How can you learn about what real people are thinking when you visit a city and get shuttled from fancy hotel to meetings to resorts? Well, one way might be to read the writing on the wall. In this case, graffiti in the streets of Quito, Ecuador. Here are a few samples of public opinion:
Bush, Urribe, Assasins, Terrorists
(Urribe is the Columbian president and widely viewed as an American ally/pawn- You may remember, there was a little border dispute between Columbia and Ecuador recently)
With oil and copper, a poorer Ecuador
(Better in Spanish because it rhymes: Con petro y cobre, un Ecuador mas pobre)
For Sale: A country with a view of the Ocean
Do you sense a theme? We haven't seen the same sentiments expressed in Iquitos (although I did see one denouncing APEC- the Asian Pacific Economic Council- which met here earlier this year) but things seem to be a little tamer in general here.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
You can’t spell Iquitos without Quito …and Is (Andrew)
At the end of March we went to Quito, Ecuador for a week so that Jess could make a presentation about the current state of her Fulbright project. We were both ready for a change of scenery, and took the opportunity to visit her host family from a previous study abroad experiece, the Mirandas, and see some of the historic downtown area. Quito is a long city that runs down the middle of a valley 9,300 feet above sea level. It was cold, cloudy, and rainy all week and we quickly realized how acclimatized we had become to the lowland rainforest. There were some giant cathedrals (the immense gold plating and paintings of sinners that covered the insides were a bit disturbing) built by the Spanish in the 16th century, or, as our devil-impersonating tour guide described it, old enough that “our grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmothers” attended mass there. Many of the downtown street vendors have been moved to market areas and major renovations projects are going on to make most of the areas we were taken to very clean and safe-feeling (although a bit sterile). A fancy dinner on one of the hills above town let us look out across the city from the feet of the giant “Virgen de Quito” statue and see all the cathedrals lit up through the clouds.
In addition to many conversations with other Fulbrighters and learning lots about current events in the Andean region, I also had some more adventures with parasites (see article below) just to really make things interesting. That only slowed us down a little bit though. The commission took us to a resort in the rainforest, which was pleasant, (although nothing like the Muyuna ecotour), and we did play some miniature golf and went swimming in a river with actual rocks in it! (The rivers in our area don’t have rocks). However, the highlight of the week for me was a trip to the Tucanopy organic coffee farm. It was run by an inspiring group of Ecuadorian families, who grew most of their own food, worked to preserve not only their property but the whole region against extractive/destructive industries, and know how to make a mean pizza. After a short hike around part of the property we took a ride on their circuit of 6 zip lines. (See our youtube videos for an example) which was a fun way to see the forest, although I wished we could have spent more time there, on the air or the ground. Afterwards we headed back to Quito and then to Lima, arriving just in time to watch Carolina lose to Kansas. This week found us back in Iquitos working hard (and at times frantically) to keep the volunteer/social information gathering program running.
In addition to many conversations with other Fulbrighters and learning lots about current events in the Andean region, I also had some more adventures with parasites (see article below) just to really make things interesting. That only slowed us down a little bit though. The commission took us to a resort in the rainforest, which was pleasant, (although nothing like the Muyuna ecotour), and we did play some miniature golf and went swimming in a river with actual rocks in it! (The rivers in our area don’t have rocks). However, the highlight of the week for me was a trip to the Tucanopy organic coffee farm. It was run by an inspiring group of Ecuadorian families, who grew most of their own food, worked to preserve not only their property but the whole region against extractive/destructive industries, and know how to make a mean pizza. After a short hike around part of the property we took a ride on their circuit of 6 zip lines. (See our youtube videos for an example) which was a fun way to see the forest, although I wished we could have spent more time there, on the air or the ground. Afterwards we headed back to Quito and then to Lima, arriving just in time to watch Carolina lose to Kansas. This week found us back in Iquitos working hard (and at times frantically) to keep the volunteer/social information gathering program running.
