Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Permanently...and presently...I am. You are. He is.
The most difficult verb for me to work with and understand in Spanish is "Ser" (to be...permanently) and "Estar" (to be...presently). In the English language...and in our culture as well...when a person uses a form of the verb "to be" there is only one choice. When we say we are happy, we say "I am happy." When people talk about us and our character when we aren't around, they say "She is successful," or "She is such a hag." There is no room for human-ness or the growth that comes with years of experience...usually hardship. There also is no room for bad days and misunderstandings. When we announce "I am'" there is a permanence in that verb and with it, a weight of judgment.
In the Spanish language, we can say that we are happy permanently, or that we are happy presently. In Espanol we are flexible and patient with ourselves and with others. Judgment seems to be absent in this culture and I wonder if part of this is the latitude granted by two forms of the verb "to be." Because of course people are always be-coming....but it takes us Americans a long time..and wear... and tear to abandon the idea that "to be" is permanent. In Ecuador, I am sad sometimes and at others times I am so content I could just rest for a while...for once. The verbs here let me say what I want...and the people here get that those expressions don't define a thing.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Homesick
According to Wikipedia homesickness has risk factors:
Last week each of the kids chose a parakeet to love and care for. I watch the way Jack pursues his parakeet. Even though I've talked him through how to tame his bird so that he can hold it on his finger and enjoy him up close, he pursues that poor bird around the cage moving his hand closer and closer while the bird moves further and further away from him. He even let the bird out of the cage at one point and the poor thing flew around until it bumped into a door jamb and fell to the floor. Olivia, on the other hand, will sit with her hand in the cage and leave it steady so that her bird will become used to her presence. She is patient and trusts the process of taming her bird.
I recognize myself in Jack and I recognize Clayton in Olivia. In the case of Ecuador I am Jack and Ecuador is that poor parakeet that bonked his head on the door frame. Like Jack, I have been told about the process-but have taken the view that the more assertive I am with this process, the sooner I'll be able to hold it in my hand. These past few mornings, I have simply wanted to stay in bed and binge watch Netflix. I wouldn't mind a bag of Doritos-Nacho please. And those pumpkin spice lattes you keep posting on Facebook make me want to cry.
I miss soft green grass, changing leaves, soft sheets. I miss Clayton and I miss Clayton with Olivia and Jack. I miss familiar-and have been forcing myself on this new place in an effort to make it familiar. I need to take a lesson from my daughter-who is more Clayton than Alyssum. Their gift is to trust the process and be patient with themselves and with their circumstances. Day by day, the parakeet will become familiar, not all at once...and certainly not anybody else's terms.
We rode a bus home today. It was absolutely packed with people and getting onto the bus involved us running and actually being thrown onto the bus by the man who collects money at every stop. It was the rear entrance and the door wouldn't shut past my body because the bus was so full of people. An abuelita held her arms out to Jack and brought him gently onto her lap. She held him tightly with both arms as the bus made its way along its route. I may be a "great perceived distance" from home and there ARE huge differences in language and culture and food between what we've known and what we are experiencing now-but Jack held safely on that senora's lap on a dirty crowded bus was lovely-and it felt a little like Ecuador was holding us in her hands.
- Attitude Factors: The belief that homesickness will be strong; negative first impressions and low expectations for the new environment; perceived absence of social support; high perceived demands (e.g., on academic or vocational functioning); great perceived distance from home
- Environmental Factors: High cultural contrast (e.g., different language, customs, food); threats to physical and emotional safety; dramatic alternations in daily schedule; lack of information about the new place; perceived discrimination
Last week each of the kids chose a parakeet to love and care for. I watch the way Jack pursues his parakeet. Even though I've talked him through how to tame his bird so that he can hold it on his finger and enjoy him up close, he pursues that poor bird around the cage moving his hand closer and closer while the bird moves further and further away from him. He even let the bird out of the cage at one point and the poor thing flew around until it bumped into a door jamb and fell to the floor. Olivia, on the other hand, will sit with her hand in the cage and leave it steady so that her bird will become used to her presence. She is patient and trusts the process of taming her bird.
I recognize myself in Jack and I recognize Clayton in Olivia. In the case of Ecuador I am Jack and Ecuador is that poor parakeet that bonked his head on the door frame. Like Jack, I have been told about the process-but have taken the view that the more assertive I am with this process, the sooner I'll be able to hold it in my hand. These past few mornings, I have simply wanted to stay in bed and binge watch Netflix. I wouldn't mind a bag of Doritos-Nacho please. And those pumpkin spice lattes you keep posting on Facebook make me want to cry.
I miss soft green grass, changing leaves, soft sheets. I miss Clayton and I miss Clayton with Olivia and Jack. I miss familiar-and have been forcing myself on this new place in an effort to make it familiar. I need to take a lesson from my daughter-who is more Clayton than Alyssum. Their gift is to trust the process and be patient with themselves and with their circumstances. Day by day, the parakeet will become familiar, not all at once...and certainly not anybody else's terms.
