Uncle Keith suggested I try to get my own show. Some Panic would be good for this town, I reckon.
"Latacunga mas limpia." Hmmm.
The horribly polluted Rio Cutuchi.
On Friday night, I was able to move into my new home. I am living in a downstairs apartment on the north end of town. Above me live three generations of the same wonderful family. For those who are interested, some photos of my new digs:
The deck. In the foreground: the concrete wash basin (for laundry). In the background: the view on the other side of the Rio Cutuchi (note the landslide). On the stairs: one of the two resident chickens. His days are numbered.
What's left of the garden. And chickens.
Living room as seen from the eating venue. Doors to bedrooms in background.
The kitchen, with all brand new appliances (including a blender and rice cooker!).
There is no way to truthfully proclaim that the cut flower industry is good for the environment. Nor is it possible to assert with confidence that the conditions for workers in the flower industry, on a global scale, are acceptable or humane. A quick search on the internet will inform the reader of ecological and humanitarian issues related to the industry.
Today I visited a place called Agrogana, a small, family-owned flower farm north of Latacunga. A friend whom I have yet to meet in person, Matt Terry (of the Ecuadorian Rivers Institute and Kayak Ecuador) put me in contact with Mr. A. Espinosa, whose family owns and operates the farm. This morning Mr. Espinosa was kind enough to receive me for a tour and conversation.
The farm (and another one, farther to the north, operated and owned by the same family) employs about 180 local workers. The farm I visited today cultivates around 60 different species of roses.
Agrogana is part of the Fair Trade movement. Mr. Espinosa sells his flowers to responsible buyers in Russia, Switzerland, Canada, and the U.S. Whole Foods Market is his primary client in the States. Among the measures he takes to promote sustainable agriculture and responsible business practices here in Ecuador are the following (and they are, to say the least, amazing):
He provides English classes and reading classes (Spanish) to the children, nieces and nephews of his workers. These classes take place after school on the farm itself. They are intended to supplement the education that the students receive during the day. The setting of these classes is the tranquil, green, quiet space in which their parents and relatives work. (More on this to follow.)
He offers to purchase washing machines for the homes of his workers. Their acceptance is voluntary.
He works to offer good breeds of pigs to his workers. The hope is that they might raise these pigs on the land near their homes, rather than purchasing farm-raised meat.
When sufficient funds present themselves, he will build a vivienda, or communal living space for his workers.
He encourages his workers to take pride in their homes, lands, and work.
He provides his workers with safe, healthy working conditions.
The farm utilizes the bare minimum of pesticides necessary to keep the bugs at bay. They are currently engaged in an experiment to cultivate `good` spiders that will eat the `bad` ones that damage the roses. The spiders are microscopic and the project is an attempt at avoiding completely unnecessary use of pesticides. Watching the good spiders work was pretty impressive. They are of the same size as the bad ones, yet manage to put down between four and six of the enemies per day. They are fat and happy and (hopefully) productive.
Checking out the bugs.
A healthy leaf (right) and a leaf affected by "bad" spiders (left).
My conversation with Mr. Espinosa ended in a promise that I would assist the group in their development of English classes for the worker´s children. Additionally, I told them that I would visit the farm at least once a week to give classes myself. I have many hopes for this side-project, and I feel fortunate to be a part of such a respectable endeavor.
One of two classrooms on the farm. Green inside and out.
a.) Classes have been in session for over two weeks now. Half of the English classes that I have or will have contact with do not yet have teachers. The teachers have been hired, and the students are still showing up at the designated time. The unfortunate bit is that when they get to the classroom, there's no teacher there. For all my asking, I still don't know what they're waiting for. The facutly seems to find no problem with this situation.
b.) In the classes I have visited where a teacher was present, I have observed the following: interruptions are not only tolerated, but welcomed; teachers do not require students to listen or show any ounce of respect toward their peers when they speak; the learning environment is what I would describe as traumatic (forced oral delivery in front of a cackling crowd of merciless critics, constant interruptions, etc.) but no one but me seems to mind.
c.) This learning institution is not exempt from the rampant racism and gender discrimination that prevails outside its walls.
d.) No one bothers to temper or check their whistles, comments or stares, even here. Even in this place where progressive thought and modern education claim to be at work. And today I just about lost it. (But I didn't, and it's fine.)
e.) There is tremendous pressure from the faculty here. They believe I have answers that I quite obviously don't. Inappropriate applications of this pressure: 1. when, at the end of class, before students are dismissed, I am asked to publicly rate (scale of 1-10) the students' English, 2. when I am called into a surprise meeting to 'interview' a recently-hired English teacher to assess his ability without any prior notice (a wretched and disgusting experience), 3. when I am asked to design and deliver new courses (starting next week, of course) for all levels, including professors.
If this all sounds negative, it's because it is. But there are wonderful things happening, too.
a.) While running in the park today, I saw girls from a local private school perform the most incredible drum line. Their male counterparts were engaged in super intense relay races on the cobblestone track. We raced. They won.
b.) The little old ladies that run the markets and shops call me mi hijita.
c.) I am taking a second-year Quichua class that kicked my ass last night and will continue to do so for as long as I can bare it. And it feels so very good to be a student again.