We might actually be living in Ecuador (a meandering historical tangent by Andrew)
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During the Fulbright presentation week, when we introduced ourselves as Peruvians, there were several pointed reminders that Ecuador and Peru were fighting each other not so long ago. Not knowing much about the conflict, I decided to do a little research and this is what I found out: The most recent conflict between the countries occurred in February 1995 and was known as the Cenepa War. The history of the conflict is long and complicated, but it’s a border dispute that goes back to the original Spanish empire, Jesuit missionaries from Quito and political alliances against Simon Bolivar. Ecuador has claimed as far south as the Marañon River (which would include Iquitos-see map) and until 1999, Ecuador's official motto was: “El Ecuador ha sido, es y será País Amazónico” (Ecuador has been, is, and will always be an Amazonian country). However, Peru’s military has been bigger and better organized in each conflict, and Ecuadorians are still a bit annoyed about it. As far as I can tell, the countries both have equally amazing human and natural resources. However, I’m not sure that Iquitos or the region of Loreto have much to do with either of them and if they had their own choice about it, would probably choose to be aligned with Brazil. Or independent….
There’s a Worm in My Nose!! (Andrew)
So for those of you reading the blog who don’t know, our adventures with parasites continued last week, but this time it was my turn! On Sunday when I woke up to catch our early flight to Lima and then Quito, I had so much swelling above my right eye that I could only open my eye halfway (Imagine Quasimodo). In Quito we met another Fulbright scholar, named Michael, who took me to his lab at the public medical university where they confirmed that I did not have Chagas disease (a strong possibility because of the places we work), for which I was very grateful. However, over the next few days, the swelling moved from place to place on my head, providing a combination of amusement and nervousness. We didn’t have time to get it looked at any further in Quito or Lima, but the consensus seems to be that it could be a parasite that results from water or eating badly cooked fish. This was almost enough to make me a vegetarian again, but there are some delicious dishes here and the non-meat options are severely limited. So for now, I’m just taking my anti-parasite drugs and avoiding ceviche, which shouldn’t be too hard.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Fútbol Madness (-Andrew)
On Wednesday night, Jess and I got invited to go to a soccer game with some friends from work and we leapt at the opportunity to see a new aspect of the city. We brought along a friend of ours named Lindsay, passing through Iquitos on the way to Lima and then Quito. Lindsay is a fellow Fulbright Scholar who is working as a linguist to document a nearly extinct language in a town in the southwestern part of our region. This was the first soccer game we had heard about since our arrival in October, and it turned out to be an international friendly game (i.e. not a World Cup qualifier) between the national teams of Peru and Costa Rica.
We arrived at the stadium a little before the ticket time of 7:00 to wait in a long, curving line through the dusty street, which periodically broke to allow a motorcycle to get through. When we got through the gates we were each handed a large (6 foot long) cylindrical inflated piece of plastic to wave in the stands. The fascination with disposal plastic short-term entertainment devices is always somewhat depressing; I’m sure we’ll see these plastic bags floating down the river soon. The bags were flying before the national anthem and most people had lost theirs before the start of the game.
The Iquitos stadium is one of the places I was invited to play soccer in earlier this year, so I was already somewhat acquainted with it. It’s a large, clean stadium, and unlike what I’ve seen on television from stadiums in Mexico and other Latin American countries, there were no barriers between the fans and the field (usually there is a tall chain-link fence with barbed wire to separate the fans from the players). Except for the occasional plastic bottle thrown on to the edge of the field, the crowd was remarkably better-behaved than I expected, and was much more reasonable than some drunken New Zealand rugby matches I’ve been to. It was more like a Carolina game- some good loud cheering for the home team, but they also clapped when the opposing team came on the field. Plus they were great at doing the wave around the stadium. However, some of the fans (mostly in the cheaper seats) made monkey noises at the Costa Rican players of African ancestry a couple times during the game, which startled and offended the three Americans. There's a lot of ways in which the isolation of Iquitos contributes to widespread prejudices.
Our tickets cost only 25 soles (about 8 dollars) which were not as cheap as the 10 sole seats behind the goals at either end, but not as expensive as the 50 and 100 sole seats directly across from us that appeared to be identical. However, the players did face that direction during the national anthem. It was amusing, however, that the 10 sole seats filled up and they let several hundred people down onto the track and up into the expensive seats. So we felt good about our choice. Just like the US, there were vendors walking around with food, however most it was things like fried platano chips and tropical fruit flavored popsicles (YUM!).
