Day 5

6/12/13

Yesterday we woke up early to visit Andrea's mom in the hospital, where she is fasting and resting before her surgery. We first went with Angelica (little sister) to print something that she was making for her friend's birthday at one of the many super-cheap copy centers that lined the streets around the university, eat breakfast while helping her cut out little hearts and stars to glue to the big yellow cardstock card, and then drop her off at her university before heading back over to Abuela's to pick up some things to take to Mom. We picked up the uncle (22-year old) again to take to school, but to the nearby hospital first. The hospital was a public bureaucratic endeavour, so they didn't want to let Andrea and I through, telling us ambiguously to 'come back later'. We told the uncle this, and he disappeared into the building and came back a few minutes later empty-handed. Apparently some combination of his dashing blue eyes and the guilt trip he gave the guard about leaving a poor sick woman without any clothes or pillow did the trick. We then took him to school and stopped to pick up some surprising things from the pharmacy to take to the hospital, such as IV equipment-- public health care being such that patients and their families occasionally need to supplement all of the free stuff they're getting with a few store-bought things. Again, call me un-American, but I find this system infinitely better and (to prove my patriotism), shows the good side of capitalism, too-- medical services and supplies are bought on an open market, where competition keeps prices roughly equivalent to actual value. So we picked up the things and went back to the hospital, where Andrea gave the name of her mom's roommate to get in, and I gave the name of the mom, since only one visitor was allowed per person at a time. I know, we're huge rebels, but I have no moral qualms about this. Anyway, by that time it was almost 11, so after visiting with Mom for half an hour, Andrea offered to take me to her cousin's house before going to class. We stopped by the house to eat just a little, and to pick up some of my tutoring supplies (and her school supplies), then she dropped me off. The grandmother told me that Mateo had lied about slash failed to mention a large math assignment yesterday and hadn't had time to finish by the time they found out about it, so that's the first thing we did when he got home and settled in. Imagine me teaching an unfamiliar method of division in a second language in which I can barely pronounce the numbers and don't know the words for “add/subtract/multiply/divide”. It was kind of a mess, but basically, Abuela, who I'd earlier learned had had a career in the ministry of education, did a few demonstrations and I taught him at his pace as soon as I caught on. Abuela moves very quickly, and the mother says that she doesn't teach so much as do it for him. We made a good team, though. After that, we read a story in English that he'll have a quiz on today, and then Abuela helped him with Spanish language homework, writing sentences from easily confused words (homophones, basically). I learned a lot by hovering. We were also multitasking, as we watched a very important soccer game. Ecuador was playing Argentina, and apparently the game would decide who was going to some kind of world cup next year. They were well-matched and it was a one-to-one tie at the end of the game. Shortly after the soccer game and with the assignment still in progress, Mami and Papi arrived home. I heard Magali and Mateo getting in an emotional discussion about notes one teacher had sent home about the incomplete math assignment, and from another teacher, about a notebook he'd failed to bring, but when the mom came out I told her that he was now caught up in math and understood the division much better. I think this made everyone feel better. Tutoring is essentially the same anywhere; you really take a weird mediative role in the family in a lot of ways. Since kids are more prone to listen to tutors than parents, I often remind the kids that they have to use manners and human decency with their parents, which has been the case with Mateo so far. I think he suffers from the same problem I do, where it is hard to see when you're treating the people you love most badly, as you believe you've come to an understanding, created a love language in which that's acceptable. But it's not. Anyway, I settled on an arrangement with the mom: Monday through Thursday afternoons for however long at $5 per session. In the Ecuadorian economy that's a pretty standard exchange, and $20 per week will be perfect to fund my transport there and other places. On Friday and Saturday, I plan to tutor the others when I don't have weekend plans. It'll be less frequent, but that's necessary both because it's farther away and because the kids don't seem to need standard homework help. After this, I asked if Magali could help me call a cab, and she responded that she'd take me back home after dinner, which was (as I'm learning is standard), lunch 2.0. I don't mind, though, it's good food. Table conversation was pleasant, and we talked about my time in Quito, Mateo's progress in English, generalities of travel, their travel experiences, my home, etc. Just as we were finishing up, Andrea arrived, and she ate a little dinner before we went home. There, we hung out in the big bedroom, watching youtube videos by a fantastic slow-rap group called Calle 13 (Street 13) that discussed a lot of social issues (I tried to explain the tug I felt to this music as a spoken word poet). She laid patiently as I awkwardly rambled through weird philosophical points in Spanish-- about poetry, society, whatever, before going to sleep. I definitely talk too much, regardless of the language. But you know that. :)

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.  

