Villanova University left on Saturday morning, the volunteers and I are leaving to go on retreat for the weekend friday, the following weekend I might be doing some traveling during the long weekend for Dia de Los Muertos.
We´ve been focusing on our community for the last week/week and a half, and I have felt consumed with that. As a result I have little meaningful recollection about what I´ve been doing outside of community since this has all began. I have been pulled out of living in the moment consistently for a couple of days now, and I feel that has been out of my control. Perhaps, since this is out of my control, it is really living in the moment since I have no influence over it. That is probably more abstract then it was intended to be but I guess this might give you a glimpse at how confusing emotions can be down here. Maybe I just get too hung up on labels like ¨living in the moment¨...
I did have meaningful time with Villanova when I sat in with them during their nightly reflections. There were uplifting moments of spiritual certitude and moments of deep questioning. Most reflections could only have been described as moments of supreme trust and openess. They´re all my favorites.
I wasn´t at my afterschool program for a while because I was with the retreat group, but I´ve been back for two days now and maybe I´ve just checked out and am just waiting for my retreat this weekend at the beach because the energy isn´t there right now. They deserve more. I´ll snap out of it. There is adult literacy class now three days a week at the same time as the afterschool program. We are having a hard time balancing giving the adults a quite space to learn the basic necessity they´ve gone their whole lives without and giving the kids a safe space to run around and have them feel like kids for two hours a day in their tumultuous lives.
President Correa declared a ¨state of vigilance¨ recently, and I don´t know exactly what that means but there sure are a lot of heavily armed military men and women in downtown Guayquil when I get the mail. Thursday there were so many helicopters flying over head in Arbolito I thought I could hear Colonel Robert Duvall calling out for his surf board. I sometimes get a hand on a newspaper but this spanish language thing is a little trickier than I anticipated.
I´m not complaining. I don´t know what to complain about. Things just are a little crazy over here right now. I feel fine though. A little numb to be honest. Hopefully the Pacific waves will knock me around enough this weekend.
I am also the new drummer for the christian rock group ¨Nuevo Generacion¨. We practice on friday nights and play at mass on Sunday mornings. I am the only gringo in the group of local teenagers and young adults. They speak amongst themselves in spanish and cue me with either ¨fast¨or ¨slow¨ before we start each song. I have no trouble keeping up with them, but most times I don´t know what they are singing about or which song is coming next. Just reacting to them. I can´t think of a more appropriate analogy for my experience here.
Take it easy.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
simple mass
Saturday Julia and I rode the buses to the neighborhood 28 de Agosto where our after school program, Manos Abiertas, is held to see some of the kids and go to mass at their church. Their church is a blue shed about the size of my garage back home. The priest drove in on Saturday afternoon in his pick-up truck and was immediately welcomed by all the kids before he could fully open his door. He is from Ireland and is younger than I expected.
Julia and I arrived at 3:30, not knowing the exact time of mass. When we got there we were an hour and a half early, but they were having catechism classes for the children beforehand. We were welcomed by everyone. The adults were so warm and happy to see us. The kids were sitting in separate corners diveded by age groups. Some of the kids were from Manos Abiertas but most were not. The ones that were, called out to us. The others sat and giggled and were shy to introduce themselves. We sat with the youngest group and we suddenly realized we were being asked to start teaching them.
We didn´t know what to do. Julia asked one of the adults if they had a book they taught out of. They said no. We looked at the kids and they were smiling back in anticipation and guidyness. We asked what they were learning. They said that they were learning the ¨Our Father¨. So we practiced that. We corrected a few of them on the order of making the sign of the cross. Then we had nothing... We asked what their favorite church songs were. They liked that so we sang with them. They would sing them all the way through and we chimed in as we picked up on the choruses. It was loud and fun and the kids were so sweet when they were singing. The kids then got a break so we went out to the dusty lot back behind the church and played with them until mass started. Nothing to active that might get their clothes dirty but some of the boys went off a ways on their own and came back covered in dust anyway.
Mass started and Fr. Liam gave us another warm welcome. They had no microphones, nor a need for microphones, and no musical instruments. That meant everyone sang, and sang loudly. Clapping hands for rythm. If a kid wasn´t singing they would quickly be encouraged from a stern look from their mother, or from any of the women for that matter. The homily was my favorite since I arrived, but I think that was because it was the first I could follow beginning to end on account of how slowly Fr. Liam spoke Spanish. He has a thick Irish accent when he speaks in English but sounds like he´s from the beaches of sothern California when he speaks Spanish. He spoke mainly to the children during his homily and it was about where to find love. It was a simple homily, but then again I guess that might be an appropriate reflection of how simple love is.
We had to leave before Communion because it would soon have been getting dark and we had a few bus rides in front of us. Next Saturday´s Mass starts an hour earlier as do catechism classes which we are now signed up to teach. I look forward to being able to stay and speak more with Fr. Liam and the parish community after mass, and of course, seeing the kids again.
