Fire Season
August in Ecuador is vacation time. Schools are out and families go traveling so teaching classes is very, very slow…
Which is why I love September! Classes start up again and my work schedule resumes some semblance of normalcy.
While the weather in the States should be cooling down, we’re dealing with our own special kind of heat wave. Because we’re in the mountains, it doesn’t technically get very hot, not like up north, but it does get dry. Thanks to a combination of people burning their trash, tossing cigarettes, and actual arson, this means that like in California, it’s wildfire season in Quito. So far there have been at least two forest fires burning per day around the city, filling the air with smoke, and adding to the ash already drifting in from Cotopaxi.
I heard that Cotopaxi erupting has been in the news in the States, and I can tell everyone that Quito is in a greater state of emergency (which is not at all) over the fires catching all over the place, than it is about the volcano. That doesn’t necessarily mean that there is no danger from Cotopaxi potentially experiencing a large eruption, but there’s not much that can be done about it. Transportation has already been reopened passing the ash spewing volcano and I have personally traveled on the road twice already and lived to both tell the tail- and take photographs.
Pastor Jaime and his wife Wilma
I braved the fuming mountain the first time, to get to Puyo, where I am currently working on putting together a photo directory for the church there! 
They have never had a photo directory or any other kind of directory before, and when I mentioned the project to the pastor, he was very excited by the idea. So for my next couple of visits there, I will be photographing the families and members and groups associated with the Kairos, as well as taking photos of the church itself and compiling everyone’s contact information. Once I’m done I hope to organize everything into a directory that Kairos can print and distribute to their community. It is my hope that this project, when completed, will serve as a resource that the church will be able to use to bring its community closer together by enabling them to sty better connected and aware of who each other is! I have used our GPC directory more times than I can count over the years and I can’t imagine trying to do without it- being able to find and get in touch with people!
The second time I braved Cotopaxi was just this past weekend in order to get out to Rio Bamba and teach my monthly knitting and crochet class to the ladies out in Columbe. I finally learned to knit socks! And I have been teaching the women there to do it too. I had to make my own double pointed needles out of bamboo kabob sticks because so far I haven’t been able to find any for sale in Quito! Alas…) In true Ecuadorian fashion, I arrived in Rio Bamba (after calling ahead to check in the day before) to be informed that the women could not come for class because there was going to be a Food Festival in their village- where all the various communities would be coming to cook and sell their traditional foods, while others performed traditional dances.
So instead of teaching class, I helped make quinoa empanadas with the ladies down in the village. Sadly, I did not take any pictures of this event, out of respect for the community. It doesn’t do to behave like a tourist when you’re trying to fit in and build relationships…
(But I did get a photo of me with Gladys, afterwards, back in the community…)
In Carmen Bajo I am working on completing a mural, in the cafeteria of the Project, that was begun by a visiting team over a year ago- but never finished! I am also planning on doing some murals out in some of the churches around Columbe and Rio Bamba over the next months- which should be lots of fun!
At Casa A it has been mostly business as usual, except for the addition of several new residents (some of them with little kids.) So in just a month, my class size there has tripled, which is still not a lot of girls, but it’s all about quality- not quantity. We’ve been continuing classes more regularly, which has allowed me to work on introducing some art therapy projects to more directly help the girls in recovering from the different traumas they have had to survive. The current project is a long term one, so there’s nothing to report on it yet.
Although I can’t disclose specifics about any of the girls or their stories, I would ask for prayers for all of them, that they find healing, faith, and security, as they struggle to raise their children (those who have them) and that they over come the terrible things they have had to survive.
Spring Maddness
Photo class on Pichincha.
So Ecuador doesn’t really have “Spring” but I know that it’s been going on in the States and is about burn up into Summer! The weather here has finally dried out and turned to windy and dry- scorching hot during the day and then chilly at night- but at least it’s no longer constantly raining!
Carmen knitting on her bed.
May was a wonderfully full month. The team hosts for the summer teams arrived and I helped with training while keeping up with my usual classes. I traveled out to Rio Bamba to resume crochet and knitting classes (for which I taught myself to knit socks!) And upon my arrival discovered that there was a “minga” going on in the community. A “minga” in Ecuador is when there is some sort of need in the community- sort of like a barn raising- in which everyone in the community is expected to help out and participate. These are particularly prolific in the agrarian culture of the Quichua, where community members are still very much interdependent on one another. In this particular case it was a “water minga,” and while I’m not entirely sure what that is it sounds very important. Needless to say, despite being forewarned of my arrival several weeks ahead of time there weren’t many women about that day! But I was invited by one of the women, Carmen, to come to her house were we had our own private class until some other women showed up later in the day.
Sonnet and I post race in the stadium.
June 7th, Sonnet (my roommate) and I ran together in a 15K (roughly 9.3 miles). Sadly, the website that is supposed to post our times has not been functioning so I don’t know how long it took- but it started far south of in the city and cut across the historical district, ending at the Olympic Stadium in the North central part of town- thankfully- just one short mile from our house! There were so many people! It was crazy, but awesome.
Looking down on Quito.
Almost immediately after the race, barely showered and not rested at all, we hitched a ride on the teleferico up to the top of Pichincha (the volcano we all live on here) to help out with translating and aiding in a photography class with the Casa Gabriel boys (the home for former street kids run by Youth World.)
The photography class we helped out with on Pichincha was being taught by a visitor from the states, a fellow artist and art teacher, N C, from Montana. For two weeks she lived with Sonnet and I and traveled back and forth between Casa Adhalia and Casa Gabriel (the boys and girls ministries for street kids and girls rescued from or at risk of trafficking) teaching intensive photography classes.
It was a great pleasure to be involved and work along side another artist and see what could be accomplished with a team (or two other people) participating in instruction and organization.
The girls and boys both responded extremely well to learning about photography and in particular to being taught that their perspective matters and that they have something to offer the world through it. The two weeks of classes and photo-taking concluded with a professional gallery show, which we organized, of select works by the boys and girls, which we set up at the Youth World office. 
Exhibition night.
After much worrying about whether many people would come, with just a weeks notice, there was an excellent turn out of support from the community and rave reviews of the quality of the show! It was a great affirmation and encouragement for our young photographers! And also a very energizing and refreshing experience for me, as I so often work and travel alone.
Exchanging rings
In the middle of all this I was notified at the last moment (the Monday before on the week of) that my good friends Ledi and Vinicio would be getting married that Friday and would I, could I, come? Of course I wanted to be there so I rearranged my schedule and traveled to Puyo at the last minute, inspite of having a nasty cold and needing to be back in Quito the next day. In true Ecuador fashion, the ceremony started over an hour late- but it was lovely and sweet and well worth the trip.
First kiss? Probably not…
I actually “caught” the bouquet- but through no effort of my own! (The other girls literally held my arm out and the bride intentionally threw it in my direction.) Apparently it’s time for me to get married…
Alive and Well
Easter sunrise service in the mountains.
Every time it’s been months since my last post, I apologize profusely and swear I will be more diligent in updating my blog more frequently. But since I fail consistently at keeping up with that resolution, I’m not going to bother this time around. Instead I’m just going to dive right in!
Late March was a bit frustrating this time around because I actually had a number of classes fall through, due to scheduling problems for my students. While I was away for three months in the States, people got jobs, their children’s school schedules changed (here in Ecuador kids may have classes that either start in the morning and go until the afternoon or start in the afternoon and go until seven pm at night.) It’s always amazing how quickly and suddenly things can change, but it doesn’t always feel amazing. Personally I was feeling a little more than disappointed. My disappointment was then compounded by being mugged by two guys with a box cutter as I walked home one afternoon from the metro. Any violent altercation where your personal safety and liberty is violated in any way is shaking, but I was more angry than anything. Regardless, I was unharmed, minus the loss of personal effects (a bag of art supplies, my keys, my mace, my ipod, and my umbrella- in the rain no less!) But the Lord was watching after me even then- because I did put up a bit of a fight and would not relinquish my death grip hold on my cel phone (it is sooooo inconvenient to have to replace all those phone numbers!) and plenty of people are injured if they resist being mugged here. My community was very supportive and caring and checking in on me and my roommate who came running to my aid as soon as she heard. One person, our team coordinator, even came up with a replacement ipod (not as nice as the one I lost but free of charge!) And then, just a week later, late at night I got a sketchy call from someone who had “found” my ipod/phone at a market on the street. Thanks to the Apple Icloud lock/ find my iphone feature, I was able to disable my phone and prevent any future owner from using it. So when said unfortunate person purchased my stolen iphone and tried to use it- all that came up was my number and my “stolen” message. After some haggling and passing the affair over to my team leader to handle in case it was the thieves trying to rob me again, against all odds- I had my own iphone, undamaged and back in my hand for a minor exchange of $25’s! Who could have called that one? The Lord definitely had my back!
(And let’s be honest, it’s a miracle I hadn’t been mugged before now given all the places I travel to alone.)
Mugging and all that aside, after a week or so of discouragement over my classes a new opportunity arose from the chaos that was my unresolved schedule.
One of the girls from Casa Adhalia (rescue home for girls who have been or are at risk of being trafficked) was forced to move out due to conflicts with another girl living there who was antagonizing her to the point of wanting to run away. Though it might seem backwards, the instigator could not be removed from the house out of concern for her four children. Instead, the other girl (we’ll call her Caitlin) was brought to live in the home of the administrators who run Casa Adhalia. Although I cannot tell you her real name or too many personal details about her for safety reasons, I can say that despite having been through a horrific ordeal (she was sold into prostitution by her own mother at the age of eight) she is an amazingly sweet and sensitive girl (now twenty years old and just recently rescued.) As providence would have it, she loves art and working with her hands, which she can do easily- all day long. (Just like me…) So thanks to my unexpected extra free time I have been able to spend two full days a week with her, painting, cooking, and doing other art projects, ministering to both her and the couple she is staying with (who cannot leave her alone but somehow must figure out how to maintain their own busy ministry schedules while she is staying in their home.)
Caitlin’s first painting.
Caitlin’s second painting.
It just goes to show you, that just because things don’t go according to our plans and preferences doesn’t mean that Gods’ plan isn’t right on track. If none of my classes had been canceled, I would not have had the time to dedicate to this small but very important and unexpected ministry.
Meanwhile my other, remaining classes (no I didn’t lose them all, just a few) are back on and going well, particularly my Friday afternoon Art Club with the youth out at Carmen Bajo.
Just this weekend I returned to Puyo out in the jungle and reunited with my friends and almost-family there who I haven’t seen in quite a few months since traveling to the States, and was able to help out with the monthly mission trip into the Amazon by preparing a craft to go with the kids lesson about Esther.
We made neon paper crowns with the verse Esther 4:14.
An excellent and inspiring verse, because who of us ever knows if we are not, at this moment, in just the time and place for which we too were created? A thought for the day.
Three Years and Counting…
Ladies at crochet class in Columbe.
First, I just want to let everyone know that I am alive and well and unharmed by all the earthquakes that we keep having- if not a little bit shaken (haha)…
In May I finished up most of my classes for the summer break as the summer interns began arriving for their training to lead teams. Most of the classes were doing bead embroidery projects which looked amazing and the students really seemed to enjoy! At the end of the month I left for a brief stint in the States- to attend the same arts ministry conference as the year before, in Philadelphia. It was an excellent experience just as the year before- but focused more on the art therapies, trauma, and project planning and was both motivating as well informative and left me with a strong conviction of possible directions when my time in Ecuador is up two years from now.
Fairy Aunt Godmothers with princess Gwen.
Before returning home I had the opportunity to stay with my brother and his family for a few days and was fortunate enough to be present once again for my nieces’ spiderman/princess themed birthday party- for which I came as her fairy aunt godmother.
Once I got back from the states I rested up to help lead a team that arrived from Texas a week later and traveled down to work with the church in Puyo where I serve monthly, aiding in their ministry to different tribal communities in the jungle.
Woodlands team in Kunkukk.
This summer we went to the Shuar community of Kunkukk (pronounced Kon-cookie) where the youth, adults, and local children mixed together with the team to haul large rocks, wet sand, and bags of concrete up a slippery jungle hill to lay the foundation for their church.
Foundation on the hilltop in Kunkukk.
It was back breaking work, particularly in the heat and humidity of the lower Amazon, but the youth from the team bore up under it bravely and made up games to help them keep going as they passed one heavy load after another (such as naming the rocks…)
VBS with kids in Kunkukk.
They ended their time with the community with a festive despedida (goodbye party) during which we sat together on logs under their meeting hut as the children came forward in small groups and recited verses and sang worship songs while the women served everyone avena (a traditional oatmeal fruit drink) and maito (chicken with heart of palm and local herbs steamed inside banana type leaves).
Shuar women making the maito.
We said a long goodbye with lots of photographs and blessings and thanks to each other.
Before heading out of Puyo we shared a youth night at Kairos (the church in Puyo) with games, worship, and testimonies- and of course- a futbol game (soccer) for which I played with the women from Puyo and was jokingly named a traitor by our US visitors.
Art Team at La Rhonda.
In July we had debrief for the June teams and I finished up my last wave of classes out at Dios es Amor where their beading projects turned out fantastic! And I settled my affairs just in time to receive our first ever arts ministry team compliments of the contacts I’ve made through my annual conference in the states!
We were a very small team, but it was just as well as I was both host and translator for everything including for the talk on Trauma that their team leader gave to the adults in Argelia Alta on their second day! It was a little intimidating, but the Lord was with me and it actually went very well (sans some words for brain chemistry I had no idea how to translate!)
Because they were such a small team they couldn’t afford daily private transportation so we had many grand adventures navigating Quito’s public transportation system- which fortunately I know very well by now but was fairly taxing for the inexperienced North American unaccustomed to physical contact with perfect strangers.
Art team in Argelia.
The rest of their time went quite smoothly and was a wonderful time with the kids in Argelia and a great learning experience for myself where possible future art teams might be concerned. The Artology camp was very successful, where in the children learned about what the Bible says about being good stewards of the earth and the importance of water in particular- using dance, drama, and visual art activities to both teach and communicate. After a skype call with a sister team in Philadelphia the kids came up with their own project proposal for their community to help make it safer which was put forward that same evening at a community meeting and was approved! Someone even volunteered to donate trashcans to install on the street corners and the team promised to put up the money for the rest!
It was hard to say goodbye to them as I am usually the only other artist around- but after they left we had our final debrief for the summer and August had begun- for me- a much needed month of rest to sort out my new class schedule, lesson plan, and recover from the busy, busy preceding couple of months.
Blessings to all as you finish up your own vacations and begin preparing for kids to go back to school and for the weather to start cooling off! As for myself, I am celebrating quietly and giving thanks for all that has happened this summer and in particular, that I am able to continue working and living here where I have been called to be- as I observe my three year anniversary serving in Ecuador.
Thank you all for making it possible!
Endurance
The past semester and subsequent months since my last post have been very busy indeed, filled with lots of ups and downs and changes for my home life and ministry.
Unsurprisingly, throughout the duration, I have been horribly remiss in updating my blog and staying in touch with all of my supporters!
Alas…
One of the first things you have to learn when living in a country like Ecuador is that everything can change over night. The best laid plans can crumble into nothing- a well established class can go from ten to no people in the space of a week. There is a saying in the the states about how “man plans and God laughs”- but in Ecuador- I’m pretty sure He just shakes His head at us hopelessly.
Needless to say, this states of affairs can be very, very frustrating if you are unable to adapt to it.
This daily struggle, like any difficulty in life, can easily make one feel as if you are not getting anywhere- as if your life and ministry are somehow standing still- or worse- moving backwards.
I have gone through quite a bit of turmoil and even tears over this massive cultural difference. But in the long run I have come to see a metaphor for faith in all the chaos. We talk all the time about trusting in the Lord and following His lead, about how He has plans we know nothing about and they are often not necessarily in line with what we have planned.
It easier said than done to trust in these plans that we did not make. More often than not we cry and swear and get depressed that things do not go our way.
Over the past six months I have had more than my fair share of conflicts but in the midst of it, remained hopeful and seeking for the positive outcomes that may or may not have been in my line of sight. And the Lord, despite doing everything His way instead of mine- has proven Himself faithful.
I am now, two years after my arrival, finally getting to work with the indigenous Quichua communities in the Sierra- something I have always wanted to do. In the space of just a few visits I have already been welcomed into the community and begun traveling out twice month at their invitation to teach classes in knitting and crochet! Much of my experience in other ministry sites has been key in allowing me to adapt quickly and know what to do and not do.
My drawing student (former street kid- Jackson) has begun to work with color and even received his first ever commission with which I have been helping him. He is thinking of pursuing some manner of art and design as a career.
The Grand daughter of a close friend of mine in Carmen Bajo has enjoyed my classes so much she is now volunteering with me to help during the afternoon Art Club for the kids on Fridays.
One of Youth World’s study abroad students who is considering majoring in art is interning with me once a week. Our first project- was to paint a mural on the side of the church in Carmen.
Out at Dios es Amor I have begun doing a weekly art devotional prayer time along with class.
At Casa Dahlia I have finally begun to come up with more successful jewelry designs for the girls to make and sell.
And I found out that adults like to color too when- while preparing and waiting for my Friday Art Clubs to begin the teachers and staff began coming to me wanting to do the activities I had planned for the kids which has seriously helped my lesson planning.
And last but not least- I found a roommate!
