Odds and ends

As we recover from the Fiesta de Tolte, there have been some surprise events that have prevented me from feeling that I am simply sliding back into a routine. We had hardly gotten back to school on Tuesday when school was closed again on Wednesday. The reason for closing was the installation of the student government in Chunchi. Student governments from schools all over the Canton de Chunchi were there. I think it was sort of strange that we were there. The Parroquia de Pistishi is, if I understand this correctly, part of the Canton de Alausi, even of the actual town of Chunchi is closer. I decided to go along for the ride so that I could get some things done, like get some money from the bank to over come continuing salary delays, get a cell phone, which everyone seems to think is necessary but I have trouble identifying a use for, buy some fruits and vegetables for the first time in weeks, see if Nick, the Peace Corps volunteer, was around, and get lunch. I was also curious to see what sort of event the installation ceremony would be.

The ceremony was very official looking, with important politicians from Chunchi lined up one the dais in the auditorium. I know it is wrong of me to even let this thought cross my mind, but I thought they bore a resemblance to party apparatchiks in a soviet. However, their messages wree much more focused on the importance of participatory democracy, so I'm sure the resemblance was only a passing one. Remarkably, the girl who was elected president of our school's student government was also elected president of the Canton de Chunchi student government in what was apparently an election among all the schools in the Canton. I can't quite figure out how a girl from Tolte would have enough name recognition to win her position over children from the heart of Chunchi, but there you have it. It was also interesting to note that all of the members of this year's Canton level student government are girls. I'm not sure whether this reflects the nomination process, the lection process, or girls' more advanced social skills, but there you have it. In a society where men still seem to have most of the advantages in social life, the student government is all girls.

So I left the ceremony, went to the drugstore (a month and a half of prescription strength cholesterol medication for $5), and then went to the store where Joaquin got his cell phone and got one of my own. I paid $40 for a new phone, though it has no exciting features, which is fine with me. The cheapest phones in Quito were $50, so I leaped at the chance to have this phone at $40. There are cheaper phones available, but they're second hand and might not last the 6 months I have left here. I also will get $10 of calling credit within my network, which Carolina and Angus are on, for each of the next 5 months, which means I may never have to buy a recharge. I also bought 160 text messages for $3, which should probably also last me pretty well. It is now Saturday, and I haven't made or received any calls, so I think I invested all I wanted to in this item.

From there, I shopped in the market, and bought tomatoes, peppers, clementines, bananas, tree tomatoes, and the local version of a pomegranate, all for about $5, and then went to look for Nick, the Peace Corps volunteer, who I met a few weeks back while wandering Chunchi with Joaquin. He was fresh from a fairly unproductive week in Quito that Peace Corps had required. Anyway, it turns out that he is working with a program for the children of parents who are living abroad, as many parents here are. And, like me, he has found that the biggest problem is that the children do not read at grade level. Unlike me, this (and basic arithmetic) are more the focus of his work, instead of teaching English. Still, I think my situation here reflects something important about development aid, which is that the projects that get funded are not necessarily a direct response to what is needed. In Tolte, the children need a reading specialist and about 400 children's books in Spanish at a variety of reading levels, including classroom sets of graded readers for reading groups. What is funded is a maniacal gringo English teacher and software to teach reading in English (which we do not have the internet access to use.) But Nick gave me some good ideas for card games and the like to help the children with letter recognition, and that willl have to do for now.

nick and I also had a discussion of food. I have eaten more of the local cuisine than he has, but while the thing he doesn't like are the little potatoes that turn up in soup, I told him that the Yaguarloca soup, made of sheep innards, was my personal least favorite. Needless to say, when I went to buy lunch at a busy local restaurant, it turned out to kick off with a bowl of Yaguarloca (though maybe less awful than the bowl I enjoyed at home.) I got a lucky ride back to Tolte fairly quickly, and was in time to open the computer room.

Thursday seemed like a quiet day. I felt that I had a very successful English class that morning. I have been teaching the children words about feelings and emotions (cold, hot, thirsty, hungry, sleepy, sick, happy, sad, angry, and scared), and this led to a little drama of going to the doctor. I would ask about how they were feeling, and depending on their "Yes I am," "No I am not" answers, I would announce whether they were sick or not. It was the first time that we have had anything resembling a conversation or a dialog. Still, I think it's not bad for three months work. We may be getting to the point where I should start inviting parents in to see their kids in action.

Maybe more notable is the stunningly improved behavior, at least during English, of Sergio, Jose's nephew. This is a kid who spent every day hitting somebody, and I decided to make him sort of a project of mine at the beginning of the year. Two of the last four school days, he managed to comply with all three of the classroom rules (I stayed in my seat, I was quiet, I didn't touch anybody.) Given that I once complained about his behavior directly to his parents, I thought this was a good chance to tell his parents that something good was happening. Unfortunately, they weren't at home Thursday afternoon so I had to wait until Friday morning.

