-Trudenski
A Roadside View on the way
down out of the Andes
Guayaquil Malecon exercise circuit
Guayaquil Rotunda: a reenaction
In front of the amazing tropical garden on
the Malecon in Guayaquil
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Final Photos
Well, folks, we are back on American soil, having arrived last night. We are wandering around pretty dazed, to tell the truth. Six weeks can be enough to form habits. Where is my fresh baked bread and jugo de papaya? Here are a few more photos before signing off.
-Trudenski
A Roadside View on the way
down out of the Andes
Guayaquil Malecon exercise circuit
Guayaquil Rotunda: a reenaction
In front of the amazing tropical garden on
the Malecon in Guayaquil
-Trudenski
A Roadside View on the way
down out of the Andes
Guayaquil Malecon exercise circuit
Guayaquil Rotunda: a reenaction
In front of the amazing tropical garden on
the Malecon in Guayaquil
Around Quito
Old Town Quito
Since we were in Quito last, the city cleaned up
it's colonial section, Old Town. We enjoyed this
part of the city immensely. It now rivals the
beauty of Cuenca, even surpasses it, with fine
architecture, fresh paint, and a number of
pedestrian-only boulevards. On Sundays, they
close off a whole section of Old Town from all
automobile traffic.
The Basilica
One of Many Churches
View from our Hotel Window
Plaza San Francisco at Night
A new tourist attraction, the Teleferico, is
perched above the city of Quito.
It is basically a mind-boggling gondola ski lift,
from which you see the entire city as you ascend
to an altitude of 12,000 feet, beside Vulcan
Pichincha. The girls posed by the lookout point,
breathing very thin air.
From the other direction: Boy over Quito
Since we were in Quito last, the city cleaned up
it's colonial section, Old Town. We enjoyed this
part of the city immensely. It now rivals the
beauty of Cuenca, even surpasses it, with fine
architecture, fresh paint, and a number of
pedestrian-only boulevards. On Sundays, they
close off a whole section of Old Town from all
automobile traffic.
The Basilica
One of Many Churches
View from our Hotel Window
Plaza San Francisco at Night
A new tourist attraction, the Teleferico, is
perched above the city of Quito.
It is basically a mind-boggling gondola ski lift,
from which you see the entire city as you ascend
to an altitude of 12,000 feet, beside Vulcan
Pichincha. The girls posed by the lookout point,
breathing very thin air.
From the other direction: Boy over Quito
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Ecuador by Bus
With the exception of the famous train ride from Riobamba to Alausi, when going from city to city thirteen years ago, we traveled by airplane. This time, with four children in tow, the only economical thing to do was travel by bus. Having traveled by bus, I get it. I get Ecuador now, and I am blown away.
The Andes aren't like sprinkles on a cupcake, scattered here and there around the country, providing an occasional vista and challenge to transportation, then flattening out again for your driving pleasure. The Andes are the big dogs, and they wait for no one. They don't move out of the way, from the northern most province clear down to the bottom of the country. (They really don't stop until the bottom of the continent but that's another adventure altogether.) You think you've seen mountains...the Sierra Nevadas, even the Rocky Mountains. You aint seen nothing until you've seen the Andes.
Traveling the roads, wherever we went, we experienced the Andes. At the beginning of our trip, just to get from the port city Guayaquil, to Cuenca, we climbed up into the Andes and crossed the continental divide. To go down to Loja and Vilcabamba we alternated between being wedged into impossible chasms the tops of we could not see, to the snaking and and teetering along tops of said chasms, for five hours straight. Up to Riobamba, we curled and climbed to heights and views that my brain could not register, they were so vast. Even just a one-hour trip to Yunguilla Valley outside of Cuenca was merciless. I was forced to let go of my life and trust. These bus drivers do this every day without consequence, I must trust, I would reason. So much of the time, it was me the control freak, with no means of control. (I think I'll sleep for days upon returning to the states, from this aspect alone.)
The road is not a permanent unchanging thing in Ecuador. Nature here wields great force. Fallen rocks, water damage, potholes, and mudslides are routine. Perhaps there are things the Ecuadorians could do to prevent these things; but I'm guessing the cost is prohibitive, because there is just so much they'd have to reinforce. The drivers just compensate for it, are ready for it, and incredibly skilled.
