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The dust from the dirt roads came flying up.Through the
clouded, dirt filled, tarnished windows, I saw the blue building with the cartoon
painted Children and the words “ La Escuela Alan Lynch”. I knew it was time for me to get off. I slowly
walked to the front of the packed bus, stumbling with each step as every single
eye on the bus was glued to my presence. I timidly yelled “Parre!” and the bus
jerked to a stop. My hands clenched around the metal bar as the rest of my body
fell forward. As I gained my balance I stepped off into the dusty dirt road,
with the sun beating on my face. Within a matter of seconds, I was surrounded
by the strong smiles, screams, hugs and hands of about ten children. The scene
that was created would have led one person to believe that I had been spending
time in the 28 de Agosto community for a long time, yet it was the first
Saturday that I had ever spent there.
“Donde vas?” “Where are you going?” the kids all screamed.
It took a moment for me to gain my barings and I smiled, because I had no clue
as to where I was going. I had taken a leap of faith by showing up in this
community that sits on top of an old landfill. Realistically, I had only begun
to work with the children through the after school program, and I did not have a “ningun”
idea as to where I would be going that day. I shook my head and laughed, saying
“ Yo no se!” With that, every single child in front of me was pulling me
in every direction. Each one wanted me to visit their home. I somehow ended up with two brothers. I walked hand in
hand with Jean Pierre, “Jumpy” and his brother Jorge Damion, “GiGi”. Jumpy’s
squinty brown eyes and big toothless smile, with his silky straight brown bowl
cut drew me in, even though he was a nightmare each day in the after
school program. The two boys dragged me through the wooden brown fence that was
falling apart, and strapped by thick chain-links for security. I walked in and
immediately was greeted by some of the largest smiles I have ever seen. I
looked around and could not help but visibly show my surprise. The front area
of their space was covered in mud and there were animals everywhere. Baby
chickens, roosters, cats, dogs. All visibly starved and running around. I
looked to my left and saw a cane shack almost falling apart, yet there was
something quaint and beautiful about it. “Ven pora aca mija, como esta?” I
heard the smoothest voice coming from the inside of a door, and was gently
grabbed on my upper forearm by an older women. Her dark thick hair was swept
back by a scrunchy, with her front brown wings falling on either side of her
wired rim glasses, which sat on the
bridge of her nose. Her chocolate almond shaped eyes pointing up due to the
smile that was spread across her face. She stood at about five feet four inches
but her presence made her seem much larger than that. Her arms hung by her
side, her skin covered in wrinkles that showed a woman who clearly had been
through a lot of hard work, yet also a woman filled with laughter and love. As I walked into the front door of this tiny
home, I was surrounded by one of the biggest families I had encountered. “Me
llamo Mercedes, soy la abuelita de los muchachos.” “My name is Mercedes, I am
the grandmother of these kids.” I heard a soft giggle and was greeted by
another adult with small beady black eyes. Her jet black hair was in a bun and
a small birthmark sat on the top left side of her high cheek bones which sat on her full
face. Her son, GiGi was stuck to her, hanging on her like a little monkey hangs
to their mother. She slowly walked up and introduced herself. “Soy Celia,
bienvenida a nuestro casa.” “ I am Celia, welcome to our home.”
I sat in a broken plastic red lawn chair, that had been
repaired and stitched back together with a thick string material. The chair was
placed on top of boarded wooden floors, which were cracked and sunk each time
weight was placed or shifted on them. I felt as though I was going to fall
through. I was circled by a sea of
people. Jumpy, GiGi, Ana Gaby,
Mercedes, Celia, Tito, Bryan, Jordy, Brita. And this was not even half
of the members of this gracious family. A million questions darted towards me. A
majorty of them from Celia and Mercedes. “ De donde es uds?” “Que has hecho
antes de llego aqui?” “Como es tu familia?” “ Como son Los Estados?” The
questions came and were endless. I did my best to respond through my broken Spanish.
Yet again, language did not seem to be a real barrier.
I was covered in
sweat. Flies were buzzing all around me. The smell was unimaginable. Smoke from
the burning trash out in the street slowly crept through the front door. The
kids were running around chasing marbles, hitting one another. The rooster was screeching.
I was sitting in what felt like a pool of sweat as the the bright eyes of the
kids looked up at me; laughter and screams entered my ears as the kids
fought over who would sit on my lap. Kids in this neighborhood by any outsider
may at first glance, seem uncivilized and violent, yet the love they shared and
the innocence that shone through each of them immediately won me over.
The scene was chaotic to say the least. Yet as I sat there,
surrounded by people whom at the time were a little bit less than strangers, I
was engulfed not just by love, but a calming sense of peace. Whether I looked
left, right, up or down with my eyeballs
rapidly moving around and eating up each little crumb of my environment, the
poverty was breathtaking; and not breathtaking in a positive way. When I
stopped to take a look at my surroundings it was impossible not to feel a giant
pit sitting in my stomach. Yet I felt
almost comfortable among the discomfort of how poor and broken this community
was. And I was not romanticizing the poverty, the environment was horrific; but the absolute disarray of the children, women and community drew me in from
this day on.
I felt the call to be present to these people. To this
community. A community where a majority of its residents did not own their own
land; who spent each day wondering whether or not their home would be knocked
down, and they would need to search for a new place to live. A community where
the kids were more accustomed to violence, and defending what was theirs. A
community where the kids had little to no idea how to resolve things in a
peaceful manner. A community that had little to no resources. A community that
struggled to have access to water. Access to education. Access to healthcare. And
these are just the basic, more obvious injustices that this community faces.
In one of my first days, one of my first leisure times spent in
the place that would become my true home, I quickly learned how the love of
children, the yearning for accompaniment from mothers and women, and the
visible injustices of a broken community were going to change my life. Call it
God, call it fate, call it destiny. I knew 28 de Agosto, its people and its
reality were why I was brought to Ecuador. I knew this place would define my
experience and that my relationships there would grow. This first day is when I
learned how powerful presence could be. We may not be able to change the world,
but we are able to change the world of one person by simply being with them,
listening to them and walking with them. I left that day feeling blessed to
have quickly learned how much doing nothing, but doing nothing with great
company can allow you to walk on water, and create change for not just
yourself, but those who surround you. This day of nothingness was one of my
first memories of experiencing true joy through conversation, laughter and of
course, love.
Jordan and Luz, Tito and I
Mercedes and Ana Gaby
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