Peru wore white jerseys with red details while Costa Rica wore red jerseys with blue fringes in case you’re trying to imagine this or watch our youtube videos. I picked out a favorite player on the Peruvian side and decided to cheer for him the rest of the game. My reasons were 1) He played defense (like me) 2) He had bright blue shoes 3) His last name was Pizarro (for those of you who don't know, Francisco Pizarro was the Spanish conquistador who nearly single handedly-along with his germs-brought down the Inkan empire- not a role model, but interesting irony). I convinced Jess and Lindsay to cheer for him, but our officemates refused. They decided instead to call him “Sao”- the equivalent here of “Gay” (not necessarily having anything to do with his sexual orientation, but still meant as an insult- it's a pretty common expression here that Jess and I have not gotten used to, especially since it makes otherwise rational people sound like middle schoolers). Pizarro eventually came forward to score on a header, reinforcing my favorable opinion of him (although our colleagues disputed that he actually scored the goal).
The game was fairly relaxed, with both teams passing back to their defenses often (Jess called it “lazy” in comparison to soccer in the villages). It became even more “strategic” (my word) after Peru went ahead by a couple goals. There were some sporadic fireworks after the scores. Peru eventually won 3-1 and I decided to spring for a Pizarro jersey outside the stadium. Tonight I have to teach an Ingles lesson, for which I usually write out a conversation. Here is this week’s:
Conversación:
Peruano: Let’s go to a soccer game tonight.
Americano: That sounds fun! I’ve never watched a soccer game.
P: Okay. Meet me at the stadium at 7 o’clock. Go to the east entrance. Wait until you see me before you go in. Don’t buy a ticket, I already have one for you.
..…
A: This is a big stadium! Who is playing in this game?
P: Peru and Costa Rica are playing. Peru is wearing white and Costa Rica is wearing red.
A: And the grass is very green! Is the Peruvian team good?
P: They were as good as Brazil in December and they are better than the United States.
A: Yes, we are better at another kind of football.
P: That is because you are all fat.
A: Who is that player with the blue shoes? He is the tallest.
P: His name is Pizarro. When he was younger, he played in Lima. He plays defense and he will play in the World Cup.
A: He scored a goal! I hope he will score again. What is the World Cup?
P: It is the biggest soccer tournament in the world. It is held every four years. The next one will be in South Africa in 2010 (Two thousand-ten).
A: Our most important tournaments in the United States are happening right now. They are the NCAA basketball tournaments, one for men and one for women. Some people call it “March Madness.”
P: Who are you cheering for in those tournaments?
A: My favorite is the team from my university in North Carolina. Both the men’s and women’s teams are very good.
P: Well, I hope your teams win.
A: Thanks! I hope that Peru will win the World Cup!
Laugh if you will, but let’s see you write out an informative, teaching lesson every week and teach it in a foreign language (Sermons don’t count).
Go Tarheels! (and wildcats)
We arrived at the stadium a little before the ticket time of 7:00 to wait in a long, curving line through the dusty street, which periodically broke to allow a motorcycle to get through. When we got through the gates we were each handed a large (6 foot long) cylindrical inflated piece of plastic to wave in the stands. The fascination with disposal plastic short-term entertainment devices is always somewhat depressing; I’m sure we’ll see these plastic bags floating down the river soon. The bags were flying before the national anthem and most people had lost theirs before the start of the game.
The Iquitos stadium is one of the places I was invited to play soccer in earlier this year, so I was already somewhat acquainted with it. It’s a large, clean stadium, and unlike what I’ve seen on television from stadiums in Mexico and other Latin American countries, there were no barriers between the fans and the field (usually there is a tall chain-link fence with barbed wire to separate the fans from the players). Except for the occasional plastic bottle thrown on to the edge of the field, the crowd was remarkably better-behaved than I expected, and was much more reasonable than some drunken New Zealand rugby matches I’ve been to. It was more like a Carolina game- some good loud cheering for the home team, but they also clapped when the opposing team came on the field. Plus they were great at doing the wave around the stadium. However, some of the fans (mostly in the cheaper seats) made monkey noises at the Costa Rican players of African ancestry a couple times during the game, which startled and offended the three Americans. There's a lot of ways in which the isolation of Iquitos contributes to widespread prejudices.