I recently picked up a book called Railroad in the Sky by E.H. Brainard and K.R. Brainard, an account of the construction of the Guayaquil & Quito Railroad at the turn of the century. This project was considered impossible, having met failure many times before, for the reasons that I discovered on my own, experiencing the terrain by bus.
Although the project was completed in 1908, championed by Ecuadorian president Eloy Alfaro and two American brothers, Archer and John Harman, it was an extremely difficult task, physically, economically, and politically. I suppose it made a difference at the time, expediting transit of goods from highlands to coast, uniting Guayaquil and Quito. But political differences were deep-seated, and turmoil continued. Earthquakes, landslides, and El Nino have destroyed large portions of track over time, and there are only sections left of it. The Andes remain.
-Trudenski
The Andes aren't like sprinkles on a cupcake, scattered here and there around the country, providing an occasional vista and challenge to transportation, then flattening out again for your driving pleasure. The Andes are the big dogs, and they wait for no one. They don't move out of the way, from the northern most province clear down to the bottom of the country. (They really don't stop until the bottom of the continent but that's another adventure altogether.) You think you've seen mountains...the Sierra Nevadas, even the Rocky Mountains. You aint seen nothing until you've seen the Andes.
Traveling the roads, wherever we went, we experienced the Andes. At the beginning of our trip, just to get from the port city Guayaquil, to Cuenca, we climbed up into the Andes and crossed the continental divide. To go down to Loja and Vilcabamba we alternated between being wedged into impossible chasms the tops of we could not see, to the snaking and and teetering along tops of said chasms, for five hours straight. Up to Riobamba, we curled and climbed to heights and views that my brain could not register, they were so vast. Even just a one-hour trip to Yunguilla Valley outside of Cuenca was merciless. I was forced to let go of my life and trust. These bus drivers do this every day without consequence, I must trust, I would reason. So much of the time, it was me the control freak, with no means of control. (I think I'll sleep for days upon returning to the states, from this aspect alone.)
The road is not a permanent unchanging thing in Ecuador. Nature here wields great force. Fallen rocks, water damage, potholes, and mudslides are routine. Perhaps there are things the Ecuadorians could do to prevent these things; but I'm guessing the cost is prohibitive, because there is just so much they'd have to reinforce. The drivers just compensate for it, are ready for it, and incredibly skilled.
I recently picked up a book called Railroad in the Sky by E.H. Brainard and K.R. Brainard, an account of the construction of the Guayaquil & Quito Railroad at the turn of the century. This project was considered impossible, having met failure many times before, for the reasons that I discovered on my own, experiencing the terrain by bus.
Although the project was completed in 1908, championed by Ecuadorian president Eloy Alfaro and two American brothers, Archer and John Harman, it was an extremely difficult task, physically, economically, and politically. I suppose it made a difference at the time, expediting transit of goods from highlands to coast, uniting Guayaquil and Quito. But political differences were deep-seated, and turmoil continued. Earthquakes, landslides, and El Nino have destroyed large portions of track over time, and there are only sections left of it. The Andes remain.
-Trudenski
Shy Volcanoes
Although wrapped in their blankets of
clouds, these massive landforms loomed
impressively over the towns that we
passed through on our way to Quito.
Vulcanes Illinizas
Vulcan Cotapaxi
Vulcan Chimborazo
clouds, these massive landforms loomed
impressively over the towns that we
passed through on our way to Quito.
Vulcanes Illinizas
Vulcan Cotapaxi
Vulcan Chimborazo
Views from the Ark
Front Entryway of the Ark Children´s
Home. Recently, the baby house was
closed and they moved all the babies
here with the rest of the kids. An
addition was underway for 5 more bedrooms.
View from Living Room Window of
the volcano El Altar
During the summer, teams of college-aged
volunteers from Verbo Church in Cuenca
come to Riobamba for a one-week stay.
Each day they come to the orphanage
to do crafts and activities with the children.
Outside after craft time. Since it was
Friday (the team´s last day) a treasure
hunt and bonfire was planned for later
that evening.