Day 2

Yesterday continued what I'm sure will be a great tradition of things not going according to plan. I met Andrea's mother again, as she had come home late last night after we were all asleep. I squeezed in some gift-giving before her ride to work picked her up. Andrea and I decided to look for a sweater to replace the one I'd forgotten at home, so we walked the winding path through her neighborhood that lead to the bus route. We saw some probable little stores (of the tiny storefront type) out the window as we passed through a neighborhood, so we got out and perused, but, picky and poor me, I found nothing to my taste and budget. We caught another bus to the orphanage, where I promptly forgot all of my Spanish as the guard approached the gate. We somehow communicated that we wanted to volunteer, but he said we'd have to come back on Monday to get the permission of the head directors. We were planning on returning on Monday anyway to look through the records, so it wasn't a terrible inconvenience, except that we'd been looking forward to time with the new kids at the orphanage. Andrea's mom and her friend were in the area, so they picked us up and dropped us off in another good shopping district, telling Andrea to go visit her grandmother after we were done. I bought a knock-off adidas sweater for ten bucks from an indigina who was selling them on the sidewalk; I was more annoyed that it said “Adidas” than that it was a knock-off and its bright green stripes weren't really my style, but it was comfortable and cheap and we were getting a little desperate for something that worked at that point. We passed by a large market selling food and clothes and I got another jacket-- this one plain dark gray and very cozy-- for six dollars. Then we headed on bus to Andrea's grandmother's house, where we found that she wasn't home. However, when Andrea's father called and told her to pick up the car from the mechanic, we were happy that we'd come, since it was very close by. The young boys (13 to 16, by the looks) who were assisting the mechanic told us that the car would be ready in 20 minutes. We left to eat some lunch (a yummy soup from a small but classy-looking restaurant) and briefly watch a game of team soccer in the park, and when we returned to the mechanic, he took us on a test drive to make sure the car wasn't making any noise. After that, we went to pick up Andrea's cousins from the store where her uncle sold pizza cones. They made one for Andrea and I and we ate it as we talked with the family for a bit. They told me they'd love lessons for their oldest boy, Juan Diego, who is eight years old and evidently a national swimming champion of the elementary sports bracket. He seems to be both intelligent and technology-addicted. He has a cell phone that gives him access to Facebook and something called WhatsUp, apparently an American phenomenon that I've missed. His brother, Juan Ignacio ('nacho') is a precocious three-year-old who doesn't take easily to strangers, and is a fan of making weird faces and saying funny and insulting things. Since he's a little too young to sit and learn things, they just want lessons for Diego. He's a fun, cute kid, and I'd be happy to teach him with the materials I brought for the other cousins for free, but they said they'd insist on paying me. We took the kids back to the house, where they and a friend (boyfriend?) of the mom joined us for dinner. The latter is evidently more technology-addicted than most young people in the States, and kept the computer at the table and watched YouTube videos (mostly excerpts from America's Got Talent and similar shows) during the meal. I was sort of weirded out to see this in Ecuador, but it reminded me that it's a society in transition, and they haven't quite figured out the rules of this whole technology game yet. I'd put this as part of a wider trend-- the gap between rich, middle class, and poor is such that technology is a bit of a status symbol; not necessarily that one is rich, but that one is not one of the pobres. And thus it's acceptable to be a little bit addicted. After that, we went upstairs and watched TV on the big bed for a bit before settling in for the night. This is quite a change from my first trip, but there are pros and cons to both ways of approaching Ecuador, and I'm overjoyed for the hospitality and company of those around me. More to come. It's time to make Arepas. Hooray!

Day 1

My arrival in Ecuador yesterday did not go as planned, and, as with most adventures, I'm thankful for that. 

At the airport, the line for COPA airline's checkin was heavily populated by a large gang of young people whose green shirts proudly proclaimed that their destination was ECUADOR, with the name of their ministry in small print underneath. I was glad for the hope of layover buddies, with whom I was sure interesting conversations would follow. And they did. The group was going to spend 8 days in Ambato, a not-quite-nearby city which I believe I visited with a friend on my first trip. They'd be helping with the construction of a new community school. I got a chance to chat with them about my trip, land myself on several personal prayer lists, and fill them in on some of the finer points of Ecuadorian culture, from the religious landscape (predominant Catholic with a strong and consciously-contending Protestant presence, with a smattering of sects and indigenous spiritualities), to the expressions (“chao” at least as common as “adios”), to must-stop places (mercados artesenales, etc). It was a timely opportunity to reflect on my first trip and to get a little confidence boost as far as my cultural know-how. I had a similar but more condensed experience with two Quito-bound Germans I met at the layover, and even got one of their email addresses, hoping to stay in contact and maybe even meet up during our stay.

