Final Grant Essay

This is the essay I wrote upon completion of my six months in Ecuador for the Interexchange Foundation, the organization that sponsored my trip. It gives a broad perspective on what I was was doing, and might fill in some gaps from my other entries (especially since I wasnt the best at keeping up with the blog).

As I glided down into Quito, my adopted home for the next six months, the nine hours of travel gave the anxieties and insecurities time to shift toward the back of my mind, eclipsed by a wave of excitement washing over me. After all, nine months ago, I had embarked on the same journey, without the familiarity of friends or knowledge of the bustling city. My unorthodox leap from the 9 to 5 world began In November 2008, after finishing work on several senatorial campaigns out of Washington DC. I was hit with the realization that my true interest reached farther than partisan politics studied from behind a desk.
The prospect of finding work that would make me want to get out of bed every morning compelled me to scour the internet for opportunities to go abroad and work with at-risk populations in third world countries. Given my fluency in Spanish, I was attracted to organizations in South America, and my quest ended with a volunteer position in Quito, Ecuador, which began in April 2009. With a hostel reservation and three suitcases, I embarked on the scariest journey of my life, relocating to South America with no return ticket. After navigating customs at the small international airport and collecting my bags, I was greeted by a tall British man in the midst of a crowd of smaller Ecuadorians. Casey, who was a colleague from CEMPROC, the organization I would be volunteering with. He bargained a cab fare to my hostel and, after handing me a stack of reading materials in Spanish and a map of the city at the entrance to the two-story building, left me to settle into my new home filled with tourists from across the world.
For the next three months, I stumbled through culture shock, found an apartment and roommate, investigated the struggles of the large population of Colombian refugees who have resettled in Quito, and became comfortable using the cheap public transportation system. CEMPROC had a hands off approach to their volunteer programs, letting me create and choose projects based on my interests. While this was daunting, it allowed me to shift my focus from the high school mediation training session I helped lead my first month there to working with the growing refugee community, an issue which had sprung to the forefront of the political agenda a year earlier.
Through contacts at CEMPROC, I was invited to be part of a group working with Colombian leaders to create a refugee federation, aiming to strengthen their voice when working with state and international organizations. I used this opportunity to make contacts of my own, which turned into deeper friendships. The more time I spent with these remarkable individuals, who had been forced to flee their country and were working to make the best of their new lives, the more I wanted to help them. Ecuador is home to the largest refugee population in Latin America, with no signs of an end to the civil war engulfing Colombia, their home country. While I saw much work that could be done, after three months, I could no longer afford to volunteer my time. I had embarked with few expectations, and when I returned home in August of that year, the connection I had made with this country and the people created a pull to return and continue the efforts I had started with the refugee population.
After spending several months back in the US, my wish to continue this endeavor was realized through the help of the Christianson grant. In January of 2010, landing in the same hazy mountainous city I discovered and connected with the previous year. I quickly ordered a taxi from one of the stands at the airport and weaved my way through the busy streets to the welcoming spare room at a friend’s apartment. This time with a solid grasp of what to expect and goals for my six-month journey, I quickly reconnected with organizations and refugee leaders who I had befriended the year before.
This time, I came down with the main focus of leading mediation trainings with migrant populations in Quito, but was motivated to look deeper at how to work with in the refugee community. My focus shifted to helping create work opportunities for the hardworking population. I worked closely with the refugee federation and FAS, a branch of the United Nations High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR) to enable this vision. With their help, I reached out to artisans and local vendors with the hope of forming an artisan cooperative that could support each other while providing participants with an income to supply food and shelter for them and their families. I knew this would not be an easy endeavor but was not prepared for the numerous obstacles and setbacks I encountered.
Nothing went as planned, but I learned to adapt to cultural differences, such as people showing up an hour late for meetings without informing me, or at times just not coming at all. As a young foreign woman (or “gringa” as they call me) with a heavy American accent, I became accustomed to having to prove myself as capable, and began to find some of the paternalistic characteristics of cab drivers and men I worked with endearing. I continually had to veer off course to accommodate setbacks, keeping my ultimate goals of creating sustainable opportunities for the refugees as my guide. CEMPROC continued to help me through the process and, after realizing that six months is not sufficient time to plan and put into practice a well-run cooperative, I was able to fuse the group of refugee artisans with a group of Ecuadorians who already had some structure and similar values of working with underserved populations. The group makes bags, jewelry, and clothing out of recycled materials such as orange peels, scrap fabric, and seeds. This symbiotic partnership between the refugees and Ecuadorians provides a forum for the groups to share knowledge and learn from each other as well, which is not common in the society which discriminates based on citizenship.
Trying to make the most of my short time down there, I continually looked for ways to do more with any free time I had after work. Using feedback from refugees and friends who work at aid organizations, I saw a need for English classes. While I had originally traveled down to lead mediation classes, space limitations delayed the start, and gave me time to adjust the curriculum to shift the focus to teaching English, using mediation skills as class themes. The classes now cater to 20 refugees per semester and provide them with Basic English skills to help them with their jobs and the possibility of settling in a non-Spanish speaking country.
I left Ecuador with a new understanding of how immigration affects families and individuals and a new perspective on my own life and personal values. I saw a group of people who had been forced to leave everything they knew to save their lives, and made a conscious decision to make the best of their new situation. I heard stories of unimaginable cruelty, but what stuck out was the perseverance in the face of adversity. My experience not only opened my eyes to a new culture and new set of values that place family above financial success, but also to the reality of displaced people. The Christianson grant helped spark a passion in me, inspiring me to add to the support network for this group, in hopes of helping them find some stability in their lives.
I am continuing to work with the group of artisans, helping them reach out to venues in Quito and develop their products so that hopefully one day they will be able to export the handmade products to the United States. I have started market studies at small artisan fairs and am working on a website for the group. Without support from the Christianson grant, none of this would have been possible.