Home. Recently, the baby house was
closed and they moved all the babies
here with the rest of the kids. An
addition was underway for 5 more bedrooms.
View from Living Room Window of
the volcano El Altar
During the summer, teams of college-aged
volunteers from Verbo Church in Cuenca
come to Riobamba for a one-week stay.
Each day they come to the orphanage
to do crafts and activities with the children.
Outside after craft time. Since it was
Friday (the team´s last day) a treasure
hunt and bonfire was planned for later
that evening.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Inspiration in Riobamba
We’re a week away from leaving Ecuador and my personal feelings are mixed. I came here expecting to be pulled and tugged in various directions to help the needy and the poor. What I encountered were several businesses in needed of marketing services. In one instance the owner of an “Extreme” sports park entitled “Parque Xtremo” wanted a meeting to go over his plans for expansion….strange stuff. But, my heart wasn’t in it, I felt like I could do the same job in the US as in Ecuador, so why do it?
There is one area (idea) that Trudy and I toss around like a ping pong ball that tugs at our hearts…but are we the right people?
My first encounter with an orphanage was filled with questions. I wanted to know how it worked? Where did the kids come from? How did it get funding? Were the kids getting the education they needed? Were they fed and clothed properly? What were the sleeping arrangements like? What happens after they reach “of age”?
Unfortunately, not many of those questions were answered on my first visit. The simple reason was that, I don’t speak Spanish very well. So, I went and looked around, played with the kids, gave a lot of hugs and took mental notes of things.
I had made arrangements with a contact in Cuenca to visit an orphanage in Riobamba which was on our way to Quito. On the morning of our intended visit I wasn’t feeling that well and considered sending Trudy and staying in the hotel. Fortunately, the hotel room was one of the worst we had stayed in thus far. So, I figured I’d rather spend my day out of the hotel than in. The taxi driver wasn’t exactly certain of the location but knew the area. As we turned left onto a narrow dirt road and followed the unending brick walls on either side, I had second thoughts and considered turning around. Near the end of the road on the left was an large black iron gate with the name “Allen” above it. This was the place, but from the outside it looked more like a prison than an orphanage. Again, I had second thoughts about knocking on the door of this establishment. But, just as I considered telling the taxi driver to get back in and drive us back, someone came out of the gate. We inquired as to whether we were at the right place and they confirmed. We walked in and found something very different on the inside.
The Allens (Ron and Glenda) are wonderful people and have established a first class orphanage for over 60 kids. In so many ways it was the polar opposite of Chuquipata. The full story of how and why they are in Ecuador can be found on their website (http://www.arkchildrenshomes.com/) but what’s not there is an unbeleiveable tale of trial and hardship. They began their journey by renting a house to accommodate the 10 kids of their own and the 6 or so newly acquired orphans. Quickly they outgrew the house and had to rent other houses and hire employees to run the houses. For nearly 10 years they managed up to 8 houses at one time. But, it was spreading them thin and relying on employees to perform tasks was trying. At one point they discovered an abuse at some of the homes and immediately decided to centralize their orphanage. Through generous funding from their home church in Canada (which by the way was a Vineyard), Verbo, and others they purchased a 3 acre ranch just on the outskirts of Riobamba. The ranch had just 3 bedrooms and one bath but quickly Ron added more bedrooms, put in a first rate kitchen and dining room, a constant and consistent electrical supply, proper plumbing and laundromat (60 kids is a lot of washing). With help from a board of directors and elders from a local church they put together a roadmap on how to run an orphanage. The roadmap will be tested with Ron’s son, Isaac, in the jungle town of Macas. Isaac is a 21 year-old “man” who, like his mom and dad, has compassion for children.
Although I could talk about the structures, the buildings, the plans and the location of this orphanage, the intangible things are what truly makes it successful. Ron and Glenda have a heart for God and the kids. Their home is a constant hub of activity, with 60 or more kids being cared for, plus kitchen and baby staff and the occasional physical therapist coming and going…but they chatted with us in the most relaxed manner. It was apparent that the kids love and respect them and the feeling is genuinely mutual. The most special thing about it was that their own kids, all 10 of them, are following along in the ministry in some way. Their love never began or ended with just their own children…and somehow every child in the place knows this.