Notes on the current state of education in Ecuador
Last night I slept on a bed that is about twelve inches too short to accommodate my lower legs. Sparkle-eyed Barbie princesses stare up from the bedspread and my own face smashes that of Winnie Pooh (note the absence of the word the) on the tiny pillow. I stole this bed from the sweet three year-old who normally sleeps in it. I am in the home of Rodrigo and Paula, two professors at the Universidad Técnica de Cotopaxi (U.T.C.). Their daughter, Ana Paula, has been kind enough to lend me her bed for the duration of my stay, which should be just over one week. Last night I slept better than I have any other night in Ecuador thus far.
We ate dinner in last night (finally, a supper at home – rice, canned tuna, onions, tomatoes, and papas fritas). Afterward, once Ana Paula’s attention had been directed away from the table and toward a buzzing program on Discovery Kids, Rodrigo and Paula and I had an interesting conversation about the changing state of education here in Ecuador. Below are some points that should help to illustrate the situation as I understand it.
The current president in this country is named Rafael Correa. He came into power in 2006 through election (rather than by means of a military coup or other non-traditional replacement strategy). He is an economist, he was educated in the U.S., and his political stance is that of a progressive socialist. He is traditional in his Catholic beliefs but also maintains that drastic changes to social and environmental programs here will promote a healthier future for the country. A couple of points that are consistently presented in conversations about Correa:
The new Constitution. It’s full of idealistic promises. For example: it “gives rights” to Mother Nature by outlawing practices that threaten ecosystems and species, it outlaws discrimination, it allots more money to the welfare system, it enhances the rights of long-oppressed indigenous groups. Correa’s administration has also revamped lending processes for student loans and home-owner loans. Ecuadorians now have the option to use borrowed money to make realistic investments. (See also these articles that explain the government’s radical attempt to earn money for preservation through previously unexplored means: Yale Environment 360 and World Resources Institute. ) Most people I’ve talked to agree that this new Constitution is positive in its intentions. Most people also don’t believe that the promises can be brought to fruition. They seem reluctant to accept the changes that will be necessary to realize these promises. As Rodrigo said last night, regarding social change: “If not now, then when. We can’t have change without suffering.” But he admits that he, personally, will resist change for which he and his family must suffer. This contradiction, of course, seems to perpetuate the poverty and social struggle here. Simultaneously, I understand his opinion.
Hugo Chavez. Correa’s critics say he aspires to “achieve” what his Venezuelan friend has, in terms of his “leftist” agenda.
He is stubborn and resilient. My first day at the Fulbright office in Quito, Susana Cabeza de Vaca mentioned (citing the police-led protests of September 30, 2010, a.k.a. the “attempted coup”) that Correa could not and would not acquiesce to the demands of the policemen. She maintained that his stance on contentious issues must be firm. If it’s not, the people will continue to protest and band against the government any time they disagree with a proposed action. And this, she says, is what will keep Ecuador from realizing its potential as a healthy, productive nation.
So now, we turn to look at proposed changes to the system of education here in Ecuador. If you have taken time to recognize recent changes to our own educational system in the States, you will doubtlessly see the parallels and their all-but-certainly unfortunate outcomes. First of all, according to Rodrigo, the current administration wants to require standardized tests for all graduating high school seniors in both rural and urban schools. These tests will determine entry into the university system. Without a passing score, students will be denied entry into college. Secondly, the administration plans to standardize public education throughout the country. Curriculum should be aligned and tests should be implemented to gauge the success of this standardization. (Does this model sound familiar?)
Other proposed changes that will be adamantly opposed by the public sector (especially those currently involved in higher education) are the following. Keep in mind that public universities are completely freeof charge to Ecuadorian citizens. They are funded by the government, not by investors, alumni, or the student body, and are frequently without adequate monetary resources.
All university “professors” will be required to possess, at minimum, a Master’s degree. (To me, this seems absolutely reasonable and, again, familiar. To those Ecuadorians teaching now within the university who do not hold a higher degree, this seems like discrimination. They feel trapped: If they are suddenly out of work, how are they going to afford the Master’s degree? But if they aren’t required to attain the degree for employment, what incentive to actively pursue further education do they have? Right.)
All “unsuccessful” universities will be closed. The goal is to consolidate the universities into five regional institutions (one per region of the country). These universities would be staffed by individuals with graduate and post-graduate degrees (as it should be?) and would be attended only by students that successfully demonstrate their commitment to education (i.e. by passing the standardized exam). Something to keep in mind here:Ecuador is only slightly larger than the state of Colorado (some use Oregon as a reference, others Nevada). How many accredited public universities does each of those states have? Does the proposal of five good universities for this small country seem unreasonable? However, there are 14 million people that live here in Ecuador. The common sentiment is that the younger generation must attend college to secure a better future. As a result, the public universities are overcrowded, under-funded, attended by students who may or may not be truly dedicated to their studies, and staffed by people who may or may not be able to deliver quality information. Even those Ecuadorians who are committed to the idea of quality education are resistant to these proposed changes because they will certainly cause (temporary?) suffering for those who don’t immediately meet the new standards.
