, but, at that moment, I felt that I would much prefer to stay there on the ground with the rain pouring down on me than force myself up, limping away. Fortunately, I didn't sprain the ankle, but I have been nursing it for about a week now. It is still a little tender, but I'll live.

I mentioned that the pump works fine until someone breaks it, right? Well I suppose that it was inevitable, but I still felt like it could have been prevented somehow. Wish in one hand and fill up the other... For some reason, it never occurred to me to teach at least a handful of students how to start up the pump and adjust the throttle. The pump engine, like many small engines, has an ignition switch, a fuel on/off switch and a throttle. In order to start the engine, the ignition must be in the "on" position as well as the fuel switch. If you have performed neither of these steps, you can pull on the damn thing all you want (or at least until you break it), but it won't start. That is precisely what happened. When in the jungle, improvise. I wrapped up a piece of string around the crank and, carefully, pull started it in that manner. I was not thrilled. I was, on the other hand, very much impressed with how fast I was able to get the spring replaced in the coil assembly the next day. Just like that, we were back in the water pumping business, just in time for lunch the next day.

For my next complaint, I will hardly waste much of your time whining about it. I just wanted to clarify that I have officially discovered that you CAN get a cold in the jungle. For the last 4 or 5 days, I have been fighting a sore throat and a runny nose. On the other hand, the extreme heat that we have been experiencing lately is helping my little gripe on its way out. Today, it is cold and rainy...

Let's get to some of the good stuff, shall we?

I have just 5 short days left with the students before we get 8 whole days off for break between the first and second sessions. This first session, we have had 18 students, from 5th and 6th course. The students from the 6th course, there are ten of them, will be going to the lodge in the next session, while the 8 from 5th course will be staying on for another session with us at the high school. There are 3 groups of students in total. To simplify the explanation, during any given session, one group will be in the lodge, one in the high school and one in external internships. I think every group has a total of 3-4 sessions of 3-4 weeks with us at the high school. I'm very satisfied with how things have been going in my classes, the students have been great.

I'll go over a few of the things that we have been doing. During the first week, I wanted to get them thinking critically and simply observing life in general and I conducted a Basic Reading Inventory to determine the students' reading levels. You wouldn't believe it, or maybe you would, but a big problem has been just getting these kids to stop and think about things meditatively. I took them on a short excursion, asking them what their thoughts and observations were about the water source, the tree, the bridge, the path, etc. I had them write down their observations and later describe something using a variety of adjectives. We did a short unit on poetry:

"Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines"
Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tries to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

· Pablo Neruda- From Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair

The students wrote some great poems, I was most touched by a girl who was brave enough to write to me about her father that passed away 5 years ago and how she coped with that loss. For the last week, we have been exploring. Alongside Ernesto Guevara de la Serna and Alberto Granado we have gone from Buenos Aires, south to Bariloche, into Chile, north to Perú and the land of the Inca. Ever progressing northward, we floated up the Amazon river and eventually ended up in Venezuela. We actually read the Motorcycle Diaries together in class, out loud. To finish up the lesson, we had a movie night on Friday, with popcorn, and compared the book with the film. I will give you a preview of the book if you haven't read it, this is my favorite part: Ernesto gives a speech during a birthday celebration at a leper colony where he volunteers for a few days in Perú, he proceeds, 

Even though we are too insignificant to be spokesmen for such a noble cause, we believe, and this journey has only confirmed this belief, that the division of American into unstable and illusory nations is a complete fiction. We are one single mestizo race from Mexico [from Canada/US?] to the Magellan Straits. And so, in an attempt to free ourselves from narrow minded provincialism, I propose a toast to Perú and to a united America. 

Just think, if they named the continent after Columbus and not Amerigo, people from the US would now be calling themselves Colombians instead of Americans. Think on this, the term "Americas" refers to the entire continent, from North to South America. Did you ever think that we are all Americans, from Ecuadorians to Canadians? Think about it.

I've been discussing some hot, polemic topics with the students. If you get a chance to sit down and think about it, throw around the following topics: Should Latin America be united?, Are trade relations between the US and Latin America fair?, What do you know about the history of international relations between the States and Latin America? and What do you know about labor exploitation south of the border? This is only a handful of the things we have been talking about.