We rode a bus home today. It was absolutely packed with people and getting onto the bus involved us running and actually being thrown onto the bus by the man who collects money at every stop. It was the rear entrance and the door wouldn't shut past my body because the bus was so full of people. An abuelita held her arms out to Jack and brought him gently onto her lap. She held him tightly with both arms as the bus made its way along its route. I may be a "great perceived distance" from home and there ARE huge differences in language and culture and food between what we've known and what we are experiencing now-but Jack held safely on that senora's lap on a dirty crowded bus was lovely-and it felt a little like Ecuador was holding us in her hands.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
A Challenging Time
This first full week of school has been very difficult for me. I have been 100% sure we'll be coming back by January several times an hour...and then a child grabs my hand, or Olivia gives a big hug to another child, or I catch a glimpse of the great equalizing childhood game-Rock, Paper, Scissors with Jack in the middle and then I feel differently...Jack cried for the beginning of the first three days of school this week. It's so hard to see him upset about not wanting to go to school....mainly (honestly)-because I don't want to go either. I've gone from teaching Algebra and Chemistry while juggling 17 young and brilliant adults to holding hands, changing soiled clothes and just sitting still. These children are so sweet and beautiful-but honestly...I can't understand a word some of them say to me...usually in a rush because they've been wronged by another child. There's one little boy who speaks kindergartenese in Spanish and like many little boys with long eyelashes and tiny dimpled hands-he has A LOT to say. I mean A LOT.
Soup at every meal. I am one of those people...like most Americans-who eats soup like three times a year and again when I'm sick. So getting used to soup is taking some getting used to. And then there's the potato surplus...potatoes in soup, potatoes fried, potatoes with peas, potatoes boiled and mashed, potatoes with beans, potatoes with beets and cabbage...it's like Green Eggs and Ham. I will not eat them in a soup, I will not eat them, they taste like poop. I will not eat them in a mash, I will not eat them for some cash. I will not eat them Sam I am, I DO NOT LIKE them Sam I am! I could go on and on and imagine that once I return to the United States-I will never eat another potato again. Really, the food is pretty delicious...but a cheeseburger sounds pretty good after soup and potatoes with every meal.
Today was our first faculty meeting. I felt like I contributed in a few meaningful ways...in a new language...in an effort to serve our students. We drank Pepsi and ate guacamole sandwiches-without potatoes! and ran for a bus that stopped for us-a group of eight very different people arm in arm waving our arms wildly hoping the driver (who sits in a lawn chair strapped to the floor) will feel pity for us and wait while we jog the 50 yards to the bus stop.
I'm not kidding you-the teachers walked away in love-the kind of love that makes a girl 100% sure she won't return to the states in January.
Soup at every meal. I am one of those people...like most Americans-who eats soup like three times a year and again when I'm sick. So getting used to soup is taking some getting used to. And then there's the potato surplus...potatoes in soup, potatoes fried, potatoes with peas, potatoes boiled and mashed, potatoes with beans, potatoes with beets and cabbage...it's like Green Eggs and Ham. I will not eat them in a soup, I will not eat them, they taste like poop. I will not eat them in a mash, I will not eat them for some cash. I will not eat them Sam I am, I DO NOT LIKE them Sam I am! I could go on and on and imagine that once I return to the United States-I will never eat another potato again. Really, the food is pretty delicious...but a cheeseburger sounds pretty good after soup and potatoes with every meal.
Today was our first faculty meeting. I felt like I contributed in a few meaningful ways...in a new language...in an effort to serve our students. We drank Pepsi and ate guacamole sandwiches-without potatoes! and ran for a bus that stopped for us-a group of eight very different people arm in arm waving our arms wildly hoping the driver (who sits in a lawn chair strapped to the floor) will feel pity for us and wait while we jog the 50 yards to the bus stop.
I'm not kidding you-the teachers walked away in love-the kind of love that makes a girl 100% sure she won't return to the states in January.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
The milk comes in plastic bags...
When you buy milk, you buy it in plastic bags and carry it home in plastic bags. You cut a little corner off the top and put the bag in a pitcher...pouring out a little on your cereal or into a cup of tea when you want it. Then you put the pitcher with its bag of milk back in the refrigerator. At the end of the bag...you squeeze the remaining liquid out forcing the last drops out...sort of like a tube of toothpaste. Weird.
The teachers and parents of the school we are working in and with meet on Saturdays. We just finished a five hour meeting covering just about everything and as far as I know just about nothing.... Attending as a kindergarten assistant is easy enough when the meeting is conducted in another language, because I can get the gist of the message...but attending as a parent who wants to make sure that every material is bought and prepared for their children and so that every requirement is met ensuring success in class is another experience. I can say that I only want to speak English, read English and sit in English for a while. One of the requirements of each family is to feed the entire school-100 people- one snack and one lunch per month. At least I think that's what I heard....and when I asked if that meant 100 hamburgers, a mother blurted out, "100 QUINOA BURGERS." Another mother responded sweetly, "You're only up all night once a month...." in broken English. I think single, full time staff with limited abilities to cook 100 of anything besides chocolate chip cookies should be exempt from this requirement....But I may have it wrong...maybe I don't have to manage 100 servings of rice with green beans and cilantro... At this point, I couldn't really say.