Just when I had pretty much given up on the idea and made my peace with the fact that Lord must want me to live alone for some purpose- in comes a girl named Sonnet, from Texas to serve with Casa G- and off hand I ask if she wants to live together and boom! Two weeks later we have found a new spacious (and cheaper) place together and are busy moving in. A month passed, and though we barely knew each other at all, we are getting along great and have settled into our new home and even had some guests stay with us.
All of these things came in a combination of slow and steady progress and sudden changes. I had little control over any of them. Some, like finding a companion to live with, were huge answers to specific prayers while others- were things I had not been looking for- like a team of Artists coming down this summer! But all have proven to be blessings. None of them came according to my own timing or plans- but all came- in the right time.
So this month, I’m not asking for any prayers except for continuing endurance and thanks giving for all that He has been doing- despite all my plans. 
🙂
Long Hot Summer… and Spring…
Unsurprisingly, I have been miserably remiss in updating my blog. My only comfort is that I have been fairly consistent in updating the monthly GPC Mainstream Newsletter. But not all of my supporters attend GPC so that does not help them unfortunately! To all of you I am very sorry. Sometimes I put too much expectation on myself to produce an exciting report and psych myself out instead. That said, even though New Years is well past- I am resolved to update my blog more regularly from now on- shorter and more frequent even if nothing much is going on in my opinion- I’m sure the Lord will provide me with insights to share.
Having left off in early February, I will do my best to catch things up in a brief manner. I had announced that there was a small team coming down to Ecuador, among them two artist/ teachers with whom I had been in contact and arranged to teach during my regular Friday evening class. Since there were two of them, we were able to have a separate activity just for kids! I got to play the translator, which was both encouraging and revealing how much I am still learning when it comes to Spanish. It went off very well. My greatest concern was that we would not have the best turn out- but more than enough people came! And it was a great success. I myself was very happy to have other artists around for a week- to talk too and share our passion for serving others through art ministry.
Not long after that another group came down, this time from Minnesota; a pair of ladies who are members of a church that partners with and supports the church and project of Carmen Bajo. Last year the church purchased several industrial grade sewing machines and set up a sewing studio in the school so that the women of the community could come and learn a trade. A teacher had been found to come in and run classes, not just for the women but also for the children in the community- in order to both learn a skill and help produce items that Carmen Bajo might sell to help support itself. Sadly she was not especially committed to the classes and a few months later quit to work elsewhere. 
The two women who came down; Susan and Becky, ran a one week intensive workshop with the women of the community- teaching them to use the machines and make quilts (a non-existent art form here in Ecuador.) Never having learned how to sew by machine myself, and being the site host at Carmen- I decided to go and made fast friends with both of them- as well as was able to build relationships with several women from Carmen whom I had not had the opportunity to meet before.
By the end of the week the Carmen women were very enthusiastic to continue working in their newly learned skill and Susan and Becky asked me to take over the studio in their stead- in order that it might be open during the week days so that the women could continue to come in and make quilts or simply have the opportunity to use the machines for their own projects.
So for the next couple of months I came to open the studio at least twice a week- organizing the fabrics and cleaning and coming up with new patterns to teach the ladies when there was not enough quilting work to go around. 
We ended up making pot holders, oven mitts, and baby bibs- of which we have sold quite a few in addition to a number of quilts to passing teams. From our first sale, minus the percentage that went back to the studio and the portion that goes to the church- I was able to pay the women for their work, which was just in time for some as there have been some financial difficulties in the community lately- mostly illness and expensive hospital bills.
Things continued that way for some time, but the financial problems I mentioned before took their toll and by June most of the women had needed to take either a second job or find work in general in order to help out at home and were not able to continue coming. As I myself was about to take leave I took the opportunity to close the studio while I was away- leaving the keys with a trusted teacher at the project to open it should any of the women come back. I plan to open classes up to the youth and put word out into unreached parts of the community in the fall to get the studio back up and running again. Please pray that I have the strength and energy to accomplish this in addition to the other ministries I am also already committed to!
Meanwhile I continued my Friday evening classes- which went on well as usual- and even acquired some new male members! Due to a new government implemented public exercise program that started up at the same time as the class however- we lost a number of the women. Come the end of summer I am planning to resume the class on a different day so that everyone is able to come again- including some who have always wanted to but been unable on Fridays.
I was also tutoring a young man who lives at one of Youth World’s other ministries- Casa Gabrielle, a home from boys who have been living on the street. I had to take leave of those classes to travel this past month but will be resuming tutoring him tomorrow.
I also continued my trips out to Puyo to keep up relations with the church there and made an extra trip out to Rio Bamba in the sierra to visit a Quichua community- for which I may become the site host as well in the near future. I am very excited about this because the women there have promised to teach me how to make their beautiful hand woven bags in exchange for lessons on how to crochet!
Halfway into May things began to get crazy. My mother came to town! For ten days I was translator, tour guide, and chaperone- wow was I exhausted! But I was very happy to have my mom around and to show her my beautiful adopted country- and see her enjoy it so much.
The day she left I joined the summer intern training which went on for the next week- traveling about Ecuador, acquainting our team-hosts to be with the country and customs and sites they would be visiting. During that time I finally made it out to a few sites I hadn’t actually seen yet!
The day before training ended I departed on an early morning flight for a week-long conference in the states for Arts and Ministry in Philadelphia. On my way I made friends with ex-convict on the train and hitched a ride with a conductor when I got on the wrong line… oops! The next week was especially exciting as I attended seminars on Art Therapy and Relief and curriculum planning and met lots of like-minded artists who are also or are already serving in some form of arts ministry or another. I hoping that some of them may come down to work with me here in Ecuador so please be praying for that as well!
After a week with my family in Philly I returned to Ecuador just in time to unpack and re-pack to lead a team to Puyo. While there they helped build a path for a family whose father is too ill to work at hard labor and now makes jewelry at home. He was a former Shaman who converted to Christianity after coming to know Pastor Jaime of Kairos, the church where I work in Puyo. That same night they went to worship with the youth at their self-run youth program for the evening where they played games, shared testimonies and were treated to some special performances and pizza. After church and losing soccer to the Kairos team- we took a night bus into the jungle- unloaded at a bridge to switch buses and made our way to Palora-“the sun of the amazon.” A tiny jungle city with one main street that literally comes to an abrupt stop at the end of town.
The next few days the team spent helping to move lots of rock and build a foundation for church classrooms out at the Shuar village of Chai, as well as a cobble path leading up to it. The team were real troopers, even working in torrential jungle rain. They also lead daily activities and lessons with the village children. On the final day we hiked out to a neighboring village, heard the story of how they went around building churches in other communities and sharing the word- before they ever had a building of their own to worship in- hiked back for lunch and then walked another half an hour down a very steep trail to the river to swim with some of the villagers. There was even a waterfall to jump off of!
It was beautiful. As a send off and to give back, the community cooked and served Mito, chicken stuffed with heart of palm and jungle herbs cooked with plantians and yucca inside giant leaves. I was also honored by an invitation to lunch with them earlier that day and par-take of some wild armadillo (which was apparently hunted via car running over it- hahaha.) It was all amazingly delicious.
A few days back from the jungle I had to pack my bags again and was off to the coastal town of Same (Saw-may)- to debrief about the teams that had come down and have some retreat time together. Sadly, I came down with an intestinal infection (probably a result of my escapades in the jungle) and was not able to enjoy as much of the beach as I would have liked to. But praise the Lord I was able to get the antibiotics I needed and am good as new once again- with the exception of a cough I have had since being in the states. For this I also blame the jungle- and my day of working in the rain. My doctor made me inhale some strange “fog” like medicine and sent me to get chest x-rays on Monday and I am waiting to find out the results. Please pray for my health, and that the Lord takes away my cough, and that it is not anything serious.
At long last, back at home in Quito, I am recovering from my month of constant travel- and starting to plan for the classes and projects that I will be resuming or beginning at the end of August. Among the possibilities is another ministry site in Quito that has expressed interest in having me come out and teach classes there. I will be meeting with their pastor this Sunday to discuss what that will looks like. Out at Carmen, the sewing studio needs to open back up, adults classes resumed, and the pastor there has asked me to open up an art club for the children. Meanwhile I am hoping to also begin teaching workshops out in Puyo, and even go to stay in Chai and work with the Shuar women there on hand made goods they can make and even sell to help support their families- this will involve a lot of rethinking as they do not have access to or the money to purchase art supplies so we will have to work with whatever natural materials they have available! I also want to make my way back to Rio Bamba eventually! And in the middle of it all, I am looking for a new apartment and a roommate to go with it.
Having passed this year in solitude I have come to realize that it is hard enough living in a foreign country and working on my own to run and plan classes- without also having to live all by myself. It has not proven to be the healthiest thing for me and so I am putting myself in Gods’ hands and asking Him to provide me with a new home and some one to share it with. I have at least another year ahead of me, and I would like very much not to waste time and energy staving off loneliness when there is so much to do and so much more to be thankful for.
Thank you all for your continuing support and prayers- you don’t know how much they mean and how much strength it gives me knowing that you are all behind me and routing for me. I have received a number of one-time donations recently and even more than the money, the knowledge that I am remembered and cared for by people back home, and not forgotten down here on the equator- gives me new energy and hope for the coming fall. You know who you are. And I can’t thank you enough.
High Holi-Days
Welcome February! The month of St. Valentines Day, snow, taxes… and a thorough farewell to leftover decorations from Christmas and New Years celebrations.
This year, for the first time ever in my entire life, I spent the holidays away from my family. But even though it was hard, it was still a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
In the weeks leading up to Christmas I kept busy; with classes out at Carmen Bajo- teaching tutorials on how to make decorations and gifts to give out, working in the kitchen and helping serve meals at Carmen during their annual Christmas service mission, learning how to make candy canes with my friend Marlo, and baking lots and lots of cookies. But it wasn’t for no good reason! 
On Christmas Eve I went with my friend Kristen to another Home for rescued girls where we made little nativity sets out of balsa and decorated my tons of cookies. 
Then Samson and I, along with our temporary cat roommate- Taco (whose parents were in the states for three months support raising) watched a Christmas movie together and called it a night. The next day I skyped with my family in Gaithersburg and was able to watch everyone open the gifts I had bought for them on Amazon while my one year old niece tried to share her new plastic food toys with me through the computer screen. (sooooo adorable…)
And then… the hard part. It dawned on me too little too late that while there were still people in town EVERYONE was with their families. If they weren’t leaving for vacation they had people staying with them, or they were already gone. Everything was closed and there would be no classes to teach or plan for the next couple of weeks.
What’s a lone single person with two cats at home to do?
The answer is- TRAVEL!
Because when you live in a foreign country far from family and home money is the easiest gift to give- and the more likely one to actually arrive intact- if at all. So with my temporary, if only just slightly, excess dinero (that’s money in spanish) I decided to make some reservations at a hostel and hop a ten hour bus to the beautiful, colonial, southern city of Cuenca. 
I only stayed for a few days but I managed to use my gradually developed, South American transportation savvy to figure out the public bus system when I arrived and get to my hostel without a taxi. (hooray for me!) During my short stay I walked along the river, bought a pair of nice (but discounted) leather boots, crocheted a hat, read a book, saw the ancient Incan and Quechua ruins of Ingapirca, visited the hot springs, and over all gave myself permission to be the one thing I have resisted with all my strength and ability since the moment I set foot on Ecuadorian soil two years ago- a tourist.
But I had a good time and drank lots of coffee and I survived not only my first Christmas away from my family but also my very first solo vacation.
Whew!
Another grueling ten hour bus ride across the Andes mountains later- I arrived back in Quito- with a new understanding of why so many people prefer to fork out a hundred bucks for the one hour plane ride instead.
But the holiday celebrations were only just beginning in Ecuador! Interestingly, Easter is a bigger deal here than Christmas, and New Years is likewise in contrast. In the states it’s not uncommon to spend Christmas with family and save New Years for your friends. Down here on the Equator- it’s apparently the opposite.
New Years is HUGE. In the states we often gather infront of our televisions at midnight to watch the ball drop in times square and maybe catch a fireworks show in some warmer, southern lying city. Here in Ecuador, and particularly Quito- the party starts way before that. First, in the weeks leading up to New Years strange things begin appearing for sale on the streets. Masks, tons of masks- paper mache masks made to look like politicians, famous actors, or characters from movies- and then- bodies… Not real bodies, scarecrow like bodies made from human clothes and stuffed with paper, straw, and grass- but no faces… then giant paper mache statues made to look like anything from pokemon to life size hulks! And all of these things accompanied by stands selling a wide assortment of fireworks, noise makers, and other colorful and inevitably loud (and illegal) explosives. What does it all mean?
And then, the day of New Year’s eve arrives- and things get stranger. Little huts made of eucaliptus branches pop up everywhere. The strange scarecrow bodies- wearing the paper mache masks- turn up tied to the fronts and backs and tops of cars, to fences, hanging off roofs, in the middle of busy intersections… loud music is playing all over the city. And traffic grinds to a slow crawl… but not for no reason. Oh no- it’s because hundreds of young men (and often not so young men) take to the streets dressed as women, with slightly exaggerated female “features” and not so slightly exaggerated drunkeness- to put up road blocks and molest the passing cars and pedestrians until they receive some manner of cash payment to turn their attentions to the next poor fools in line behind you. (Sorry, I have no pictures of this. I did not want to encourage them…)
At this point you are all probably seriously concerned about my adopted home nations’ customs- so allow me to explain the reason behind the madness… The scarecrow men are called “viejos” which means old man. They represent the passing of the old year- the ah, “women” are widows who represent the old mans wife- who now, without provider must take to the streets to beg for money- although todays modern widows tend to dress in a manner that would suggest they have assumed a somewhat older occupation… Why it is the men who dress up I cannot tell you. By the time midnight rolls around, the viejo’s will all be set on fire- and with them letters with wishes and prayers written on them, aswell as old school papers and bills. Family members will take turns jumping over the flames twelve times for good luck over the new year. People who plan to travel will walk in circles around the blocks with packed suitcases for the same reason and for the grand finale each house hold will set off it’s own fireworks show. And I do mean every household. In a city 28miles long with a few million people in a giant valley that is basically a bowl that keeps in and echoes every sound- it is deafening. The sky is filled with fireworks in every direction. The air is thick with smoke from burning viejos- and it goes on ALL night. 
Needless to say, my cat and his visiting friend were stressed out of their minds and spent the night freaking out and hiding unsuccessfully from the noise.
Classes resumed a week later. With the Christmas theme behind us we have been focusing on working with pleather- (making jewelry to begin and soon to move on to wallets, bags, and belts.) 
I also had the opportunity to lead one of our women’s bible studies while the pastors wife is away- in Spanish!
I’ll a
dmit I was super nervous- but it was actually a huge success! (Which is good, because I’m scheduled to stand in again later this month…)
The rest of January, while somewhat uneventful, was a welcomed reprieve from my usual schedule and gave me the chance to not only get caught up in my project and lesson planning, but also get a little ahead. This in turn opened up my schedule to pursue a long standing dream of working with other christian artists in pursuit of exploring art as ministry- which I am doing right now, on my own. After much discussion, meetings, and brainstorming I have finally been cleared to create an art ministry internship! The planning is now in the finalizing stages and by the end of this month I should be ready to start spreading the word and inviting other aspiring artists with a passion for ministry, to come down to Ecuador and intern with me! So say a prayer for interest and applicants once word goes out!
This week things are picking up. A mission team from the states arrives Wednesday night with two different artists who will be guest teaching this coming Friday.
I can’t wait to tell you all about it!
Slumcat Missionary
And she’s back!
By now you all know that just barely two months in to my return to Ecuador, early October I returned home one day in late morning to find my the front door to my little house splintered open by a crow bar and many of my valuables and personal items stolen. Nor was I the only victim. Since you have to pass through my landlords’ house to get to mine (my apartment is in the back yard) the thieves also robbed them- demolishing their master bedroom in the process, overturning and dumping every drawer and box open onto their bed and floor. I was spared this awfulness myself, I couldn’t say why. Had the thieves over turned my home in the same way they would have made off with a good deal more. Needless to say it was difficult day- and next few weeks as I had to maneuver without computer, camera, bank access (as my wallet was taken with all my cards and id) or television with which to distract myself from the set back. But I was truly blessed in spite of it all, my credit card company reimbursed me for the cost of my television, some friends opened their home to me and lent me some cash to purchase a temporary and temperamental- netbook (which I promptly sold the first chance I got for a reasonable profit to help stay off the cost of my new laptop.) Friends and family rallied around me to help me acquire and pay for replacements for my things (although regrettably not everything can be replaced.) And as of early November a visiting team brought me my new computer! (yay!) Sadly, the lack of computer interrupted and set back a number of projects I was about to get started on in October so it has taken me since then to reproduce my lesson plans etc and catch myself up. But caught up I am at last and now finally free to get back on top of correspondence and keeping all of you back home informed of my going’s on’s and the Lord’s work through my ministry down here on the sometimes sunny-rainy-cloudy-windy-hot-cold-damp-dry-gorgeous equator!
Sooooooo- ready or not! Here goes my two and a half month update!
Since my last blog entry I got to work with the rescued girls at Casa Gabriel. Not one of them over the age of fifteen, these were girls who had been pulled out of the sex trade here in Ecuador- all of them having been trafficked for years prior to their rescue. I brought mugs and ceramic paints and showed them how to draw and paint all sorts of things on their individual mugs which they each got to keep as their own. It was awesome- but for many reasons I was not able or permitted to take photos of the event.