I'll end with a couple of photos and let them explain my other activities. I took a canoe to the market one day and, today, observed some pretty incredible flooding. Compare the last two photos, what's missing in the second?

And...if I've left you with too much catharsis, this should fix that right up: 

Caete del árbol y pudrete

I have a new favorite insult, it's simply epic! Last night, at dinner, while chatting with the students, one of the students, Alexis, asks me, "How do you say, in English, 'caete del árbol y pudrete'." I could hardly contain my laughter to tell him what the translation would be. After I accomplished containing my laughter, I told him that the English equivalent would be, "Fall from a tree and rot." Up until now, I have written a lot about the jungle, the school and the surroundings, but I haven't said much about the students. This has mainly been due to the fact that I hadn't quite gotten to know them well enough to tell you all about them. 


I'd like to start out with my initial observation, these kids are tough. On the day that we moved from the lodge to the school, we had to haul up all of that luggage that I mentioned before. Mine was the worst, not necessarily because of the weight, but rather the size and shape of the bag. It's one of those big uprights with four wheels, very handy in the airport, not so much in the muddy jungle. I would put the weight of it at about 65lbs., so I guess it weighed enough too. We loaded up all of the luggage onto a canoe and headed downriver for about 5 minutes, when we got to the school port, we saw the sign saying that it was a 400 meter trek to the school. Four hundred meters trekking with that awkward four-wheeled beast. 


The students came to help us with the carrying. These guys are all very short and the look pretty small, but they are made of stronger stuff than I. Robinson, the kid I am now calling Tractor, began helping me carry my beast of a suitcase. We got a short distance and Tractor tells me, "Let me lift it up onto my shoulders," I looked at him like he was crazy. Next thing I know, he tosses this 65lb. monster onto his shoulders and takes of running towards the school with it. He didn't stop until he got to the bottom of the stair path that leads up to the school. At that point, when I finally caught up to him and, out of pure embarrassment that he had lugged that thing so far, I offered to take over. I hauled that damn thing up the stairs on my shoulders like a champ and I felt like I could die by the time I got to the top.       


The other day, when I took a group of students up the river to a community to acquire provisions for the school, a similar thing happened. The stove in the kitchen is run off of propane tanks, we took four empty ones with us to the port. I easily managed an empty tank. When we returned with four tanks full of propane, once again the fours students readily grabbed the tanks, threw them on their backs and headed off in a steady trot to the school. 


Life here, as I'm sure you are beginning to catch on to with my other posts, is a little rough. Things take longer to do, things are harder to do and the elements love to work against you. Getting materials into the jungle is an incredible challenge, as you just found out. Needless to say, these kids learn and adapt to it. Despite all of the challenges, difficulties and setbacks, I have yet to hear many complaints, if any. I had an enlightening moment the other day when there was no water, "Let's just climb up there through the jungle in the middle of the night and figure out why!" I have come to the realization that we, in the US, and many other parts of the developed world (especially in cities) have gotten use to complain about very petty inconveniences. We complain if we lose power for a few hours or a night, try only having it three hours a day. We gripe about the heat, try being in the middle of the Amazon without air conditioning. Hot water for a shower? Forget about it. It's going to rain for a few days straight? Put on a rain coat and get used to it. Life is slower here and people deal, what's more, they're happy. My students have been organizing little dances nightly; they get together, put on some good music and just have a good time, jungle or not.  


I have been really impressed and happy with my students. In these past few days, they have been helping me to realize why I'm here. Trust me, it's not for the bugs, snakes, heat, humidity and mud. I've realized that I'm going to do my best to stick with them for the year because they deserve it. In class, I've been talking with them about some philosophical things and getting them to think critically. One student said to me today, after I asked what they would do to try to fix the problems we're facing, that they would invite people down to the jungle so that they can see first hand what we're trying to protect and why it's so important for them. She knew well enough that if a person can't see the damage that they're causing, they will just keep on causing it. 


For now, I'll leave you to think on that a little. Let me know what you come up with. In the meantime, please don't fall from a tree and rot. 

Not a Friend

Found a pretty interesting and rather large and furry spider in my room, took its picture, trapped it in a container and took it down and asked the chef about it. The chef informed me that it was pretty venomous and that we should kill it. It died shortly after its photo shoot. Later on, I find out from a native guide that it's a Brazilian Wandering Spider (look it up), which can eff up your world with a bite. I guess it can give you incredibly intense pain for up to 10-12 hours, give you a heart attack if you're allergic or kill you if you're a child or senior.