Our tickets cost only 25 soles (about 8 dollars) which were not as cheap as the 10 sole seats behind the goals at either end, but not as expensive as the 50 and 100 sole seats directly across from us that appeared to be identical. However, the players did face that direction during the national anthem. It was amusing, however, that the 10 sole seats filled up and they let several hundred people down onto the track and up into the expensive seats. So we felt good about our choice. Just like the US, there were vendors walking around with food, however most it was things like fried platano chips and tropical fruit flavored popsicles (YUM!).
Peru wore white jerseys with red details while Costa Rica wore red jerseys with blue fringes in case you’re trying to imagine this or watch our youtube videos. I picked out a favorite player on the Peruvian side and decided to cheer for him the rest of the game. My reasons were 1) He played defense (like me) 2) He had bright blue shoes 3) His last name was Pizarro (for those of you who don't know, Francisco Pizarro was the Spanish conquistador who nearly single handedly-along with his germs-brought down the Inkan empire- not a role model, but interesting irony). I convinced Jess and Lindsay to cheer for him, but our officemates refused. They decided instead to call him “Sao”- the equivalent here of “Gay” (not necessarily having anything to do with his sexual orientation, but still meant as an insult- it's a pretty common expression here that Jess and I have not gotten used to, especially since it makes otherwise rational people sound like middle schoolers). Pizarro eventually came forward to score on a header, reinforcing my favorable opinion of him (although our colleagues disputed that he actually scored the goal).
The game was fairly relaxed, with both teams passing back to their defenses often (Jess called it “lazy” in comparison to soccer in the villages). It became even more “strategic” (my word) after Peru went ahead by a couple goals. There were some sporadic fireworks after the scores. Peru eventually won 3-1 and I decided to spring for a Pizarro jersey outside the stadium. Tonight I have to teach an Ingles lesson, for which I usually write out a conversation. Here is this week’s:
Conversación:
Peruano: Let’s go to a soccer game tonight.
Americano: That sounds fun! I’ve never watched a soccer game.
P: Okay. Meet me at the stadium at 7 o’clock. Go to the east entrance. Wait until you see me before you go in. Don’t buy a ticket, I already have one for you.
..…
A: This is a big stadium! Who is playing in this game?
P: Peru and Costa Rica are playing. Peru is wearing white and Costa Rica is wearing red.
A: And the grass is very green! Is the Peruvian team good?
P: They were as good as Brazil in December and they are better than the United States.
A: Yes, we are better at another kind of football.
P: That is because you are all fat.
A: Who is that player with the blue shoes? He is the tallest.
P: His name is Pizarro. When he was younger, he played in Lima. He plays defense and he will play in the World Cup.
A: He scored a goal! I hope he will score again. What is the World Cup?
P: It is the biggest soccer tournament in the world. It is held every four years. The next one will be in South Africa in 2010 (Two thousand-ten).
A: Our most important tournaments in the United States are happening right now. They are the NCAA basketball tournaments, one for men and one for women. Some people call it “March Madness.”
P: Who are you cheering for in those tournaments?
A: My favorite is the team from my university in North Carolina. Both the men’s and women’s teams are very good.
P: Well, I hope your teams win.
A: Thanks! I hope that Peru will win the World Cup!
Laugh if you will, but let’s see you write out an informative, teaching lesson every week and teach it in a foreign language (Sermons don’t count).
Go Tarheels! (and wildcats)
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Frisbees, Niños, and Notepads (-Jess)
This past trip to the villages was one of our most enjoyable yet, and we were actually sorry to have it unexpectedly cut short (from 9 to 5 days), which is usually not the case on Day 5 out in the field. We went out with the entire team of 9 people this time, so even though we never knew in advance when or what we would eat or where we would sleep or bathe or use the restroom, chances were good that someone else would figure these things out. This freed up our mental energy to be more engaged with the people in the communities, and in conjunction with improving Spanish and more of a rapport with the team members, this trip tended more toward the fun and interesting rather than the vulnerable and lonely.
