Tuesday, 28 August 2007
apologies apologies
I'm sorry again for my absence. It's been a very interesting couple of weeks filled with turmoil and opportunity, more than a little bit of heartbreak and no small measure of grace. I have been thoroughly exhausted in every sense for longer than I can remember now. Even as I prepare to wind down this particular experience, there's no real end in sight. I have dreams about my kids and there is no way to escape the realities of particular family and political issues. If I thought I was coming here to tie up loose ends, I was sorely mistaken. So again, it's been an interesting couple of weeks and while I am inclined to focus on the heartbreak we've been experiencing, I know that there have also been wonderful moments of joy. On the whole, even if I am awash with grief and frustration, I am also profoundly grateful and very hopeful.
Sunday, 12 August 2007
details, details
I apologize for the relatively long silence. Internet access has been spotty because of the rain here, which is just as well as quite frankly I have been exhausted from work. Anyway, I will try to be a more committed blogger for the rest of my time here.
Work in the children's center has been eye-opening, heart-warming, and maybe a little heart-breaking as well. There is inequality and injustice in every part of the world, but the scale here surprises me even though I know the statistics by heart. Waking up each morning and going to the center has given me a window into the unseen, the small realities that I rarely consider when I talk about poverty and development. Big themes are easy to focus on: children such as these need nutrition, basic medical care, education. Yet, there are an infinite number of particularities that escape my attention. This has been an opportunity to explore those details and I have to say that I find it a bit overwhelming.
Each morning I wake at 6:30, shower (in freezing cold water), and make my way to the center. By the time I arrive, the permanent staff have already gone to the barrios in which these children reside and collected them from their houses. I help to distribute breakfasts to each of over 50 children between the ages of 3 and 6, and then we hand out their toothbrushes and help them wash their faces and brush their teeth. This is one of the most basic lessons we teach them and one of the first of these realities of which I have spoken that I have learned to digest. Many of these children have no access to clean water or hygienic facilities and so we take on the responsibility of this most basic "luxury."
After breakfast we begin academic lessons. I work with the 4-6 year olds teaching them to read and write. The idea is to off-set the clear disadvantages they have with respect to other students by beginning at an earlier age. I have to say I never thought I would enjoy this so much-- holding little hands and teaching them to draw straight lines, revealing little secrets to make lessons easier. ("A rectangle can be made with two squares, a square with two triangles. Add an 'm' to 'ama' (she loves) and get 'mama'") They call me Profesora Nata, which amuses them endlessly since "nata" is Spanish for "the best cream," something like creme de la creme.
The academic work we do is effective and important. Without it, it is almost certain that none of these children would make it through primary school. Still, I have admit that I find the realities of education process disheartening at times. It is in education that I find myself most frustrated with inequalities. Some of these children are very bright, love to learn, have real talent, and if they are very determined and also very lucky this talent will POSSIBLY lift them out of staggering poverty. Had they been born elsewhere such raw ability and passion might have unlimited possibilities.
It is easy to be angry about the talented kids of course, but with some of the "problem children" I find the inequality even more difficult to swallow. When the children finish their lessons and if there is time before the next lesson (which there always is), they are allowed to go outside and play. Without fail a particular little boy ends up inside with me well after the others have gone. I recognized almost immediately that this little boy, with his gorgeous brown eyes, eager smile, desire to learn, and deep frustration, is mildly dyslexic. Of course, such definitions are for children with means and even with a proper diagnosis, there are no resources to available to him. When I was his age, I displayed similar issues, my parents promptly arranged for a tutor and a specialist, and I very easily learned not only to manage, but to excel. His case breaks my heart, because a very mild learning disability, one that actually underscores his intelligence, almost certainly condemns him to a life of poverty or crime.
Anyway, this entry is becoming very long, so I'll save other observations for another day. For today the important thing is that all is well here and that I am being blessed by this latest experience. Hopefully, hopefully, I am serving the needs of these children as well.
Work in the children's center has been eye-opening, heart-warming, and maybe a little heart-breaking as well. There is inequality and injustice in every part of the world, but the scale here surprises me even though I know the statistics by heart. Waking up each morning and going to the center has given me a window into the unseen, the small realities that I rarely consider when I talk about poverty and development. Big themes are easy to focus on: children such as these need nutrition, basic medical care, education. Yet, there are an infinite number of particularities that escape my attention. This has been an opportunity to explore those details and I have to say that I find it a bit overwhelming.
