It began as any other day, with the ninos acting as if I was a jungle gym while I was chatting online, I was doing two loads of laundry and not sure if Saturday’s sun would be enough to dry everything in time, before the ever expected Quito afternoon rain and I didn’t think much of what would be of January 19, 2008. And of course, the only thing I have learned in my twenty two years of existence is that life lessons come when you least expect them. It’s in the little moments that you learn the most, it’s from the people you least expect that you learn how to live and be you.
Earlier on Saturday, I had been told I’ve got enough stories about Ecuador for a book, that I should be a writer. The truth of the matter is I’m not a very good storyteller (I ramble), I’m not a captivating writer, but I do have one talent that’s necessary for all of this to take place and that’s the art of simply talking to people, listening to them and being open to whatever may come when an invitation is given.
If I were to write a book about Ecuador, it would be about the people. I have met enough people in my five months here thus far that are so uniquely themselves that their lives need to be shared.
Let me begin with one of my young students who is the epitome of what a nice 17 year old girl should be. She was the only student in both my classes last term to get a 100%. She always writes her English free-write assignments about her mother, who she calls her best friend and her hero. She is the type of student who is kind to everyone and helps her fellow students when they have questions whether they are her best friend from high school, the new student in class or the older students who can’t quite see the board from their seat, which is a mere three rows back. Her name is Nathaly.
She is the type of student that has the social capital to get eight fellow English students and her gringa professor to join her in a cause she believes in. She is the oldest daughter of three to two loving parents. Her mother is the godmother of an immensely cute 6 year old girl, who I met today. The “benefit lunch”, if you want to label it as such, was for her the small girl’s mother. We were helping collect $6,000. There’s very rarely such thing as insurance here, unless you’re of a higher class that has that luxury. The young girl’s mother had been in an accident when she was younger and from what I can gather whatever medical care she had received before was now invalid and her leg needed to be replaced for a prosthetic one.
When we arrived to the benefit lunch, or better described as a community BBQ, we were led to the backyard of a church. Apparently the occasion had been going on since 10AM. We arrived at 2PM and weren’t a minute late, in Ecuador, lunch is an invitation I’ve learned can last for hours and being on time is rarely customary. But alas, we arrived eight people deep. Nathaly dragging me by the hand and the other students following, not yet sure what to make of the backyard festivities. When we arrived, there were six folkloric singers as entertainment and people were filling up on the lunch that was served and having beers left and right. It was something you’d see in the movies but you wouldn’t believe that that was in fact how it was. Six folkloric singers placed majestically in front of an Andean landscape at a neighborhood BBQ.
It was then that Nathaly began the introductions to her mother. This is my profesora querida and this is Edison, el hombre que parece papa, and this is Paul…, Jose…, Patricia…, Cesar… and Silvana… she went on an on about each of us and how amazing we were to have joined her today. Her mother was wonderful, she was the template for her sweet daughter and even more so, looked as if she had been behind the grill all day. As Nathaly’s Basic II English class sat in the corner of the crowd, we just took it all in, had some good eats and weren’t sure how long we’d stay or what was in store. Suddenly, we met the woman that the benefit was for and vowed to stay for as long as need be. She was a petite young woman, jovencita is the word for it here and it encapsulates her better, I think. She couldn’t have been more than 28, with two children and a loving husband. It clicked why Nathaly needed all the help she could get and single-handedly would bring in close to $300 from her friends in English class, who keep in mind don’t have a lot of money to begin with.
On the way to this remote yard, Nathaly told me about the week before and how the jovencita had told Nathaly and her mother to watch over her children if anything were to happen. She promised and it was then that she came to her adult education class with the hope that her friends of all ages would support her, even if it was just because it was important to her.
It is now close to 2AM that I am writing and if you know me well, you know I don’t lose beauty sleep for anything in the world, but this seemed like a story I didn’t want to forget any of the details for. We ended up staying until 9PM, which means that other people had been there for close to twelve hours when all was said and done. It was admirable what they were doing. They surrounded their beloved jovencita with friends and even kind strangers who might’ve just had no other Saturday plans. We danced into the night, we drank enough Pilsener Grandes that it might as well have been in a keg and that was just for our group, we laughed and shared stories and everyone was having a good time. The jovencita must’ve thanked us a million times for coming and said it meant a lot to her that we were all there. You could see there was a tear forming in her eye and Nathaly grabbed her and all at once spun her around, telling her that it was her night.
My human spirit was awakened and renewed. It’s shocking at times to learn things from those that are younger than you, especially when you’re their teacher, but it happens and it’s an amazing experience. In the 7 hour lunch I went to today, I learned more than I ever could’ve bargained for. It was just what I needed at the midpoint of my service here in Quito. It was the most perfect celebration of life.
It got me to thinking that it’s not only Nathaly that I’ve met here that has this amazing outlook on life, there are others too.
Memo, the man from Montanita, who took two gringos in for Christmas Eve dinner and probably didn’t think twice about how much that meant to me.
Xavier, my dad’s high school friend, who after some twenty five years took his old buddy’s daughter to lunch and to one of Quito’s museums with his wife and son, having never met me before in his life
The women (and one man, who is in fact, my father’s long lost personality twin, I’m certain—if you know my dad, you know its close to impossible to have a personality that even comes close to reminding you of his) from my morning English class last semester that would invite me to elaborate brunches every Tuesday, in exchange for breakfast vocabulary in English.
Santi and Maria, my host parents, who are two of the most loving people I’ve been given the fortune of meeting. They are funny, enthusiastic and wholeheartedly dedicated to their two young children.
