Volunteering In Ecuador

Arriving in Ecuador
“Emily Y Roberto” was on the sign for us in the airport. Mariana was waiting for us outside baggage claim with her adopted nine-year old daughter, Joanna. We arrived just after 8 pm in Quito and found that at 9,500 feet, in the second-highest capital city in the world, our luggage seemed extra heavy. Nevertheless, Joanna rushed up to us, gave each of us a hug, and then pulled the guitar case from Rob’s hand. Marianna led us to the parking lot, and Joanna was out front straining to keep the guitar case off the ground and banging it with her knees as she marched along.

Marianna is the chief coordinator for a wide range of volunteer programs in Ecuador. We stayed at her house for the first two nights and learned a little about her background. Mariana’s story began in a little city outside Quito where she grew up. She married a man who worked for Marriott Hotels and they began their life together by moving to Chicago, of all places. Mariana took a job as a cocktail waitress, and made “mucho” money over the course of ten years. She and her husband also worked for a short time in Las Vegas and Hawaii before moving back to Quito. After more than a decade in the US, they had both caught “disco fever” and were determined to import the party to Ecuador. For the next 15 years they opened and closed 4 different disco clubs, including one with a space-alien theme called “UFO.” Mariana spoke about those years with such a smile, and she said the best part about it was that she got to know all the important people in the city. Unfortunately, though, the fame went to her husband’s head and it ultimately destroyed their marriage.

Four years ago, Mariana was offered a job as a project coordinator for volunteer programs. She decided to capitalize on her broad network of friends to connect volunteers to non-profit programs. She told us, “I already have my house. I have everything I need. So now all I get I give to people who need it.” This was not a surprise to us because she apparently did have everything she needs. She lives in a beautiful house on a slope overlooking Quito and the volcanoes beyond. Her house is filled with trinkets and memorabilia, and most notably the walls are decorated with pictures of her “back when she was beautiful,” as she kept telling us. She’s an interesting character and cute little Joanna is her perfect sidekick.

Our first full day in Ecuador was a busy one. We started the day with a tour of old-town Quito, complete with climbing a steeple at the basilica and walking around the park in front of Ecuador’s “White House.”

In the afternoon, Mariana took us to a family reunion in a poor section of the city’s outskirts. There must have been forty people there of all ages, not including us “gringos.” Rob found that though he couldn’t speak any Spanish, he could speak volleyball; and played for three straight hours despite the altitude. Emily, on the other hand, is very good at Spanish and was able to goof around with the litter of kids in the yard. We finished the evening with a feeble rendition of “Hotel California” on Rob’s guitar. We discovered that English or Spanish skills don’t matter if nobody knows the words. We were obscure guests, but had a great time.

On our second day in Ecuador, we took a two hour bus ride north to Otavalo. Mariana’s 24-year-old son, Miguel, escorted us to ensure we linked up with our host family. The drive was exceptionally beautiful, the bus winded its way along a steep gorge and past dizzying volcanic peaks. Using broken Spanish and pantomime, Emily and Miguel conversed the whole way to Otavalo, discussing everything from controversial American politics to Miguel’s fascination with Colombian boobies.
Otavalo & The Family
We arrived in Otavalo in the early afternoon. It´s a cozy city of 52,000 people nestled in a valley between the giant snow-capped volcanoes called Imbabura and Cotacachi. We´re right in the middle of the rainy season now, so the mornings have been typically clear and then cloudy and wet for most of the afternoons. Almost all of Otavalo´s streets and sidewalks are cobbled, presumably to let all the rain seep through the cracks. Everything about the little town is, in fact, little. The roads are barely wide enough for modern vehicles, the streetlights aren´t much taller than Rob, and the doorways are short and narrow. We knew before we arrived that Otavalo is famous for being an indigenous city with native Andean people. It didn´t take us long to realize that “the Indigenous” as they´re called, have an average height of 4ft something. They´re absolutely tiny!

Before we left Quito, Mariana told us that our host family was “very generous” and they had a “beautiful house.” Despite these warnings, however, the two of us were unprepared for our first impression of the Rubio family. The father, Marco, picked us up at the bus station in a brand-new Suzuki 4x4 SUV. He took us to his house on the north end of Otavalo. “Mi casa es su casa,” he told us as we pulled into his gated driveway. The house was astonishingly beautiful, with shiny floors, plush furniture, and hard-wood everything. There was even a giant fish tank underneath the spiral staircase, brimming with goldfish. We got settled in the guest room upstairs, had a big lunch in the dining room, and then played pool and ping pong on the back patio. It was not at all what we were expecting.

Mariana was right, though. The family is very generous. They’ve been hosting volunteers for the last four years. The two of us had already made the assumption that any family who was willing to host complete strangers for weeks and sometimes months at a time would likely have a certain level of decency about them. We were happy to find that the Rubio family really is very nice.

Marco is a teacher at a private high school on the other side of the Lake San Pablo, at the base of Imbabura. He teaches world and national history, and has peculiar work hours. He leaves for work at 7am every day, comes home for lunch, and then teaches again at night from six to eight. He’s very friendly and knows a lot of English. Unfortunately, however, he almost never uses it and insists that we only speak Spanish. We think he just likes to watch us flail around with charades before he eventually helps us get our point across.

