As many of you may have gathered from this blog, I haven´t been exactly happy for the past two weeks. You will be happy to know, however, that my mood has greatly improved in the past few days. I´m not sure exactly what it was, but I feel it was a combination of many things. Committing myself to four more hours of Spanish classes every day certainly helped with my feeling of futility, as well as kicking my sadly neglected intellectual side back into high gear. Equally rejuvenating was a trip to Baños, a small town 4 hours south of Quito that is surrounded by numerous waterfalls, hot springs, and an active volcano and had fantastic restaurants and friendly people. I hiked 6 hours on Saturday pretty much straight up a mountain in order to catch sight of the volcano, which was shrouded by clouds for most of the day. We lost the trail at points, but the guidance of some eight-year-old girls who gave us directions after we gave them cookies, we stumbled through thick mud and past cows in barbed wire fences into– I kid you not– a spa and cafe on the side of the mountain. While we were dining on crepes and salads made with native plants, the clouds suddenly parted, giving us five minutes to view the elusive volcano. That night we also visited the hot springs– the most crowded hot tub I´ve ever been inside– and had a delicious dinner. I felt like I was finally connecting with the other volunteers, which was a great feeling.
The next morning, after a delicious breakfast, four of us took a cab to see the waterfalls. Our taxi driver turned out to be a phenomenal guide, and with his expert guidance, we crawled through winding caverns that led us behind a roaring waterfall and paid a dollar to take a precarious cable car run by a bus engine across the ravine of another waterfall. Sailing smoothly across the plunging gorge in a tiny metal cage, I felt exhilarated, excited and thrilled to be in Ecuador, having experiences that I could have nowhere else.
So I have finally come to some sort of happiness here in Ecuador. It is not the kind of warm, comforting contentment I feel with my family or friends, but a more elusive feeling. I do not expect it to remain with me constantly for my next three and a half weeks, but I am proud of myself for not only having waited for it, but for having actively sought it.
As I write this, however, I am not filled with the same happiness of this past weekend. I am not unhappy, but I am angry, and more determined than ever.
I haven´t written much about the orphanage I´ve been working in for the past week and a half since I came here, mostly because I haven´t known how to put it into words. The children, who taunted me the first day, now come running to see me. Every day is an adventure and an exercise in creativity, patience and boredom. The kids have NOTHING– literally, they have three story books and, on occasion, some small toys volunteers or charity organizations may bring them, so a lot of my interaction with the children involves playing hand games or singing songs or having them leap onto my back and ride me like a horse. Additionally, they have short attention spans, so any teaching or game doesn´t last too long. I feel proud of myself when I get through “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” or when I am able to teach the days of the week to a child before he runs off to go hit his brother.
Each day is an adventure, and full of surprises, and occasionally, a rude awakening. The directorial staff of the orphanage is always conspicuously absent– I didn´t meet the director until my fifth day on the job, and then it was only for a few minutes, but today, while Kristina, the other volunteer, and I were watching and commenting on telenovelas with Paula (the only girl currently at the orphanage), the director poked his head in and told us to come into the other room. Standing beside him were some official looking people and, surprise of all surprises, a cameraman.
This immediately smelled trouble. The director immediately pointed us out as the volunteers “who care for the children” and had us speak to the camera man and a lady in a suit. They asked us a few questions about what we teach the children, and we answered honestly, and then the cameraman asked us to “do an activity with the children”. Kristina and I set about playing handgames with the kids, but the director had other ideas.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, finger paints, sparkling sheets of white paper, and brand new crayons appeared. Kristina, who has worked at the orphanage for four weeks, had never seen anything like this before. Even in the past week, I had watched the children beg for a simple ink pen to do their schoolwork. The children were delighted, of course, unaware of how they were being used.
I had never been so irate in my life. Here, the directors and social workers were creating an untrue image of their work, not to help the children, but simply to make themselves look good and to help themselves sleep better at night. And the worst part was that I knew that this was not an isolated incident. Corruption is rampant in Ecuador, and it´s not exactly uncommon in the rest of the world either. Never before, though, had I been faced with such a blatant, false display of goodwill and servitude.
What could I do? A few years ago, I might have turned to the camera and tried despearately to explain the situation in an attempt to out the false do-gooders. But what good would that have done here? In the event that I was able to express what I wanted to say in Spanish, the tape would have been deleted and the directors probably would have either banished me from working there or have made the rest of my time there a living hell. It wouldn´t have helped the children at all.
Instead, I played with the children for a bit, and then left, trying to keep my time on camera limited. I was angry, but I came away with a realization– I needed to be with the children more than ever. I will return to the orphanage tomorrow, not for the corrupt directors and the stingy Dickensian social workers who keep the coveted supplies secreted away until the prime photo op, but so that the children have someone who will read to them, sing The Itsy Bitsy Spider, buy them ice cream on occasion, and even dance and sing through the entirety of My Fair Lady, if they so desire (yes, I´ve done all of the above.) I will do my best to show them what real caring and friendship is about, in my very limited time here.
This is what service is– not moaning and griping about one´s lack of ability to ameliorate a situation, but rather seizing the small opportunities that one DOES have and using them to their fullest extent. Giving back in whatever way possible, whether it be through the use of a medical license, a song, a story that inspires someone to action, or the surprisingly undervalued gift of time is what truly makes a difference, corny as it sounds.
I have learned so much. I have so much left to learn.
And now I´m late for lunch. More later.
