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| View of Mt Sinai from Church Bell Tower |
This past Wednesday (Aug 22nd)
marked our first complete month in Ecuador! It still feels a bit surreal, even
one month later. At times I still catch myself taking in these surroundings as
our new home as I see a new face or landmark. It is impossible to accurately
paint a picture of what this month has been – to encapsulate the feelings of
joy felt in breaking bread with our new Ecuadorian neighbors; sorrow in
learning about the grave and often unjust situations Mount Sinai citizens
experience; uncertainty as we take our first solo steps around the neighborhood
and attempt to engage in conversation in Spanish; and excitement at each small success
(and I mean small at times - like just nailing a new Spanish phrase) we
experience poco a poco. The best I feel I can do at this point to share the
experience is to share a few ideas and questions that I’ve been journaling and
praying about.
First and foremost, it has been a slow
transition process to our new lives here, especially to the level of poverty we
will experience. I took a moment to jot in my journal: “We are halfway through
our second full day in Ecuador and I cannot fully grasp that these surroundings
will be my reality for the next full year. I see dirt roads. I see cane houses.
I see trash burning in the streets. I wonder if I will ever be desensitized by
the poverty that surrounds me. While it would make my daily life easier, I hope
not” (7/24/12). However, it has probably taken me about the entire month to
fully let the level of poverty here hit me. Often times these are the streets
and the faces that get pushed aside, that get ignored, that people turn their
heads away from. In order to enter into this year, I believe part of that is
opening my heart to this situation and allowing my heart to be broken open.
One of the biggest obstacles I have faced
in this first month, in attempting to live poco a poco and relish in every
small success, is letting go. Letting go of the diet I am used to. To the
exercise routines I had. To the comforts of home in the US. To my health at
times. Honestly, to all control in general. However, that is the reality of the
poor. While we live in the same neighborhood, attend the same mass, eat the
same food, we will never reach solidarity with the poor. In this year I will
never face the same fears and uncertainties. I will never understand what it is
like to not know where my next meal will come from. I will never understand fear
around receiving medical care. The best I feel I can do is to embrace this loss
of control, this uncertainty as experiencing some sense of solidarity with the
poor.
Since we have arrived many neighbors we
have visited ask us why we came or what work we will be doing here. At times,
it feels discouraging to think of the many needs this community has and
question what a bunch of recent college graduates can do to address them.
However, week by week I think I discover more ways that God intends to use my community mates and me as an instrument of His service. For instance, this past
week we had Silvia, the coordinator of church programming, over for dinner.
During the school vacation the church hosts a type of camp and invites each of
us volunteers to come and teach workshops or skills we may have. She went
around asking us what talents we have, giving the example of music and dance
from years past. When she got to me I laughed saying I definitely have no
musical or artistic talents, but I can play soccer and basketball. She didn’t
know why I was downplaying my ability to play sports as a female. She said what
an impact seeing a female playing sports with confidence could have on the
younger females. This gave me some seed of hope. That while I can do nothing to
combat the deeply rooted machismo culture of Latin America, that I may somehow
be able to serve as a role model for young girls on their ability to break
gender norms, to live empowered lives, and to be symbols of strength.
In my own opinion, half of any friendship
or relationship is just showing up. Just sitting in the stands of a sports game
or concert with a smiling, supportive face. Or giving a high five after a small
success. Words aren’t even necessary. Due to our limited Spanish vocabulary, I
have both been embracing this idea and noticing the beauty of simply being
present to another. While at times it is easy to feel useless amongst the
countless needs the community has, maybe there is value in just our physical
presence. Maybe there is value in being an example of a strong female figure
playing soccer with the boys. Or a smiling face as mass willing to be dorky,
awkward, and stupid stumbling over the words and accompanying hand motions of
songs. Or just a willingness to sit in the homes of our neighbors and simply
listen. One book that I have been slowly rereading during our time here is Tattoos on the Heart by Greg Boyle. One
thing that stood out to me when I first read it a few months ago was his
ability to remember each homie’s name. What power there is in being called by
name, in recognizing the innate human dignity we all possess. So, while at
times I’ve questioned what we are doing here, what we can complete, how we can
assist the lives of our neighbors (especially without fluency in Spanish yet!),
for this first month I have really just focused on saying hello to every
neighbor I pass, calling them by name, and trying to convey my willingness to
sit or to walk with them.
While this in no way can summarize what a
month this has been, I hope that this better paints a picture of what has been
running through my mind as I’ve taken my first steps in Ecuador.
Love and miss you all,
Colleen
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