Meanwhile I also began and finished a mural for a local Christian Recording studio!
As well as painting several ball toss game boards for the Education Equals Hope carnival…
And did some face painting on the day of…
So much fun!
Then I began at long last to head out to Carmen Bajo and reconnect with people there. Originally before I returned I had thought that my future in Ecuador laid with the children in Las Ganas- but since it closed down while I was away I was left more than a little discouraged. I had believed that my time in Carmen Bajo was going to end up a thing of the past- but instead the Lord has made it clear that it is actually going to be my future. This time around I began to attend the Women’s prayer and bible study group on Wednesday nights and was asked to teach a workshop one of the nights. So I planned an ornament tutorial and packed my bag and headed out to do something I had never done before- go to Comite del Pueblo (one of the most dangerous parts of Quito) while the sun was setting (which would mean traveling at night to get home.) Not to my surprise the women had a lot to share, and share, and share, and share- and then consequently to pray for- so much so that I never got to teach my class! (On a positive note though, I discovered that Kelley, a family counselor who lives near me was there at the same time every week and able to offer me a ride home!)
Undeterred and more than accustomed to the organic nature of events as well as to things here in Ecuador often taking a while to happen- I returned the next week with the promise that this time they would make time for the workshop.
Sure enough they did! And it was a success! Since it was already holiday season here (they start preparing for Christmas in October) I did an ornament tutorial and the women all loved it so much that I have been expected to do a tutorial every Wednesday evening since! I realized very quickly that I could not afford to leave early in order to catch a ride with my counselor friend Kelley. I needed to stay until the end, see the class through and be willing to put the relationships I was building ahead of an easy, safe ride home and began taking the bus home. There was so much interest in fact that I saw an opening to expand into a separate class and began having weekly Clases de Manualedades- (that’s Crafting Classes) every Friday night as well from 5 to 8pm.
Some of the ornaments we have made in the class.
My very first class I had ten students. Those numbers have continued since the first class and women who aren’t able to come for certain classes have begun coming to me and asking if I could meet with them to show them what they missed.
As a 
result I have been invited to a 
number of homes to do private tutorials where other members of the family who do not come to the Women’s group have been able to participate and I have been able to form more and ever deeper 
relationships with 
the
people in the community. A few teenage girls have also been coming to the Friday classes as well as the children who must accompany their moms because there is no one at home to watch them- so I sometimes plan activities for them on the side. Sadly they more often then not end up wearing their projects as a opposed to actually taking them home…
Two Saturdays ago I also launched a new youth ministry with the church at Carmen (which is also where I teach all of my classes presently) where in every Saturday I lead a team of youth from the church to serve in the community painting and helping to fix up homes of the less fortunate in the community. These recipients are not necessarily members of the church, but are simply people known to be in need. (Which is actually EVERYONE in Carmen Bajo…) 
So far we have stayed close to home- starting the project with the church itself-, 
which is desperately in need of a good deal more than paint, and I have found is an excellent place to get to know the kids and learn how to direct them successfully. But very soon I hope to be going out with them into the neighborhood to begin serving, for which I am very excited.
Somewhere in the midst of all these new developments I found the time to act as an onboarding host to a pair of sisters who have just come down to serve for two years as well as travel down to Puyo for the first time since I’ve been back!
Believe it or not, this is a road!
Once there I went for my very first, for real hike, out into the jungle to visit and minister at a Quechua community. To reach it we had to ford a river and trudge through shin deep mud for a good half an hour.
And it was there that I was offered my very first bowl of actual chicha. For those of you who don’t know (and that’s probably everyone) chicha is a native drink normally made of mashed… or chewed, Yucca, which is then left uncovered on a shelf in the humid jungle air, to ferment. Yep, that’s right. Hepatitis in a bowl. Naturally, it is offensive to refuse it.
Not that I would.
Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I love to try new things and I have a disturbingly romantic notion about things that have the potential to kill you… like street food. Yum. Anyways, at least here in Ecuador I am known among my friends and colleagues as having a propensity to eat absolutely anything and everything without discrimination- and enjoy it. As a result my opinion is not sought out when it comes to taste testing in the kitchen… But I met my match that day in the Jungle.
It looked like skim milk, smelled like sour Yucca, and tasted like vinegar with soggy wood splinters steeping at the bottom. And I had to drink an entire bowl of it, literally filled to the brim, not knowing until later whether it had been mashed or chewed, while the giver stared at me.
I could have used my gringo status and our renowned sensitive stomachs and un-acclimated immune systems as an excuse to bow out- but I didn’t. I don’t know how long it took- but I drank the whole thing even as I suppressed the urge to throw up, and struggled even more not to let it show. At long last I was done and it was time to hike back. I was assured that chicha, “te da fortalesa por el camino” (gives you strength for the road.) I jokingly replied- “Espero que es todo lo me da!” (I hope that’s all it gives me!) Apparently they thought this was hilarious and for the rest of my time in Puyo I was repeatedly asked- “Te dio algo mas?”(Did it give you anything else?)
The answer? Not a thing. Once I found out that it was mashed and not chewed my impending panic attack subsided as the list of possible diseases I might get from drinking the chicha de-escalated from hepatitis to intestinal infection. In retrospect I must wonder why, in the jungle, surrounded by free sugar cane and fruit, the energy drink of choice is made out of a mashed root with a consistency and flavor located somewhere between dry wood and a potato. Couldn’t they even at least add some sugar cane to help dress up (or cover up) the flavor? These are questions I will probably never have the answers too. But I praise God it didn’t kill me, or make me sick.
Soda Bottle Snake Sculpture!
In my personal life I also celebrated my big 28th, for which my friends here threw me an ice cream party, in lieu of which I was informed by my host mother in Puyo that I now have only two good child baring years left and I need to find a husband soon or else. (The Pastor there also later affirmed this summation. Upon which I quoted the scripture about it being better for a man to be unmarried because his heart is focused on the things of God and not of this world, to which he replied by quoting Genesis where the Lord said that it is not good for man to be alone. Realizing there was no winning this argument I agreed that it is not good to be alone with the caveat that it is also not good to be with the wrong person simply for the sake of not being alone, which seemed to satisfy him.)
I spent an awesome Thanksgiving with friends and made my first pecan pie and sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top after scouring the city for ingredients on the very day that all the market sellers decided to go and protest together in front of the Presidential Palace leaving all the markets closed- forcing me to use purple camotes in place of actual sweet potatoes. (Looked strange but tasted the same.) Well that’s what I get for waiting until the last minute! We spent the day laughing and cooking and eating and playing cuarenta and other games hyphened by an impromptu game of hide-and-seek.
Whew! Wow. I sound busy even to myself! I just want to thank you all so much for your encouragement and prayers during my unfortunate break in. It has been interesting but a truly blessed first couple of months and I look forward to sharing what happens next! I hope you all realize that none of these growing ministries would be possible without your support.
Cayambe
Three Weeks In to Settling In…
Hola everyone! As you all know I left to return to my work in Ecuador on Friday, August 10th. My mother and sister dropped me off at the airport where we shared some cinnabuns, said our teary goodbyes, and my cat Samson was cleared to fly under my seat by American Airlines. Thus my adventure began! Literally. As going through security involved taking Samson out of his crate and carrying him through the metal detector while he clung to my neck like a monkey in a tree top and buried his head underneath my hair. No sooner had I set him back down on the floor than the cat, who had required two grown adults to physically force him into his carrier earlier that same morning, immediately began pushing the carrier across airport security with his face, trying desperately to get back in.
So with Samson safely back in his carrier and my shoes back on my feet I made my way to my gate thinking that the difficult obstacles had been traversed. In just one short hour I would be on the plane to Miami and then catch my connecting flight to Ecuador where I would be in Quito in time for dinner! Or so I thought… Little did I know I would shortly be calling on the Lord’s intervention much sooner than I imagined…
I had just reached my gate and was scanning the crowd for a place to sit when my cel phone went off. Thinking it was my mom I answered and instead was greeted by an all too cheerful automated message telling me that my flight had been delayed three hours, which was going to cause me to miss my connecting flight as a result of which I had been reassigned a connecting flight which left Miami the following day at 7pm and would arrive in Ecuador around midnight.
And so the praying began… as well as my quest to find an American Airlines employee who would actually help me, as I traversed the terminal with my 15 pound cat, raincoat, and carry on luggage in tow, from one gate desk to another. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I had not one, not two, not three- but five different agents tell me there was nothing they could do and if I wanted to rebook I would have to go back through security and go to the main desk- who then promptly walked away from me and go to another desk. The fifth agent, despite his repetition of the afore-mentioned sentiments and action of abandoning me at the yet another desk- went the extra mile of actually pulling up the other available flights and informed me as he was walking away that there was another flight leaving for Quito that same night from Miami but it was currently booked and maybe I could get on to the wait list… if I talked to another agent.
So onward I went to the next gate where I stood in line, I’ll admit- close to tears at this point- pushing Samson’s carrier ahead of me with me feet because my shoulder was killing me, and soliciting the Lord for intervention. While I myself had no real issue with hanging out in the oh so glamorous Miami airport for 24 hours (I had all the essentials for survival after all- money, cel phone, lap top, and fully charged kindle- haha) I was not traveling alone this time. No this time, I had a cat with me. A terrified cat crammed into a case the size of a large shoe box- that could probably survive 9 hours without using a litter box without a problem but would not likely last three times that without disastrous results.
As I stepped up to the desk I wasted no time explaining my situation to a sixth agent who, God bless him, pulled up the booked flight in question and- a miracle! Somewhere between me walking over from the last desk and waiting in line for fifteen minutes some one had canceled and there was a single seat open on the only other flight going to Quito that day! If the last agent- or any of the agents ahead of him for that matter- had actually had the time to help me- I would have been stranded in Miami over night. And I’m not exaggerating. Later that evening as I was finally boarding my plane while my original flight was probably landing- a pang of guilt and gratitude hit me as I walked past the fifty some odd hopefuls on standby waiting outside the gate in case their names were called. Thanks to my mom and sister they were able to shoot an email to my organization informing them of my flight change and when I arrived late, late that Friday night I passed through immigration with ease and no surprise fees or quarantine required for my traveling companion- and was greeted by my friend Dana and her husband who drove me to my new home for the next two years!
The next day I rose early with sun- and my cat purring in my face- and unpacked all the things I had brought with me. Then I met up with my friend Kristin to go out and buy- yes groceries- but also somethings even more crucial to my survival which are not provided in Ecuadorian rentals- appliances.
That’s right! I had no fridge, no oven, no stove, no microwave, no washing machine, and definitely no dryer, to say nothing of a tv or the internet. (But hey! At least I had electricity!)
So out we went hopeful but properly pessimistic as things here tend to take longer than they do in the states. Even if I found and paid for appliances that same day there was no telling when they would be delivered.
Fast forward a week and to the untrained eye it must have looked like I had been moved in for several months not several days. The Lord had blessed me again and again without fail! While my friend Dana who has been moved in to her new apartment for several weeks before me with her new husband- was still waiting for the technician to come over and hook up her dryer- I had a working stove, fridge, washing machine, and working internet! In further blessings my kitchen appliances, because I was able to pay in full up front- came with the bonus gifts of a complete four setting dish set, a set of mixing bowls and measuring cups, a blender, and a drying rack for my clothes! Needless to say, the Lord has been with me.
Because my organization requires a month to re-aclimate and settle in when a new long term missionary arrives before they can begin working, I have continued to make myself at home over the last two weeks; painting, sewing curtains, making curtain hooks out of wire, moving my other belongings which I left here seven months before, and reconnecting with my friends and community here in Quito. But now that September is here at last I will be slowly but surely getting back into the groove of things! My first project is already in sight. I was asked by an Ecuadorian Christian Band if I would paint a mural in their studio so after visiting it this past Sunday after church I will be making plans for that this week and meeting up with my supervisor to discuss what and where I’ll be working this coming semester (since Ganas is closed things are a little up in the air) and when I’ll be returning to visit Puyo. So please be praying for me over the next few weeks and ask the Lord to open up a clear direction for where I should begin focusing as the Ecuadorian school year picks back up!
July 15th: Count Down…
Zach, Jocelyn, and little Zoey Groff
I can’t believe I’ve been back in the States for seven months already. Boy does time fly by fast! Especially the last two!
Many of you know that I had to find work and was blessed with employment up in Philadelphia where I have been staying with a very hospitable couple who are friends of my brother and sister-in-law’s- the Groffs- virtually rent free- working 50 hours a week for a landscaper and part time doing some graphic design- allowing me to pay off some bills I have accrued since being back while trying to raise the last of my support- and sell my car!
Whew!
But the hard work and faith have come together at last!
I am finally at 100% support and ready and scheduled to return to Ecuador August 10th! So praise the Lord everyone! Thanks for all of your prayers and help and support and encouragement in all its forms!
Just shortly before this- the Lord also provided a buyer for my car at long last! And it is going to be the car for another young lady some years my junior who is involved in domestic missions in the US- just going to show that all things work for His purpose.
Then my organization in Ecuador found a place for me to live! This is huge! Because in Ecuador few people have computers to post listings on or cameras with which to provide images of the places for rent. Therefore finding a place to live when you get there (if you are not living with a host family- which I am not) can be very time consuming and difficult. Word of mouth or just wandering through areas in which you would like to live in hopes of seeing a “for rent” sign in the window is often the only way to search.
So it was an enormous blessing that they were able to find a place for me before I arrived- a one bedroom loft apartment- that will allow me to bring my cat and even has a small shared yard! Yay! It even has a good deal of furniture already. The appliances of course I must hunt down and provide myself- you name it- oven, fridge, washer (and dryer if I decide I can afford the luxary.) None of these amenities are provided in Ecuadorian apartments! That said, my “apartment” is also actually a small separate house in the back of a much larger house. This is a very common occurrence in Ecuador where families tend to live with their extended families until they can afford to strike out on their own, or simply because they cannot afford it. So many homes seem inordinately large at first glance because they are meant to house Mom and Dad and their kids and their kids… and maybe even their kids! Thus homes with large yards often become compounds with a main house and a smaller house behind- sometimes eventually being developed further until there is no yard at all just one enormous apartment like house!
And finally- I was able to get my visa without delay or any issues what so ever! Another weight lifted off my shoulders.
Everything has come together all at once.
The Lord has been very good to me in all His providence over these past months being back here in the States. I have been able to catch up with friends and family and meet the newest member of my own- my brothers daughter- little Gwenny!
Me and Gwenny and Rachel
So even though I am very happy to be returning to my calling in Ecuador- it will be a more bitter sweet parting this time as I have gotten a little used to being near friends and family again and I shall miss you all very, very much!
But I haven’t left yet! So if anyone wants to visit- you have four weeks to say goodbye before I’m gone for the next two years!
May 13th: Doing the Limbo
Me on the edge of the crater on top of Volcan Poas in Costa Rica.
Hello all! As most of you know already, I have been back in the States now for four months going on five and it was suggested to me that I should post an update on my blog as to what is going on with me and what my status of returning to Ecuador is.
I am currently living in what many missionaries refer to as “limbo.” That is, the fluctuating period between returning from the field and returning to it. Which means I can’t quite make myself at home anywhere because I’m planning on leaving! So far, it has been a tough but blessed “purgatory” of sorts, haha.
As of now I am still committed to returning to Ecuador for two more years once I have all of the supporters I need in order to continue. I am still roughly $180’s per month short of my needed $1,400, and unfortunately have been stuck there for a month now- so please pray for the Lord to connect me with a few more monthly supporters! Thanks to so many of you I have already come this far in my support goal and received 100% of my one time, start-up needs! Thank you all! And praise God for so much generous provision!
View from the Language School in Costa Rica.
Me hanging with my sis. 🙂
Since being home I have been traveling A LOT. I finished training in Chicago, visited my father in Mississippi, my siblings in Philadelphia, my friends in Baltimore, my Grandmother in Florida, and completed an intensive language training course in Costa Rica during the month of March! I have been visiting with supporters to say hi and share about my time in Ecuador and just catch up, taught a brief Sunday School set about poverty and wealth, spoke at the Youth Group at GPC, and at all three services where Pastor Ted interviewed me as well! It has been a crazy time.
During all this I have also been trying- unsuccessfully so far- to sell my car before I leave the States. I can’t afford to keep up the payments while I am in Ecuador. So I can’t leave until it’s sold. (If anyone knows anyone who is looking for a car… it’s a silver 2007 Kia Rio LX with 73,000 miles on it and really good gas mileage!)
Meanwhile, because I was only an intern last year in Ecuador, I had no stipend to live on while I have been back in the states making my transition to long term missionary worker status. Initially did not expect that I would be in the States so long that it would be a problem as I had some money set aside in savings- but alas, between my monthly car payments, student loan payments, travel, and … occasionally… food- I have managed to wrack up some credit card debt. Since credit card payments are most assuredly NOT in my missionary support budget- I decided it would be irresponsible of me to leave for the field with it hanging over me. And just when I was about to run out of money to keep up with my bills- the Lord opened up a pair of jobs for me in the nick of time! Thanks to the help of my brother and sister and law I was connected with a landscaping gentleman from their church and my sister in laws own employer who runs a marketing company online. The only catch- the landscaping job which offered me the most hours and the more steady income- required that I live in Philly!
