Days 3 and 4

6/11/13

On Sunday, I got to visit Andrea's church for the first time in three years. We still had the little boys with us, so we ate breakfast with them before we left.  We went to church, and I met many people, inlcuding the cousin whose kids I'm supposed to tutor during my stay here. The mom said she wanted me to help with his English and Science homework after school (I later learned that he goes to an American or British school where English, Science, and a few other language-related subjects are taught in English). She introduced me to her son, who was very friendly; his face lit up when I said I'd be teaching him English, and lit up again when I said that I had games and songs to accomplish this. She also recommended me to another relative of hers, though I'm not sure by this many hops in the family tree if the potential student, a wiry young girl of maybe 10 years with crazy hair and glasses, was related to Andrea by blood or just by marriage. She was also friendly, and I'd be excited to tutor her, except that she lives quite far away, in the part of town past the orphanage. The day at church was also special because it was recently national children's day, so the whole main hall was decorated with balloons and all the ministers (except the main pastor) were dressed in characature-- a clown, a princess, and some kind of leprechaun read the announcements in the main hall, which was crowded with kids, who I guessed made up about half the population of the church. At the end of the service, they all got gifts; chupetes (lollipops) and other goodies for most, and food and toys and other more substantial things for the less fortunate kids. I was surprised that they called these kids up to present them with extra gifts, which would've been an embarassment in the US, since it was pretty well established that it was due to their poverty. After church, we went to the house of a great-grandmother I had met last time; actually, the mother's parents, grandmother, and brother (of 22 years) all live together in this house. The great-grandmother is a sweet old plump thing who at first looks serious if you don't know. Her daughter, the grandmother, has a reputation in the family for being severe and unpleasant, but apparently the same disease (liver?) that caused damage to the speech part of her brain also gave her a bit of a new take on life, and she's now generally more pleasant, except that she participates in conversations by repeating one mal-formed word at a time until she's understood. Her husband is very pleasant, but speaks in quick mumbles that I can't quite understand, and I don't know if it'd be impolite to ask him to slow down, so I just responded to the few words I caught when I could and looked to Andrea for help the other times; I think we got along just fine. Their uncle, the youngest son, I also met previously. He's a bit of a hippy with a relaxed, friendly attitude, long hair, and large Bob Marley posters, though I don't think he's the pothead kind of fan. After we arrived, relatives came pouring in, and it was announced that the neighborhood futbol teams would be playing nearby, and several of the of the uncles were on such a local team, so we headed over to a park to watch them play. It was a bit cold for many of our tastes, so the sisters, some cousins, the uncle's girlfriend, and I headed up the hill to a local museum of the indigenous people, which hardly looked like a museum. Though they were in the process of closing the gate, when the girls said they had a visitor who wanted to see the local treasures, the museum guide gave us the quick version of the tour. We walked a series of ramps into the covered outdoor yard, where I was surprised to see several deep pits on both sides of the ramp. One of the shallower ones had several replicas of indigenous figures in ceremonial dress, revealing that these were burial grounds of the natives; the figures themselves were replicas of the originals, but the clothes were authentic, made from precious sea shells that had been carried from far away. He taught us a bit about the lifestyles of the Indians, including the importance of choclo and other grains. Inside, we could get closer up to similar artifacts and compared the clothes of men and women, and looked at pottery and jewelry that had been found on the site. On the way back to the park, Andrea explained that they had simply been planning to build a house on that site, but when preparing form some kind of construction or addition to the house in the back yard, they had uncovered the burial ground. This was why the museum was in such an awkward neighborhood location and didn't look like a musem. When we got back to the park, no one wanted to go back out into the chill, so we stayed in the car and talked, mostly about boys, relationships, gender problems. We went to the park, but just long enough to learn that the family's team had lost (d'aww). By the time we got back to the house, we were wiped, but hungry. We made arepas and I ate too many of them as we logged on to make plans for a reunion with our old friends, and finally, we went to sleep. 

In the morning there were more surprises. The surgery that Andrea had mentioned that her mom needed is apparently on Thursday, but she need to go to the hospital to prepare beginning Monday. We took Angelica (Andrea's younger sister) to school before dropping the mom off at the hospital. Then, it was back to Abuela's-- apparently, another relative-- an uncle, I think-- needed the car, so we'd go to the orphanage as planned, but on the bus. 

When we arrived, we told the guard we wanted to see the directors, and, after running up to confer with them, he let us in. The female of the two directors, who was on duty that day, asked about my volunteer schedule, and I promised to call her when I figure it out. Then we got to the real business: finding the kids. She introduced us to the secretary-slash-record keeper, who helped us look through the files, but after looking through years 2008-2011, we still hadn't found anything. I was getting a little worried, thinking, they have to be here, I didn't just dream up four kids (the twins and their half siblings). Finally, the secretary found a note in a blue notebook that presumably logged visitors and entrances and exits of kids. All it said was “Los hermanos Matute”, a date in 2010, a woman's name, and two phone numbers. When Andrea called, the woman said that yes, she was the mother of Josue and Jonatan, and Andrea quickly passed me the phone. I wasn't prepared for this at all, and awkwardly tried to fumble an explanation. Andrea saw me struggling and quickly took the phone back, explaining who I was. The mom said that yes, the kids were with her and had been for quite some time, and yes, we could visit. The kids are in school until 2 and then have some kind of child care until 4. They live in the south of Quito, however, so visiting them will involve a bit of a day trip. I'd like it if they were closer so I could visit more often, but I was overjoyed; the ideal situation that I had been afraid to hope for happened: the kids have a family. They're not in an orphanage grappling for the attention of a worn-out government employee. They're safe and healthy, as far as I know, though I'll still be excited to visit them and see for myself. 