perspectives

This past Saturday I visited Mindo, a tourist town located on the outskirts of the rainforest about two hours north of Quito. The trip started when one of my roommates friends, who is in Quito for six weeks with the state dept, asked if I would be interested in going. I had wanted to go to Mindo for a while, and was able to rearrange my schedule slightly to fit in the tip. As someone who has only traveled through south America by bus (with a few plane rides dispersed throughout) I knew of only one way to get to the small town, by going to the local bus terminal, paying the $5 roundtrip and hopping on one of the many buses headed towards Mindo, or passing through it. Since my friend was the one who thought of the idea, he took charge of making tentative plans and emailed me on Friday with an itinerary to take a private car from Quito, a private tour of the jungle surrounding Mindo, and some options for activities. While I was not completely opposed to his plan, I mentioned my idea of hopping on the bus and planning out the trip once we were there (as everyone else I who I have spoken with has done while visiting the jungle town).
While my friend seemed slightly apprehensive about my plan, he liked the idea of spending a third of the money he had budgeted and left the planning in my hands. We ended up having an amazing trip, went zip lining over the forest, hiked to nearby waterfalls, and enjoyed an amazing BBQ in the town for lunch. My friend was amazed by the modern appearance of the busses (they resemble a greyhound bus in the states), and thanked me for planning everything.
His viewpoint reminded me of how perspective can narrow ones understanding of life around them, and reminded me of how different my perspective is compared to the refugee population I am working with. Sometimes things that frustrated me (particularly with miscommunication) are due to a lack of understanding, and my inability to see things from a different angle.

communication

I wanted to share some of my experiences of communication gaps, whether it's due to language barriers, culture differences, or technology malfunction, there are times when I feel every day in Ecuador is a struggle to understand and be understood, while an amazing learning experience, it can also be incredibly trying at times.

The other day I had to meet up with the owner of an export company to discuss the possibility of working with them to export the products the artisans I am working with make. I had received their contact info from a man who has sold art work from South America around the world for decades. After giving a brief explanation of what I am doing and what I am looking for, he suggested I go with him to a town called Otavalo a couple of ours north of Quito to meet with him and see the office he does most of his work out of. I agreed and we arranged a time and date, on a Wed morning meeting about 15 min away from my apt at 6 am to make the scenic drive to the indigenous town.

The morning of, I grabbed my backpack I had prepared the night before and headed to the street to catch a cab, only to realize that I had no money with me. Because I was worried I would need some cash (as very few places in Ecuador accept credit cards), I ran to the nearest ATM and hopped in a cab by 6am on the dot with what I assumed to be sufficient for any small costs on the trip and handed the driver the address of where I was to meet the owners of the export business. The driver, a native Quiteno did not seem to recognize exactly where the Quito office was located,but we headed in tat direction while I tried calling the couple. While most meetings in Ecuador run at least several minutes late, I was a little on edge since the couple had set such an early meeting time.