My aunt sent down 4 boxes full of toys and school and art supplies for the children of the villages, and though there wasn’t space to take all of it out with us this time, one of the highlights of the trip for me was starting to distribute just a few of these goodies. In the first village we visited (a new one for Andrew and I), the nine of us got off the boat with our packs and bags and while the seven other Peruvians on the team managed to walk peacefully up to the school where we’d be sleeping, Andrew and I got *swarmed* immediately by a small horde of kids who wouldn’t answer any of our questions but also wouldn’t stop staring and touching us. I am usually annoyed by this after a long boat ride, and have been known to go to extremes to get some sliver of personal space. Luckily, this time we had a floppy pink Frisbee (thanks Mom and Dad!). The beauty of Frisbee is that, to play, you have to be far apart from each other, which discourages swarming. So we left our stuff in a pile and went out to the main field (all villages have a big field in their center where afternoon sporting events are held) to throw around the Frisbee. The kids had never seen a Frisbee before, and their obvious delight in a new game and being played with by new people quickly overwhelmed all my feelings of annoyance. We changed the rules so that you had to call out names as you threw to other people, and so we were introduced to Edmid, Saiya, Tomas, Rider, Los Chicos en el Pasto (the boys sitting in the grass), and 10 or 15 others. Kids are more fun when you are all on a first name basis. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the field, and it felt good to look over and see the adults of the village watching us and smiling. Unfortunately, when the men wanted to use the field for playing soccer, we had to move over into the tall grass to continue our game. The next day and for the rest of the week, I had 247 chigger bites. We left the pink Frisbee with the kids in Villa Flor when we left.
In the next two communities that we visited, we gave out little cardboard/magnetic doodle pads that would hold a child’s interest for about 5 minutes in the U.S. but were fascinating to the village kids. I think their favorite part was picking out which bug sticker to put on the back to mark it as theirs. These were not just popular among kids; many grown men and women wanted one too. The kids liked to draw animals for me to guess- village animals like ducks and dogs, and also jungle animals like tapirs, armadillos, rays, fish, river dolphins, and boars. Watching them tote around their little cardboard squares for the afternoon caused a sort of a mixed sensation of pleasure that I could so easily be helpful in producing a few hours of happiness and entertainment for 20 or 30 children, and a fuzzy kind of guilt. These feelings were further complicated when, the next day, they had all lost their little pads. I liked the feeling of making an immediate and noticeable impact on their happiness. I didn’t like the fact that this happiness was tied to giving out material things. I didn’t like the feeling that you could give stickers and be a hero for an afternoon but then the next day they were nowhere to be found and the situation in the village was not really altered. I think that a lot of external aid and development projects may run into the same problems on a larger scale. It is really easy to make a short-term impact and if you stop paying attention at that point then you can walk away quite pleased with yourself, but if you stick around a little longer you find that any lasting impact will require a *whole* lot more thought and effort and investment, which is why I imagine there is a lot of frustration with making lasting positive impact for community development and conservation in this region. On the other hand, if you are not prepared to come in and start a whole long-term education program, a few hours of stickers and drawing together might still count for something. You get to spend some time playing together and paying attention to each other and you both come away feeling good and appreciating the other more. The stickers and things facilitate this, but really it’s the time spent and openness of interchange that ends up making a difference. The danger is probably to focus too much on the material aid and the temptation to stop there and call it “successful”.
Speaking of material things, once again I was reminded on this trip that I have an uncomfortable amount of stuff. Sometimes when we go visit the communities Andrew and I feel like we’re roughing it, but if you ever want a real kick in the butt to simplify your life, unpack your backpack in front of a barefoot 7-year old from an Amazon village. You will take out your bug repellent, your hand sanitizer, your sunscreen, your zippered bag of toiletries, your 3 pairs of different kinds of shoes, your hammock, your cameras, your bag of clothes, your sleeping sheet and therma-rest, your mosquito net, your books and pencils, etc. etc. and the child will marvel at each thing and it will start to dawn on you that this kid has basically none of that stuff and he lives here, while you are planning to stay for nine days and somehow need it all. And this is just a small fraction of the things that you have in Iquitos. And those are also hardly anything compared to the things that you left behind at home in the states. Since, when I spend time with them in their homes and on their boats and in their meeting halls, I don’t really perceive these people as “poor” though I know they do not have a lot, the unavoidable conclusion is that I have WAY TOO MUCH. Since it is now so clear, one of our new favorite things to do is look for ways to give stuff away. I know that I’ve always heard that giving is better than receiving, and I’ve always felt ambiguous about that because I really like receiving, but I have been pretty surprised at how good it feels to go around lightening our load. It’s more than just a pat on the back for being a good citizen. When we can get in this frame of mind, we feel more incorporated, more confident and proud of ourselves, and less clingy and dependent on things that distract from what’s important. So, an extra big thanks goes out to you guys who sent down so much stuff for us to give to people- we are really looking forward to it!