I always knew mass never needed to have any extravagence. The parish in 28 de Agosto more than over compensated. To borrow and butcher the old saying about the size of the dog and the fight, it´s perhaps not the size of the church for the people but the size of the church within the people.
God bless.
Julia and I arrived at 3:30, not knowing the exact time of mass. When we got there we were an hour and a half early, but they were having catechism classes for the children beforehand. We were welcomed by everyone. The adults were so warm and happy to see us. The kids were sitting in separate corners diveded by age groups. Some of the kids were from Manos Abiertas but most were not. The ones that were, called out to us. The others sat and giggled and were shy to introduce themselves. We sat with the youngest group and we suddenly realized we were being asked to start teaching them.
We didn´t know what to do. Julia asked one of the adults if they had a book they taught out of. They said no. We looked at the kids and they were smiling back in anticipation and guidyness. We asked what they were learning. They said that they were learning the ¨Our Father¨. So we practiced that. We corrected a few of them on the order of making the sign of the cross. Then we had nothing... We asked what their favorite church songs were. They liked that so we sang with them. They would sing them all the way through and we chimed in as we picked up on the choruses. It was loud and fun and the kids were so sweet when they were singing. The kids then got a break so we went out to the dusty lot back behind the church and played with them until mass started. Nothing to active that might get their clothes dirty but some of the boys went off a ways on their own and came back covered in dust anyway.
Mass started and Fr. Liam gave us another warm welcome. They had no microphones, nor a need for microphones, and no musical instruments. That meant everyone sang, and sang loudly. Clapping hands for rythm. If a kid wasn´t singing they would quickly be encouraged from a stern look from their mother, or from any of the women for that matter. The homily was my favorite since I arrived, but I think that was because it was the first I could follow beginning to end on account of how slowly Fr. Liam spoke Spanish. He has a thick Irish accent when he speaks in English but sounds like he´s from the beaches of sothern California when he speaks Spanish. He spoke mainly to the children during his homily and it was about where to find love. It was a simple homily, but then again I guess that might be an appropriate reflection of how simple love is.
We had to leave before Communion because it would soon have been getting dark and we had a few bus rides in front of us. Next Saturday´s Mass starts an hour earlier as do catechism classes which we are now signed up to teach. I look forward to being able to stay and speak more with Fr. Liam and the parish community after mass, and of course, seeing the kids again.
I always knew mass never needed to have any extravagence. The parish in 28 de Agosto more than over compensated. To borrow and butcher the old saying about the size of the dog and the fight, it´s perhaps not the size of the church for the people but the size of the church within the people.
God bless.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Story from my time with Santa Clara University
So one of our current volunteers, John, looks exactly like a volunteer from two years ago, Daniel. Exactly. I´ve seen them both, standing next to each other, side by side. They are duplicates. It has a lot to do with the combination of short hair, beard and impressively full mustache. They are also about the same size. But, since some of the neighbors seem to just adore us, and also they have very impressive memories, John gets confused for Daniel a lot down here in the communities. Wherever he goes kids shout out ¨Daniel!¨ as he walks by on the street and adults never stop reminding John how much he looks like the former volunteer.
That being said, when we were at Walter and Jesus´house with Santa Clara University during some neighborhood time we were going around the room doing introductions. The retreatants would say their name, their age, and what they were studying. When it was my turn I reminded them my name and that I was a volunteer living in the other neighborhood. When it was John´s turn he did much of the same until he was interupted with what happens a lot.
¨You look like someone¨ Walter said as he paused to think...
John replied, ¨Yes, I know...¨ turning to the retreatants. ¨I always get confused with a former volunteer that used to live here. Turning back to Walter he said that he looked like Daniel and asked if he was right.
¨No...¨ Walter said as he looked to his brother who was equally trying as hard as he could to figure out the resemblance.
¨JUDAS! That´s it!¨ he shouted and turned to his brother. His brother sighed loudly in agreement.
¨Judas¨ he turned and agreed with Walter.
Giving himself a single clap to applaud his spot-on recognizing abilities, Walter went back to presenting to the retreat group.
So that had me laughing for a long time.
That being said, when we were at Walter and Jesus´house with Santa Clara University during some neighborhood time we were going around the room doing introductions. The retreatants would say their name, their age, and what they were studying. When it was my turn I reminded them my name and that I was a volunteer living in the other neighborhood. When it was John´s turn he did much of the same until he was interupted with what happens a lot.
¨You look like someone¨ Walter said as he paused to think...
John replied, ¨Yes, I know...¨ turning to the retreatants. ¨I always get confused with a former volunteer that used to live here. Turning back to Walter he said that he looked like Daniel and asked if he was right.
¨No...¨ Walter said as he looked to his brother who was equally trying as hard as he could to figure out the resemblance.
¨JUDAS! That´s it!¨ he shouted and turned to his brother. His brother sighed loudly in agreement.