While they did not pick up, most likely a problem with the cell phone connection, they called me back almost immediately exasperated and asking where I was. I explained what had happened and asked for directions, explaining that I was minutes away. I then conveyed the directions to the cab driver, while watching the clock turn to 6:07. While on our search for the location, I received two more calls, with the final one telling me they had left since they needed to start working (this call came in at 6:10, while I was two minutes away from the office). Since I did not want to start the trip off on a bad note, I let them go after apologizing for holding them up and told the cab driver to take me back to my apt., to which the driver responded by asking me to call the owners again to help us find the building as we were still slightly lost.

I unsuccessfully explained to the cab driver that I wanted to return to my apartment, as the people I was meeting had already left. He choice to ignore my request, while the taxi metro continued to rise, and continue searching for the original building, asking me several times to call back the couple and ask for directions again. As I was incredibly tired and wanted to know where the meeting location was for future reference, I chose to be complacent and let the driver take me on the fruitless search for several minutes before repeating over and over again that I wanted to return. Upon my 6th request, he decided to listen to me, without any acknowledgement of my previous directions to turn back. I then asked him to take me to my office, located slightly north of my apt. He gave an affirmative response, and I finally was able to calmly sit in the back and let him take me to where I wanted to go. About 8 min into the trip, as we should have been arriving at my office, I look out of the window to find we were near my apartment. I immediately asked where he was going, to which he responded "back to where I picked you up from"

By now, I was very frustrated and had a rather expensive cab fare to pay by Ecuadorian standards. I asked the driver to stop where he was and let me out, explaining that he had not listened to me the entire trip. He blamed it on my accent, which can be difficult to understand at times, but not once had he asked me to repeat or explain something. I tried to pay the fare, but the driver did not have change for the $10 bill I handed him and he asked for change. I had $3 in change, but the fare was closer to $5. He finally let me go, paying just the $3 I had and actually seemed to feel somewhat uncomfortable for his inability to listen to me.

I left the cab exasperated, and began to reflect on the situation. I believe part of the issue was my gender and age. He felt as though he was helping me or taking care of me by ignoring my directions, which is indicative of the machista society that exists in Latin America and came up over and over again throughout my work there.

CARNIVAL in Tena

What we know in the US as Mardi Gras translates to Carnival in Latin America, a holiday in which families stop what they are doing to throw buckets and balloons filled with water or paint at passersby (from which I have a yellow splattered shirt as evidence), and attend the numerous parties, parades, and festivals throughout the content. While I had been in Bolivia and Peru for Carnival in 2007, I was backpacking around and at the time didn’t understand all of the traditions, or even that the holiday was celebrated so widely throughout the continent why children were throwing water balloons. Now as a resident of Ecuador, I was prepared-although still not thrilled with the idea of being attacked at every street corner. Quito basically empties out for the long weekend, while people take advantage of their days off of work to visit family, go to the beach, or just travel around with friends.
To celebrate the four day long weekend, I joined my roommate and some of her Ecuadorian friends on an expedition to Tena, located in the western part of the country-near, but not in, the jungle. We stayed with one of the girl's family in their finca, loosely translated into farm house, situated on acres of open country filled with fruit trees and animals. We spent our time outside, hitchhiking around the town, tubing, and learning what it means to live on a farm. I particularly enjoyed my early morning wake up call to milk cows (that is not meant to be facetious, I honestly did have fun).
I demonstrated how to make s'mores, and spent hours talking with the father about his opinion of America based on 2 trips he has made there, one for work and one for pleasure with his wife, and how it compares to Ecuador.
We left Quito from the packed bus terminal, located about an hour south of my apt, at 8am to make the 5 hour journey to Tena, where we met up with the father of the family we were staying with. After grabbing a $2 lunch of fried fish, rice and salad in the town, we hopped in the back of the dad's pickup truck and drove to the finca. The entrance of the farmhouse is situated on a two lane highway, and has been marked by two garbage cans, or you would miss it along the stretch of open land along the road. Once you have turned into the finca, a long driveway leads you to a wooden structure that housed at least 15 people that weekend. While the house gave meager protection from the insects from the outside, it was a welcome refuge from the hot sun of Tena, and filled with good conversation and food.