Folsom photo show

Took me a while to get my bed net all rigged up right, but it was definitely worth it, trust me. 

This is one of my spider pets, outside my room window. I decided that it was a better idea to keep them there and let them eat bugs that try to get in.

Another spider buddy. 

Spiders are friends. 

Hydroelectric power system. 

This is the generator that we use for power in the night. It can only be on for 3 hours, we usually run it from 18:30 to 21:30

Happy and motivated students, especially when they're just getting out of class, like in this photo. 

Part of the hydroelectric power system. 

Banana tree farm!

This photo is especially for my old boss at the bank, Beth Dailey.

Bananas, yummm! This photo is also for Beth.

One of the main power sources, hydroelectric. 

Cuento de Chris viendo llover en Mondaña

After making my way back to Quito from Baños, referred to as Baesa in my previous post, I spent another week there. As soon as I was starting to feel Quiteño, getting around easily, recognizing where I was going and how the bus routes worked, it was time for "welcome to the jungle".

My last week in Quito was mostly spent finishing up some business, getting to know the latest arrivals that I would be working with and trying to organize some planning for teaching purposes. I also got the opportunity to visit one of the wealthiest universities in Ecuador, La Universidad de San Francisco, also known by the locals as San Pancho. I went with Amanda, another new Yachana instructor, as well as accompanied by a new friend, Daniel, the study abroad coordinator there and a big time Yachana volunteer. We walked right through the security checkpoint without being asked a single question. According to Daniel, this was mostly because of our white complexion. The president of Ecuador has apparently waged an informal war on the university. I take it that the first shot, however, was fired by the university when their security guard refused entrance to a black student because he didn't have his id card with him. Obviously, this provoked quite a bit of national polemic. The part of Quito where this university if found is astonishingly white and exceptionally privileged for Ecuador, and, as Forest Gump said, "That's all I've got to say about that."

The library at San Pancho was somewhat useful and I was able to find a few materials that might be useful for teaching. Fortunately, I have brought with me some materials, books, etc. that I should be able to put to good use. One fantastic thing about Latin America is the complete disregard for intellectual property rights, any book, dvd, cd, etc. can be quickly reduplicated and put to good use. I don't feel so bad about it in this case because the photocopies of my books will be used for a very good cause.

My last day in Quito was rich! Mónica, the person I stayed with for the last two weeks in Quito, is, among other things, incredibly nice, accommodating and genuine. She took me out to lunch on Thursday, to a place where they had incredibly delicious hamburgers and followed that up with a visit to a place called Corfu, where you can find some of the best iced cream in Ecuador. My favorite flavor is Ron Pasas, literally Rum Raisins, it sort of tastes like eggnog and I combined it with the classic, Dulce de Leche. That alone

On to the jungle book. We were very fortunate to have met Daniel, not only because he has been an incredible coordinator and organizer, but also because he owns a very nice Ford Ecosport (the slightly smaller Ecuadorian version of the Escape). With the poor mini SUV loaded down with around 500 lbs. of cargo, tied tight to the luggage rack with nylon twine, we headed off to the jungle. The way there was not too bad, lot's of expected twists and turns through the mountains and great views of sharp drop-offs and road wash outs, but all of that's about par. The only bad part was when the nice paved highway turned into river rock hell. The "little Ecosport that could" charged on through huge dips, high rocks, sizable water holes, etc. Mostly due to the considerable weight we had loaded on the poor thing, there were several bottom outs and a yanked out brake line, those are mostly for looks, right?

We drove quite literally to the edge of a river, the Napo, one of the biggest tributaries (I believe that's the correct usage/term) of the Amazon River system. The is the river that I'm now living no less than 400 meters from. We loaded up the biggest canoe I've ever seen in my life, had to be about 30 ft., with all of the luggage. At that point, I was really beginning to regret taking a four-wheeled upright suitcase into the Amazon jungle, weighing around 60lbs./40+ kilos. no less. In ten minutes we were to the other side. We managed to drag all of our belongings to the cabin that we would be staying in for a few days; we had arrived to Yachana Lodge.