Each morning I wake at 6:30, shower (in freezing cold water), and make my way to the center. By the time I arrive, the permanent staff have already gone to the barrios in which these children reside and collected them from their houses. I help to distribute breakfasts to each of over 50 children between the ages of 3 and 6, and then we hand out their toothbrushes and help them wash their faces and brush their teeth. This is one of the most basic lessons we teach them and one of the first of these realities of which I have spoken that I have learned to digest. Many of these children have no access to clean water or hygienic facilities and so we take on the responsibility of this most basic "luxury."
After breakfast we begin academic lessons. I work with the 4-6 year olds teaching them to read and write. The idea is to off-set the clear disadvantages they have with respect to other students by beginning at an earlier age. I have to say I never thought I would enjoy this so much-- holding little hands and teaching them to draw straight lines, revealing little secrets to make lessons easier. ("A rectangle can be made with two squares, a square with two triangles. Add an 'm' to 'ama' (she loves) and get 'mama'") They call me Profesora Nata, which amuses them endlessly since "nata" is Spanish for "the best cream," something like creme de la creme.
The academic work we do is effective and important. Without it, it is almost certain that none of these children would make it through primary school. Still, I have admit that I find the realities of education process disheartening at times. It is in education that I find myself most frustrated with inequalities. Some of these children are very bright, love to learn, have real talent, and if they are very determined and also very lucky this talent will POSSIBLY lift them out of staggering poverty. Had they been born elsewhere such raw ability and passion might have unlimited possibilities.
It is easy to be angry about the talented kids of course, but with some of the "problem children" I find the inequality even more difficult to swallow. When the children finish their lessons and if there is time before the next lesson (which there always is), they are allowed to go outside and play. Without fail a particular little boy ends up inside with me well after the others have gone. I recognized almost immediately that this little boy, with his gorgeous brown eyes, eager smile, desire to learn, and deep frustration, is mildly dyslexic. Of course, such definitions are for children with means and even with a proper diagnosis, there are no resources to available to him. When I was his age, I displayed similar issues, my parents promptly arranged for a tutor and a specialist, and I very easily learned not only to manage, but to excel. His case breaks my heart, because a very mild learning disability, one that actually underscores his intelligence, almost certainly condemns him to a life of poverty or crime.
Anyway, this entry is becoming very long, so I'll save other observations for another day. For today the important thing is that all is well here and that I am being blessed by this latest experience. Hopefully, hopefully, I am serving the needs of these children as well.
Monday, 6 August 2007
simple joys
I arrived in Valledupar late Friday and was greeted by my father and by Rafa and Celina (Jose Francisco and Emma´s parents for those of you who know them). It is a wonderful surprise to experience unexpected joy. Seeing my father, Rafa, and Celina brought me just such joy. It´s a gift to be met with such love.
My first night I shared a drink with Rafa and Celina, explored my grandmother´s house (recently renovated by Jose and now my father´s) and promptly crashed. I was so tired from traveling that I could not manage to speak coherently in any language. French and Spanish and English mixed in a most alarming way. Needless to say I have a new respect for those of you who daily navigate the world in a language that is not your own. I have never felt quite so frustrated or helpless. It hasn´t been long since I was last here and that night my tongue tripped over every syllable in every language in which I could hope to communicate.
Saturday my father and I went to visit our farm. I was able to survey my sheep, which always makes me happy. I was given three sheep for my birthday last November and today I have 17 with 5 more on the way. The pressure is on for me to begin selling or eating them, but I can´t bear to do so. I asked for ´chivos para ver, no para comer´ (sheep to look at, not to eat) and I want to stand my ground. Lamb is nice, I suppose, but they are such lovely creatures...
After checking out the cattle and other livestock and investigating the fences and the pastures, we picked up the three children of Francisco, one of the administrators of the farm, and took them into the city. What a pleasure it was to spend a day with Moni, Kati, and Goyo. They are really lovely children-- polite, engaging, funny. They have a simple life that gives them raw pleasure in the most basic of things. They live on our ranch in a very modest house with their parents, help with the cattle and livestock, grow their own food, take a faithful donkey to school. Their lives are so rich and they are so fortunate. I relished the opportunity to experience Valledupar with them, to be reminded of the simple joys of this place.
That´s the thing. Being here again I am keenly aware of the basic joys and challenges of life here. My Valledupar has changed and perhaps I have changed as well. (Even in the last two months.) I am daily negotiating and discovering what it is that I love, who it is I hope to be, what it is I can do to reflect the beliefs I hold. It´s a very strange time for me and I have very mixed emotions, but I am praying that everything will reveal itself in time. In the meantime, what´s a girl to do but keep on keeping on. I start working at the foundation tomorrow and I hope this will be another opportunity to ´keep climbing´.
