A Day of Adventures at Carmen Bajo

On Friday afternoons I teach at Iglesia Carmen Bajo. This is a glimpse of what that tends to look like, though in the style of another blogger friend, I”m mostly going to let the pictures do the talking on this one.

Laura’s art room at Carmen Bajo, which becomes my guitar classroom on Fridays:
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Cameron Vivanco and Sarah Marr helping with lunch. This is always a great project if you want to make yourself useful at Carmen Bajo. I don’t think Sarah was expecting to spend her afternoon preparing cow livers, though.
 

 

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A close-up of the liver-preparing process. They got dunked in egg mix and covered in cornmeal before being fried into something that looked a little more edible.
 

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An impromptu ping-pong tournament ensued as we were waiting for kids to get picked up. Fabian and Santiago were both totally cheating.
 

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One of my newest students, Ana, working on the notes on the first string.

First Article Published

Finally, with a lot of help, input, and editing from around Youth World, I’ve actually published the first article I’ve been working on. For those of you who aren’t on Youth World’s mailing list, you can check it out here in PDF format. If you’d like to be added to Youth World’s mailing list, which I’m administering at the moment, you can send an e-mail to mail@youthworld.org.ec to subscribe.

Communication

This weekend the Quito Quest staff went to Riobamba, Ecuador, partly to participate at ministry sites in the area and partially as a scouting mission for some short-term teams we will be taking there during the spring and summer. It was an absolute blast that the whole of QQ got to go. We absolutely have the best department in Youth World. Not always the most serious, amicable, or reverent, especially when ill-rested, but still the best.

We actually mainly just slept and occasionally ate in Riobamba proper, because the ministry sites which we visited were all pretty far removed from the city. This meant driving usually over an hour up and down crazy mountainsides with sheer cliffs to the side and rocks, ditches, dogs, and sleeping women in the path of our bus. On the way to a second ministry site on Friday, a makeshift bridge actually broke under the driver’s side front wheel and we spent the next significant portion of the afternoon attempting (and finally succeeding) in removing our only realistically conceivable mode of transportation from the ditch in which its entire front had become lodged. I might add that we did this with only rocks, a long but rather flimsy-looking log, and elbow grease. We were also all incredibly thankful that the wheel, tire, axel, and surrounding body were undamaged, especially considering we had exactly zero spare tires.

At the ministry sites themselves, it was one surprise after another. We had been told to expect a colder-climate style culture than what we are used to in Quito or on the coast or in the jungle. What stood out to me after two days was the difference between each ministry site and each of the others in terms of how people reacted to our presence and our activities there. At our first stop, with only twenty people or so, those who came sang with us, responded to questions, and jumped into our ridiculous games. Even the older adults were enthusiastic about running around during a fantastic gato y raton game that I’m going to have to take back with me for North American youth activities. Our second ministry site was much the same in enthusiasm, probably more so here, however, because of the huge number of children present. But Saturday morning, we went to another mountain community and felt like we were pulling teeth to even get “yes” or “no” answers or hands raised to simple questions.

Part of this, I’m sure, had to do with language. Certainly not all, which I’ll get to in a moment, but part of it, at least, had to do with language. While pretty much everyone did speak Spanish, it is a second language for a significant portion of all of the communities which we visited. These were very much indigenous communities, and most of the people there, particularly the older ones, grew up speaking Quichua. We actually got some Quichua lessons over breakfast, and I now know the phrases for “What is your name?”, “How are you?”, “Yes,” “No,” and “Flower,” in Quichua. We practiced the first four over and over again during breakfast, and “Flower” happens to be the only word of somewhere around 4o million that one of the pastors’ sons taught me on a bus ride Saturday morning. I won’t attempt to spell any of them here in Quichua, but I can say them.

That said, there were a few stumbles, especially among gringos and QuiteƱos attempting Quichua, and depending on whether Spanish or Quichua was the first language of each individual indigenous person, but overall that aspect went well. The epic fail was our humor. By Saturday afternoon we had learned how not to make to much of fools of ourselves, but up until that point, there were a lot of times when someone would make a joke (in Spanish), and everyone from Youth World (Ecuadorianas included) would laugh and everyone from the community would just stare at us. The one time they were sure to laugh, however, was when one of us would ask how to say something in Quichua, someone else would tell them, and then we would proceed to butcher it. We’ll take what we can get, though.

Aside from some awkward moments where the kids and even the adults would hardly talk to us, we actually got to plug into what was going on at these sites, and I am looking forward to the possibility of going back with some of this Quito Quest crew to these sites this summer.