The following is a list of some of my primary reactions: "Wow, this is beautiful, I'm breathing very well with this awesome air, damn, it's hot, where the hell have I gotten myself?, Oh damn, what now? and, even still, it really is amazingly unique and beautiful here." I can honestly say that I have never experienced a place on earth like this. On canoe approach, looking at the river banks, I was wondering to myself where any civilization would fit into the picture; Yachana is craftily and carefully hidden right in with the landscape. The jungle growth masks everything. The lodge is very nice, the dining area is incredible, complete with a full service bar that I will, as the founder was sure to remind all of us teachers, will not be drinking from ever. They have computers, very well designed stone walking paths, diverse plant life, a very friendly staff, many of whom are graduates of the high school, decent internet (satellite, which I am using now), and a mascot, a little baby otter that follows everyone around waiting for it's next fish serving. The cabins at Yachana can best be compared to those of any state park in the States, it's basically like camping out.

After spending a few days at the lodge, planning, having several meetings and being generally spoiled by the incredible food, accommodations and service, it was time to go to school, Yachana Technical High School.  To get to the high school from the lodge, you must walk through Mondaña. It's a "town," if you can call it that, of around fifty people, that has a few small houses, a medical center built and donated by Yachana, a general store that I have yet to see open and a one classroom school with a big covered basketball court adjacent to it. I think much of this was built by, "let's save the world by changing everyone's culture and getting them to adopt our's," Peace Core gringos, especially the big gaudy, always deserted, basketball court. Fortunately, that is not what Yachana is about. I've been told that there are both a doc and nurse on staff in the health clinic that can administer anti-venom, should the worst happen and someone gets bitten by a fun-loving poisonous culebra (snake). From Mondaña, it's about ten more minutes, trudging through the mud and up in down hills in blister causing, yet mud and water resisting, rubber boots.

If my reaction to the lodge was a bit of a freak-out, that was nothing compared to how I felt after getting to the high school. Not all of the experience can be great. My room at the high school, at first sight, reminded me of a Goosebumps book I read when I was a kid. The design of school dormitories are, there is not much better way I can think to describe it, laid out like cell blocks. There is a girls wing and a guys wing, an upper corridor and a lower corridor and the rooms are all lined up with the doors facing outward. I've taken to affectionately calling the corridor I'm staying on, "D Block". I won't lie, I've had the Folsom Blues the first few days.

I have felt much better about the entire situation today, I just needed to get over the initial shock, the "oh shit factor" was high at first. I've gotten very comfortable in my room. I have everything unpacked for the first time in weeks, I got the floor well swept, I have shelf space, and I've rigged up my toldo, or bed net, which I am sitting up in my bed typing under right now. You should see the size of the bugs here! On my first night in this room, I did battle with a hissing cock roach that was almost as big as the shoe I used to kill it. I've made friends with the new generator that provides power for all of the school buildings, I'm really not sure if it's quite enough for all of the demand they're placing on it. Just tonight, I made a night trip with the school chef and a machete (remember what culebra means?), up to the water tanks to unblock the pipes. I kind of like these little odd jobs and I feel very adept to doing them.

Apart from unblocking water tanks in the middle of the night, the chef serves up quite a bit of rice with everything. I've heard a lot of complaints about the food so far, but it's, if anything, filling and doesn't really taste bad. Tonight we had rice mixed with beans and small cuts of beef along with a sweet tamale served up in a banana leaf and a hot cinnamon juice to drink.

After days of talks and planning, we finally met with the students today. I guess I'm just getting old, because they all look and sound very very young. They all seem anxious, happy about life in general, motivated, ridiculously hardworking, tough and determined. After a morning's worth of interviews with them, I'm feeling very excited about teaching! Tomorrow, at 07:00, I teach my first course/session of literature and humanities at Yachana, I'm definitely all about it.

I'd like to end with a comment about the rain. Márquez wrote that, one day, it started raining in Macondo and it never stopped. Well he must have been thinking about a place like this because it just starts raining sometimes and you can´t tell if it will ever have an end. It might be one of the things I love the most so far, it´s just a smooth, replenishing and refreshing rain that seems interminable. I could just sit and watch it all day.