My aunt sent down 4 boxes full of toys and school and art supplies for the children of the villages, and though there wasn’t space to take all of it out with us this time, one of the highlights of the trip for me was starting to distribute just a few of these goodies. In the first village we visited (a new one for Andrew and I), the nine of us got off the boat with our packs and bags and while the seven other Peruvians on the team managed to walk peacefully up to the school where we’d be sleeping, Andrew and I got *swarmed* immediately by a small horde of kids who wouldn’t answer any of our questions but also wouldn’t stop staring and touching us. I am usually annoyed by this after a long boat ride, and have been known to go to extremes to get some sliver of personal space. Luckily, this time we had a floppy pink Frisbee (thanks Mom and Dad!). The beauty of Frisbee is that, to play, you have to be far apart from each other, which discourages swarming. So we left our stuff in a pile and went out to the main field (all villages have a big field in their center where afternoon sporting events are held) to throw around the Frisbee. The kids had never seen a Frisbee before, and their obvious delight in a new game and being played with by new people quickly overwhelmed all my feelings of annoyance. We changed the rules so that you had to call out names as you threw to other people, and so we were introduced to Edmid, Saiya, Tomas, Rider, Los Chicos en el Pasto (the boys sitting in the grass), and 10 or 15 others. Kids are more fun when you are all on a first name basis. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the field, and it felt good to look over and see the adults of the village watching us and smiling. Unfortunately, when the men wanted to use the field for playing soccer, we had to move over into the tall grass to continue our game. The next day and for the rest of the week, I had 247 chigger bites. We left the pink Frisbee with the kids in Villa Flor when we left.
In the next two communities that we visited, we gave out little cardboard/magnetic doodle pads that would hold a child’s interest for about 5 minutes in the U.S. but were fascinating to the village kids. I think their favorite part was picking out which bug sticker to put on the back to mark it as theirs. These were not just popular among kids; many grown men and women wanted one too. The kids liked to draw animals for me to guess- village animals like ducks and dogs, and also jungle animals like tapirs, armadillos, rays, fish, river dolphins, and boars. Watching them tote around their little cardboard squares for the afternoon caused a sort of a mixed sensation of pleasure that I could so easily be helpful in producing a few hours of happiness and entertainment for 20 or 30 children, and a fuzzy kind of guilt. These feelings were further complicated when, the next day, they had all lost their little pads. I liked the feeling of making an immediate and noticeable impact on their happiness. I didn’t like the fact that this happiness was tied to giving out material things. I didn’t like the feeling that you could give stickers and be a hero for an afternoon but then the next day they were nowhere to be found and the situation in the village was not really altered. I think that a lot of external aid and development projects may run into the same problems on a larger scale. It is really easy to make a short-term impact and if you stop paying attention at that point then you can walk away quite pleased with yourself, but if you stick around a little longer you find that any lasting impact will require a *whole* lot more thought and effort and investment, which is why I imagine there is a lot of frustration with making lasting positive impact for community development and conservation in this region. On the other hand, if you are not prepared to come in and start a whole long-term education program, a few hours of stickers and drawing together might still count for something. You get to spend some time playing together and paying attention to each other and you both come away feeling good and appreciating the other more. The stickers and things facilitate this, but really it’s the time spent and openness of interchange that ends up making a difference. The danger is probably to focus too much on the material aid and the temptation to stop there and call it “successful”.