Note that these proposed changes apply only to public institutions. Here in Ecuador, as in the States, citizens with money have the option to pay for a private education. Limited scholarships, loans, and grants are also available from private and public organizations (such as the Fulbright program).
Tomorrow, Monday, I begin my work at the university here in Latacunga. The main building on campus was originally built as the new prison. (The old prison, still in use, is located downtown; the idea was to move it to the outskirts, where the college lies now.) The “new” building, whose construction was started with money from the previous administration, is now a half-finished shell, an (overzealous, maybe?) attempt at the incorporation of modern architecture. As the funding for this building was retracted by the present law-makers, the university now resembles many of Latacunga’s (and, indeed, Ecuador’s) structures: halfway finished (or halfway demolished) with no immediate prospect of completion.
An explanation of Dollarization
Ecuador uses the United States dollar as its official and only currency. Dollar bills here are scarce – Sacagawea’s face is everywhere. The actual bills, in all denominations, are surprisingly trashed – they’re dirty, ripped, and tired after spending a busy decade in sweaty hands and pockets. (A Polish-Ecuadorian woman told me the other night as she pulled out a thoroughly worn five to pay for a drink, “The people here have no respect for the money.” I thought that was interesting.) In 2000, after inflation had exceeded a rate of 60%, Ecuador’s then-President Gustavo Noboa (who took power from Jamíl Mahuad after a successful coup forced him to resign) resorted to switching the currency to the U.S. dollar. Prior to the year 2000 (prior to the switch), the exchange rate was 6000 sucres to 1 U.S. dollar. After the massive inflation in this period, the exchange rate became 25,000 sucres to $1. Needless to say, this uncontrolled inflation has contributed significantly to the present economic strife in the country.
As part of the Fulbright orientation last week, we took a bus to a nature preserve north of Quito. This family-run conservation effort, called Reserva Inti Llacta, aims to restore and maintain the area's biodiversity that has been severly threatened by deforestation. They engage in low-impact farming, shade-grown coffee production, educational programs, and low-volume canopy tours (ziplines). Below are some photos.
Ecuador isn't so different from Alaska. It seems to be missing some of my favorite things that can only be found at home (i.e. one 90-pound black Labrador named Arlo, the distinctive and nostalgic smell of Alaskan autumn, and pizza from an Anchorage restaurant whose name I can't mention without salivating). Ecuador seems ready to recognize the absence of these beloved and now far-away pieces of my life and replace them (temporarily) with its own local representatives (i.e. charismatic highland llamas, the unfamiliar scents of the cloud forest, and little bits of deliciousness called humitas). For the next ten months I will continue to appreciate the love I have for my home, acknowledge the opportunity I've been afforded here, relish the chance to be at once a student, researcher, teacher, and traveler, and work to better understand this country and my new place within it.
I arrived in Quito on October 1. This was one day later than expected. A series of events that the news billed as an attempted coup d'etat (see: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-11457012) mandated a thirty-hour layover in Miami, Florida.
For those who were not already made aware, this delay in travel brought about the happiest of surprises: a far-from-sold-out Widespread Panic show in South Beach. This was perhaps the most perfect going away present I could have ever hoped to receive. If you check the set list from this show (30 September 2010), be sure to note the closing tune. You might imagine the confusion this caused me as wandered out of the venue and into the sweaty neon glow of Miami Beach.
My first days and nights in Ecuador have been filled with dinners with brilliant and inspiring Fulbright fellows, excellent program orientations and terrifying security briefings in Quito, hikes with a visiting friend to places where thin air makes it hard to breath, lunches with generous members of the university staff, and visits to places I'd previously known only through photos and stories.
The people I've encountered so far - from the lawyer I met on the plane from Miami, to the taxi drivers whose creative driving styles won't be limited by the lines on the road, to the smiling administrative assistants at the Universidad Tecnica de Cotopaxi - are kind and helpful and proud. There seems to be no one set of physical characteristics or linguistic patterns that typifies the Ecuadorian people. The diversity in faces, voices, statures, and opinions is incredible. It's fair to say, despite this fact, that people my own stature are not commonly encountered in a crowd. It is absolutely impossible, I have quickly determined, that I somehow blend in or disappear in this place.
A surprising (or not so surprising?) development since my arrival two weeks ago: both my English and my Spanish have suffered severely and now neither of the two languages sounds eloquent, cohesive, or otherwise intelligible. This is traumatic, and I cannot wait until the problem resolves itself.
Quito and most of the other cities in the Andean Sierra rest at an elevation of just over 9000'. Rapid acclimation has been encouraged by my need to escape the dirty city air. The best way to retreat from the buzzing urban mess, it seems, is to go up.
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