At one point we were sitting at lunch with 60 hungry kids.Their plates were in front of them but no one dared touch their plate until the meal was blessed. The kids were loud and I could barely talk to Trudy who was sitting across from me. Then Glenda walked in and with the quietest voice, said, “Children, it’s time for the blessing,” (in Spanish of course) and the room went silent. Then Ron prayed, the kids dove in to eat, and all noise resumed.
Ron never asked us if we wanted to start an orphanage. Glenda never mentioned a need in another city. Isaac never asked us if we wanted to help him in Macas. But in some ways we are pulled to do something. We just haven’t figured it out yet.
--Blake
There is one area (idea) that Trudy and I toss around like a ping pong ball that tugs at our hearts…but are we the right people?
My first encounter with an orphanage was filled with questions. I wanted to know how it worked? Where did the kids come from? How did it get funding? Were the kids getting the education they needed? Were they fed and clothed properly? What were the sleeping arrangements like? What happens after they reach “of age”?
Unfortunately, not many of those questions were answered on my first visit. The simple reason was that, I don’t speak Spanish very well. So, I went and looked around, played with the kids, gave a lot of hugs and took mental notes of things.
I had made arrangements with a contact in Cuenca to visit an orphanage in Riobamba which was on our way to Quito. On the morning of our intended visit I wasn’t feeling that well and considered sending Trudy and staying in the hotel. Fortunately, the hotel room was one of the worst we had stayed in thus far. So, I figured I’d rather spend my day out of the hotel than in. The taxi driver wasn’t exactly certain of the location but knew the area. As we turned left onto a narrow dirt road and followed the unending brick walls on either side, I had second thoughts and considered turning around. Near the end of the road on the left was an large black iron gate with the name “Allen” above it. This was the place, but from the outside it looked more like a prison than an orphanage. Again, I had second thoughts about knocking on the door of this establishment. But, just as I considered telling the taxi driver to get back in and drive us back, someone came out of the gate. We inquired as to whether we were at the right place and they confirmed. We walked in and found something very different on the inside.
The Allens (Ron and Glenda) are wonderful people and have established a first class orphanage for over 60 kids. In so many ways it was the polar opposite of Chuquipata. The full story of how and why they are in Ecuador can be found on their website (http://www.arkchildrenshomes.com/) but what’s not there is an unbeleiveable tale of trial and hardship. They began their journey by renting a house to accommodate the 10 kids of their own and the 6 or so newly acquired orphans. Quickly they outgrew the house and had to rent other houses and hire employees to run the houses. For nearly 10 years they managed up to 8 houses at one time. But, it was spreading them thin and relying on employees to perform tasks was trying. At one point they discovered an abuse at some of the homes and immediately decided to centralize their orphanage. Through generous funding from their home church in Canada (which by the way was a Vineyard), Verbo, and others they purchased a 3 acre ranch just on the outskirts of Riobamba. The ranch had just 3 bedrooms and one bath but quickly Ron added more bedrooms, put in a first rate kitchen and dining room, a constant and consistent electrical supply, proper plumbing and laundromat (60 kids is a lot of washing). With help from a board of directors and elders from a local church they put together a roadmap on how to run an orphanage. The roadmap will be tested with Ron’s son, Isaac, in the jungle town of Macas. Isaac is a 21 year-old “man” who, like his mom and dad, has compassion for children.
Although I could talk about the structures, the buildings, the plans and the location of this orphanage, the intangible things are what truly makes it successful. Ron and Glenda have a heart for God and the kids. Their home is a constant hub of activity, with 60 or more kids being cared for, plus kitchen and baby staff and the occasional physical therapist coming and going…but they chatted with us in the most relaxed manner. It was apparent that the kids love and respect them and the feeling is genuinely mutual. The most special thing about it was that their own kids, all 10 of them, are following along in the ministry in some way. Their love never began or ended with just their own children…and somehow every child in the place knows this.