But surprise! The Lord also provided me with a place to stay virtually rent free- once again through my brother and sister in law. So now I am spending my week days working and living in Philly- with a wonderful young couple who are friends of my brothers and sister in laws. On the weekends I am doing my best to take the bus back to Gaithersburg so I can continue to visit with all my friends, family, and supporters down there! Whew!
Perhaps the best perk though, of being up in Philly so much, is getting to play the Aunt to my little niece Gwenny, whose birth I was absent for last year. While my brother and sister in law think they are getting free baby sitting- I am really secretly ingratiating myself with Gwen so that one day I will be her favorite relative. Mwahahaha! … (Just kidding Elliott and Rachel!)
Assuming that I am able to sell my car soon, and find a few more monthly supporters to cover the remaining $180’s a month that I still need to raise before I can be cleared by my organization to go- I should have my credit card debt paid off and be preparing to leave by the end of June. Sadly this is much later than I had planned to be returning- I have missed a whole half year of classes in Ecuador! Alas! But the Lord has His own timing in all things. Still, I feel that at long last my time is drawing near. Just before heading to Philly this past week I received my visa paper work in the mail! Yay! (Ecuadorian Consulate- here I come!) But as I said before, I can’t get too excited just yet.
I can’t thank you all enough for your prayers and support so far. Thanks for sticking with me and helping me to continue to pursue the Lords continued call for my life!
But please continue to pray for me! Especially…
That I will sell my car soon so that I can pay it and the remainder of my credit debt off.
And that the Lord will bring me the last $180’s in monthly support that I need.
Here’s having faith that I’ll be back in Ecuador before the next school year begins! Chao for now!
(At the suggestion of a good friend I have added a new feature to the sidebar on my blog. By clicking on the link under “SUPPORT RACHEL” you can go straight to the website for my organization and give online if you feel so inspired! Yay!)
Dia 316: Guess who’s coming to town!
It seems that my blogs always open with some sort of an apology and sadly this one is no different. It has been an inordinately long time since my last entry but I actually have a very good excuse this time aside from, “I was busy.” This time, I was sick. For the entire month of November in fact, and I’m still recovering as we speak. Learn from my mistakes friends, and if you come down with a nasty cold DO NOT CHANGE ALTITUDES! And traveling on public buses for hours and hours probably won’t help you either. But hey, at least it wasn’t food poisoning! That’s the worst. You can still pretend to function when you have a sinus infection.
My being sick didn’t stop the world from turning though. I was unable to go to my ministry sites for most of November because I didn’t want to infect my kids, who have varying degrees, if not a total lack, of medical care. A cold here can become fatal if one lives in a damp, moldy concrete house with no clean water or money to see a doctor. I am spared these misfortunes. While laid up in bed we had two mild earthquakes in Quito, the last of which we later found out was the infamous Tungarahua erupting over Banos stopping almost all travel between the Sierra and the Orient for almost a week. Thanksgiving came with a celebration of friends and good food at the hacienda out in El Refugio, where the Youth World family enjoyed dinner, conversation, games, a random thunderstorm, and many hummingbirds buzzing through the air.
November closed with one final move for me, as the lease on my friends’ apartment ran out. I am now back where I began when I first arrived here Ecuador, living alone in the massively large girl’s study abroad apartment.
Despite my being sick I have never been a fan of being inactive for large periods of time and still managed to drag myself and a fair sized fake Christmas tree out to Las Ganas. Yes, they have Christmas trees here, almost all of them fake, and frequently small and displayed outside the house on a windowsill. Interestingly, the nativity scene here is a much bigger deal. The putting out of the nativity scene here is treated as a special family affair much the way the decorating of the tree is in the states. Still, for the kids at Ganas, many of whom have never had a tree in their home, it turned out to be a fun an special day for them. While I and some of the older kids set up the tree and put up the lights, the other kids painted and made ornaments. 
They were very proud of their work- and even enjoyed the box the tree came in…
Since we have made stockings from felt and hung them over the tree followed by thank you cards to donors who recently provided uniforms and scholarships for the kids at Ganas as well as Christmas cards for their parents who are in prison.
I was also able to put together a “Gift’s for Ganas” tree, after collecting a wish list from the kids. The number one thing they asked for?
Shoes.
Thanks to the generous hearts of the other missionaries at Youth World and also the members of one of my friends small groups from their church- we were able to ensure that each child at Ganas will receive something they wished for for Christmas! Praise God for caring for His little children!
Meanwhile, back in Puyo, we are all mourning the loss of my adopted niece- little Rachel. For those of you who didn’t hear, she had a relapse of bleeding into her brain and was medi-vac-ed to Quito where the doctors, as a last resort, decided to operate. After the surgery however, they were unable to resuscitate her and she passed away on the 29th of November after just three short months of life. I have found that her death has hit me unusually hard for reasons I can’t seem to verbalize. Maybe it is because they named her after me, that I feel that part of myself was lost with her.
Not all that has passed in Puyo however has been sad. Last weekend we celebrated the christening of the church in Tunaime- finally completed! Shuar from communities all over the jungle came to celebrate with good food and worship, one woman walked three hours in the hot sun just to be there. It was a wonderful but bittersweet celebration as it marks the beginning of the Shuar community assuming sole responsibility for their ministry and the end of most of our involvement there. Starting in January, Kairos will begin trekking even deeper into the Amazon, beyond roads passable by cars, to bring the word to a new Shuar community.
Speaking of new ministry sites, this past Friday I and two other Youth World staff took a bus out to Otavalo and then another out to a poor Quechua community called Gualsaqui (wall-sa-key) to explore the possibility of beginning a new ministry partnership with the church there. Gualsaqui is some of the most beautiful country God ever made but the people who live there are among the poorer.
The church was built on land donated by the pastor himself at his and his family’s expense (as they grow most of their own food and the less land the less food they can produce.) We don’t know as of yet if our meeting will come to anything, but we are prayerfully seeking the Lord’s decision. I for one am hoping we will return.
Now barely a week from Christmas I finally had my language proficiency exam to determine where I am in my language acquisition training- please pray I did well! I am busy collecting the donated gifts, planning a party, and activities for Christmas Eve at Ganas. Meanwhile I am enjoying the holiday experience of Christmas in another country. For one thing, decorations started showing up in early October. There are tiny Christmas markets and vendors everywhere, a celebratory hummingbird sculpture exhibit on the mall, food festivals in the parks, go-cart races down the side of Pinchincha- and free performances of the Nutcracker ballet? Apparently Tchaikovsky is universal.
Snow isn’t though. This is our rainy season. But don’t cry for me! I have Christmas lights up, a felt tree I made to hang on my wall, a small nativity scene on my book shelf- and oh yes! I’ll be home for Christmas! That’s right! I’m flying home Christmas day so-
I’ll see everybody soon!
Dia 273: A Birthday in Ecuador (and other BIG news)
To begin, an update on little Daniela Raquel. She is still in the hospital but is off the respirator and is showing improvement. She is still far from fully recovered and the doctors are currently waiting to see if she will need surgery to make sure there is no more bleeding into her brain. Thank you all for your prayers thus far- and thank you for continuing to pray.
Secondly, very good news for Las Ganas! In light of this summers electricity crisis, having to fire Tias for stealing and the long list of others on going struggles- Youth World has partnered with a sister missionary organization know as Inca-Link- who in turn has decided to partner with Las Ganas. As of October they are taking on responsibility for raising and supplying half of the financial needs of Las Ganas- as well as 100% of the spiritual care of the kids. Inca Link is a very small organization so I am by no means out of a job. What it means is that Ganas is finally on a road towards stabilizing and eventually improving, and it wonderful to have a team of people to work with towards that end than the norm of working alone. Their first order of business- to have the electricity inspected- and sure enough- there have been a number of people stealing power from Ganas, which explains the astronomical monthly electric bill. Now that the thieves have been cut off- the bill should be reduced considerably- freeing up funds for more important things- like food and clothes.
October, in most of the States it is the time of year for changing leaves, Halloween, and… premature snowstorms? But in Ecuador, there is no Halloween- the trees never change color (unless they are blooming or dead) and well… it never snows either- except on the mountaintops (However we do frequently get hail. Go figure.)
There is a holiday slightly similar to Halloween here… except that it actually takes place at the beginning of November and doesn’t really resemble the US version of Halloween in any recognizable way. El Dia del Muerte, The Day of the Dead, is a less exciting (and in my humble opinion- less gruesome and irreverent holiday) than Halloween. Its origins are actually not in Catholicism as is widely believed, but in the cultural rituals of the indigenous peoples of Mexico and Central and South America. The Day of the Dead is traditionally practiced on the second of November drinking colada morada (a thick, spiced, black berry drink served hot with diced pineapple and strawberries cooked in) and eating gua-gua’s de pan (pronounced wa-wa’s), or bread babies, (baby shaped bread filled with jam and decorated with icing) on the graves of the loved ones that a family has lost in the past year, or simply in the past. Stories are told. Prayers are offered. And some of the food is left on the graves. The babies represent the living and the new members of the family while the morada represents the blood of the dead… Only in the more heavily populated indigenous areas is this ritual still practiced. In the cities, pretty much only the making of the traditional foods still exists. I must say it is quite tasty.
Something else exciting happens in October though- and it doesn’t change no matter where you are…
My birthday! Yay!
That’s right, I am officially 27.
My birthday passed while I was in Puyo where they scrambled to throw together a party for me at the last minute once they foundout.
If you ever have a birthday in Ecuador, beware the tradition of having your face pushed into the cake when you lean in for a photo.
Then on my return to Quito, my Missions community threw me another birthday celebration. Thankfully, no one pushed my face into the ice cream cake.
By far the most important and heavily celebrated birthday in many Latin cultures is the fifteenth birthday- particularly for girls. A Quinciñera is the celebration of a girls coming of age and being presented to the community as a young woman. The girl wears a beautiful pink dress and is escorted by her father or boyfriend (or closest male relative) down an aisle of her friends and family. Then she is seated in a decorated chair where the slippers she was wearing with her gown are changed for heals. A ring is placed on her finger, and a tiara on her head. She is given a lit candle and then various friends and family stand up and share stories and blessings and speeches about her. Then there is a dance with her escort, a party, gifts, food, and more dancing. In a culture without prom and school dances- besides a girls wedding day- this is the only time when a girl gets to step out and be admired, and feel special and recognized.
For a girl living in an orphanage where food is frequently scarce, separated from her family due to abuse or her parents being in prison- such an affair is beyond what a girl can hope for.
In August, I took part in a Quinciñera and afterwards was left with a sudden realization. This special coming of age ceremony was something that the girls in Las Ganas would never have because they had been removed from their families. This celebration where people stand up and voice what they mean to them and acknowledge them as women- where they get to be beautiful and feel special and important. I felt the sudden importance of such a day in the lives of girls who had been abused and separated from their family, especially when they were certain it would not be happening for them.
Growing up and struggling through my own difficult childhood times the Lord was always there for me. He showed up in unexpected and amazing ways, providing for me when I was in need and alone. Coming through for me again and again. These experiences affirmed His presence in my life and my worth to Him. Some of them came by way of others, but I recognized God’s hand when I saw it. That day I realized, it was my turn to be on the other side of the giving. I felt God’s call and direction in my heart. These girls need to know that they too 
are loved and seen and looked out for by the Lord, I was in the perfect position to show Him to them.
When I returned to Quito I found out that two of the girls at Las Ganas were having their fifteenth birthdays in September and October- I was inspired to give them their special day. In retrospect, it was a lot more work than I ever thought it would be. First, there were the dresses, which I could not afford to buy. Then there was the food- which I also could not afford to buy- or make myself- and then the decorations and the ceremony and figuring out what the ceremony entailed… half way in, I was already feeling overwhelmed. So I prayed and asked others for help, and the Lord provided. Inca Link offered to provide the food, my boss and her husband donated $100’s for materials and decorations… and I was able to make the dresses myself.
It was a beautiful, clear Saturday. Many adult relatives of the children staying at Las Ganas and of the Tias who work there had all come early to help decorate. My partner site host Kristen made the cakes and the dresses fit Karen and Alison beautifully.
They were each handed roses by the other kids as they walked down the pink paper aisle and given pink heels (which they got to keep). Then we all prayed over them and they listened as people stood up to share about them and were then given a chance themselves to speak and thank everyone for the party. (They both started crying and couldn’t finish.) After they had their special dance, followed by a dance party of sorts, food, cake- and presents provided by myself, the orphanage, and Inca Link. It was a beautiful and wonderfully successful day, and went off better than I had dared to hope for. It was totally worth stabbing myself with a needle over and over again.
Finally, before I go, I am formally announcing what many, if not all of you, already know: that being that as of the middle of October I have officially been accepted as a long term missionary here in Ecuador for an additional two years! Very early on into my time here I began to realize that the work I came here to do- if I was to be truly serious about it- requires more time than a single year can allow. The Lord showed me that I needed to be totally committed to my work, to the people and relationships I was forming. I needed to work and invest myself without a deadline, or a calendar counting down the days until I would walk away from all the ministries I had begun or become involved in- especially in places like Las Ganas, where the life lesson that the children there have learned is that everyone either leaves or betrays you. So starting in late August I formerly applied and was subsequently interviewed and accepted to continue serving here in Ecuador. I am very excited to continue on this journey and see where the Lord will lead and how He will work, and I look forward to continuing to share it with all of you who have been supporting me financially and prayerfully this past year!
As a result of this new commitment, I will be returning to the states at the end of December and will be home for a month to visit and catch up with everyone! (Can’t wait!) The month of February I will be in Elgin, Illinois to complete my training before returning to Ecuador!
I will of course have to raise support and funds once again for another two years- more infact as I will no longer be an intern and will require more for living expenses and medical. If you are interested in helping me continue to follow the Lords path for me here in Ecuador please feel free to contact me via e-mail- freeteaspirit@yahoo.com
Or you can make a donation online by going to: www.iteams.org/give/
(just enter my name)
Dia Doscientocuarentaycuatro (244): Happenings
Another busy, busy month has come and gone in Ecuador, and unfortunately- this month has begun with sad news.
My dear friend, the nameless parrot of my host family in Puyo,who used to hobble, chirping, on foot into my bedroom and maul my pencils and eat the seeds off of my beaded bracelets… who kept me company while doing my laundry outside by running frantically back and forth across the wash basin until he was shivering and would then climb up on my head to dry off and attempt to make a nest out of my hair- has passed on to the great bird nest in the sky. He died tragically while I was away- when one of my host family´s half-starved guard dogs broke loose and snapped up my unsuspecting friend, who was walking around instead of up in his tree… and ate him… 😦
I´m not sure when it happened, but does it really matter? I like to think that it ended before he knew what was happening. Alas, parrots don´t seem to have a very long shelf life at my host family´s house… but perhaps we may have an idea of what became of the little nameless one… and perhaps this is also why they have all been nameless with the exception of my contribution- Yatsushi (yes he´s fine… for now.)
But technically that´s October news.
I also visited Puyo in September, twice in fact. The fist time down was my normal routine of catching up with the Kairos community and traveling out to visit the Shuar communities. On our way we stopped along the road and I was able to snap this photo of the rebuilt road way that we helped repair during the summer after it was washed out. 
I got to know some of the children better and they told me about gardening and helped me find tagoa nuts. Tagoa nuts are better know as ¨the ivory nut¨and have become popular among jewelry makers. It turns out that the Shuar harvest the nuts for the fruit that grows around them, which they eat and then discard the rest. So we collected quite a few simply by watching where we stepped.
Just before leaving I was also unexpectedly given a fish by the cheifs wife which they had caught earlier in the river.
We ate it for breakfast. It was full of bones, but delicious.
My second visit was brief but took me deeper into the jungle than I had been before, to the city (and I use that term loosely) where Pastor Jaime had served as head pastor before being called to Kairos. 
There I sampled some wild honey that tasted like sweet citrus and was made by the smallest bees I´ve ever seen. And there, in the current pastors´wood shop, we discussed at length some problems among the Shuar christian communities in the area who have fallen out of the communal practice of their faith ever since missionaries have stopped visiting them.
This is frequently what goes wrong with short term missions when not done properly. Among the things I have learned during my time in Ecuador I have learned that often missionaries come into a place ready to give and give and give- and that is exactly what they do. After all, it is better to give than recieve! But then again… it´s better to give than recieve… God meant it when He said this.
When a group of missionaries comes into a community and does everything for the people in the community they make the mistake of depriving the community of one particularly important gift- the gift of giving, or in this case- to be more specific- of doing for themselves. The missionaries who came did everything for the Shuar, built their churches, hosted their services, provided the music and the sermons. As a result, when they felt that the community´s faith was strong enough and stopped coming the communities who had been dependant on them inevitably dispersed.
One might wonder why they were not able to follow the example laid out for them by the missionaries and continue growing as a church? It would be easy to assume that they were lazy or that their proffessed faith was ingenuine- but it would also be erroneous.
Aside from the obvious pitfall of giving some one a fish but failing to teach them how to catch it the explanation of what happened in this instance requires an understanding of Shuar culture. Today the Shuar look very different from what they were just sixty years ago. Although they live in ¨villages¨ now with a chief of sorts as their spokes person this is not how the Shuar originally lived. The original Shuar ¨communities¨ were made up of polygamus families composed of a husband, two wives (sometimes more) whatever children they had together and (temporarily) a son in law until he and his new wife, living in a single thatched house surrounded by a large garden. Families did not build near each other for reasons of sustenance and survival. It was understood that every family required a certian amount of territory to support their hunting, gathering, and gardening needs and accordingly built a few miles apart (a substantial distance without roads.) The survival reason often was cause for considerably more distance to exist between “neighbors.” Due to the lack of a central governing body or written law to help resolve conflicts murder tended to be an all purpose solution for disagreements. Even women participated in this, mostly via poisoning the drinks or food of guests and it was understood that fueds could be settled with later generations rather then the perpetrating one- creating and sustaining a tradition of individualism, and the requirement that women taste everything they serve.
