It was a funny little thing, a funny funny little thing
Today I had a breakthrough.
The week started off well, I arrived at the house Monday morning, and as soon as I walked in, the girls and Galo escorted me upstairs for a surprise. In the playroom was hanging a dry erase board (for me to use during our daily English lessons), and written on it in English was “Welcome Megan to your home, we love you”, accented with hearts and flowers.
Today I met Galo at the trolley station and we go to the private hospital to set up his appointment for Wednesday. He tells me that the private hospital is obviously for those with money. All the best doctors in Ecuador work there, as well as many foreigners. A visit in the public hospital costs only $1.75, while here it costs $10.00. Which is a lot for the people here. Also, it’s a Christian hospital, so it receives tons of donations from foreign bible thumpers, which obviously is very fair. Believe in Jesus and have a lot of money, and then you deserve good health care.
We return to the house and I start teaching English. I have no grand illusions about this, but Tania, the 10 year old, is so smart and so eager to learn. She writes everything down, and remembers almost every phrase I give her. I become enraged when my fears are realized, as my suspicions were correct, as the kids do not attend school. No school will take them. Here, for jobs or school, or anything, people have to submit health reports. And since they are HIV positive no one wants them. Which is RIDICULOUS. These children are not on their deathbed. They are perfectly fine. And want to learn. There is a woman who comes that is in charge of their education. But school would be so good for them. Get them out of the house at least.
Then we have a dance party in the kitchen. And I am feeling great. But can’t quite put my finger on it until later.
I stayed late today because they told me they were having special visitors from the US. The grand project for this foundation is to build a huge house, with dorm like rooms for many people, with an on-site clinic and lab. So a religious group who are also Franciscans, like Hermano Alfonso, is helping to raise money. We get the kids dressed nicely and clean the house, and we’re all feeling strangely nervous. They arrive in their gringo glory, and take a million pictures of everyone and keep the video camera rolling. They are goofy, as they don’t speak Spanish, so I am translating and feeling protective of the kids. Galo, Cecelia and I start sharing conspirator glances, and making faces at each other while the group buzzes around the house.
And then I realize, yes, I am now a part of this house. This is my family, and I am getting to know them and am really enjoying my time with them. I know I am doing something, because at the very least, I am getting to know these kids. And by doing that I am learning how the house works. And Galo and Cecelia are seeing me as a friend and as an integral part of the day.
Not to say it’s not still depressing. Today I also learned that Cecelia also has HIV. Which is horrible. But it really all is in the little everyday stuff. I can feel useful if I only feed the baby, so that Cecelia doesn’t have to. And having dance parties. Which will have to continue. We were all so happy. And I want to start taking the older ones to a park everyday. Just for a change in scenery. And maybe art hour. I don’t know.
And I exchanged email addresses with a woman there, so maybe I can try to work some fundraising stuff through them.
Plus, as if my utter devotion to Hermano Alfonso couldn’t be stronger, I love how he wears street clothes for normal stuff, but when the bigwigs came today, he donned the brown robe and rosaries. He is so laid back, it was like he was winking to all of us, “yeah, I know, it’s a little silly, but we’ll get back to running around the house like crazy in a minute”.
The week started off well, I arrived at the house Monday morning, and as soon as I walked in, the girls and Galo escorted me upstairs for a surprise. In the playroom was hanging a dry erase board (for me to use during our daily English lessons), and written on it in English was “Welcome Megan to your home, we love you”, accented with hearts and flowers.
Today I met Galo at the trolley station and we go to the private hospital to set up his appointment for Wednesday. He tells me that the private hospital is obviously for those with money. All the best doctors in Ecuador work there, as well as many foreigners. A visit in the public hospital costs only $1.75, while here it costs $10.00. Which is a lot for the people here. Also, it’s a Christian hospital, so it receives tons of donations from foreign bible thumpers, which obviously is very fair. Believe in Jesus and have a lot of money, and then you deserve good health care.
We return to the house and I start teaching English. I have no grand illusions about this, but Tania, the 10 year old, is so smart and so eager to learn. She writes everything down, and remembers almost every phrase I give her. I become enraged when my fears are realized, as my suspicions were correct, as the kids do not attend school. No school will take them. Here, for jobs or school, or anything, people have to submit health reports. And since they are HIV positive no one wants them. Which is RIDICULOUS. These children are not on their deathbed. They are perfectly fine. And want to learn. There is a woman who comes that is in charge of their education. But school would be so good for them. Get them out of the house at least.
Then we have a dance party in the kitchen. And I am feeling great. But can’t quite put my finger on it until later.
I stayed late today because they told me they were having special visitors from the US. The grand project for this foundation is to build a huge house, with dorm like rooms for many people, with an on-site clinic and lab. So a religious group who are also Franciscans, like Hermano Alfonso, is helping to raise money. We get the kids dressed nicely and clean the house, and we’re all feeling strangely nervous. They arrive in their gringo glory, and take a million pictures of everyone and keep the video camera rolling. They are goofy, as they don’t speak Spanish, so I am translating and feeling protective of the kids. Galo, Cecelia and I start sharing conspirator glances, and making faces at each other while the group buzzes around the house.
And then I realize, yes, I am now a part of this house. This is my family, and I am getting to know them and am really enjoying my time with them. I know I am doing something, because at the very least, I am getting to know these kids. And by doing that I am learning how the house works. And Galo and Cecelia are seeing me as a friend and as an integral part of the day.
Not to say it’s not still depressing. Today I also learned that Cecelia also has HIV. Which is horrible. But it really all is in the little everyday stuff. I can feel useful if I only feed the baby, so that Cecelia doesn’t have to. And having dance parties. Which will have to continue. We were all so happy. And I want to start taking the older ones to a park everyday. Just for a change in scenery. And maybe art hour. I don’t know.
And I exchanged email addresses with a woman there, so maybe I can try to work some fundraising stuff through them.
Plus, as if my utter devotion to Hermano Alfonso couldn’t be stronger, I love how he wears street clothes for normal stuff, but when the bigwigs came today, he donned the brown robe and rosaries. He is so laid back, it was like he was winking to all of us, “yeah, I know, it’s a little silly, but we’ll get back to running around the house like crazy in a minute”.