You may not believe me but I could go on for hours about the people I’ve met here and their unbelievable kindness. The lady at the tienda I always go to, the accountant at my school, the guard that works at the Western Union next to my house…each person in their own little way has given me the opportunity for a good day and taken the time to show me what it means to be happy, whether consciously or not.
Earlier on Saturday, I had been told I’ve got enough stories about Ecuador for a book, that I should be a writer. The truth of the matter is I’m not a very good storyteller (I ramble), I’m not a captivating writer, but I do have one talent that’s necessary for all of this to take place and that’s the art of simply talking to people, listening to them and being open to whatever may come when an invitation is given.
If I were to write a book about Ecuador, it would be about the people. I have met enough people in my five months here thus far that are so uniquely themselves that their lives need to be shared.
Let me begin with one of my young students who is the epitome of what a nice 17 year old girl should be. She was the only student in both my classes last term to get a 100%. She always writes her English free-write assignments about her mother, who she calls her best friend and her hero. She is the type of student who is kind to everyone and helps her fellow students when they have questions whether they are her best friend from high school, the new student in class or the older students who can’t quite see the board from their seat, which is a mere three rows back. Her name is Nathaly.
She is the type of student that has the social capital to get eight fellow English students and her gringa professor to join her in a cause she believes in. She is the oldest daughter of three to two loving parents. Her mother is the godmother of an immensely cute 6 year old girl, who I met today. The “benefit lunch”, if you want to label it as such, was for her the small girl’s mother. We were helping collect $6,000. There’s very rarely such thing as insurance here, unless you’re of a higher class that has that luxury. The young girl’s mother had been in an accident when she was younger and from what I can gather whatever medical care she had received before was now invalid and her leg needed to be replaced for a prosthetic one.
When we arrived to the benefit lunch, or better described as a community BBQ, we were led to the backyard of a church. Apparently the occasion had been going on since 10AM. We arrived at 2PM and weren’t a minute late, in Ecuador, lunch is an invitation I’ve learned can last for hours and being on time is rarely customary. But alas, we arrived eight people deep. Nathaly dragging me by the hand and the other students following, not yet sure what to make of the backyard festivities. When we arrived, there were six folkloric singers as entertainment and people were filling up on the lunch that was served and having beers left and right. It was something you’d see in the movies but you wouldn’t believe that that was in fact how it was. Six folkloric singers placed majestically in front of an Andean landscape at a neighborhood BBQ.
It was then that Nathaly began the introductions to her mother. This is my profesora querida and this is Edison, el hombre que parece papa, and this is Paul…, Jose…, Patricia…, Cesar… and Silvana… she went on an on about each of us and how amazing we were to have joined her today. Her mother was wonderful, she was the template for her sweet daughter and even more so, looked as if she had been behind the grill all day. As Nathaly’s Basic II English class sat in the corner of the crowd, we just took it all in, had some good eats and weren’t sure how long we’d stay or what was in store. Suddenly, we met the woman that the benefit was for and vowed to stay for as long as need be. She was a petite young woman, jovencita is the word for it here and it encapsulates her better, I think. She couldn’t have been more than 28, with two children and a loving husband. It clicked why Nathaly needed all the help she could get and single-handedly would bring in close to $300 from her friends in English class, who keep in mind don’t have a lot of money to begin with.On the way to this remote yard, Nathaly told me about the week before and how the jovencita had told Nathaly and her mother to watch over her children if anything were to happen. She promised and it was then that she came to her adult education class with the hope that her friends of all ages would support her, even if it was just because it was important to her.
It is now close to 2AM that I am writing and if you know me well, you know I don’t lose beauty sleep for anything in the world, but this seemed like a story I didn’t want to forget any of the details for. We ended up staying until 9PM, which means that other people had been there for close to twelve hours when all was said and done. It was admirable what they were doing. They surrounded their beloved jovencita with friends and even kind strangers who might’ve just had no other Saturday plans. We danced into the night, we drank enough Pilsener Grandes that it might as well have been in a keg and that was just for our group, we laughed and shared stories and everyone was having a good time. The jovencita must’ve thanked us a million times for coming and said it meant a lot to her that we were all there. You could see there was a tear forming in her eye and Nathaly grabbed her and all at once spun her around, telling her that it was her night.
My human spirit was awakened and renewed. It’s shocking at times to learn things from those that are younger than you, especially when you’re their teacher, but it happens and it’s an amazing experience. In the 7 hour lunch I went to today, I learned more than I ever could’ve bargained for. It was just what I needed at the midpoint of my service here in Quito. It was the most perfect celebration of life.
It got me to thinking that it’s not only Nathaly that I’ve met here that has this amazing outlook on life, there are others too.
Memo, the man from Montanita, who took two gringos in for Christmas Eve dinner and probably didn’t think twice about how much that meant to me.
Xavier, my dad’s high school friend, who after some twenty five years took his old buddy’s daughter to lunch and to one of Quito’s museums with his wife and son, having never met me before in his life
The women (and one man, who is in fact, my father’s long lost personality twin, I’m certain—if you know my dad, you know its close to impossible to have a personality that even comes close to reminding you of his) from my morning English class last semester that would invite me to elaborate brunches every Tuesday, in exchange for breakfast vocabulary in English.
Santi and Maria, my host parents, who are two of the most loving people I’ve been given the fortune of meeting. They are funny, enthusiastic and wholeheartedly dedicated to their two young children.
You may not believe me but I could go on for hours about the people I’ve met here and their unbelievable kindness. The lady at the tienda I always go to, the accountant at my school, the guard that works at the Western Union next to my house…each person in their own little way has given me the opportunity for a good day and taken the time to show me what it means to be happy, whether consciously or not.