Happily, with the influence of christianity and the necessity to cooperate inorder to protect their land from encroaching farmers and oil companies, the tradition of murder has faded into the past. The introduction of western influence in the form of money, trade, roads, and schools has caused the Shuar to live in larger and larger communities. However, this change is largely out of convenience and functioning as a collective is still a rather foreign concept. Thus, when the missionaries left the churches fell apart because the people in the communities had no idea who would be in charge and no method for deciding.
That being said, anyone who has spent any amount of time on a committee for- well- anything can tell you first hand that group decisions are no picnic, and that is without the added complications of everyone have an equal say coupled with a generational lack of experience or concept of how to operate as a group with a collective need and responsibility. Trying to help the Shuar build and organize their own church without knowing this borders on futility.
But enough of me ranting about missionary-indigenous relations!
In Quito school is back in session! My classes at Carmen have been going as smoothly as they can in a school where they might decide last minute to send the younger kids home early because a storm is on its way while failing to notify their next teacher… (totally happened)
This semester I am teaching on different Ecuadorian artists paired up with corresponding projects. In the older class I taught the kids to bind thir own sketchbooks- a necessity as there is one variety and size of sketchbook available in Ecuador that is too big to carry, too expensive to provide each student, and also hard to find. I think it went very well. 🙂
The real excitement in September took place at Las Ganas.
After surviving their summer electricity crisis all was well at Ganas. I returned, this time two days a week! One day doing art projects, the other for team building games. This time around I am focusing on discipline- which the kids at the painfully understaffed foundation desperately need. Although it means putting my foot down and being the bad guy who says no and takes things away instead of always being santa claus- I´d wager that anyone who has been a parent or teacher understands that this actually can breed not hatred- but miraculously- respect. It is slow going, but well worth the struggle… most of the time, haha.
But while I was busy with my fantasies of recreating an Ecuadorian version of “The Freedom Writers,” thre were four perfect storms working against all of the people who have invested in Las Ganas.
If there is any damage that I long to undo in the children at Las Ganas it is the lesson that they can trust no one. After being abused by their own families, the people who were supposed to protect and love and care for them- their wounds run deep. They can be agressive and even violent with one another, and others will cry at the drop of a hat. In the midst of this, the best hope for healing their scars is the enduring love of Christ and the people who are there to show it to them.
Tia. It means aunt in Spanish. It is what many of the kids even call me when I am Carmen as well as Las Ganas, and it is the official title for any care giver who works at an orphanage or foundation such as Las Ganas (unless you´re a man, in which case you would be called Tio- uncle.) The Tias make the food, enforce the rules, stay the night, make the kids bathe, help them with their homework- etc, etc, etc. At Las Ganas they are afforded the priviledge of bringing their children with them to work where thir kids can play and eat and bathe wit the other children. They can also take advantage of their position.
Two weeks ago it was discovered that one of the two Tias left at Ganas had been stealing food and donations (not money) and selling them on the street for extra cash. The kids knew that this was going on but said nothing because she would tell them that she had permission. In addition to this, she had three children whom she would bring with her to work but was using her position to make sure that they had the best of everything to the detriment of the other children. Things like- turning the hot water on for her kids to shower while making the Ganas children sower in cold (for those of you who have never experienced cold mountain water- it feels something like shards of glass falling on your skin) as a result many of he kids have been refusing to shower.
Needless to say, what she was doing finally came out (I´m not clear on how) and she was fired, but I personally, am still reelling from it. I have no words to describe the absolute… anger? Pain? Frustration? Horror? Is there a word for what this woman has done? I can´t think of one.
Meanwhile, eleven more kids arrived at Ganas after a sister foundation went under due to lack of funds and dropped their remaining children off on the prison doorstep in Quito. We´re all very happy they do not have to stay in jail with their parents, but now Ganas has eleven more mouths to feed, beds to provide, uniforms to buy… whilst searching for new hires. Ganas dodged quite a few bullets this month, and the Lords hand was clearly in all of it in ways that I don´t have time to go into but I am very, very, very grateful. Please keep the foundation, its kids, and its few faithful employees who work for $12´s a day- in your prayers. Their lease is up in February, and right now they have no place to go, or funding to find a new one.
Dia Doscientodiesyseis (216): Division in the church… (and other stories)
Wow, I can´t believe the summer is already over… I almost said finally because I was wearing thin on traveling back and forth to from Quito to Puyo every week. But things have slowed down for the last two weeks and allowed me time to settle back in to some form of discernable routine as I prepare to recommence teaching at Carmen Bajo and Las Ganas (the orphanage in Quito.) I have also blessedly returned to my Spanish classes and am more than a little relieved to be reviewing all I learned before summer- finding myself greatly improved- and excited to continue. I have been blessed by God in my ability to pick up the language thus far- but I´m still not quite at the point where my skills permit me to truly delve deeper into relationships to form those all important personal bonds with my Ecuadorian friends, which is my desired goal as far as language ability is concerned.
But enough about what is now- I know everyone wants to hear about what went on this last month of August!
First of all, I want to once again thank you all a thousand times a thousand for your prayers and monetary aid in restoring electricity to Las Ganas. If it had not been for your quick replies and prayer support this crisis might have been the end of Las Ganas, but in very large part due to all of you at GPC and outside it- who have been supporting me- the orphanage doors are open and functioning. Because of your pledges electricity was restored in record time and at this point we have a bit of a surplus which we are going to put towards paying down the rest of the enormous debt they had unknowingly accrued. One couple has even pledged to donate monthly to the cause- I´m not going to name names because I don´t know if they would prefer to remain anonymous- but you know who you are! And you have no idea how great a comfort and a help that is to Las Ganas. Seriously everybody- I am so happy and proud to know and acknowledge that when the Lord called on my support community to help those in need- even though they are faces you have never seen- you all abounded in generosity! So on behalf of all the rescued children of Las Ganas, I just once again want to say with all my heart- THANK YOU. All told, the donations I collected have covered over half of what was needed to restore power.
Before the Las Ganas crisis many other exciting things happened as well.
For starters, even though my summer of service was not actually finished, service was over for the interns who came for two months to lead visiting teams and so we headed into the eastern mountains to the tiny, tiny town of Papayacta- for our end of summer debrief. Papayacta is nestled in the cloud covered mountains so sufficiently that I wondered if the people who lived there had ever seen the actual sun. Cool and damp and utterly isolated with the exception of the road to Tena passing through the pinched but breathtaking valley one would wonder how it happened that anyone chose to make this place their home. Up the even steeper switch-back roads of the steep little town- practically resting within the clouds is the answer.
Hot springs. Being the volcanically active hot spot that Ecuador is in its… well… entirety, hot springs are not exactly ¨rare¨ but few are as secluded and unspoiled by over use. We spent two wonderfully relaxing evenings in the crystal clear pools of varying temperature and depths. The heat of the baths mixing with the frigid mountain air to form heavy blankets of steam that did spectacular things with the lights and shadows, while a rapid river contrastingly icy, that runs parallel to the springs, roared unseen in the darkness beyond the trees lining the pools. The only thing not fun about the hot springs- is having to get out and get dressed in the freezing cold. Brrrrrrrrrrrr.
During our debrief, we talked about the events of the summer and how these events had influenced us and also had a two stage discussion of the fantastic book by Henri Nouwen, ¨The Wounded Healer.¨ A book which does an amazing job of outlining the problems of ministering to people in this modern day and age (although he wrote the book long before it came) and accordingly concludes with the resolving image of leaders who keep their own wounds always ready to share with others in order to truly connect in a significant and intimate way with those who are seeking healing. It is a short book, but a deep read and I highly recommend it to anyone who is looking to grow in their service of others and relationship to the Lord.
Before and after our trip to Papayacta I came and went to Puyo as usual, continuing to work with the church community of Kairos for a number of weeks which I have officially lost count of. But no visit was any less eventful…
My last visit was slightly more stressful than normal. I left extra early in the morning in order to arrive in Puyo in time to assist in an English Tutoring Summer Camp- and as a result- fell asleep on the bus and had my phone taken… again. Later the following week, I had my camera stolen right out from under me- again, because I was exhausted and not paying attention… The moral of that story is- when you are tired- do not carry anything of value… or, just don´t go anywhere. (haha, jking) I was understandably… upset by these events. This sort of thing simply would not happen in the states (at least not so often.) People tend to return things. There are lost and founds- which I have come to believe there is no South American translation for. My own host dad had his phone stolen off the counter when he turned to pull a notebook off the shelf for a customer. One second it was there, the next moment- gone. My current roommates husband in Quito, who is Ecuadorian, has been mugged a good five times during his life, and has probably been through about as many phones- and they weren´t lost to upgrades.
¨ What is wrong with these people!¨ I exhaustedly wanted to scream and vainly wished for a hot spring to steam away my frustration. But after my two seconds of annoyance, a feeling of calm and understanding took its place as the Holy Spirit helped me to understand. First of all, despite the inconvenience, I- unlike the average Ecuadorian if placed in the same situation- can afford to replace both items- immediately if I chose to do so (and did). Secondly, there is a very good reason this does not happen so virally in the US… Need.
(This is a place where groceries are frequently given as birthday gifts.)
It is vastly taken for granted that most Americans can and do- own a digital camera. Thus, when you find a wallet, or a camera, or some ones phone- being that we already have one- and also being that we most likely know where our rent or mortgage money is coming from and don´t have to worry about covering the staggering $25 monthly tuition or supply fees required by even public schools in Ecuador- our first thought is NOT- how much money could I get for this? We don´t think to steal because we already have what we NEED. So to steal seems, and is, a much greater crime to us. But in a country where my camera costs, literally double what it did in the states (roughly $115´s) to get your hands on such an item could be the difference between continuing to afford food, water, electricity, rent, and tuition for a good two months… or the difference between a father being able to buy some time to take work closer to home that pays less- rather than having to move out to a bigger city to live apart from them in order to earn more money to send back (this is not an usual situation.)
In the midst of the turmoil of having one possession after another of mine go missing, more important things were happening! I was finally able to find my way to assist in the English tutoring program and unexpectedly had to teach them a song and also teach a lesson “about Jesus” with about a five minute window to prepare. But the Lord provided and all went well, in the process of which I met Maggy. Maggy is a native Ecuadorian woman who is married to an American missionary pilot of the MAF (the same organization with which Nate Saint and Jim Eliot worked.) We became instant friends as she unnervingly guessed my name before we had been introduced. This is because she lives in the tiny airport strip town of Shell where apparently word travels fast and the week prior I had contacted a missionary family via their blog that I had discovered while looking for bibles written in Shuar and a possible way to learn the language. As it turned out Maggy´s husband flies with the husband of the coupe I had apparently contacted. Before I knew it she was driving me to her house in Shell and walking me over to the couples compound where I was offered lemonade, able to purchase several Shuar bibles and introduced to Elza.
Elza is now teaching me Shuar and in exchange I am teaching her English- all of which is being done via Spanish. She is also teaching me about the edible and medicinal plants of the jungle, how to use them, and how to cook outdoors over a wood fire with food wrapped in leaves!
Needless to say, I am more than a little bit excited about this. (I currently have no photos of because they were in my camera… alas…)
But before I met Maggy and started learning Shuar, before the crisis at Las Ganas, and before I experienced the wonderfulness that are the hot springs of Papayacta… I experienced something much more profound and serious- I was introduced to division in the church- Puyo style…
It started with the walls.
The week before when I had left for Quito the main space of the church had been out of commission due to some sudden construction which I must credit to the most recent visiting team who donated some money to the Kairos church. You see, the walls in Kairos were a good ten feet shorter than the roof. It made for great air flow, but also sadly for perfect sound flow from the metal shop next door. It kept out the rain, with the exception of one corner which the weather seemed to take full advantage of and as a result usually required that we sweep the accumulated lake of water down the ill functioning drain every Sunday before services. Upon my return the following week the walls had been completed but some other form of construction was clearly under way. Giant piles of sand, cinderblocks, wood planks, and debris filled the center of the sanctuary and the back wall remained fully open and unsealed. Cement from the construction had leaked down the walls across the murals painted on them and dripped and then dried in small clumps on the floors. It seemed to me that they had perhaps run out of money to pay the workers who had left everything as was.
But then, they came, a few, and then a few more, and then a few more- until the sanctuary was buzzing with a blur of people- mostly the youth and young adults from the church and what few mothers who lucky enough to have spouses that made enough they did not need to work during the day. Shovels were distributed and the sand and rocks were loaded into wheel barrows and carted a block away to stow on some land the church owns. Another group set up an assembly line of sorts, tossing the cinder blocks from one person to the next and neatly piling them up on the roof outside the un-finished wall (which I found out later the congregation had voted to leave open to allow light and fresh air in). Meanwhile a member of the church who works as a carpenter measured out the back of the sanctuary and began hacking at the concrete ledges lining the walls with a sledge hammer. When he became tired someone would take his place, while we all continued to move the rocks he was smashing out of his way and carted them off around the block in what was now a heavy down pour. Some people took up holding umbrellas to help keep the wheel barrow runners dry- which wasn´t always easy- as the boys- in boy like fashion- decided that this was a perfect opportunity to race each other.
Some women tossed water on the floors and swept up the dust and debris, while other youths who came later commenced scraping the excess cement off the walls and floor and in the kitchen the older women of the church worked hard cleaning and preparing lunch for everyone who had showed up to help. (I don´t remember what we ate but I did almost drink down a glass of paint solvent because it was being kept in a large sprite bottle on the same table as all the real soda… ahhhh, genius.)
There were even little kids running around helping to shovel up the sand with a soup bowl and plastic 
spoons they stole from the kitchen (or perhaps found in the trash). Eventually however it was discovered that they were in fact building a sand castle and making sand pies (which they tried to offer to people in plastic cups) elsewhere in an unseen location in the sanctuary…
It soon became apparent that the wooden structure at the far end of the sanctuary was destined to become a full blow stage- something Kairos has never had or been able to afford but has definitely needed (they frequently use two large tables placed end to end for performances.) And when at last the sand and cinder blocks were gone and the cement scraped clean the painting commenced. My own mural had been damaged during the construction and so I eventually set to work repairing it. Meanwhile, the pastor and other young men found ingenious ways to extend paint rollers beyond believable proportions in order to repaint the steel scaffolding that holds up the structure of the church, as well as the walls. This entire undertaking lasted for about three days straight- during which the Pastor, his wife, and his youngest son were constantly present and working among everyone else. In the evenings, when the men of the church got off work- they came to help build and finish the stage… and in the original much smaller sanctuary- the normal functions, meetings, and practices of the church continued uninterrupted- lead and fully attended mind you- by the very youths and adults who had already been working so hard all day.
Occasionally I found myself winded and pausing to rest, and in those times I was impressed by the unity and commitment I was witnessing, alongside the simultaneous “division.” But there was no hint of division in the negative sense, not a single person ever complained- it was the division of labor. Everyone, no matter how infirm or small found something to do and did it passionately and happily. When someone wore out, someone else would step in and take their place so they could rest. Some people hauled absurdly heavy wheel barrows. Some people held umbrellas. Some people made lunch and brought refreshments. Some people repainted a mural that another person had mistakenly begun to carve off the wall when they misunderstood the instructions about chipping away the cement that had dripped down from the wall additions… (no worries, it´s all better now.)
Everyone played a part, and I couldn´t help keep myself from thinking- this, this is the only division that should ever occur within the church. Perhaps what I am trying to describe is best illustrated by a rather embarrassing cultural mistake that I made on that first day of work.
It was hot and humid after the morning rain and all I could think about was how much I wanted an ice-cream. Finally, when I couldn´t take it anymore, I slipped across the street for a fifty cent ice-cream sandwich. I came back victorious! Ice cream in hand I sat down with the remaining, and now resting, workers and proceeded to enjoy. But something was amiss… and I had no idea. After some quiet discussion I didn´t quite follow, a turning out of pockets, and a pooling of coins the pastors wife, Wilma, disappeared and came back with two more ice cream sandwiches. Then I watched to my horror and extreme embarrassment as she passed them out to two of the youth, who without any sort of instruction, tore them open and broke them into pieces until each person had received a piece (roughly two small bites). My humiliation was complete when Wilma turned to give me MY piece- without the slightest hint of judgment in her eyes, but I received the message loud and clear. No one here had fifty cents to buy ice cream for themselves. But what they did have, they shared- with everyone- even if it meant each person only got one bite of the ice cream- what mattered was that everyone was included. This is what division in the church should mean.
Now when I buy ice cream, even if I can only afford one sandwich- I understand, that I still have enough to share with everyone.
Dia Cientosesentayuno (161): La Selva (The Jungle)
I suppose it’s a good thing that I am so busy I average one updated blog entry every forty days. But simultaneously I hate to think that anyone back in the states might get the idea that I’ve forgotten them! Believe me, I have done no such thing.
But I have been doing lots of others!