When I arrived in Quito, I didn't see Andrea in the line of smiling faces that awaited their internationally-traveling guests and family members. When I called her, she told me that there was car trouble, and I was to get on a shuttle to el antiguo aeropuerto, the old airport, which was closer to her house and therefore a better meeting place. After confirming with an information desk, the bus ticket salesman, and the bus driver that it was going to the correct destination, I was aboard a large and well-equipped bus, by myself, my first day in Quito. The bus had wifi, so I was able to send a few messages to the universe:

I'm in Quito! :) My ride had some car troubles, so I'm taking the shuttle to meet them where they are. Adventures already abound. :)

"When I get off the bus down there, my children, they all are going to greet me at the station. Like gypsies they will dance around me, and the choral droning sound their voices make will saturate the evening." ~A song called Quito, by The Mountain Goats. Free wifi on this bus means I get to listen to freakily thematically appropriate music, as I look out the windows over the city and over the landscapes that evoke all kinds of homey nostalgic feelings in me. I love this place. I love this place. I love this place.

When I arrived at the old airport, whose tarmac had been converted to a fair-slash-theme park and whose buildings were now a bus station, I met Andrea exchanged hugs and besitos, and headed back to the house in the taxi. In-person communication immediately proved infinitely easier than either online or phone, but I still believe that many people in Ecuador are so unused to hearing broken or accented Spanish that they're simply confused by it. However, they generally try to be friendly and accommodating, as is the case with my host family. Driving through the city, I realized that I'd forgotten how many things I missed about this place-- the crowded streets lined with little storefront shops of a particular character that some would be quick to characterize as ghetto, but which filled me with an incredible nostalgia, the murals that lined many of the city walls (courtesy of Urban artists who may or may not have had permission to do so), the vendors that sold chicle and cigarettes along the streets from the type of boxes that might have been used to sell popcorn at a sports game in the US, and so much more-- the food, the buses, the Internet cafes, the language, the beautiful faces of los indigenos that made up a significant part of the Urban population. All of it.

Neither Andrea's sister or her mom (the other two members of the host family) were home when we arrived at the little urban-looking town house, which I recognized from my first trip. I unpacked in the room that Andrea has so graciously leant me (she'll bunk with her sister during my stay, which she doesn't seem to mind at all). She fluttered between the room and the kitchen, where she was preparing shrimp with mushrooms and rice. Over the meal, we talked about daily life our different cultures, boys, Disneyland, and other things of this sort. Already my Spanish was in overdrive; I often guessed words and asked her if these were correct. An abundance of cognates meant that I was usually in the ballpark, enough for her to repeat the correct form of the word to me, though sometimes we still got hung up and simply changed topics. More often we changed topics because I couldn't understand what she was saying, and she's still learning to explain things in simpler language for me.

After that, it was naptime for me (I'd gotten very little sleep both on the overnight flight and the night before), and then I got dressed and ready to find out what the heck Andrea was talking about earlier when she tried to explain a church event to me. Soon, young people (mainly teens) began showing up at the house, followed by the the youth pastor, whom I recognized from my visit to the reunion de jovenes (youth group) last time I was here. The latter brought hot chocolate and bread, which we began preparing in the kitchen, evidently to give to the patrons of a free medical clinic for the poor in the city. Andrea, her sister, and I flittered between this prep work in the kitchen and the meeting that the pastor was running in the living room. First there was worship, then a game of charades in which a representative of the losing team had to drink tea that had been strained through a sock which the pastor took off of Andrea's foot for the purpose (youth groups-- pretty much the same antics everywhere!), then the Bible study, which focused on our identity in Christ. After that, we all piled into the little church van and headed to the hospital, where many of the poor were thankful for the food as they waited for their sick relatives to come out of the treatment rooms. There was quite a bit of leftover food, so we headed to the city and began distributing it out of the bus windows to the poor on the streets, like some kind of reverse drive-through. Eligible candidates for the food included the obviously homeless, the street vendors selling chicle, and people doing menial (but official) work such as trash collecting and street cleaning. It is a sad testament to the injustices of human society (everywhere) that so many of the poor were indijinos, distinguished by their facial features and (especially for the women) their clothing, which includes fedora-type hats, woven wraps, beautifully embroidered tops, and long skirts. Our search for these people involved a canvasing of the seedier parts of town, in which all types of people crowded the sidewalks and club music boomed from buildings-- from Andrea I understand that these are not inherently sinful places, but the locations coincided with other misfortunes, such as the dozens of prostitutes that waited on corners, about half of which appeared to be males in drag. I was very happy to see that the church was living out what they taught, valuing the needs of the poor above the maintenance of a sense of personal security. I was happy that they weren't afraid to do what God had asked them to do. And I don't know if Urban ministry is my lifelong career-type calling, but I'm definitely happy to be a part of it. I think Buzzy would be happy to learn about this.