One other comment-there are no ovens in this country as far as I can tell...only stovetops....gas stovetops which I have almost zero experience with. I thank God I haven't blown my eyebrows off every time I scramble Jack's eggs or grill Olivia's sandwiches. I wouldn't know how to begin to explain fried eye brows in Spanish...but it feels good to write to you about it in English.
Much love to each of you my friends.
The teachers and parents of the school we are working in and with meet on Saturdays. We just finished a five hour meeting covering just about everything and as far as I know just about nothing.... Attending as a kindergarten assistant is easy enough when the meeting is conducted in another language, because I can get the gist of the message...but attending as a parent who wants to make sure that every material is bought and prepared for their children and so that every requirement is met ensuring success in class is another experience. I can say that I only want to speak English, read English and sit in English for a while. One of the requirements of each family is to feed the entire school-100 people- one snack and one lunch per month. At least I think that's what I heard....and when I asked if that meant 100 hamburgers, a mother blurted out, "100 QUINOA BURGERS." Another mother responded sweetly, "You're only up all night once a month...." in broken English. I think single, full time staff with limited abilities to cook 100 of anything besides chocolate chip cookies should be exempt from this requirement....But I may have it wrong...maybe I don't have to manage 100 servings of rice with green beans and cilantro... At this point, I couldn't really say.
One other comment-there are no ovens in this country as far as I can tell...only stovetops....gas stovetops which I have almost zero experience with. I thank God I haven't blown my eyebrows off every time I scramble Jack's eggs or grill Olivia's sandwiches. I wouldn't know how to begin to explain fried eye brows in Spanish...but it feels good to write to you about it in English.
Much love to each of you my friends.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
It's been a week.
I cannot emphasize enough how completely overwhelmed and terrified I've been at times...and at others completely happy. Coming to a new place is one thing, but coming with the intent of living there, another. A teacher at the school the kids will be attending and that I will be volunteering in met us at the airport...it was just us...because our suitcases were still back in Seattle. Luckily, we packed extra underwear...and our toothbrushes. Once again, I though I spoke enough Spanish to get by until I was standing at the carousel with two exhausted kids and a shrinking supply of our potential luggage. In order to tell the person who was meeting us at the airport about our situation, I had to describe my situation to the customs agents who, living in Ecuador's heart, spoke no English. I buggered out a few verbs: Tener, Esperar and Neccitar that seemed to do the trick and we were allowed to find our ride and return to the counter in order to secure the arrival of our luggage.
Driving from the airport to our new part of the world, Conocota was a mixture of awe and fear. First of all, there don't seem to be many seatbelts...and plenty of need for them. The roads aren't marked well and turn and churn through roundabouts that put any city I've visited to shame. Frankly, I'm sitting here with pretty much no clue where I am. With the help of the woman who met us and her family...all who I count as my lifelong friends, I've learned how to call a taxi, ride a city bus...sometimes while standing on a speeding and lurching ship full of people on their way to school, work and home, shop for food, find empanadas (where have they been all my life?) among so many things I can't even begin to name them! I found peanut butter costs $10.00 and rice is almost free...We've tried food we would never had even looked at as an option because we are so hungry at times....papaya is pretty good even though it smells like it shouldn't be.
Our first day of school was today. I cannot even begin to explain how completely beautiful each of the students and teachers who have found themselves in this school are. I found myself closing my eyes in an attempt to capture how complete their lives make me feel inside. Jack's face glowed as new friends and teachers greeted him with the usual hug and kiss and Olivia amazes me with her ability to connect with the children in her class. It's good to be here in this time and place. Estoy Feliz.
Oh...and yesterday a taxi driver said I spoke Spanish pretty well. Bring on the missing luggage. ;)
Driving from the airport to our new part of the world, Conocota was a mixture of awe and fear. First of all, there don't seem to be many seatbelts...and plenty of need for them. The roads aren't marked well and turn and churn through roundabouts that put any city I've visited to shame. Frankly, I'm sitting here with pretty much no clue where I am. With the help of the woman who met us and her family...all who I count as my lifelong friends, I've learned how to call a taxi, ride a city bus...sometimes while standing on a speeding and lurching ship full of people on their way to school, work and home, shop for food, find empanadas (where have they been all my life?) among so many things I can't even begin to name them! I found peanut butter costs $10.00 and rice is almost free...We've tried food we would never had even looked at as an option because we are so hungry at times....papaya is pretty good even though it smells like it shouldn't be.
Our first day of school was today. I cannot even begin to explain how completely beautiful each of the students and teachers who have found themselves in this school are. I found myself closing my eyes in an attempt to capture how complete their lives make me feel inside. Jack's face glowed as new friends and teachers greeted him with the usual hug and kiss and Olivia amazes me with her ability to connect with the children in her class. It's good to be here in this time and place. Estoy Feliz.
Oh...and yesterday a taxi driver said I spoke Spanish pretty well. Bring on the missing luggage. ;)
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