When I got home Thursday night, a party seemed to be brewing. Lots of Ramon's friends and family were gathered around the dining room table. But I was tired, and it was late enough to go to bed (since I had been skyping to New York and Oregon for Thanksgiving greetings,) so that's what I did.

 was awakened a couple of hours later by Ecuadorian dance music and the urgent need to use the bathroom. I considered peeing off the balcony instead of going downstairs, because the bathroom is right next to where the party was. But I decided to be a civilized person and go downstairs, where I was immediately grabbed and pressed to down several shots of trago, beer, and trago mixed with beer. I also wound up dancing with a woman wearing an Andean fedora. All this before I managed to get to the bathroom. Before I could flee upstairs again, on Miguel's wife grabbed me and had me down another shot of trago. I doubt that I ever drank so much in 15 minutes in my life, and staggered back to bed. Much peeing off the balcony ensued, and I woke up with a mild hangover.

I ran into Sergio at the school, and since it was early, we went off in search of his mother. She wasn't at home, or at her mother-in-law's house, but we did find her helping Jose's father to castrate a pig. I had a strong sense of acting out a scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail as I stood next to the pigsty and praised Sergio's new behavior. Still, she did seem highly gratified, and he seemed very proud and happy, and it may be the first good news ever to come out of school, so I'm glad I did it.

I made short work of school because I had an invitation from Damasio to pick potatoes again. I surprised myself by finding my way to the potato field, where Joaquin and Damasio's son, Augustin (the youth who had so humiliated us in soccer on Monday) were using a yoke of oxen and a plough to harvest potatoes, a much easier method than the pick and azadon method of last time. Of course, the oxen weren't really oxen, but a cow and a bull yoked together, something I had never heard of before. Perhaps the breed, a dairy variety, is tame enough to allow this. The potatoes we were harvesting were also different from the previous time. While those were a good sized red variety, these were the little micropotatoes that Nick doesn't like to find in his soup. Still, bending over to collect them all is a wearying task. Damasio turned up a little later, and before long we had two big bags of thumb-sized potatoes. Joaquin and Augustin slung these 100 lb. bags over their shoulders and hiked off to leave them by the road. Later, I would  the the same route with a bag that weighed about 25 lbs., and I can't imagine how they did it. The road was very steep and rocky, requiring careful stepping to avoid falling on my face. I also had to carry the bag that Augustin carried when we unloaded the truck that brought us home at the end of the day. I only had to go about 15 feet over level ground, and that was about enough for me. I think I could have carried it farther, but I don't think I could have carried it more than a few feet uphill.

But, once again, harvesting potatoes made for a nice bucolic day, and this time there was no trago consumption, which was easier on my stomach. We had a nice lunch of cuy and mote, and although we shared from the same pot, we each got our own spoon. And we sat under the same shady avaocado tree,, with the same beautiful view of the mountains. After lunch, Damasio and Augustin and the cattle plowed the field up and down and then across to prepare it for planting. I assume it will be potatoes again, though I'm not sure. I followed along looking for any potatoes that the process turned up, and we did get about another 75 lbs. My legs below the knee were very tired from walking over the rough and rolling earth, but I enjoyed listening to Damasio lead the cattle, calling, "Esa! Esa!" punctuated by Augustin's shouts of, "Jala vaca pendeja!" or "Adonde vas, pendejo?" as he guided the plow.

In school we learned that plowing to clear fields leads to soil erosion, especially on sloping land. On the other hand, not plowing, or no-till, requires a lot of expensive, unwholesome herbicide. The premaculture method of using pigs and chickens to clear land would work well in this situation, because the last 75 lbs. of potatoes we turned up would induce the pigs to root around deep in the soil, but then Damasio and his family wouldn't get the 75 lbs. of potatoes. If the land were terraced, it would be difficult to plow with cattle, and would require far more human labor. This is the sort of situation I have to think about seriously if I am going to make any sort of useful agronomist-style recommendations to the people here.

I got back to the plaza at about 5, loaded down with the 25 lbs. of potatoes that Damasio's wife had rewarded me with. I felt this was over generous, but they wouldn't hear of anything else. I did open up the computer room, and, because it was Friday, I let the kids watch a movie they brought. I kept nodding off to sleep, and was glad to get home. There was a PTA meeting I should have attended, but I knew i couldn't stay awake for it. I made some scrambled eggs for dinner, and slept soundly through the night for maybe the first time since I've been here, and woke up feeling a bit sore and stiff, but well-rested. I went running as far as Achaisi and back, the farthest I've gone since I started running again about two weeks ago. I don't think it's all that far, but the hilly terrain does make it a challenge. And I haven't had any of the irregular heartbeats that bothered me a year ago. So I'll keep at it.

A side note: Estefany pointed out last night that I have been here only during the dry season, and the rainy season is coming. In contrast to what Angus said, she says you don't see the sun for six months. It will be easy to relate to Maya living in Portland, Oregon. I'm not sure how I'll dry my laundry.