People Change, Things Stay the Same

Cameron (okay, so I couldn’t think of a better character name than Cameron) walked up the hill, the compound door closing behind him as he continued. It was early on a Thursday morning, but, because of where he was, the sun was already as brilliant as he ever remembered. He went accompanied by Sara, one of those near and dear friends that only worried about others, never thinking about herself. As soon as they reached the top of the hill, the exhaust fumes where clear, the horns were in full function and the cars went flying by. Sara soon saw the bus she needed, she said goodbye and she was gone in an instant. 
Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen, he had gotten used to waiting for the exact bus he needed. On previous days, when he didn’t need it, there were at least three or four of those buses that passed by just shortly after he got to the top of the hill. It’s not really that he minded the wait, things moved a lot slower since the move and it really never bothered him, really that’s how he preferred it. Next thing, doors opening, driver’s assistant shouting, and, "Welcome to another overly packed bus, with more people than should ever be allowed on something that goes that fast." 
Twenty or thirty minutes to the transfer station, and then it was on to their version of a subway system, basically a bus with its own traffic lanes. From there, only ten or fifteen minutes more. He got off at the right stop this time; he learned the hard way the day before. Fortunately, the woman he was meeting up with only lived a block from there. He had recently made acquaintances with Joanna, who would be working with him in the same foundation. It had been a long time since he had to make new friends, add to that the fact that time and life had made him much more apprehensive and guarded, and it was a little more difficult than it ever was before. On the other hand, she was nice enough and he really needed to try to get back to where he was before. In the end, he opted for just not worrying about those kinds of things; life is simple, but we complicate it.
"Hola, buen día, ¿cómo amaneciste?" He had never greeted people in the morning with, "¿cómo amaneciste?", a rough translation would be, "How did you do getting up this morning?", but this was the common morning salute, and it had already caught on with him. After a brief chat with the doorman about how to get to the train station, they were off. 
The train station was remarkably empty; there must have been a handful of people, no more. Finding the appropriate ticketing counter was easy enough, if not for the fact that there were three different agencies for the same trip. On the other hand, one would always be fifty cents cheaper than the other, and that was the one they wanted. Three dollars turned out to be the final price. With a train terminal it’s hard to get lost; you just have to find the right car you supposed to be in. True to his previous ticketing experiences, Cameron found that they had mislabeled theirs with a train car that didn’t exist. After walking from one end of the train to the steam engine and back, there it was, the car that, formerly, didn’t exist, no. 51.They got on just as the fossil of a machine began to lurch forward.
From the outside, you would have wondered what was holding the thing together, but, on the inside, it was great. He thought back to when he rode a train in Mindundo, to Cataño, a place where it never snowed, except for that day, when he was on a train that had no heat and broken windows. The train from Canto, the one he had just boarded, was really magnificent in comparison. The seats were suede, the floors were tiled and the people were nice; Cameron had yet to see snow in Canto, so he hoped for good things. The way there was and wasn’t like he remembered; there he wondered if it was him or if was the mountains. 
Downhill or down mountain, the train picked up speed to the point that it began to scare a bit. Cameron thought back to his days working on the train yards in Idaca and the repairs he did daily on the air brake system. True to his characteristic and classic lack of tact, he made a comment to Joanna about the noise the brakes made as they went charging downward, "I hope the conductor knows how to use those brakes, the noise from the ventilation of the brakes sounds right enough I suppose."
It turns out that the brakes were working fine, because they got to Baes without problems. The people there lived off of tourism; Cameron wasn’t sure if it was for that reason that they were so much nicer, or if it was simply because Baes is so small and isolated. Either way, his experiences there were much more relaxed than they had been in Canto. Even though it was the same as before, the place made all of the difference. He felt himself thinking more in the past than ever, reflecting and trying to figure things out. 
That night, he had a couple of smokes, not because he wanted to pick up the habit again, but because he felt nostalgic enough to long for the solitary practice of sitting or standing alone on a roof top, taking a drag, letting it go and staring into the distance, staring down below or staring at nothing in particular. Sure enough, he later passed the rest of the half pack of Lucky Reds to a man on the street that looked like he could use a smoke more than himself. 
During the days, they walked, hiked and got to know the small town that was Baes. By the third day, they almost felt like locals. Really that wasn’t the worse thing, they only had one day left in that small, between the mountains, town.