¨Judas¨ he turned and agreed with Walter.
Giving himself a single clap to applaud his spot-on recognizing abilities, Walter went back to presenting to the retreat group.
So that had me laughing for a long time.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
oh, forgot one - 8/11/09
Impressions on the surface after week 1:
bullet proof vested cops riding double on dirt bikes, immaculate conservative school boy/girl uniforms, stray dogs, stray chickens, dust, ¨sound of silence¨ during Lord´s prayer at mass, american first names like Edison, Jefferson, Wellington, Nixon, shells of houses, welcoming people, confused people, lots of people in general walking in the streets.
bullet proof vested cops riding double on dirt bikes, immaculate conservative school boy/girl uniforms, stray dogs, stray chickens, dust, ¨sound of silence¨ during Lord´s prayer at mass, american first names like Edison, Jefferson, Wellington, Nixon, shells of houses, welcoming people, confused people, lots of people in general walking in the streets.
9/03/09
Descriptions from the front porch hammock:
The clouds in front of the what could be a full moon seem like they are painted on the sky with a sponge, continually adding blotches of darker and lighter hues from left to right as the silent higher winds shepard them along.
To my left the stocky out of bloom mango tree looks like a hundred green hands and fingers, palms down in a limp wild cat´s claw pose.
The light goes out in the little red and white guard booth next to it.
The birds are chirping like dawn is on the horizon, but the night still has a long way to go.
I can hear from inside some of the volunteers quizing each other on the subjunctive and stirring crystal light packets into cups of water for a taste of sugar to tide them over until they fall fast asleep under clumsy ceiling fans that seem to trip over themselves every revolution.
I sit on the hammock and try not to make sense of it all. i´ve given up on understanding for the moment. thy will be done.
The clouds in front of the what could be a full moon seem like they are painted on the sky with a sponge, continually adding blotches of darker and lighter hues from left to right as the silent higher winds shepard them along.
To my left the stocky out of bloom mango tree looks like a hundred green hands and fingers, palms down in a limp wild cat´s claw pose.
The light goes out in the little red and white guard booth next to it.
The birds are chirping like dawn is on the horizon, but the night still has a long way to go.
I can hear from inside some of the volunteers quizing each other on the subjunctive and stirring crystal light packets into cups of water for a taste of sugar to tide them over until they fall fast asleep under clumsy ceiling fans that seem to trip over themselves every revolution.
I sit on the hammock and try not to make sense of it all. i´ve given up on understanding for the moment. thy will be done.
8/22/09
Saturday: feels like the first free day i´ve had here. jogged in the morning, ate breakfast with one of the guards and his family, showered, napped, woke up, and watched Fargo.
Felt a lot like home... while i was watching the movie i felt transported back to my living room. had the curtains drawn so it was dark, fan so it was cool, and i really got lost in the movie. the snow, the soundtrack, the acting - it felt very homely. the appreciation for its quality and the detaching feeling was homely.
It was quite the shock to return to equa-world. no more snow, no more rusty violins and pianos, no more escapism. back to the dust and heat and make-shift existence. stark contrast, bittersweet. it felt like i had woke up from my nap all over again...
note: by make-shift existence i mean that nothing here seems finalized. there are draped tarps for windows, house fascades that look like they are stripped and ready for paint. they won´t be painted. even houses that are completed don´t appear to be so - at least to someone like me who is used to american suburbs.
another note: santa clara university is the broncos. good call dad.
Felt a lot like home... while i was watching the movie i felt transported back to my living room. had the curtains drawn so it was dark, fan so it was cool, and i really got lost in the movie. the snow, the soundtrack, the acting - it felt very homely. the appreciation for its quality and the detaching feeling was homely.
It was quite the shock to return to equa-world. no more snow, no more rusty violins and pianos, no more escapism. back to the dust and heat and make-shift existence. stark contrast, bittersweet. it felt like i had woke up from my nap all over again...
note: by make-shift existence i mean that nothing here seems finalized. there are draped tarps for windows, house fascades that look like they are stripped and ready for paint. they won´t be painted. even houses that are completed don´t appear to be so - at least to someone like me who is used to american suburbs.
another note: santa clara university is the broncos. good call dad.
Journal entry from 8/16/09
Mistakes are at the essence of progress. there is no such thing as a new experience if its passage is without mishandle. if it washes over you and you handle it flawlessly then there was something about it that you understood how to react. hence not new experience.
Also, if you don´t act out of fear of mistake you stay stagnant for the moment while the world continues to change as it intended. it is unnatural to act counter to the world and existence. in a sense you´re putting yourself on the sidelines while the game clock is ticking down (i played football). MAKE MISTAKES!
Also, if you don´t act out of fear of mistake you stay stagnant for the moment while the world continues to change as it intended. it is unnatural to act counter to the world and existence. in a sense you´re putting yourself on the sidelines while the game clock is ticking down (i played football). MAKE MISTAKES!
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