Growing up in Maryland, I played soccer until around middle school, when I realized I wasn’t all that good at it and that I was in love with basketball instead. Since then, I’ve been known to kick the occasional ball around, but I was pretty nervous when I was invited, along with my friend and fellow PD Patrick, to play for Once Valientes B (in English: eleven brave ones) in the Shandia soccer league.
As in many parts of the world, this past week in Shandia was all about the celebration of Carnaval. Originally coming from an area that calls the local Carnival the annual “fifth season”, I was especially excited to see what Carnaval in Ecuador would look like. What would the local customs, foods and music be like?
Pertaining to numero uno, developing countries' fuel emissions are not to be blamed for the world's global warming threat. We all know that the blame falls on industry, and most heavily on developed country industry. With that said, I have nothing more to add.
Numero dos can be easily answered with a single personal trivia question and an imagine thyself scenary.
Personal Trivia question:
A) When on a bus, would you be the person that runs and elbows an elderly man, or a pregnant woman, for the one and only seat? or
B) Would you be that person that renders the competition moral-less, and willingly gives up your seat to anyone that looks a little worse off than you feel?
Either way, once panting in your seat or squished and standing unpleasantly between an excess of people, you'll have plenty of time to comtemplate just what type of person you are, and maybe even the person you'd like to become.
Now, imagine sitting in traffic, but not having to drive. Why be behind the wheel, when you can be day dreaming into the distance at the Andes mountains? Or, while more consciously pondering your life. Just think of how much more dreaming and scheming you could do in your lifetime in window seat, row 16.
Lastly, the bus is a petri dish for cultural insight. For many, the bus can be the most intimate cultural experience they'll have. Here are some cutlural norms that the buses teach us and some of the questions that arise:
1. Machismo: 9 out of 10 (this is my personal observation) young men use gel in such that put their female counterparts hairdos to shame. What are some of the differences between how manhood is defined in Ecuador versus back home?
2. Heavy making out: It's not a private affair, and is totally acceptable on a public and inescapable place like the bus. Is this due to the fact that there's very limited personal space and alone time, anywhere, including in people's homes?
3. Breastfeeding: It's beautiful to be in a country where breastfeeding is actually viewed as a natural and needed process that a woman can do it anywhere she wants, including on a speedy and bumpy bus, all the while chitchatting with her brother. How does this speak to women's roles and their place in Ecuadorian society?
4. Informal employment: On your way into Quito, you will most likely experience the vendedor ambulante, or person that will get on the bus to sell you pens, candies, hangers, natural healing teas, etc. This may be a shock at first as you question whether it's possible for the vender, often a child, to make a living selling candies for $.25. Venders get on the bus hoping to make money, and get off without paying the fare. Despite the fact that the vendors represent one of the lowest economic classes in the country, there is a level of respect paid to them by both the bus driver (by permitting them on the bus) and riders (by window shopping their product). More often than not while on the bus you find yourself witnessing the interactions between Ecuadorian social-economic classes, and experiencing how social justice is played out in small, daily ways.
The bus is like a sacred place (possibly the only one on wheels), of self and cultural reflection. It's the daydreaming, the people watching, and the changing of scenery that teach us so much about ourselves and Ecuador."
Thursday was our last day to complete our work projects. In the morning we all went up the to ecological forest reserve to collect straw for the garden we had been working in. To settle the dinner debate, in the afternoon we split up into two groups to see who could finish first: one with me to finish the murals we had been painting on the outside of the pre-school, and the other down in the gardens with Erik to finish up the work on the new beds. The beds were all dug and just needed to be layered with straw, fertilizer, and filled with dirt; however, there was one large rock in the corner of bed 2 we had been unable to remove.
About an hour and a half into our work projects for the afternoon, I look to my left and see Erik, with a stride of pride, enter the fence to the preschool with a huge rock in his hands. He draws near me and asks, 'Hey Chet, if you were going to name a rock after an author, what would it be?' I of course look at him like he is crazy. He then informs me that after an hour and a half, they had finally removed the gigantic rock in the corner of bed two and I was staring at a small piece of it. He then informed me “this is Borges” spiked the rock, and walked out of the yard in triumph. My comment was for him to bring the bug spray the next time he came back. This is why we work so well together and why, while the Duke spring break volunteers probably think we are crazy, we got a lot of work done in three and a half days and had a great time doing it.
Alberto, Erik and JJ dominating said rock
The whole group sight seeing in the centro historico
Maria puts some finishing touches on the wall mural
KP plays with some kids in Lumbisi
The group leaders, and their respective cuy heads, share a moment
Erik would like to set (sic) that 'we still beat ya’ll.'
-Chet"
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