Speaking of material things, once again I was reminded on this trip that I have an uncomfortable amount of stuff. Sometimes when we go visit the communities Andrew and I feel like we’re roughing it, but if you ever want a real kick in the butt to simplify your life, unpack your backpack in front of a barefoot 7-year old from an Amazon village. You will take out your bug repellent, your hand sanitizer, your sunscreen, your zippered bag of toiletries, your 3 pairs of different kinds of shoes, your hammock, your cameras, your bag of clothes, your sleeping sheet and therma-rest, your mosquito net, your books and pencils, etc. etc. and the child will marvel at each thing and it will start to dawn on you that this kid has basically none of that stuff and he lives here, while you are planning to stay for nine days and somehow need it all. And this is just a small fraction of the things that you have in Iquitos. And those are also hardly anything compared to the things that you left behind at home in the states. Since, when I spend time with them in their homes and on their boats and in their meeting halls, I don’t really perceive these people as “poor” though I know they do not have a lot, the unavoidable conclusion is that I have WAY TOO MUCH. Since it is now so clear, one of our new favorite things to do is look for ways to give stuff away. I know that I’ve always heard that giving is better than receiving, and I’ve always felt ambiguous about that because I really like receiving, but I have been pretty surprised at how good it feels to go around lightening our load. It’s more than just a pat on the back for being a good citizen. When we can get in this frame of mind, we feel more incorporated, more confident and proud of ourselves, and less clingy and dependent on things that distract from what’s important. So, an extra big thanks goes out to you guys who sent down so much stuff for us to give to people- we are really looking forward to it!
Stories from the Field (Andrew)
Our good, but unfortunately cut-short trip to the field this week took us to the highest communities on the Rio Chambira and provided several interesting stories. During our day in Buena Vista, Jess and I were hanging out in our hammocks between workshops and trying to get some work done on the volunteer surveys we’re trying to put together, while deflecting the curious stares of several children. We decided to share some of our cancha, or salted corn kernels, and I discovered that one of our bread pieces had molded so we give it to a boy to feed to the chickens. He took all the food in his hands and as he ran off, shouted something about giving it to his Dad. Jess and I exchanged glances and immediately felt horrible for only giving him a small handful of corn (and were not sure how a piece of moldy bread would be received as a gift), so we decided to give him the whole bag of cancha to share with his family. His father, it turned out, was the village preacher, whom we had met before on a previous trip to this village. Jess had taken a picture of their whole family and sent a printed copy back with a colleague of ours. One thing that the father made sure to include in the picture was his prized guitar. He asked if we wanted to play it, and we said yes, only to find that it was horribly out of tune. Jess made some excuses about the wet atmosphere changing the wood as I tuned it, which made the man very excited in itself. I played the only bits of songs that I actually know, which all seemed to go over well, until we all got distracted by the family’s pet baby parrot. The rest of the afternoon we heard the man playing songs on his newly tuned guitar, and later I was called in again to demonstrate my limited abilities. Everyone seemed to be very impressed.
Later on, in exchange for the guitar playing/tuning, the boys of the household showed us how to fish for piranha off the back of a boat tied up at the beach (a couple young men showed up, and we thought they were interested in the fishing, but it turned out they needed their boat back). We got to see the fishing methods we were taught on our ecotour done by people who, even though they were young, were obviously well-practiced. The equipment consisted of a short wooden pole with a line tied to the end and a small hook and lead weight for one, while another had a thirty foot line with no pole. The bait was dropped in the water and the pole was splashed about vigorously, as if to imitate a wounded animal, although interestingly, this was used primarily to catch smaller fish with pieces of fruit as bait. These small fish were promptly torn up or filleted (still alive) to use for bait on a line that was thrown out into the current. The oldest son, Florli, pulled in three medium-sized piranhas from the water, not far from where we had been washing ten minutes earlier and bathing the day before. They were vicious looking little buggers, and flopped around on the bottom of the boat, threatening the toes of everyone around.
Finally, and probably most importantly, in each village I got invited to play “Futbol” (also known as “soccer” or “the beautiful game” for those of you in gringo-land). After politely declining the first time in Villa Flor to go play Frisbee with the children and acquire my own chigger civilization, I decided that I should take advantage of the opportunity to play soccer with the village men (plus we gave away the Frisbee). So I got the chance to play in the villages of Nuevo Porvenir and Buena Vista. Here is how a typical futbol game usually happens: Every village has a field, usually the central feature of the community, which also serves as central community gathering place, children’s playground, and feeding area for chickens. This is much different than Iquitos, where fields are hard to find and usually surrounded by barbed wire fences so that the people who want to use it can be limited (and charged). The fields don’t usually have clear boundaries, so it’s best to keep an eye out for where the locals consider out of bounds. There are also occasional obstacles, including, but not limited to, children, chickens, dogs, peccaries, pieces of lumber, puddles, and piles of grass or uncut grass (cutting grass is done by machete). In Iquitos there is usually no grass at all. Also, in the villages there’s usually a river on one side of the field, so someone has to be ready to jump in the water to retrieve the ball. This can be problematic if the side with the goal is just above the river bank.