My last post left off at the end of training for summer interns and since then I feel like I’ve pretty much just been living in the jungle city of Puyo- but that’s mostly because it’s summer vacation time at Carmen Bajo and so when I’m home in Quito my schedule is emptier than usual. When I am back though, I generally do have the opportunity to teach at the orphanage. Our last project was to paint mugs so they each get to have their own personalized ceramic cup. Apparently they enjoyed painting them so much that when I wasn’t looking they all ran out to the wash area and rinsed the paint off of their cups so they could come back and paint them again. All said and done, I feel that they turned out just beautifully. 🙂
Meanwhile, I trek weekly either from Quito to Puyo or from Puyo back to Quito on a five hour, five dollar bus ride. This might seem like a lot of traveling to handle but don’t cry for me! The trip is through some of the most beautiful country God ever created, has given me ample time to catch up on my reading and learn to crochet. Also, here in Ecuador, when the bus stops to pick up or drop people off, most of the time vendors of all sorts and kinds will clamor onto the bus for a short ride to the outskirts of town or even to the next town- during which time they will sell their wears, or food (like home made Ice cream or hornado), or even perform for a little while. But if none of that suits you, you can always watch the movie they’re showing or just lean back and sleep.
Enough about transportation!
I officially have three of everything. Three homes. Three families. And… well… just about three of everything in each of those places. Place number one is the States. Place number two is Quito. And place number three- is now… Puyo.
My host mom’s name is Carmela, and she owned two parrots (I’ll explain the past tense later), many chickens who all run loose on the property, four dogs, and a plethora of fruit trees and squash plants. My family owns a small “tienda” from which they sell school supplies, saldo (that’s minutes for your phone) and also have a small internet cafe’ and phone booths lining the walls. We eat all our meals in a separate building from the main house, and watch tv in the parents bedroom. There is no hot water to speak of unless you boil it on the stove, and in the shower there is also no shower head- so bathing is something akin to standing beneath a suspended garden hose. Oddly enough, you get used to this fairly quickly- and even come to enjoy it- as you are after all, living in the very humid and warm climate of the rain forest, and sometimes cold water is just what the doctor ordered.
My new host family was severely concerned with my ability or desire to eat the food they served me (apparently other North Americans have not fared so well) but I am proud to report that I very rapidly put all those concerns to rest! I have even sampled things that they won’t try- like “gusanos” (a type of fat, white, legless grub eaten whole and still squirming by the indigenous people in the Jungle. And no, they don’t taste like chicken… imagine liquified grass wrapped in cool, slightly clammy, flavorless skin, shaped like a spasming tater-tot, with a hard, black-plastic-button-head you have to bite off first so it won’t bite you on the way down… and that’s pretty much what they’re like!)
not my photo
My digs in Puyo are much more modest than where I was originally placed in Quito, but it has been nothing but awesome. My host family is very kind and considerate almost to a fault! I’m pretty much not allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied. No, I must always have some one with me- even if that someone is their thirteen year old son, Samuel (exactly half my age) there to protect me. Slowly but surely I am working to demonstrate to them that I am capable of being on my own… but what can you do? I am an oddity in this country where it is not usual for a woman to have two children by the time she is nineteen and where- for that matter- women aren’t really officially “women” until they have reproduced. And even if they haven’t done that- a woman of my “age” should at least have a “novio” (boyfriend) or “un esposo” (a husband). To have none of these things is strange indeed, especially among the indigenous populations. The more agricultural the society, the smaller the gap between youth and adulthood.
Did I mention that my family does not speak a word of English? Pretty much no one does in Puyo so I guess I’m officially bi-lingual because every conversation is 100% Español!
So what, you may ask, am I doing while I’m in Puyo? Well for starters I am serving as a sort of “artist in residence” for lack of a better description- that’s to say, that anything they want or need done that is artistically or creatively related- becomes my opportunity to serve! Opportunity numero uno… a nice, small, simple- mural in the childrens’ classroom. Jaime, the super awesome and hilarious pastor of Kairos (that’s the name of the church), asked me to paint a scene of a shepherd watching his flock with a jungle like landscape in the background… But I’m me, so was I capable of leaving it alone and just doing what he asked on the one wall he suggested?
Of course not. I’m not happy until I’ve painted a mural that wraps around the entire room, covering the back of the door, reaches floor to ceiling, and I’ve fallen off a rickety, splinter producing ladder, and worked two days past my own self-inflicted deadline.
But I am not sorry for a single a brush stroke, nor the friends I made in the process, and the church community loves it.
Me, Christina, and Janine
Kairos is not an especially wealthy or large church, but it is one of the minority baptist churches in the sea of Catholic churches and also sports one especially defining characteristic which in my mind truly places them in a league all their own.
The jungle from Chai
Pastor Jaime has a strong heart for bringing the word of the Lord and the message of Christ to the indigenous peoples of the Jungle and has infected his congregation with the same inspiration. Every second Sunday of the month (and on other occasions as well) an entire crew of people crowd into a small bus and drive and hour and a half into the jungle on roads that didn’t used to exist and become consistently less and less road like the farther in you go. (When pastor Jaime first made contact with these villages he had to hike through the bush for three days!) I have been privileged to be able (and permitted, gringos have not been allowed- until me) to travel to these Jungle villages and meet and help minister to the native Shuaris. (First encountered and introduced to the word of God by Nate Saint, friend and fellow martyr of Jim Eliot. SO COOL!)
The Shuar people probably do not appear as one might imagine. After a good fifty years of being exposed to the ways of the west the Shuar look very different from what they once were. For one thing, they wear normal clothing, except for shoes… and of course by normal I mean worn to the threads and stained from living the life of hard working manual labor. Gone are the feather head dresses and tattoos- but I imagine not completely. The “chiefs” still show up with at least one strand of beads around their necks. A modest display compared to how they used to adorn themselves.
The people are friendly but shy. Many of the older generation do not speak Spanish and cannot read and as a result avoid outsiders out of embarrassment. They live in stilt, board houses with tin or palm leaf thatched roofs. Some have electricity, some do not. Electricity or no, they almost all still cook over open fire pits near the house. Furniture is illusive, as are utensils and dishes (unless you would consider a machete a utensil.) Running water is usually the luxury of a tap outside the house, but more often the nearby river or creek serves in its place. On the way through the Jungle families can be spotted down on the banks, scrubbing their clothes on the large, smooth river rocks and subsequently laying them out to dry. The constant display of laundry hung out to dry outside of every single home in the “rain forest” is surreal to me.
The first village I was blessed to visit was the small but beautiful, village of Chai (yes, like the tea but with a different meaning in Shuar.)
While there I mostly help out with giving bible lessons, and doing crafts with the children while the adults attend classes of their own. 
I was also blessed with the opportunity to help lead the first Youth World Team to visit and serve at their village. As I was one of three people who spoke both Ingles y Español and also because the people of Chai were familiar with me and I knew the village I found myself in position I had never been in before- that of translator and half-baked ambassador. The Lord couldn’t have sent a better team to be the first to meet the Shuari people. They were hard workers and very respectful and joyful- even when the road to Chai was washed away and held up the bus. Everyone got off the bus and pitched in to fix the bridge, and what normally would have taken the locals all day- ended up being handled in under an hour! As a result we had the additional opportunity to surprise the chief of Chai by having the foundation of the bathroom being built for their small one roomed church, laid, and the children playing games and singing worship songs, when he arrived back at the village. He had been trying all morning to call us on the villages’ single phone line, to tell us the road was out and not to come. Instead he returned to find the road repaired and the visiting team hard at work!
On my last visit to Chai I asked about possibly purchasing a small parrot from one of the families (something the Shuar often sell to make money) because I wanted to replace the smaller parrot of my host mother had disappeared a week before as a thank you. After being told very kindly that they had none for sale I was just setting foot on the bus to leave for Puyo when the family all called together, summoning me back to their house by name- where their young son gave me his parrot (the family’s only remaining parrot) as a gift! The sweet little guy climbed swiftly under my shirt and went to sleep and I presented him to my host mom when we all got home (she also goes into the villages with the church.) We have named him “Yatsushi” which is Shuari for “precious little brother.” He lives up to his name. He does not bite or screech and likes to sit quietly on my shoulder while I am working at my desk.
Me and Yatsushi
The second village I have been working at and also helped lead the same team to serve in, is the village of Tunaime (Toon-eye-may). A smaller village than Chai and more nestled into the Jungle while Chai is out on a cliff, we helped to finish the building of the towns first church!
The village was so encouraged by the arrival and aid of the team that the next day (Sunday) as their worship service the entire town came together and worked until they ran out of lumber! Now all but the back wall is completed.
My friend Juanita and I also spent some time getting to know Comandarrosa, a woman of Tunaime who showed us around the village and how to keep the sun off our heads and then invited us to her house (after we shared some sandwiches with her and her son) and served us fresh papaya and caña (sugar cane) cut from her crops (which she also brought me along to do!) I look forward to seeing her again soon.
Dia cientodiecinueve (119): Training Day(s)
Once again it’s probably been about three weeks (at least) since I have updated my blog, but I have returned! Literally.
But before I get to that, I must as usual, back track a little.
My last entry was a dark and tragic one. I wish I could say all was well and that mi familia de Ecuador is the same as it was- jovial and carefree… but anyone who has come close to the loss they have experienced knows better. My family is doing better, but there is most definitely a cloud hovering over the household. But it has gotten to the point where I no longer feel guilty for smiling or being happy, which is a great relief for me. Helpless to alter circumstances I have been trying to help in whatever other small ways that I can, mostly by washing the dishes every time Monica cooks or has visitors over. It’s not much, but it’s something. The family held a peaceful candle-light protest outside the home of the guilty party with signs asking for justice. Over three hundred people showed up to offer their support. Sadly, I was not in attendance. I was going to go- I was dressed and ready! Until I got a call from one of my directors at Youth World, forbidding it. Apparently it is illegal for foreigners to engage in public demonstrations, and if identified as a gringo by la policia I would go straight to jail and then have my visa revoked and be shipped straight back to the states- not to mention get Youth World into a hot spot with the government. Although I was sorely tempted to go despite the threat of jail, deportation and consequences for Youth World were a bit heavy for me to oppose. Also given the habitual unrest that tends to pervade the countries of South America I can’t blame a governmental policy against foreigners coming into Ecuador and stirring things up. Happily, no was arrested. Sadly, nothing much has changed. As it turns out, the man who surrendered himself in place of his son as the driver who took Carlito’s life, is not only wealthy, but also a former judge- with friends in high places. The family is currently in the process of getting out from under house arrest, and has bribed the security guard who witnessed part of the affair to change his story. The same guard apparently has since approached our family and implied that should they pay him more- he will change his story back to the truth. I am proud, and pained, to say that Lily- Carlitos grieving mother- stood her ground and told him that she would not pay for justice.
Somewhere amidst the insanity I found the time to visit the home of two of my co-workers from the kitchen in Carmen Bajo, Esperanza and Laurita (Esperanza’s mother in law.) Carmen Bajo is a very poor part of Quito and many of the residents literally live on the edge of very steep embankments (where the government relocated them because it was “safer”.) I actually had no idea that half of the neighborhood even existed because I never bothered to look over the edge of the cliff in front of the school! (I feel like there’s a theological lesson in there somewhere…)
As it turns out, Esperanza and her Mother in law and their entire families, ten people total I think, live on the face of that cliff in a home roughly eighteen by maybe- thirty feet with a tar paper and fiberglass roof and the usual cinderblock construction.
When I arrived, Esperanza met me and walked me down the steep concrete stairs to their home. They actually apologized to me for being poor. I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I tried to placate their concern by assuring them that I loved their small and cozy home. And I wasn’t lying either. There were beds in practically every corner and they had the smallest oven I’ve ever seen- stuffed with plastic bags and pots and pans because it stopped functioning some years ago. The stove still works however and after chatting for a good two hours over tea I was absolutely prohibited from leaving without first eating something. 
But you’ll never hear me complain about having to eat freshly cooked Ecuadorian food! I myself brought a bag of empanadas from the bakery around the corner from my house (showing up empty handed is bad manners.) All told, it was a wonderful experience that I hope to repeat in the near future. Perhaps the most extraordinary part of it all, was that my entire three and a half hour stay was conducted completely in Spanish! Woo hoo!
The very next day, I left for a leaders retreat for STM (Short Term Missions). We spent two days in Puembo, a small town across the east valley from Quito. It was gorgeous. A veritable garden that also seemed to be a distant relative of Disney World with it’s odd mix of architecture and artificial streets (small but effective) also a pool, hottub, and sauna. It was a very nice time of getting to know the team better and gaining a clearer understanding of the mission and goal of Short Term Missions. Sadly, I did not bring my camera.
Two days after getting home I left again and engaged in a week of leadership training and orientation along with eight new summer interns. As I arrived in the middle of winter all by my lonesome there was no intensive training available for me at the time so my director decided that I should participate even though my responsibilities are different from theirs- so that I would know all the ins and outs of STM. It was awesome from beginning to end! The Lord revealed a great deal to me during our ten days of training, about myself, about serving as a missionary, and about the ministries of Youth World. We all shared our testimonies and life stories of how the Lord has worked in our lives and discussed short term missions in depth. But I especially enjoyed visiting our ministry sites in the Jungle: Shandia, Puyo, and Shell.
Puyo was a treat for me because I was able to revisit the church I worked at last summer and where I will be working a great deal this summer as well. In contrast to the rainforest city, Shandia was a very small village with only one “store” (about the size of a kiosk) to its name. 
Most of the houses were raised on posts and had small tilapia ponds and porches covered in drying cocoa beans. The people were wonderful and the children climbed all over us as if we were trees. lol.
There was fruit growing wild everywhere, including cocao trees! (chocolate) 
Lastly we visited the orphanage at Shell, which held two special and significant experiences.
First, the orphanage in Shell is where Carlita lives! 
(Recall the little girl I watched over at the hospital a month after arriving?) She is so much healthier and sitting up on her own! She is still not speaking but she is clearly better, intrigued and curious about everything around her. The head Tia commented that she was the most unhappy baby she had ever met, but one can hardly blame her. Carlita is three years old and still unable to speak and thus communicate with those around her. I would be frustrated aswell. I took her for a walk and she didn’t fuss at all. She wanted to touch and pick up everything! Especially rocks… an odd and strangely familiar habit I happen to share. (I suspect an artistic spirit.) If only I had three thousand dollars lying around, I’d probably beg the mother to sign over her parental rights and adopt her on the spot. (Don’t worry Carlita! I understand you!)
The second reward of visiting Shell was taking in the humble yet, powerful posterity. The town of Shell is built up around a small landing strip, the very same strip from which Jim Elliot and his missionary brothers flew out from and made contact with the Waroni people in the Amazon. His wife wrote a book about what followed, how Jim and his friends were speared by the men of the tribe. How she and the other widows took their children and went into the jungle to finish what their husbands had died for- to bring the Word to the Waroni.
And they did.
The center of the town was built up around a small park with a sculpture of Jim Elliots yellow plane in the center. There are still a few indigenous people who are old enough to remember him and they speak of him with reverence and sadness. One such woman I was told by the site host in Shandia said that, “He was one of us. Other missionaries come and try to change us into them. But he lived with us, as one of us.” Those words stayed with me.
I did no work while I was there in Shell and I met no natives of the deep Amazon, but I saw work. I saw and felt the profound echoes of the small but powerful faith of Jim Elliot and the other missionaries who came with him and dared all that any missionary can dare.
I feel deeply privileged to have been able to visit this place, and walk in the footsteps (if only for a short time) of such remarkable people. I hope that at the very least, I do nothing to harm the great work that they accomplished in this wild and blessed country.
Butterflies!!! I was scooping them up in my hands! It was craziness!!!
God is sooooo great.
Dia noventayseis (96): The Rest Is Silence
It’s raining. And it’s appropriate that it’s raining. After a good week and a half of clear, gusty, sunny days the gray has finally settled in. Because it’s not just raining outside- it’s raining inside. Deep inside the anguishing souls of my family here in Ecuador. At about 8pm in down town Quito my Ecuadorian cousin, my house brothers best friend, and my house mom’s sister’s only son- was run over by a car and left to die in the street while his girlfriend screamed hysterically for help.
And what could be worse than such an accident?
Maybe the fact that it wasn’t an accident.
He wasn’t crossing the street on red or running recklessly out into traffic. Carlos, who I knew only in passing at family gatherings, who was due to graduate from University (a huge accomplishment here) in less than a month- was cornered in a no-outlet circle and crushed against the wall while his girlfriend and another friend were with him.
His friend fled.
And the driver? Was another “friend” of Carlito’s who proceeded to speed away and hold up in his parents house. The police have yet to extricate and arrest him. And now the district attorney is in the process of gathering police to arrest the police who have failed to enter the house to detain the guilty party (bribery is suspected.)
What can I say to my Ecuadorian family? What can I possibly do to ease the awful pain of this stupid tragedy? There are no words for this sort of grief. And more than one life has been ruined. For what? We don’t know yet, and I wonder if it even really matters. I ache inside. I did not know Carlos, but I know his parents. They have been kind and friendly with me since my arrival. They visit almost every week to play Cuarenta and have helped make me feel welcome and like I belonged here. Lily, Carlos’ mother, always makes a point to come up and talk with me at family gatherings and is patient with my poor Spanish. And her husband jokes whenever I win at Cuarenta that next week there will be “revenge.”