Our first day we spent the day at a beach situated along a river, listening to a concert the town holds annually to celebrate carnival. After an afternoon filled with dancing, swimming, and squirting foam at each other (also a tradition associated with carnival) we made our way back to the finca, showered, ate, and prepared to go to one of the 2 discotecas in the town of Tena. The small, one-room club was packed, and played a mixture of electronic, salsa, and tradition American music. It was fun for a night, but I’m not sure I could imagine living there with that as my only source of entertainment at night; it reminded me of a mini version of an American club. In order to move such a large group around, we would split up, some sat in the back of the pickup truck while the rest squeezed inside. I loved sitting in the back, soaking in the fresh air and lush scenery. If we weren’t traveling with her parents, we would either hop in a pickup truck taxi or hitchhike (a common and safe practice in this part of the country) to the general vicinity of where we wanted to go and then walk the rest of the way. Our second day there, we went to a huge festival the town holds, the epicenter of carnival, or as I liked to call it, the war zone, as kids and adults alike took your presence there as a sign that you wanted to be drenched with water and foam and whatever else they could find to splatter you with. We did get some serenity when we took a canoe ride along one of the Amazon tributaries, which I had done the previous time I was in the jungle, but was still a welcome break-even though it only lasted about 30 min, because that’s all we could afford at the time with the cash we had brought.
While I think 3 days of cold showers, mosquito bites, and sunburn was about all I could take in one visit, I would love to go back.

farmacia

When an Ecuadorian needs medicine, whether it be the cure to the common cold, pills to prevent malaria, or to get rid of a parasite they picked up from eating something from one of the numerous street vendors sprinkled throughout the country, before they go to the doctor, they go to the farmacia in search of a remedy. While there are numerous options, the one most prevalent in Quito is Fybeca. Once inside the CVS style store, you pass the isles of chifles and soda and office supplies to the back where a man or woman in a white coat greets you and asks what your symptoms are. In certain aspects this service is nice, such as last year when I went to the jungle, instead of paying for a doctors visit and the high price of malaria prevention pills, I just went to the local farmacia to pick up pills for about 25 cents a piece, not bad. However, when you know what you want, and the option is not available it can become incredibly frustrating trying to navigate the foreign system (from the perspective of a person born in the US)

The other day I was feeling a cold coming on, and wanted the equivalent of dayquil, I described all of the normal symptoms: congested, a little achy, but most noticeably dizzy (that feeling you get usually after taking cold medicine). I was told that they were not allowed to prescribe cold medicine, for fear of discouraging people with swine flu from going to the hospital, but they could give me a pill to relieve some of the symptoms. With no further explanation, they wrote me a prescription for 4 red pills and i went to the checkout to pay and pick up my medicine at the front of the store. As I had no idea what I had just purchased, I immediately googled the drug upon returning to my office before consuming the mystery pill. I learned that it is similar to aspirin and used to cure fevers and pain, neither of which I was experiencing, so instead I relied on the vitamin C pills I had purchased at the register to cure my ailments. It remains a mystery to me what education the pharmacists have here, and what criteria they use for assessing which medicine to prescribe when. I still have the 4 red pills sitting in my room and am now prepared for if I do experience more severe cold symptoms, but O how I miss dayquil.

Pistishi, a day in the life of Ecuadorian countrymen

Last weekend I joined my future roommate on a visit to the community where her NGO, AVANTI, works called Pistishi. This involved a short three hour bus to rio bamba-a rather deserted town-an overnight stay at a hotel and another three hour bus ride after a traditional Ecuadorian breakfast of bread, eggs, juice, and coffee, finally hopping off the bus in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. Once safely on the ground, one of the 3 Ecuadorians I was with told me to look out over the overloook behind us, where below the picturesque mountainous backdrop, I could see what appeared to be a small town, and where we would be spending the day. We picked up our bags filled with clothes, some food and sleeping bags for camping that night and made our way down the windy dirt road leading down the hill towards the town.

Upon arriving, we were greeted by several leaders of the community of the mid midsize community which lays spread out over an expansive hilly countryside, filled with a small town center, where I currently stood, farmland, and open hilly landscape untouched by industrialism. As I was the only one with the group who did not have a specific job with the NGO, I started talking with some of kids while AVANTI led trainings on best practices for farming and a meeting to discuss future initiatives and get town feedback. I was immediately taken aback by the smiles on community members faces, and the freedom children had to run around without boundaries. The children seemed to be raised more by the community than by a single family, creating an openness you would never see in a city. One of the girls, who had some sort of retardation which was also noticeably prominent among the children in the community due to a vitamin deficiency in pregnant women, befriended me and my future roommate, the director of AVANTI, going as far as calling us Mom. During the meetings I would listen to her babble on and show me around the town center.