At one point we were sitting at lunch with 60 hungry kids.Their plates were in front of them but no one dared touch their plate until the meal was blessed. The kids were loud and I could barely talk to Trudy who was sitting across from me. Then Glenda walked in and with the quietest voice, said, “Children, it’s time for the blessing,” (in Spanish of course) and the room went silent. Then Ron prayed, the kids dove in to eat, and all noise resumed.
Ron never asked us if we wanted to start an orphanage. Glenda never mentioned a need in another city. Isaac never asked us if we wanted to help him in Macas. But in some ways we are pulled to do something. We just haven’t figured it out yet.
--Blake
Road to Puyo
Every day is some kind of adventure.
On this day, we had no idea where
we would be going specifically, just
knew we´d end up back in Baños by
night. The road to Puyo, with its
waterfalls, tunnels, views and
backroad attractions, was a
wonderful day trip with kids.
Summit of Tungurahua
At the top of the Casa del Arbol.
Blake and Nathan rode the cable basket
across the gorge. Blake said it was intense.
Nathan wanted to do it again.
In Puyo, Pedro took us to Parque Omaere,
a rainforest botanical garden run by an
American ornithologist and his Shuar wife.
We experienced a dramatic afternoon
rainshower under the shelter of thatched
roof. Taylor sketched a parrot in a tree.
On this day, we had no idea where
we would be going specifically, just
knew we´d end up back in Baños by
night. The road to Puyo, with its
waterfalls, tunnels, views and
backroad attractions, was a
wonderful day trip with kids.
Summit of Tungurahua
At the top of the Casa del Arbol.
Blake and Nathan rode the cable basket
across the gorge. Blake said it was intense.
Nathan wanted to do it again.
In Puyo, Pedro took us to Parque Omaere,
a rainforest botanical garden run by an
American ornithologist and his Shuar wife.
We experienced a dramatic afternoon
rainshower under the shelter of thatched
roof. Taylor sketched a parrot in a tree.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Baños and Beyond
Baños de Ambato
The Waterfall over the
Thermal pools in Baños
On the Road to Puyo two falls converge;
the one on the right is gray with ash
from the eruptions of Tungurahua.
Further down the road
we walked the trail to this
waterfall called Pailon del Diablo.
Our taxi driver/tour guide
for the day, Pedro.
Beyond is the gateway to
Amazonia.
The Waterfall over the
Thermal pools in Baños
On the Road to Puyo two falls converge;
the one on the right is gray with ash
from the eruptions of Tungurahua.
Further down the road
we walked the trail to this
waterfall called Pailon del Diablo.
Our taxi driver/tour guide
for the day, Pedro.
Beyond is the gateway to
Amazonia.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Reality Check
Back in the United States, when Blake and I would get tired of our children`s greed, the difficulties of the workplace, the fast pace of life, and the mind-boggling choices, we would joke with each other, “Let`s just sell it all and move to Cuenca.” Recalling our honeymoon thirteen years ago, Cuenca, and Ecuador in general, seemed to have the simplicity and slow pace that was timeless, and people weren`t chasing after worthless things. They had family; they had community. They had the beauty of the landscape.
Unfortunately, while we daydreamed about this place, something was happening. Call it cable TV, the internet, globalization, or whatever;
Not that we didn´t enjoy Baños. It´s a great little tourist town with spectacular views, nice climate, impressive waterfall, easy access to the jungle, and pizza! On our second day there, Pedro, a friendly taxi-driver, took us sightseeing on the road to the jungle. Blake and Nathan rode the terabita (basket on a cable across a canyon); all of us hiked to view the Pailon del Diablo, another beautiful waterfall; and we travelled down a dirt road to Casa del Arbol—a resort that had a 7-story tree-house, cave complete with resident bat, and swimming pool. Once in Puyo, we had almuerzo at his friend´s restaurant, we briefly visited
Baños is just one example of the globalization of
We`ve been told, by our missionary friends, that often in a family, the husband will leave for the States, work there, and send money back. Apparently, the divorce rate is 70%. Television shows are, as Blake had mentioned in a previous blog, very risqué, and in fact we`ve been shocked by the commercials during a news report. From what I`ve seen, there are two main lifestyles. One seems to be the fate for most indigenous families: living below the poverty level. They do the hard labor, the domestic work; some still farm, raise cattle, weave, make simple goods—but instead of just relying on market day, they roam the streets of the city, even board buses to sell their wares. The other group consists of people working in blue and white collar jobs, scraping by on $160 per week, but obviously enamored by the American dream. A few very smart or lucky ones may own stores on main streets, like Rolando and Nori, employing maids and employees to maintain their homes and businesses, aspiring to own the status symbols like SUVs and country homes.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Recent Photos
At Parque Xtremo in Yunguilla Valley
(Loren, Nori and Alex)Yadira at the Chuquipata orphanage
Being boys
Taylor´s new fan club
Honey, I´m stuck.