What can I do for them? What shred of comfort can I offer? “He’s in a better place,” has never sounded so hollow. This is just the beginning of their pain and I can’t stand the thought of such wonderful, happy people- being weighed down and broken by this terrible loss. It will be a long time before we play Cuarenta again. It will be a long time before Monica turns on her salsa music in the kitchen, and Fernando can celebrate another Emelec win… and before the family can come together for a lively holiday celebration. It doesn’t seem right to listen to the radio, or watch tv, or put in a movie… or to laugh… or smile… The only thing that seems right is the rain. Just rain and rain and more rain.
Dia noventaycinco (95): And then there were six
My last post came just before Easter, if I recall correctly, and I finally found the time to sit and update… another thirty days later… oops. But busyness is a good sign! It means I’m working! Yay!
So here in South America Easter is less of a one day holiday and is more of a week- “Holy Week” to be precise, or- Semana Santa. Thankfully there is no spraying of foam or throwing water and eggs at people. Infact, there aren’t many eggs to be seen at all- and not a single bunny or grass filled basket in sight. And I know, because I checked. I have to be honest I never thought I would miss the traditional commercialism of the states, but I did. Strange.
I think the real reason for my faint sense of melancholy was more that Easter is not quite the joyful event in Ecuador that it is in the states. Being a Catholic country they tend to focus on the death and suffering of Christ and how much we all owe him and what terrible sinners we are and how we really need to repent- or rather- do penance in order to earn pardon for our sins. Right about there is where I get lost though because if Christ died for all of our sins why am I also required to do penance in order to “hopefully” earn forgiveness… ??? Oh Catholic Church. I do love your architecture and your traditions but I do worry about your theology.
Never the less Semana Santa is quite the week. The grandest spectacle is “The Procession” honoring Christs agonizing walk to be crucified. It is something to watch. A sea of purple robes with bare feet poking out at the bottom- marching to the Basilica with images and crosses- literally. We’re not talking little tiny rosary crosses (although they had those too) we’re talking life size. Beams, trunks of trees, one guy even looked like he had uprooted a telephone pole to use for his.
(Unable to carry his own cross this penitent puppy will have to put faith in the grace of God for his forgiveness…)
While it sounds like I am mocking the display I was actually rather impressed. It’s not a bad way to get a small but much more tangible sense of just what Christ did for us on that day. Watching men struggling to carry these massive burdens you can only imagine the weight of the world and how it must have felt. Some people actually walked not only bare foot but also bare chested and were scouring themselves with branches of stinging nettle (and it you can take it from someone with first hand experience that stuff is no joke. It HURTS. And while we’re on the subject, if you decide to go for a hike down a country road in a foreign country, make sure you take a good look at plants before reaching out to pick leaves off of them.)
There were even men with crowns of thorns and genuine blood dripping down their faces. Other people dragged heavy chains tied around their ankles and a few wrapped barbed wire around their bare skin. Some of the blood was fake and there were even small children participating in the march.
An offended North American coincidentally stood behind me and was loudly objecting to the affair, saying how awful it was, particularly to involve children (none of whom were carrying crosses, chains, or beating themselves- it is actually considered an honor to be chosen to even wear a robe which are all owned and supplied by the church.) “This doesn’t say “love” to me at all.” I remember her words carrying over the crowd very clearly. I also remember thinking in silent reply, “That’s because it’s not about love. This procession is in memory of the price Christ paid. And no, it wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t fun to watch.” Regardless of what other people who have never seen such a thing before think, I for one walked away very thoughtful and positively impacted by the experience. I can only imagine that were I to participate in such a procession I would come away with a deeper connection to and appreciation of what Christ endured. My only sadness is that the actual day of resurrection, the true miracle, is not celebrated with the same fervor. (But they do have this AMAZING traditional Easter soup called Fanesca that has every grain and bean you can think of, is thick, creamy, and served with hard boiled eggs, cheese, avacado, and dried fish mixed in. It is sooooooo good… But strangely, most foreigners hate it. People are so weird.)
All that said, some friends and I got together earlier that week and had visited the aforementioned orphanage and decided that since the children had been sponsored by a benefactor to stay for the weekend holiday rather than return to the abusive homes they were removed from- that we would do something to make it extra special. 
Improvising about 90 hard boiled eggs in place of the plastic ones which are no where to be seen here, and making dye out of food coloring and vinegar we hosted a puppet show about the Easter significance of eggs and then had a really big easter egg hunt followed by decorating and lunch.
It was awesome.
What was not awesome were the photos I took of the food being stored in the kitchen for the childrens future meals…
Unsellable donations from the local Super Maxi…
As for my Easter, I got up at 5Am to join some friends for the sunrise service at Carmen Bajo, where I teach during the week. It was great. On our way there we got a special treat, a volcano I’ve never seen before because of constant cloud cover emerged in the distant horizon, while North Quito laid out in the valley below shimmering with street lights as if the sky and earth had traded places.
The service was worship and joy filled, and continued that way for FIVE hours, which would not have bothered me really, had it been in English and I had been able to understand what was being preached about in one of the three sermons and various testimonies given throughout the duration. I do admire the stamina of Latin Americans when it comes to church services.
We actually snuck out early to make our pre-planned pot luck brunch where we ate breakfast caserole and fresh baked bread bunnies filled with nutella. Yeah, that’s right special ordered. Eventually we decorated some eggs of our own but no own had the energy for an egg hunt so we laid out in the sunny grass and enjoyed the suddenly beautiful weather.
In other non-Easter related news, I was asked to teach a work shop at the Alliance Christian Academy for a special day they have there every year for the kids. It actually felt strange to be teaching in english but the results were quite fun. I taught them how to replicate one of the traditional painting styles here which involves layering brighter and brighter colors on top of darker ones to create a glowing effect.
During the weeks since I have continued teaching and working at Carmen Bajo and attending my clases de Español. I have finally begun teaching without my face glued to a prescripted lesson plan typed out in Spanish and am now teaching a grand total of six classes, which is actually a lot more work than it sounds like when you factor in all the lesson planning and then the translation of said lesson into Spanish… I have finally begun teaching at the Orphanage for which the good Lord supplied me angelic volunteers to come and help me- and boy did I need the help. I am not afraid to admit that technically speaking, my first day of teaching there was a bit of a train wreck. Due to the lack of funding for the orphanage the only staff on duty are the women who prepare the food, meanwhile the children are pretty much left to their own devices. Multiply a child with no structure or customary discipline by 26 and you might start to get a sense of what it was like. Needless to say, attention spans were tested, as were the extent of some peoples patience. I am not discouraged however. I went in knowing that, the same as it is with any new group of students, I had to be prepared for the unexpected and ready to learn from the experience. Honestly, no matter who you teach, before you can really teach anything you have to gain an understanding of the personalities to whom you are teaching so that you can know how to approach them… THEN you can begin the process of forming relationships and trust- and THEN you can really and truly begin to teach. So, to be brief, I expected it would take a while to settle in there, and I’m simply going to take it one week at a time. The situations these children have come from I believe, entitles them to a fare amount of patience. So, Lord, please build up my patience and fill me with a gentle and understanding heart.
A painting by a local artist I saw at an exhibition in La Rhonda.
Dia Sesentaycuatro (64): Life at 15,406.8 feet…
First order of business- Yes, I am still alive.
No I didn’t fall off any mountains or catch an unknown disease that probably invented itself solely for the purpose of making my life miserable. No, I have not been mugged, kidnapped, or otherwise physically detained.
I have been busy though… doing A LOT of different things… obviously… and I apologize for my extended period of silence.
Where to begin? Where did I leave off? I can’t even remember. I hadn’t quite been here two months yet… Let’s see…
…A long time ago on a continent far, far away…
There lived a girl who went to visit a nameless orphanage… (No joke, it has no name.) Oddly, it was in the center of the city, just up the hill from the most touristy part of town and hidden unassumingly behind a church. It had a large, un-kept yard and a courtyard where the childrens’ clothes were hung to dry in the sun. The walls were peeling, their food was literally rotting, and the only visible toys they had to play with were a quickly flattening ball and a broken broom stick which had been taped bad together and they used intermittently both to sweep and play baseball…
But there were no sad faces here (except for the three year old that kept getting stepped on accidentally.) Most of the kids were wearing their clothes inside out- to prolong their use, although how that works exactly I’m not really sure. We spent the morning singing and dancing and finished up with a bible verse and coloring in paper hearts, which even the boys, no matter how old seemed to enjoy. 
(Sorry, for the safety of the children I cannot post pictures of them.)
My heart truly went out to them. All I could think about was, “I want to do for these children. I want to do and give and just pour out every ounce of energy and money I have on helping to supply them with everything they need.” Upon sharing this information with my director (who was present) I was informed of the following: there was little I would be allowed to do, because in roughly nine months the orphans would not only be without family, they would also be without home. The church, whose property the orphanage had signed a twenty-two year lease for and on whose sponsorship the orphanage relied, had been appointed a new Priest who had promptly decided that the children in the orphanage were “a lost cause,” pulled the church’s funding, and cut their lease down to TWO years. And why are these inexplicably sweet children “a lost cause?” Because they are unadoptable. No, none of them are mentally ill or anything like that. The problem is- that they are not really orphans. Either their parents are in prison, or they have been removed from an abusive home. As a result they cannot be put up for adoption because they are still legally the dependents of family yet living. (Don’t ask me, I did not write the laws here.)
All that being said, I am hoping to volunteer anyway for as long as possible, as soon as we can get some time with the director of the orphanage, who is, as you can imagine, very, very busy.
And then there was one…
I am well aware that my last post freaked a lot of people out. Naturally I cannot write from inexperience, so yes, I have been dealing with some intense loneliness among other things. But allow me to put many concerns to rest. I have not been crippled into staying home and crying all day. My last post was written more with the intention of provoking consideration about how it feels to be a foreigner, perhaps to the effect that we will all consider more carefully our opinions of foreigners on our own soil. It was not meant as a distress call.
That being said, yes, I have been dealing with being lonely. (And I thank you all for your prayers on the issue.)
Which is why I have also been busy trying to meet people and make lasting friends and contacts here. This is a task, of course, which is somewhat complicated by rudamentary language skills… But the Lord provides!
My Spanish tutor has invited me out to a number of group outings, one of which lead me to a cafe’ where I learned that smoking indoors has not been banned in Ecuador, Fuze ball is awesome in any language, and if the party you are with accidentally breaks the antique fuzeball table and you manage to disassemble, repair, and then reassemble the table, using only a spare dime, you get rewarded with a free shot of flaming-alcohol-something-or-other which you have to down with a dozen people surrounding you and chanting encouragingly, “Do it! Do it!” in Spanish.
I also recently went out to a Spanish Christian Concert with some other new friends I met at my language school, where I learned that worship does not require translation.
But before ANY of this happened…
…there was a volcano…
Yeah. Fess up. You all knew it had to happen. In fact, it was SUPPOSED to have happened many, many weeks ago- just before the infamous illness struck and waylaid me two short weeks after my arrival. But I have to say, post volcano, I am reeeeally glad, that I had time to adapt to the altitude in Quito… before taking on the altitude of Pinchincha…
I have posted many a photo of Pinchincha, and lets be honest, from the foot of the mountain it doesn’t look particularly imposing in comparison with it’s distant, snow-capped sisters. Just incase you’re wondering if up above the clouds it is hiding it’s own snow capped peak, the answer is- no. No it’s not. And I am very glad.
Quito is already a good 10,000 feet above sea level. Often during the day, walking through the streets, you get the sense that you are walking among the clouds.
You’re not.
But this is!
If you look really, really close- you can see the tiny little buildings of central Quito just barely visible through the haze.
So speaking of mountain top experiences…
Allow me to offer some advice…
Bring.
Oxygen.
Because it’s hard to feel elated- when you can’t breathe. Anyone seen “Howl’s Moving Castle?” Remember the scene when the Witch of the Waste has to climb all those stairs to the palace and by the time she gets to the top she looks like her entire, enormous body is about to melt into a giant heap of massive-old-lady? Yep, that’s pretty much what it feels like. Throw in some adrenaline (because you looked down and realized you have no ropes or protective gear) and you get shakes that make you want to pin yourself to the rock-face and petrify like wood.
But hey, physical stressors aside, it was- hands down- awesome. There’s nothing like watching a 29mile long city reduce to distant lego crumbs while listening to the sound of the unhindered wind howling through ancient canyon walls like the breath of God exhaling on the surface of the Earth to restore your sense of wonder. Did I mention the amazing plant life and super cool volcanic rocks?
Soooo many rocks… so little oxygen to carry them back. So many moments of wondering, “What WAS I thinking?”
Which brings us too… what you’re all probably wondering at this point…
Is she ever going to do any actual mission work?
And the answer is…
Yes! Yes I am! And I have in fact!
Starting two weeks ago, I am officially working at Carmen Bajo, the long ago a fore mentioned school in one of the more impoverished communities of north Quito. I began small, just working in the kitchen and practicing my Spanish with the cooks while drying an infinite stream of dishes and helping to prepare the two waves of lunches for the entire (albeit small) school. But today- today my friends- I graduated into teaching.
Can I get a alleluia?
Ok so I didn’t really graduate. I more reached the point of- if I don’t start doing what I came here to do soon I’m gonna lose my mind and drown myself in dirty dish water- and said something of that effect to my director. What can I say? Being new and alone out in the world seems to augment your personality and your needs, and I apparently, NEED to be teaching.
Even if it’s in a language I’m just starting to get the hang of, with students who are so afraid of making a mistake or being made fun of, that they have trouble coloring with markers.
Yes, you heard right. Children who are afraid to draw.
Back in the states I encountered this phenomenon in adults more than children, and even when I did encounter it in children, it was rare and not incredibly difficult to overcome. My director (Laura Jennings Estevez- is that an awesome name or what?) warned me ahead of time about this occurrence so I prepared ahead of time. It is difficult however, to ever truly prepare for something you have not encountered. But I left today, not only recognizing the real work I have ahead of me, but energized to finally be back in the classroom and encouraged. I was not laughed out of the classroom. I was not utterly ignorant of what was being said or how to respond. But most importantly, my sense of “what I have come to offer” was reinforced.
My journey thus far, to and in Ecuador, has been one of many trials, not the least of which has been the nagging question always hanging off the tail end of my thoughts; “Am I, as an artist and a missionary rolled into one, actually offering something of value spiritually or physically?” I had come this far more on the faith that the Lord would not lead me here if it was not so, than on the faith that it was. In preparing to give my first lesson and being in the classroom, observing the students experience of it the Lord has produced in me a number of thoughts I feel compelled to share.
The looming question “What is art?” haunts the freshman year of every art student, and despite its dangerously relativistic implications, it is one that I often wish was asked more frequently outside the closed, angry, liberal doors of Art Schools.
As a follower of Christ I believe that, being made in God’s image- and that image being presented to us as a creator, we are all made to be makers and creators. I also believe that sin and pride has twisted that inherent characteristic to virtual non-existence in many people. Visual standards that say, “this is good and only this,” divide and pit individuals and even entire cultures against each other. In the minds of children and adults alike, this singular way of thinking functions like a poison, instilling fear where freedom was intended. “If it isn’t just so, it is bad, therefore I am bad and therefore less than the others around me whom I perceive to be better.” This is the unconscious thinking behind the paralysis which prevents an eight year old from evening pressing the tip of their pencil to the paper and drawing so much as a line. This is the thinking which, if left unchecked, spreads into countless other corners of our personalities and daily lives. Fear of failure paired with an underlying lack of self-worth. It keeps us from learning things we long to try, from standing up for what we attest to believe, and ultimately manifests as a people pleasing form of insecurity which renders one incapable of true integrity of spirit, mind, or action.
So what does any of this have to do with the definition of art? It comes down to the bare essentials of just exactly what art is- at its core. Art is- us. We are God’s art. Made in His image we are designed to create also. The reason for that creation is not as important as you might think. The Bible gives little help in comprehending the Lords purpose in producing us. It begins matter of factly stating that God created, and giving some vague description as too how. It then goes on to describe Gods’ interaction with His creation and for all intensive purposes He reveals Himself through that interaction to be Love. From that understanding then we may understand that Love creates while the opposite destroys, or creates nothing at all. The “why” is essentially unimportant, but WHAT we create IS.
I am going to be my artist self and defy convention by saying that- regardless of the quality or actual visual product is- it is important. It has value. Whether that value translates into dollars or historical documentation does not matter.
AND IT DOESN’ T MATTER BECAUSE… It’s true value is rooted not in what other people think or whether it looks pretty on someones wall. The value of art, like our own, is rooted in the person that created it. It matters because what it represents is the soul of the person who made it. What they feel. Who they are. What they believe. Are they blessed? Are they wounded? Are they jaded? Have they lost all hope? Have they found it? Can they find some beauty, some redeeming quality, in the smallest and filthiest corners of the world? Because if they can, they can probably also find the same thing in people.
There in lies the true value of art. In it’s function of acting as a window into our individual souls. Maybe some ones work is dark, and gruesome, and makes us sick to look at it. Maybe it makes us think, “What sort of person would create something like this? How can other people look at it and call it good art?” (Which implies that they relate to it on deeper level.)
What, who, and how- indeed? Usually, the work that disturbs us represents a soul who is equally disturbed and equally suffering and in need. So much so, that it spills out of them in physical form. Broken art comes from broken artists, and some one who understands what they are looking at, understands equally why a defiant scribble on a wall deserves as much attention, if not more, than a Rembrandt in a museum. Because what it represents, is a person. A person created and loved by God, made in His image, to reveal who they are through similar acts of creation.
