Broken cameras and the alphabet in Kichua

Que Triste eh?

Yeah the camera is lying open, after surgery, in the sun....I've taken out the batteries, the chip, all the screws and the electrical innards are exposed...here ñ in the intensive care unit (TV repair shop in Cayambe where I borrowed the screwdriver) things are not looking good....

Went fishing in the rain in Salve Faccha and then a few days later made the same hike through Paramo in the rain. Hmmmmm....

Well the upside is this is an opportunity to buy something better....but every student knows you have to be careful with your money...especially overseas.

The first day I was living here alone I remember I walked to the control and everything was badly planned. I walked to the control and made my measurements. The harrowing hike in the cold used to take me one hour and 45 minutes...now I am down to hour 15 but that still makes me huff. That first day I walked down most of the way and then some tourists picked me up for the last bit. I am learning to really appreciate tourists; they are almost always in a good mood and spending money. Here most of them are Ecuadorian. They are generous and want to share their good time...so picking up a gringa ranks high on their list of things to do.

Anyway I made it back to town way way past la hora propio de almuerzo...that means you walk to the far side of town to the last place with food and get served two tiny potatoes in watery soup with the last bones of the chicken and get charged two dollars for it. It's hard to smile and be happy about it.

I was sitting there sucking the bones, as a person who prefers vegitarian food, when I started to study my companeros. One woman was lively, talking to everyone and looking at me every so often. She gradually started to talk about god. She turned out to be from an Evangelical group in Quito and she had bunches of glossy magazines full of god stuff to buy. I sat there and watched her sell a bible written in Espanol to a young man who told her he couldn't read it. $25!, more than three days hard wages where we are, and he can only read Kichua. I was really frustrated and felt like she was preying on him. Really a gender reversal...

For my first three days in Oyacachi alone I was regularly invited to the cookhouse, and this is still the case (dios solo pagi = thanks to god...that's how we say thank you...). The cookhouse is a really honest place.

The first time, a Sunday night I thought that the restaurants where just taking their time in opening...so my new friend and I took a walk all over Oyacachi. She was all the time hinting that my landlord doesn't have a novia. We made a very obvious stop at the section of town where they are constructing new houses and she made sure to point out where all the family lived, as if it was my family. Then we went to the cookhouse where a minimum of three generations come together at a time. We ate platano boiled with panela then drank the water with bread. The women were wearing red ponchos. Gloria sang the National Anthem in Kechua, then I sang slipsliding away. She calmly took off her rubber boots and I saw she wasn't wearing socks. The general opinion is they are an unnecessary expense. And by now I have actually stopped wearing them as well. Less trouble with out them We watched the fire die and then went to Nelson's room to listen to techno and look at a book of doors. He is carpenter. They eat differently, in a very refreshing way. It is natural to enjoy food.

I had bought sardines thinking it was a good idea...then realized I didn't have a can opener. This made things tough. I asked Adelida if she had one and she said yes, took the can from me and began to chop it open with a knife. I felt extremely silly, and she impressed me greatly.

When you enter your eyes water as you adjust to the fumes, the single plank wooden walls are black with decades of smoke. You sit down on one of the two long simple benches and just let the smells and feels roll over you. It is a calm beautiful smokey place.

First I guess it is important to understand that only 2% of the population in Oyacachi doesn't have cows. For example, after a meeting with the organization of the ganederos, Thomas and Jop, the two who came, where hanging out in the gravel road while we walked by saying things in Kichua. Later I asked my companera what they had said...."I'll be waiting for you on Sunday when you come, I'll have butter and fritta." This means that Thomas would first milk the cow and make butter, then kill it and fry it in salt. Really a different come on than flowers and cocolate (though milk products are still involved), but this is how we do it in the Andes.

It's the really the most beautiful thing and the hardest thing to be here, under the streetlights and watching the soccer games in galoshes, the portaleches, the women carrying milk vegetables and a child at the same time, the life go by. But at the same time you have to watch yourself...you know what I mean? Me intiendes? WE are privileged, WE can leave when WE want. We are moviestars, we have options, degrees, student aid and money. A different color of skin and way of life. Try to think for yourself. Try to watch for when you slip into exploiting your privilege.

The Alphabet in Kichua...pronunciation below..

A CH H I K L LL M N Ññ P
a cha hacha e ka la lea ma na nya pa

R S T SH U W Y Tsa-Tza
rra tsa ta sha ooo wa ya Tsa-Tza