Marco’s wife is Yoli, and she is definitely the extrovert. She also is a dentist and works the same peculiar hours as Marco. She loves to talk, and makes huge lunches for the family, but is very self conscious about being overweight, which she’s not. She eats only a little at each meal, but insists that Emily eat everything on her plate, which is funny, but not cool with Emily. A game has developed where Emily sneaks food onto Rob’s plate when Yoli isn’t looking. This makes Marco and the rest of the family laugh and they join in the running joke.

Abuelita, or “Grandma,” is Marco’s mother. Her husband has been sick for almost a year in a hospital in Quito, and so she’s living at the house with the family. She is just under 5 feet tall, loves to knit, and has 10 children. Abuelita doesn’t know a single word of English, but is very patient and enjoys visiting with us in the evenings when Marco and Yoli are at work.

Carlos is Marco and Yoli’s eldest son. He’ll be 15 this month, and he’s polite and respectful. He is, however, somewhat reclusive with us, but is always out with his friends. Recently he’s been trying out a new “punk” hairdo, which has caused some controversy with his parents. We can’t understand Spanish when it’s spoken that fast, but we know that Marco and Yoli don’t like the idea of a mohawk. In Otavalo’s famous October 31st Parade, we saw Carlos perform really well as the lead baton twirler (which in Ecuador is more masculine than you think). His blue uniform, golden epaulettes, and feathery baton were a stark contrast to his punk alter ego.

Marco Junior, or “Marquito,” is the youngest son at 11 years old. He’s the human equivalent of a baby bird, complete with strange noises and awkward gestures. He’s big for his age, probably because he stops at every kiosk to buy candy and soda when we’re walking around town. We posed for a family picture, for example, and couldn’t find Marquito. He was 10 yards away, eating french-fries off a stranger’s plate. He plays indoor soccer and is pretty good. We practiced with him one afternoon and went with the family to watch him win a game on Saturday night. He’s hilarious and by far our favorite of the Rubio bunch.

The School
For the last week, the two of us have been teaching at a local primary school called “Escuela de Luis Ulpiano de la Torre.” There’s not much significance in the name other than Louis was a nationally famous musician. The school itself is small group of rectangular classrooms on the northern edge of town, a 20-minute walk down the hill from the Rubio’s casa. The principal of the school is Senor Pancho, and he’s nice but a little scatter-brained. In the first two days he changed our teaching schedule three different times.

Needless to say, the first few days of teaching were rough. We didn’t know which classes to teach, how long each period lasted, or what lessons to teach the children. Most frustratingly, there was no support from the other teachers, who seemingly took our presence as their chance for some free time. To top it off, some of the students were particularly disrespectful and rowdy, which was to be expected given the circumstances.

By day three, however, we were on a roll. We finally nailed down a schedule and were able to prepare lessons and create teaching tools. We also wrote a few songs that we could teach to every grade level, including the now world-famous “Food Song” which we re-translated from Swahili into Spanish. Even though the first few days of teaching were rocky, the students were, sweet, adorable, and very excited. Also, a significant benefit to knowing some Spanish was that we have been able to communicate with these students, which wasn’t the case in Africa where we could only communicate with pantomime and a meager vocabulary. In another contrast, it was difficult to tell the Tanzanian boys from the girls because they all had very short hair, whereas here in the Andes, it’s almost impossible to distinguish the native girls from the boys because they all have long black hair swept back into braids. They’re all adorable though, at least that’s not hard to figure out.

Other than teaching, one of our favorite things to do is play with the children outside of class. This includes simple games like, tickle monster, hand-clapping games, thumb wars, and exploding high-fives. We found that apparently “give me five” doesn’t translate directly into Spanish. After Emily stuck out her hand and said it to one kid in Spanish, he looked down sullenly and said, “No tengo,”. . .“I don’t have”.

Also, during recess on Thursday, Rob and Emily played soccer on the cement field in the center of the school. Rob played goal keeper because he was twice the size of every other player. The young girls wanted Emily to play sitting games with them on the sidelines, but she insisted on playing with Rob and the other boys. After a few fakes and a couple goals, Emily had the little boys impressed and sidelines cheering.

On Saturday morning, we met Senor Poncho at the school to begin the day’s project, which was to resurface a portion of the school’s cement courtyard. Mariana funded the supplies and by the time we arrived at 7am there were already huge piles of sand and rocks as well as 36 bags of cement. By 7:30am more than 50 people, including some students and their parents, arrived and busily started on the project. Neither Rob nor Emily had any idea how to make a cement patio, but thankfully everyone else did. Whether with a shovel or a wheelbarrow we helped as much as we could without getting in the way. Still, Emily used “lo siento” pretty often to apologize…like after hitting some random lady in the hand with her shovel, for example. Woops! Another funny moment was when Senor Pancho gave Rob a shot of what Marco described later as “poor man’s whisky.” It was pretty stiff, but Rob muscled it down exclaiming in broken Spanish, “Alcohol gives me much strength!” and dashed off with another wheelbarrow full of rocks.

Everyone worked really well together. No one was in charge, but everyone knew exactly what to do and how to do it, like a colony of ants. Senor Pancho blasted some Ecuadorian folk music over the loud speaker, which turned the whole scene into sort of a silent movie, with everyone moving slightly faster than normal speed. We finished the patio by the early afternoon, and everyone stayed at the school for a big celebratory lunch. We all crouched onto tiny chairs in the kindergarten room, everyone’s faces and clothes splattered with cement.