What a horrifying thing, to be so afraid, to be so unsure of your own value, that you are unable to express it.
So that is my job, and the value of my job, to help unveil self worth in being one of Gods children, and try to instill that same sensitivity towards our surroundings, and likewise, towards other people.
Dia Cuarenta y seis (46): Being The Foreigner
Being a foreigner in the States is no easy task, unless you’re from somewhere that speaks English. Immigrants in particular, especially illegal ones, are highly unwelcome. It is generally assumed that they are low income, have a low level of respect for “American” values, refuse to learn the language, and have come to our country to take advantage of our freedoms and catch a ride on the wave our success and wealth.
Here in Ecuador, opinions on foreigners are somewhat different.
First of all, it is generally assumed that you are either a tourist or a student. Second, as a tourist or student (especially a whitish one) it is immediately (and not entirely incorrectly) assumed that you have lots of money. There is also an underlying assumption that you will likely be demanding, rude, and posses a displaced sense of entitlement. Ironically, if you are from a neighboring Latin country you will also be welcome with a fair amount of resentment as it is widely assumed here that many people have come here for all the same reasons we in the States usually assume, as the dollar has been adopted as the official currency.
All that being said, as one might imagine there are some serious differences in the daily interactions between foreigners and residents. In the states, upon encountering a person who cannot speak clear english, especially if they are working in a service position, they are met with anger and resentment over their inability. On the reverse side, if you don’t know how to order food correctly in Ecuador, you are likely to find yourself surrounded by every person who works in the store, all production grinding to a sudden halt, as they all band together to try and figure out exactly what you are saying. Also typically, if you say something incorrectly, people will patiently and kindly correct you. Then again, if a taxi driver figures out you are foreign and you did not negotiate your fare before getting in, you will be looking at a comparatively steep charge for your ride.
But complications in ordering food and giving directions aside, there are many aspects of “being foreign” that are taken for granted. For one thing there is the constant language barrier between you and everyone around you. It is very much like walking around inside a soundproof glass box. You can see them, and they can see you, but nothing gets across. Then, when learning the language, you eventually come to realize, that regardless of how much vocabulary you know most day to day conversations are actually composed of common phrases that grammatically make no actual sense, while grammatically accurate speaking only gives away that you are not a local and most often generates curious and confused looks. For instance- in the states it is quite common to say “I am going to go run some errands…” or “I ran errands” when asked what you did for the day. Here in Ecuador that statement means absolute nonsense. It translates about as clearly as their title for the popular US tv show “Man vs. Wild” which here is translated beyond recognition and if taken straight from Spanish and put back into English transforms into; “proof of strength.” If I mention anything about verses in Spanish people will think I am talking about poetry, the lines to a song, or the bible. To be brief, literal translation is frequently as much of a dead end as speaking in english, because in fact, you are still speaking in english, you’re just using Spanish to do it. So inorder to truly learn the language you need at least, a friend, who not only knows US coloquialisms but also understands them well enough to explain the Ecuadorian equivalent. In our native countries we all take these “turns of phrase” and “expressions” for granted because they are passed down as you grow up, through basic conversation, and not in the class room. The trouble is, and it works both ways, often there is no equivalent to our ways of asking or stating things because the phrasing is culturally and historically based. As you might imagine, in reverse this makes the same phrases in Spanish inconceivably confusing- as they don’t translate into anything discernable because their origin is lost in an equally foreign history. For example the phrase “Que tal?” translates literally into: “What so?” But actually means: “How are you?” or “How’s it going?”
Perhaps the greatest challenge, is an entirely unforeseen consequence of once again, not knowing the language.
Isolation.
Isolation for all of the before mentioned reasons but also one additional reason as well. When in our home country we are constantly surrounded by conversation, an influx of adds, entertainment…words. Everything carries a message to us that we comprehend. Even at our loneliest moments we our immersed in what I have decided to dub “micro relationships.” We exchange a few words with the check out girl at the grocery store. We over here a conversation at a coffee shop. We pick up a news paper or watch part of a television show. We exchange a wordless, but meaning filled glance with someone else who is standing in line with us to purchase a ticket. Even when the exchange is a one-sided encounter with an inanimate radio program- some small, fractured relationship is taking place. We are able to understand and absorb what we are hearing, seeing, etc and we are able to relate to it. An unsaid amount of confidence is derived from this. A sense of control, and of certainty about ones situation and surroundings. You know what is going on. You can tell by the news that it is going to rain and that there is traffic because of an accident. You have a faint sense of awareness about the global state of things, who’s shooting at who and whether it affects you. You know that the people around you are not talking about you when they mutter under their breath. When the clerk quotes a price to you, you know how much money you need, and do not mistakenly hand her cash when she is asking if you have a discount card. You can over hear a complete stranger comment on the weather or a sports team and you are free to turn and respond, or simply respond silently in your own mind. You are unafraid of normal confrontation, or questions because you are capable of answering.
Being the foreigner in the foreign country, you are stripped of all these micro-relationships. Even if your daily routine was not much different from your new one there is a massive void that looms constantly, and inexplicably. Perhaps you were alone much of the time when you were at home in states. Perhaps you thought your human contact was fairly minimal. It is not as minimal as you think it is. We are not as alone as we think we are. We are submerged in relationships, even if they are only relationships of the mind. But it is an ocean that only becomes visible when it is abruptly absent against the contrasting, isolating, drought of being mute and dumb in a strange land.
Dia Trenta y tres: Baños (where the mountains meet the clouds)
Turns out, Baños is a haven for party seeking youth and families all armed to the teeth with spray cans and the shameless desire to foam anything and everyone- even out of moving cars. Also, unlike Quito, Baños has no policy forbidding the throwing of water, which means that every building is also a fortress for the propelling of water balloons, the spraying of hoses and- no joke- dumping whole, giant buckets of water onto the people and vehicles below. Naturally we all partook of the festivities and engaged in a massive public battle (that never actually ended) on the main street and well, every other street to.
Carneval aside, Baños is a beautiful town. It is nestled safely at the foot of Ecuadors’ most active (as in- is currently active) volcano- Tungurahua.
Which is why it is filled amusing signs.
Tungurahua is very high and you generally can’t see the top except at night when it’s dark and it glows orange against the black sky. (Oooooooo) In fact, for this very reason, Baños is rife with “Chiva’s” or party buses that hall loads of young adults up another mountainside for the chance to see it. Of course, Baños is also smack in the middle of a cloud forest (yes it’s a real thing, you can look it up), and as you are probably already picturing- there are a lot of clouds which generally obscure the view. Which is why they have a bonfire, food, hot drinks, and live entertainment up at the look out. The city is lovely to see lit up below, and the hot drinks- well… actually it’s just one hot drink. THE traditional Ecuadorian hot drink, which is now officially my favorite beverage ever is called: Canelazo. It tastes the way it sounds. It’s a thick, fresh, spiced fruit juice made from Naranjilla and is served hot in glasses with sugar on the rim and alcohol on the side so that everyone may partake whatever their age or drinking preference. The alcohol is completely unnecessary to enjoy this drink, in fact it doesn’t help that the mysterious alcohol tastes like it was originally meant to be used as an industrial cleaner- for car engines. (bleh) It’s like hot apple cider all grown up.
During the day Baños is overflowing with endless possible activities; bungie jumping, rafting, canyoning, hiking, biking, shopping, and of course- the hot springs for which Baños was named. If you can’t guess what activity I went with then you don’t know me!
I weennnnt…
Biking! Yay! On Amazonas road, the only road that leads in and out of Baños, along the Pastaza River, both of which continue into the Amazon rain forest itself and- ok, sort of hangs off a cliff the entire way. My new friend Megan joined in my quest to ride the 24km’s to Pailon Del Diablo stopping frequently along the way to explore multiple other water falls, go swimming in a pool at the base of one of them, and hike through a canyon to get to the river. On our awesomest of adventures we found orchids and other bizarre flowers, saw butterflies who refused to pose for a photo, and-
of course- collected rocks- because I just can’t go anywhere without bringing back rocks. But don’t worry, the rocks we found were all chunks of floating pumice washed up on the shore from one of the multiple volcanoes in the area (pretty much every mountain in sight.)
The only damper on our day were the passing cars whose drivers thought it was funny to allow their children to spray us in the face as they drove by. (Can you say “dangerous?” On our way back we shared a flatbed with some unlucky German tourists- one of whom wrecked and got cut up something nasty after being sprayed in the face herself.)
Needless to say, it was a breathtaking and refreshing vacation in the cloud forest (what an awesome term) getting up close and personal with God’s amazing creation.
Dia Veintiseis: Carlita and other news…
This week has been mostly filled with me going to class and battling in what is quickly becoming an epic struggle with the Quito bus system. Frustration aside, the buses at least have nothing against me being on time at the hospital to sit with sick orphans. I pulled my last shift with little Carlita on Monday and I am happy to report that she was doing much, much better. We read a book about “Salto!” (Jumping) and figured out that repeating “chica, chica, chica” while wiggling her nose with the tip of my finger will make her smile and giggle.
She even finished off an entire bowl of pureed apricots! A big deal considering she has been hooked up to an IV and taking an hour to consume four ounces of formula from a bottle I had to hold for her.
On Miercoles (or Wednesday) she was cleared by the hospital and released back into the care of the orphanage. I am hoping to volunteer there in the near future and will be going through orientation at another orphanage in north Quito next Thursday. But if I hear any more news about little Carlita I will be sure to post it. Speaking of which, I tried to find out more about Carlita’s mom but all anyone knows is that she will be in prison for two years- and no one knows where or why. Please pray that more of her mother comes to light. I am hoping that we may be able to locate her and find out more. Considering the prison system here, perhaps we could even visit her and bring her food and other provisions to help the time pass more quickly- not to mention exchange news between family members. But first we would have to find her…
In other news, my Spanish tutor and I went to another art exhibition, this time at Catolica Universidad, featuring the beautiful works of Farhana Khan. Her paintings are inspired by classical music and the tapestry of the Ecuadorian jungle. She also had a great deal of politically motivated work being shown as well.
Looking up in the Jungle
My tutor: Fabricio
Also, I want to offer a word of praise and thanks to the Lord for some personal revelations. I came here knowing that the Lord has plenty of plans for me that I may never even recognize in retrospect, and that being said have been working to keep an open mind as much as possible. I am in a class all my own here as far as age and situation in life. The group closest to me are younger study abroad students who boggle my mind with their seemingly endless, boistrous energy and *cough* volume… (yes, that means they’re loud.) They are all very nice and God serving girls but if I ever was loud and crazy in the same manner as they are- that ship has definitely sailed. Needless to say, when in a room with all of them I often find myself sitting in silence, listening and observing. Thankfully no has been offended by this. I certainly don’t do it because I don’t want to participate… But I have found myself wondering on my own time- just what is the deal? Why do I seem to shut down when I’m around them? And how do I, can I interact with them better or more? Do I need to? Does the Lord have a purpose in me being here at the same time as they are?
Last night I believe the Lord helped me to understand better what I do have to offer in my interactions with these younger girls- in the sense of being part of my mission here in Quito. Yes, I am quiet. Yes, I do not make lots of noise and go bizarrely goofy (which I can be) when I am around them. And yes, this does seem to set me apart from them in a fairly distinctive manor. But what it also means, is that I see what most people in the room are missing because the focus of attention is where all the action is, so to speak.
I’m not going to go into details in case anyone here reads my blog, but I will say, that the Lord compelled me to go and talk with one of the girls who I noted was being unusually quiet. After assuring her that she could trust our conversation would not circulate she explained that she was feeling emotionally worn down from being surrounded by so much and so many high energy personalities. It had gotten to the point (she explained to me) where she didn’t want to be around anyone because she was so agitated and exhausted. She was even opting not to go on our upcoming holiday trip to Banos, a beautiful town- on a cliff- in the rain forest. I calmly encouraged her to go- even if it was to spend some time by herself and rest in the natural beauty of Banos, to get away from the noise and tension of the city. And that if she even just wanted to sit and read she was welcome to join me- because I’d likely be doing something especially boring instead of site-seeing- like painting. She seemed to feel much better after we talked and I let her know that any time she was feeling over whelmed and wanted to hang out she could just let me know. I walked away feeling better as well. It seems the Lord has a use for my markedly different personality. I may not command much attention in the room but I do have plenty to bring to the other end of the table- when people find themselves there.
Day 21: On A Clear Day
Que un bonita dia!
Volcano #1: Pinchincha (also a view of my street)
Today I have a thank you gift for everyone for all your prayers and support while I was sick.
I woke up this morning a ocho punto (that’s eight am) opened my curtains and- BEHOLD! The sky was clear blue and without a single cloud.
Clear skies in Quito mean one very important thing…
You can see the volcanos. All four of them- three of which are completely obscured by clouds 90% of the time.
Volcano #2: Cotopaxi
Volcano #4: Kayambe (I climbed onto a roof for this shot.)
It was a wonderful high note to end on after a slow, anguished recovery this week.
Just to update everyone; my home-stay has a doctor in the family whom they promptly ushered over Sunday morning when I could barely stand upright and confessed that I had spent the night with a delirious fever so bad I had to cool of on the bathroom floor. The doctor examined me- declared me severely dehydrated, slightly taci-cardic, and low blood pressure+ fever, etc= bad bacterial infection from something I ate, and then prescribed me medication.
In the interim I learned a lot. I learned that antibiotics can kick your but worse than the infection they’re supposed to be fighting. I learned that my threshold for bursting into tears drops to a critical level when I am severely ill. And I learned that recovering from being ill in a foreign country- reduces the glamor a little.
Case and Point:
The Quito Bus System.
I actually LIKE the buses here. They run constantly, sometimes one bus going to the same destination literally behind another. The drivers practically running each other off the road to get ahead (maybe they work on commission?) There are what I have chosen to dub “bus runners” on every bus- a young or grown man or woman, who stands in the front or circulate through bus taking the 25 cents it costs per ride, endlessly repeating “Siga! Siga! Siga por favor! Siga!” (translation- Continue! Continue! Please continue! which in American is- Move towards the back of the bus until you can’t move anymore so we can pack in as many people as is physically possible.) When I say as many as physically possible, I mean as many as physically possible. This is a country where I have witnessed a motorcyclist with a woman-carrying a baby in her arms, and a toddler in front of her- all behind him on the back- in the rain. They put the “economy” in “economy class.” I have, from my comfy padded seat on engine directly opposite the driver, watched a man with a briefcase and dressed to the nines in a business suit- ride on the bottom step all the way downtown because there was no more room “in the inn.” (haha)
Physical proof- the man with the briefcase
Whenever the bus stops the bus runners jump off to declare the presence of the bus and its various important destinations to everyone on the side walk- as if they’re selling seats to a show. Sometimes the driver starts before they come back and they have to run and jump to get back on. Other times, if some one hands them a bill to large for them to make change, they will jump out and run ahead to another bus, get change and then run back (hence my nickname for them.) They trade out just as quickly to. Sometimes when I hand my money over just before getting off- I worry that I’m not handing it to the right person. At first I believed that they were hired by the bus drivers- that they jumped on randomly and offered their services. Then I noticed this-
It's the little green box on the pole. These guys are all showing up for work.
This is the telephone pole, at least in my part of town, where the bus runners “punch in,” at an actual clock-in machine nailed to the pole in the middle of a very busy intersection. The best part of this “system” is that the term “bus stop” once again is completely redefined. Sure, there are “Parada’s” or “Stop’s” with coverings and benches and blue signs covered in graffiti, but if you know the right body language- you can pretty much flag on down at any point along their route. Half the time the bus runners hang out the front door- which I don’t think they ever close- calling for anyone who needs a ride- wants a ride- or maybe hadn’t yet thought of catching a ride.
Bus Runner from behind- covertly taken from inside my bag.
This is awesome! If you are the person getting on. Not so much if you feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach for three days straight by a bacterium and you’re running late. Another lovely feature are the salespeople who hop on and walk back and forth selling their wears and putting them into your hands just in case you’re not sure you don’t want any.
And if all these things weren’t spice enough- just today I was on a bus that got pulled over by the police for allegedly not stopping to let off a little boy whom they witnessed tripping and falling as the bus drove on. (Poor guy, he was innocent.) Then the next bus I got onto, since that one was stuck in the middle of the street arguing with the cops, put on the parking break and out leapt the driver and the runner- to engage in a brief fist fight with a taxi driver. (Don’t ask me, I have noooooo idea.)
In Other News:
I finally had the opportunity to do something missionary like!
Meet Carlita.
sooo smallShe is about the size and weight of a new born, but she is actually one and a half. She has been so mal-nurished she is underdeveloped in size, motor skills, and hasn’t yet started speaking. She can barely reach for her bottle. She is from the orphanage outside Quito where she was brought after it was discovered that she was in the sole care of her sister- her four year old sister. Their father is unknown and their mother is in prison- reasons- also unknown. She has been suffering from a serious case of pneumonia but can remain in the hospital only as long as she has round the clock supervision. So the members of Mundo Juvenil (Youth World) have been taking shifts at the hospital. I took my first shift today. I sat with her, fed her, and changed her diaper (my first ever!) And learned the hard way what happens when small babies get cold while you are trying to change them and get them clean. She is quiet, and precious and I will be sitting with her again en Lunes (Monday) so please everyone say a prayer for this little girl; her health, her development, and her future (also, hopefully, for the release of her mother from prison.)
Little Carlita
artinecuador 