Andrea had to go to school, so I went to spend time with the new kids, who were playing on the playground in the back, which I was glad to see had gotten some new equipment since last time I was there. All of the 8 or 9 toddlers wanted to be pushed on the swing at the same time, of course, which is impossible, so I went around in circles giving “uno, dos, tres” pushes to each one, but they still asked me, “dame muchos!” every time. “Lo mismo por todos, mija”, I'd respond, and count to three. I started making them say 'por favor' if they were going to ask at all, and even taught them to say 'please'. It only really stuck with one bright-looking little girl, who unfortunately I later found was the bully of the toddler bracket. I found her yanking as hard as she could on the pigtails of the corky-haired girl I had first pegged as the real bully-- but though disobedient, the corky-haired girl wasn't cruel like this smart little thing. Just before this, a woman had given some of the kids some little pieces of candy. After the hair-yanking incident, I told her that little girls that behave like that don't get sweets and took it out of her hand. The fit that commenced was of epic proportions. I was afraid the other woman who was watching them would think I was doing something wrong, but I didn't know how else to make this child care that she had maliciously hurt her friend. Later, when the woman who watched the babies brought out two little girls of walking age to play with the older kids, I found one of them crying and picked her up. The bully child ran up and pinched her-- hard-- on the leg, and of course though I stopped the girl, the baby still started crying. I imagine this kind of cruel behavior happens all the time, but with one woman to watch all of these kids, it usually goes unseen, and even if the woman notices, she can't really do anything-- time-outs don't really work, especially with kids that don't listen, unless there's someone who can enforce the time-out. 

In the mean time, my old friend Josue from a church I visited the first time came to the orphanage and, as planned, we left to catch a bus to the the historic center of Quito, where we had a traditional lunch of goat, rice, and potato. Throughout this, and on the whole way back, we talked about social problems, politics (I've never had such a pleasant conversation about politics), religious issues, ancestry, life in our countries, plans, goals, whatever-- easy and pleasant, sliding back and forth between English and Spanish amphibiously, sometimes mid-sentence. He's a great host and I had a wonderful time. He accompanied me on the bus to the house of Andrea's cousin, with the help of a map that Andrea drew for me. Once there, the family gave me more food, and though I asked for 'un poco', I got a bowl of soup and a full plate. The kid I was tutoring had an assignment to follow instructiongs from his English workbook to make a rain stick. I had him read out loud, and then we talked about it. I'm trying to figure out how much English to use with him, since I don't want to overwhelm him, but I think he can handle more than I thought. Anyway, this little project took awhile, and then we did a little review of his science lesson and then we started working with the games and materials that I brought. After this, the mom came home with fresh bread with cheese in the middlle, and though I wasn't hungry, it smelled really good so I took one when offered. At this time, Andrea and Angelica arrived to have dinner-- yes, more food-- with all of us. Andrea and I asked only four soup cause we were both really full. After that, a lot of the church leaders began arriving at the house, including the youth pastor, who told me that if I'm ever bored (though it doesn't look likely at this point), I could hang out at the church and help with a mural that they want to paint. 

After that, we went home, and just as I was preparing to prepare for bed, Andrea told me that our old friend Fernando, who everyone at the institute called Petato and I called Potato, was coming to visit, and he was 20 minutes away. I was really tired, but really happy to hear this. When he arrived, we talked for a bit, I filled him in on the story of my search for the kids, including the good news from the orphanage that morning. Then we played scrabble in English, which was difficult for them, but great practice. He's still the same goofy kid, but now with a little beard peeking out from under his chin, and a little quieter, more thoughtful. We made lots of plans; he offered to chaufer our adventures and won't let me pay him, but I learned something interesting in making plans. On the registration of Ecuadorian cars, they have to choose one day where they don't drive. It's a gas sabbath, except that everyone has a different one, of their choice. I tried to explain the chaos and revolts that would happen if such a law was made in the US, but I honestly think it's a great idea, myself. Little things like this are why the government is seen as being a little (or extremely) socialist for American tastes, but as I talked with Josue earlier, they aren't communist and don't have a 'big brother' mentality; many of the “socialist” aspects of the government are incredibly sensible and beneficial. Call me un-American, but I think they have a few things figured out that we could learn from. Anyway, after plans were made, Petato left to go back to his house. I practically dove into bed after washing the stink off of me. It was a long and joyously eventful day, and I was happy for the rest.