Most of the youth group kids, including myself and Andrea, were falling asleep by the time we started dropping off kids, and by the time we got home, I was ready to flop into bed and go to sleep. Which I did.

This morning I discovered that I'm the earliest riser in the family, so the mornings should be a perfect time for daily writing. God (and my friends) hold me to it. :)

~Ely

April Update

After being so neglectful of this for so long (my Facebook event page is updated much more frequently!), I have a few quick notes in the way of catch-up:

(1) Financial trip prep: Thanks to the wonderful donations of loved ones and many supporters, I have $2135 of my necessary $3000. Please consider donating! Email elizabeth.rhea@eagles.cui.edu for more info on how to go about it!

(2) Practical trip prep: I have my passport and my plane tickets, as well as (though this is old news) a lovely family to house me during my stay.

(3) Child search update: I've found information about their full names and birthdays, as well as that for their half siblings. This will help me not only to have an easier time of looking for them, but to establish my credibility as someone who has worked with them in the past. I have several friends in Ecuador who are poking around in the right places, and I hope to have an update shortly. I also heard back from the head director who was on duty at the orphanage during my time there, but only once-- and that time he mentioned that the boys were probably moved to different homes in the city because of their age. He didn't respond to my follow-up questions about how to get ahold of these places, but I hope to hear back from him soon.

(4) Adventure update: I'm planning reunions with friends from my first trip on the weekends, and this has got me very excited to be there again and to show them that I've grown a lot as a person (I was only 17 and a little clueless the first time) and that I've been practicing my Spanish! :)

Thanks for tuning in!

~Ely

The Story, Part I

I had to leave you

for the land of Sweet 'n Low

and Post-It Notes

and Times New Roman Font,

but I have not forgotten.

                                                                         ~From Mijo, a Poem for Josue and Jonatan

      At the age of seventeen, I was blessed to spend three beautiful months in Quito, Ecuador. Chief among the memorable experiences of that trip was the time I spent volunteering at Campi de Yoder, a home for kids who had been removed from their families due to unsafe conditions or inadequate care. The children were troubled and beautiful. (Watch the trip video here.) Several wise and experienced sages in my life tried to warn me, but it still happened: two of them quite thoroughly got my heart. 

   Josue (left) and Jonatan David (right) are twins. They were five at the time, and it didn't take them long to win me over.The first time I met Josue, he ran up to me and jumped into my arms. When I went for my last visit to the orphanage, Jonatan whispered, "llevame contigo a tu pais" (take me with you to your country). I had to whisper back, "No puedo, Mijo, no tengo espacio en mi malleta para ti" (I don't have room in my suitcase for you).      
       The boys have been at the back of my mind since I returned. It was while writing a poem about them for a World Missions day that I realized I would, in fact, be coming back for them, not just as some vague eventuality, but as soon as possible. (Listen to the poem here. Note: for poetic reasons, I merged memories of both of them into one 'character'; it's about both of them.) This Summer, from June to July, I'm finally going back to find them and do whatever I can for them.     
        I can't do it alone, though! The trip will require a lot of logistics, energy, God-Math, and about $3,000 dollars. More details are definitely on the way, but please consider joining my support team by offering prayer, encouragement, and/or financial help. To ensure frequent updates, comment, email, or Facebook message with your decision and email address.


God bless and be with you,
~Ely Rhea

(619) 993-1841 ~ elizabeth.rhea@eagles.cui.edu -- http://www.facebook.com/events/535788359773744/