After forming two teams, everyone has to put it in a small amount of money- usually 2 soles, or about 75 cents. The money is held by an unaffiliated person, who as serves as timekeeper, to be given to the winning team at the conclusion of the game- if you win, you double your money. Some people borrow the initial investment from someone else, hoping to pay that back at the end of the game but keep the winnings. Each game consists of two halves, usually between 15 to 20 minutes each, switching sides in the middle. There are no referees and some of the rules are open for interpretation (e.g. no rules against being offside, no rules for throw-ins, and sometimes the goalie can knock the ball out of bounds but then retake possession). Goals are always open for interpretation, especially if the goal does not have an upper bar. There are also some rules that I don’t understand, as the only times I have actually put the ball in the goal, it seems not to count for some reason (I call this the “Gringo Rule”). Needless to say, the team I’m on almost always loses, but we had great fun on the giant, half cut field at Porvenir, and the tiny, mud-covered field of Buena Vista. I look forward to doing it again.
Later on, in exchange for the guitar playing/tuning, the boys of the household showed us how to fish for piranha off the back of a boat tied up at the beach (a couple young men showed up, and we thought they were interested in the fishing, but it turned out they needed their boat back). We got to see the fishing methods we were taught on our ecotour done by people who, even though they were young, were obviously well-practiced. The equipment consisted of a short wooden pole with a line tied to the end and a small hook and lead weight for one, while another had a thirty foot line with no pole. The bait was dropped in the water and the pole was splashed about vigorously, as if to imitate a wounded animal, although interestingly, this was used primarily to catch smaller fish with pieces of fruit as bait. These small fish were promptly torn up or filleted (still alive) to use for bait on a line that was thrown out into the current. The oldest son, Florli, pulled in three medium-sized piranhas from the water, not far from where we had been washing ten minutes earlier and bathing the day before. They were vicious looking little buggers, and flopped around on the bottom of the boat, threatening the toes of everyone around.
Finally, and probably most importantly, in each village I got invited to play “Futbol” (also known as “soccer” or “the beautiful game” for those of you in gringo-land). After politely declining the first time in Villa Flor to go play Frisbee with the children and acquire my own chigger civilization, I decided that I should take advantage of the opportunity to play soccer with the village men (plus we gave away the Frisbee). So I got the chance to play in the villages of Nuevo Porvenir and Buena Vista. Here is how a typical futbol game usually happens: Every village has a field, usually the central feature of the community, which also serves as central community gathering place, children’s playground, and feeding area for chickens. This is much different than Iquitos, where fields are hard to find and usually surrounded by barbed wire fences so that the people who want to use it can be limited (and charged). The fields don’t usually have clear boundaries, so it’s best to keep an eye out for where the locals consider out of bounds. There are also occasional obstacles, including, but not limited to, children, chickens, dogs, peccaries, pieces of lumber, puddles, and piles of grass or uncut grass (cutting grass is done by machete). In Iquitos there is usually no grass at all. Also, in the villages there’s usually a river on one side of the field, so someone has to be ready to jump in the water to retrieve the ball. This can be problematic if the side with the goal is just above the river bank.
After forming two teams, everyone has to put it in a small amount of money- usually 2 soles, or about 75 cents. The money is held by an unaffiliated person, who as serves as timekeeper, to be given to the winning team at the conclusion of the game- if you win, you double your money. Some people borrow the initial investment from someone else, hoping to pay that back at the end of the game but keep the winnings. Each game consists of two halves, usually between 15 to 20 minutes each, switching sides in the middle. There are no referees and some of the rules are open for interpretation (e.g. no rules against being offside, no rules for throw-ins, and sometimes the goalie can knock the ball out of bounds but then retake possession). Goals are always open for interpretation, especially if the goal does not have an upper bar. There are also some rules that I don’t understand, as the only times I have actually put the ball in the goal, it seems not to count for some reason (I call this the “Gringo Rule”). Needless to say, the team I’m on almost always loses, but we had great fun on the giant, half cut field at Porvenir, and the tiny, mud-covered field of Buena Vista. I look forward to doing it again.
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