Vilcabamba Photos
Cathedral at the plaza of Vilcabamba
Grounds of Hosteria Izhcayluma
The water was ice cold, but the kids loved exploring the numerous waterways that led to the pool, as if it was their own little jungle.
Kickin´ Back in Loja
Church of San Sabastian in Loja
Parque Recreacional Jipiro
Parque Recreacional Jipiro
At the mercado...
they must have cut off a pound of hair.
In Loja the weather was pleasantly warmer than Cuenca. We bought three pounds of really good coffee at the downtown mercado. No more Sanka for us! At the same mercado, you can buy underwear, fresh meat, or get your hair done. Nathan got a $2 haircut and Blake got an invigorating shave. We visited a fabulous park (Jipiro) that had a lake, tame llamas, a skatepark with a fullpipe, and elaborate playhouses in the shapes of castles.
Spa Day at the Orphanage
On a chilly Sunday afternoon, I returned to the orphanage with Michelle Gee and her daughter Hanna. Taylor, my 9 year-old daughter, tagged along. This time we would just be doing “girl stuff.” Michelle wanted to bless the older girls and women staff, because they work so hard. We came bearing lotions, manicure kits, a wide array of nail polishes, and even a foot spa bath. Plus, considering teenagers like to eat, she also brought chips and dip, gum, sodas and raspberry cheesecake.
Within minutes of unpacking all the stuff, we had girls lined up wanting their nails done. But they didn´t just want one color, no. A beauty magazine suddenly appeared containing pages of intricate nail designs, some that seemed to require magnifying glasses, tweezers, and microsurgery. Well, I did my best with what I had, and they seemed satisfied enough. It was overwhelming--having so many girls surrounding me, wanting to be next; showing me what they wanted, me having to say things in Spanish I didn´t know how to say. Being utterly clueless, but with something to give, nonetheless.
In the middle of painting little hearts on the nails of a girl named Theresa, I realized some others were commenting on the auburn color of my hair. Suddenly, I was asked if I could dye one of the workers´ wavy locks. Boxes of dye were placed before me, everything with such urgency, like there would never be this opportunity again (and perhaps that´s pretty much the truth). I was grateful for the diagrams on the box; grateful that instructions on hair coloring kits are written to be understood by illiterate people. Dying her hair was no problem at all, and I´m sure she was just glad she didn´t have to do it herself, having such long hair that took up two boxes of dye.
Taylor and Hannah polished each other´s nails, but then spent the rest of the time chasing chickens around in the yard. I´m glad Taylor is still just a girl for a little longer.
After taking some pictures of the girls showing off their nails, they all crowded around to see the previews on my camera so exuberantly I almost fell over. On the drive home, encouraged by the way things went, Michelle and I did some brainstorming for future activities she could do with the teen girls, just time spent with them, showing them they matter. The girls had asked for a hair-styling day; additionally we came up with pajama movie night, cooking (though I bet a number of them probably know how to cook already), and sewing. Any other ideas?
