(unfortunately my internet connection is so slow that I had to break the huge minute clip into two parts)
I hope the new bug of the week post provides weeks of entertainment.
When I pulled my backpack and two duffel bags out from under the bus and wandered helplessly into the hot, humid, night in Santa Clara I could only dream about speaking Spanish, making friends, and fitting into the community. That was the end of April in 2010.
When I heard the big news I excitedly rushed across town for a visit. My host family, Clever, Maria, and their son Steven, had just returned home with a new baby boy. When they told me the new baby's name I was as speechless as the newborn was: Joseph Adrian Huatatoca Grefa. That was February 2011.
When I heard the motorcycle pull up outside of my house I thought it was Rolando coming to hide from his girlfriend/ wife. Pleasantly surprised, I opened the door to greet my host family, but when Clever asked me to do him a "huge favor" I was a little apprehensive. Former huge favors have included: unknowingly moving a box containing a 12 foot boa, overseeing the high school's booth at the town fair, and Giovanni continually asking for a fifty cent loan to buy more moonshine. Clever's question was much different, and one of the best I have heard in Ecuador – would I be his son Joseph's godfather? That was May 2011.
Joseph and his older brother Steven were baptized on June 26th; the ceremony itself was almost exactly what I expected. As we stood for fotos (Spanish for photos) I couldn't have been more proud. The day was an incredible honor, and when Clever invited my guests Christina, Nick, Rene, and me over for a little lunch we graciously accepted.
A few moments after we arrived at the house the little lunch placidly transformed into a feast of epic proportions. Steven's godparents, my guests, and I were seated at a table in the center of 40-50 guests. I assumed the the first plates brought out containing an entire chicken, leg of guanta (a jungle rodent about the size of a small dog – the annoying yippi kind) and potatoes were to share with the whole table. However, like many assumptions in Ecuador I was wrong – the giant plates were intended for each of the guests of honor with the size of the plate correlating to the responsibility in the baptism.
Just like the plates the party was huge. Claudio was the master of ceremonies and DJ, there was an incredible amount of food, and I was gifted five cases of beer, which I graciously accepted and subsequently (and inline with cultural tradition) re-gifted to the guests around the fiesta. We danced, and danced, and like all Kichwa parties, danced some more. The music, which is an acquired taste, didn't stop until the single digits of the morning.
Despite the improvements of my new language, there was no way I could express the honor and gratitude I experienced that evening. I am incredibly fortunate to call Santa Clara home – even if it is just for eight more months – and know I will always have a home and a special family at that curve at the edge of the jungle.
One minute I can’t believe I have a whole year left, and the next I can’t believe I only have a year left. April 20th will be my halfway point – although I have technically already spent over a year a few degrees of latitude away from the equator. I am entering the countdown portion of my service and trying to plan out my 2011 and 2012. I realize (and apologize) that it has been months since I have posted anything, so here is an update:
Whatever snuck in through my window yesterday night and ate one of my pieces of bread through two plastic bags – sucks. As I stared at the ripped bag, trying to deduce what type of animal committed such an atrocity, I was faced with the tough decision eating one of the two remaining rolls, or not. As usually, I was hungry, on a very tight budget, and the bakery is a ten-minute walk through shade-less equatorial sun, so I decided to eat the roll that was furthest from the site of the attack – and hoped that the culprit had a clean mouth.
As I walked in the front door after my early morning run the following morning, I was worried about making the decision to-eat or not-to-eat the remaining mostly intact portion of the only wheat bread in town. Luckily, the thousands of ants marching happily across my countertop carrying away my bread made the not-to-eat decision a whole lot easier.
I love my host family, and their pet guanta, and have visited many times since the big move, but I have always been the independent type, and love living alone. I savored the first few days of reading in my hammock without Steven jumping on me, or chasing the guanta around with a broom in his underwear, but as the community gets more comfortable with the idea of the gringo being out in the wild, there has been an increase in random forced-entry visits. Whether it is the neighborhood kids wanting someone to laugh at, or my drunken neighbors wanting to hangout and finish the case of beer at my place, my solitude is quickly becoming as irregular as clean clothes.
I have pretty much nothing in my house wares department, and it is both awesome and depressing. The few items I bought with me, I can’t really unpack because I have nothing to unpack my stuff onto other than a moldy tile floor. I am trying to fix the mold problem, but bleach, vinegar, and laundry soap only prove to be temporary solutions. I am working on getting some serious primer, but it is so humid here that last night the condensation from the roof woke me up dripping on my face.
Hopefully this weekend will win me some comfort. I am promised a mattress from my counterpart agency, three plastic chairs from another PC volunteer, and already have an excellent hand-me-down propane stove and toaster oven. I am treasure hunting like a Somali pirate, trying to commandeer wood to build a bed, shelves, and table. I am also shopping around for curtains to keep out the prying – what is that gringo up to in there – eyes.
Standing up while eating breakfast, sitting on the tile floor reading about reforestation, and trying type in a hammock is cool for a few days, but it is getting old and uncomfortable as we enter week two. It will also be awesome to be able to store food, and protect it from the army of ants longer than 4-12 hours if I can ever afford a refrigerator.