My first night I shared a drink with Rafa and Celina, explored my grandmother´s house (recently renovated by Jose and now my father´s) and promptly crashed. I was so tired from traveling that I could not manage to speak coherently in any language. French and Spanish and English mixed in a most alarming way. Needless to say I have a new respect for those of you who daily navigate the world in a language that is not your own. I have never felt quite so frustrated or helpless. It hasn´t been long since I was last here and that night my tongue tripped over every syllable in every language in which I could hope to communicate.
Saturday my father and I went to visit our farm. I was able to survey my sheep, which always makes me happy. I was given three sheep for my birthday last November and today I have 17 with 5 more on the way. The pressure is on for me to begin selling or eating them, but I can´t bear to do so. I asked for ´chivos para ver, no para comer´ (sheep to look at, not to eat) and I want to stand my ground. Lamb is nice, I suppose, but they are such lovely creatures...
After checking out the cattle and other livestock and investigating the fences and the pastures, we picked up the three children of Francisco, one of the administrators of the farm, and took them into the city. What a pleasure it was to spend a day with Moni, Kati, and Goyo. They are really lovely children-- polite, engaging, funny. They have a simple life that gives them raw pleasure in the most basic of things. They live on our ranch in a very modest house with their parents, help with the cattle and livestock, grow their own food, take a faithful donkey to school. Their lives are so rich and they are so fortunate. I relished the opportunity to experience Valledupar with them, to be reminded of the simple joys of this place.
That´s the thing. Being here again I am keenly aware of the basic joys and challenges of life here. My Valledupar has changed and perhaps I have changed as well. (Even in the last two months.) I am daily negotiating and discovering what it is that I love, who it is I hope to be, what it is I can do to reflect the beliefs I hold. It´s a very strange time for me and I have very mixed emotions, but I am praying that everything will reveal itself in time. In the meantime, what´s a girl to do but keep on keeping on. I start working at the foundation tomorrow and I hope this will be another opportunity to ´keep climbing´.
Friday, 3 August 2007
viva colombia
I have taken the trip from the UK to Bogotá more than a dozen times in the last two years and have developed some fairly consistent habits: packing at 2:00am and arriving at the airport late being only the most well known. For some reason this trip was different. Having followed my typical routine, I found myself surprisingly alert throughout the majority of the day. (My ‘typical routine’ is aimed at getting me to pass out on the plane.) I was admittedly a little annoyed at first, but that impatience quickly subsided when I realized what a gift fifteen hours of relative stillness can be. How often are we alone with our thoughts and observations? How many opportunities do we get to pursue extended reflection?
With the exception of a break to watch the film ‘Waitress’ and ponder/write about some of its themes (I highly recommend it by the way) I spent the majority of my time thinking about what I hope to accomplish in the next thirty days. While I won’t bore you with all of the details, the single word that reoccurred throughout this process was ‘service.’ I want to learn to serve, to develop a servant’s heart, and to do so with the utmost sincerity. Here’s hoping that when opportunities present themselves-- as they are sure to do-- I am alert enough to recognize them.
With the exception of a break to watch the film ‘Waitress’ and ponder/write about some of its themes (I highly recommend it by the way) I spent the majority of my time thinking about what I hope to accomplish in the next thirty days. While I won’t bore you with all of the details, the single word that reoccurred throughout this process was ‘service.’ I want to learn to serve, to develop a servant’s heart, and to do so with the utmost sincerity. Here’s hoping that when opportunities present themselves-- as they are sure to do-- I am alert enough to recognize them.
Sunday, 29 July 2007
here we go again
Five days and I'm off again. This time it is to Colombia where I'll be fulfilling a promise to work with two children's/women's charities, lending a hand on a political campaign (for a candidate I actually believe in) and generally keeping my father company. In the meantime, I am working to make sure that everything is in place for my return to London on 1 September: organizing 'Take the Lead' materials and ensuring that contacts are in place for my fieldwork research.
I'm an old pro at packing up and leaving and have developed something of a jet-set lifestyle in the last few years, but I have to admit that the thought of being away from London for a month makes me a little sad. So there you go, Tom was right when he insisted (against my best protests) that I would come to love the 'Big Smoke.' Though, I maintain that the reasons are not those he anticipated. I've found a fantastic church, have made some wonderful new friends and reconnected with some old ones, and more than anything I have discovered a passion for this place, for its brokenness and for the hope and the beauty that are found on its streets. I love the people I live with (how could you not love 'kitchen floor theology' and garden read-ins), am blessed by those I interact with, and am invigorated by the opportunities before me. For the first time in a very long time, I feel at home-- in my own skin and in my world. So, it's only one month, but I can't help thinking that I don't want to miss a moment...
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