I did have a chance to listen to parts of the meeting, which gave an interesting insight into how communities perceive outside aid. The leaders in the community began arguing, complaining that AVANTI had not fulfilled promises, or that they had expected something different. Once one person began complaining, others would chime in until either a community member, or the director of AVANTI would try to bridge the miscommunications, and the meeting would continue. I noticed many similarities between the dissatisfaction of Pistishi and colombian refugees. When an aid organizations comes in to work with a community, they can only offer assistance and work with the group, not resolve the communities problems as a detached organism. That is what needy communities perceive they deserve, someone to come in and make problems disappear without having to do much work themselves. After speaking with a few members of AVANTI and another friend who tagged along to take pictures and works with the UN, I realized the universality of this misconception, which I believe is a cause for many of the failures of aid work. I hope that I am able to fulfill some of the desires of the refugee community I am working with during my time here, but was reminded by this meeting that I will be confronted with frustration on both my part and the refugees, and will not be able to accomplish the immediate improvement they might expect.
That night we hitched a ride with the president of the community to the base of the mountain where the community sits, near a popular tourist attraction, a mountain named La Nariz del diablo (the nose of the Devil) for the contours of the rocks on one side of the massive natural wonder. With the help of the president, the 4 kids who had tagged along in the back of the truck, and two guards watching over a nearby train station through which one train comes a day, we put up a tent and gathered wood for a fire. By the time the fire was lit and the community members returned home, it was getting dark and we took out the salchichas (similar to hot dogs) and other food we had bought throughout the day. We spent the rest of the night talking with the guards, drinking a three dollar bottle of rum we had bought at one of the 3 stores in Pisitshi and enjoying our campfire. It was interesting to talk with the guards, since one of them had lived illegally in the US for several years before returning to Ecuador. He crossed through Mexico on a train, commonly used by migrants who risk their lives sitting on the roof of this train, hiding from immigration officers and gangs who try to rob them while making their way through the perilous and beautiful country. If you are interested in learning more about this experience, I highly recommend the movie "Sin Nombre" which came out in the beginning of 2009.

Colombian refugees in Quito

Im back in the metropolis of Quito, this time with a grant from the interexchange foundation that will significantly help defray the cost of my travels. I have edited an entry I had started back in June but never published to hopefully give a bit of insight into what I am doing back in Ecuador for 6 months.

During my three month stint in Quito last year, I attended a meeting with Colombian refugee leaders from all over Ecuador. This was probably the most rewarding experience I had while in Ecuador. The meeting was sponsored by asylum access, an international organization that gives legal aid and policy advocacy for refugees, in conjunction with a group of students from la FLACSO, the most respected graduate school in Latin America for social sciences. The organizers invited the refugee leaders-who had all immigrated from Colombia and started organizations in Ecuador to help refugees learn about their legal rights- to come and discuss the formation of a united front of the organizations so that their voice would be stronger and more focused when talking with organizations such as the Ecuadorian government or UN. The two day meeting consisted of a several break out sessions to discuss how they wanted to unite and what the mission or goals of the new organization should be. At the end of the two days, organizations that work with the refugees were invited for an hour long presentation of the outcome of the conference and the future steps for the new organization.
I was invited through CEMPROC to attend the final hour long presentation, but asked the organizers to attend the entire 2 days, which they agreed to.

The first day officials from the government, the UN, and professors came to answer questions about refugee's rights and how to file for refugee status or citizenship and what the requirements are for both. While many of the questions were very specific and only relevant for the person asking, recurring themes included being denied services at banks or doctors, even with identification indicating their refugee status, or being denied refugee status unfairly. This was an especially timely event, as the president of Ecuador (Rafael Correa) rewrote the constitution in 2008 and changed several of the laws dealing with refugees which include basic recognition of asylum rights as well as group recognition of refugee status. The ministry of Education also made a change in October, 2008 which allows for all refugees and migrants to enroll in public schools, even if they do not have identification.

The second day, the refugee leaders discussed and laid out the plans for their new organizations. Some of the topics discussed were why the federation should be formed, what its goals should be, and how they planned to accomplish those goals. This was a group of people who liked to hear themselves talk, which made for long discussions at times, but in the end they finished their proposition, and 6 months after the meeting, the federation they formed is in it's beginning stages.

I have returned to Ecuador to work with this group, with two principle goals. First, I am working with the President of the Federation to create a cooperative of artisans, whose artwork I will help export to the US, where there is a larger market. My second goal is to work with this group to implement trainings for newly arrived refugees, teaching them tools to confront conflicts they may face as migrants. Im sure I will hit some brick walls, but Im excited to be back and after my first meeting with the President of the Colombian Refugee Federation this morning, am optimistic about the outcome of my work here.