-Trudenski
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Hakuna Matata
I´ve been having a great time in Ecuador. My family has been taking me to many different places. When we went to Loja, my mom thought it would be “only” a three hour bus ride. But, when we got to the bus station and after we bought our ticket, we found out that it would be five hours. Winding roads ALL the way. It was AWFUL. After I barfed three times, dad told me to blame mom for the whole idea of going. Lydia and Luke threw up once; but Taylor didn’t throw up at all. Now dad’s calling her “The Iron Stomach”. We stayed in Loja for two days then traveled to Vilcabamba which was a 45 minute taxi ride from Loja. Vilcabamba is a five by five block town. Now mom wanted to go to this hotel called Izcayluma, that, our book said was two kilometers from town, not far. So we walked: mom carrying Luke; dad carrying three back-packs, Lydia´s, Taylor´s and his own; and me, carrying my backpack and three pounds of coffee. Uphill all the way. It was tiring, and we weren´t entirely sure we would even find the place. But we did, and it was worth it. Hotel Izcayluma has a wonderful view, a nice little bar/play area and a freezing cold pool that I jumped into. Unfortunately, we ate salsa in a little restaurant. Mom was cautious and didn´t want us to eat it. I said, "aw, Hakuna Matata! No worries." I spent almost all of the next day in our cabin "Hakuning my matatas." Once I was better, I dreaded the trip back to Cuenca. I did NOT want to get back on that bus. Luckily, we had some pills to calm our stomachs so I was fine.
--Nathan
--Nathan
Friday, August 10, 2007
The Orphanage at Chuquipata
After two weeks in Ecuador I finally got to serve the needy. I visited my first orphanage. Saturday morning, Curtis and Michelle Gee squeezed me into their car with their four kids and we drove out to the tiny town of Chuquipata. They go every Saturday, bringing with them a Bible story in Spanish, a craft project, balls and frisbees, playdoh, some music, a snack, and an inexhaustible supply of hugs.
About sixteen children came out and sat at a picnic table, ages ranging from one and a half to twelve years old. Michelle read them a Bible story in Spanish and then we helped them make butterflies with coffee filters and clothespins. All but the very youngest really got down to work and actually took time to decorate their butterfly. One of the children wanted me to do one so I started drawing blue hearts with swirls and dots on mine. Then everyone wanted a second butterfly with “corazones azules.” “Tia! Tia!” they would call. ("Auntie.") When the craft was done, everyone moved out onto a concrete play area, and the balls, frisbees and music came out. The music seemed out of place—it was basically Christian pop from the U.S., simply translated to Spanish. I felt a little put-off by it, like we were imposing our culture on them.
It was impossible to remain indifferent. How could you not fall in love?
I met a sweet little five year-old named Sara; and her little sister Alexandra. As I held adorable two month-old Esther, I watched the entire Gee family completely lose themselves in play with these kids. It was a beautiful sight, especially when the kids hugged and got hugged by Curtis, a rare father figure in their lives. Soon the balls were collected and the playdough came out. The music was still blaring, and I could recognize the tune. “Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord.” I sat across from a ten year-old boy, who was seriously pounding away at his play-doh. Softly first, then louder, the boy began singing along to the song. “Santo, Santo, Santo…” he sang zestily. He was singing “...Holy, holy, holy, I want to see You.”
Well...maybe I was wrong about the music.
-Trudenski
About sixteen children came out and sat at a picnic table, ages ranging from one and a half to twelve years old. Michelle read them a Bible story in Spanish and then we helped them make butterflies with coffee filters and clothespins. All but the very youngest really got down to work and actually took time to decorate their butterfly. One of the children wanted me to do one so I started drawing blue hearts with swirls and dots on mine. Then everyone wanted a second butterfly with “corazones azules.” “Tia! Tia!” they would call. ("Auntie.") When the craft was done, everyone moved out onto a concrete play area, and the balls, frisbees and music came out. The music seemed out of place—it was basically Christian pop from the U.S., simply translated to Spanish. I felt a little put-off by it, like we were imposing our culture on them.
It was impossible to remain indifferent. How could you not fall in love?
I met a sweet little five year-old named Sara; and her little sister Alexandra. As I held adorable two month-old Esther, I watched the entire Gee family completely lose themselves in play with these kids. It was a beautiful sight, especially when the kids hugged and got hugged by Curtis, a rare father figure in their lives. Soon the balls were collected and the playdough came out. The music was still blaring, and I could recognize the tune. “Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord.” I sat across from a ten year-old boy, who was seriously pounding away at his play-doh. Softly first, then louder, the boy began singing along to the song. “Santo, Santo, Santo…” he sang zestily. He was singing “...Holy, holy, holy, I want to see You.”
Well...maybe I was wrong about the music.
-Trudenski
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