Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Deporte y Vida, Los Jardines
Deporte y Vida, Los Jardines is the name of the organization I joined today. I arrived, with one other volunteer, at about 9 am this morning, and together we piled out of the minibus at our stop on the Villa El Salvador street to find nothing. Confused, our program facilitator pointed behind us. We quickly realized (and could smell) that we were standing nearly on the Pacific Ocean, and to reach the building, we needed to trudge down a sandy incline. En the 5 minute route, we passed a few small (VERY small...think garage or the size of your car) structures composed of corrugated tin, some wood, and a little brick, and absolutely no windows.
We finally reached a fenced in basketball court, that served as the entry to the center. This center was comprised of a series of classrooms with plywood walls and doors, which, one after another, we entered. Each classroom had at least one teacher and one teacher aide, and was full of eager eyed children. We were introduced to each class, and every group responded in a chorus of hello to us. This center is a support school. Basically, during the school year, this center provides extra help to those who need, homework help, a place for kids to spend time who have working parents, and some extra cirricular enrichment. In the summer mornings, as it is now, the center provides an hour and a half of educational enrichment (for ages 6-12), a snack, followed by an hour and a half of time to play. At noon, I head back to my house and the kids to theirs for lunch, and in the afternoon, I do not return, but the shift changes; in the afternoon, the older kids (ages 12-17) come to the center. But basically, I take this as the Villa El Salvador version of day camp...how perfect that I found camp in Peru.
During the educational time, I spent a little bit of time in each classroom. There were five, split by grade levels, and I was surprised to see the set of each room. Every room was relatively packed with children...perhaps 30 in each room. All of the children had notebooks open, pencils in hand, and backpacks at their side (the boys had Sponge Bob and the girls had Barbie). They sat on benches around tables, watched teachers handle chalk on a makeshift chalkboard, and attentively worked along. These kids were respectful and eager, and seemed to have much, much more than the kids I met in Ayacucho. I do not know if it is because their parents have so little, or because their grandparents built every inch of the land they walk on, but these kids have got educational supplies and they are seemingly grateful.
I tried to sit down next to some of the kids and talk for a little while, just to introduce myself a bit more extensively. The older kids were less interested, and their classes were more informal, so it was hard to get their attention. Some of the younger girls were excited to meet me, and wanted to ask a million questions, and make sure that I remembered their names. I spent some time with a few second grade boys who were struggling to do math problems. They had yellow tiles in a nearby box, and each time the teacher would give them an addition problem, they scrambled to lay out the tiles to help solve the equation. Math has never been my fortee, but I can handle basic addition with tiles. I worked with these two boys, who were significantly struggling, for a while.
After an orange juice and watermelon snack, the kids were released for what seems like a free choice time. The older boys scrambled to the fenced in basketball court to play soccer with a few random German volunteers who I could not communicate with at all (therefore, have no idea who they are or why they were there), a handful of the younger boys went to play fooseball in a small room, and the girls split between painting an outline of a clown in an art project and learning Peruvian dances. At this point, I had befriended a littel girl named Flor, who is 8 years old, has little silver glasses that outline her enormous brown eyes, and a hand that fit almost perfectly inside mine. Flor really wanted to dance, so that was were we went. The dance instructors kind of seemed like three women who could be dancers in music videos to me, and the dances did not seem too PC for these kids under 12. A little provocative if you asked me...but, Flor, myself, and other girls had a ball attempting them.
When dance class ended, as a tired group of dancers, we sat down. And then something remarkable happened, I spoke Spanish again. I probably only understood every third word out of the mouths of these girls, but we communicated for a long time. They wanted to know all about the names of people in my family, since they are so different, if I had children (of course), if I ride in cars, what color cars, what my favorite thing to draw is, if I came here in an airplane, if anyone died on my airplane (interestingly), what I saw in the airplane, what things are like in my country, what kinds of things I eat, and if I like flowers and dogs. After we talked for about an hour, it was time to go. I explained to the girls that I would come back the next day and we could all talk some more, and they seemed excited.
Just as I turned to leave, Flor and another girl grabbed my hands. They said that they were going home and it was on my way to the street...I shrugged and took them with me on the trek up the sandy hill. I then realized that some of the structures that I passed on my way down were the homes of these girls. Sure enough, as I passed them, one by one, the girls went home for lunch.
They may have structure and supplies (unlike Ayacucho), but these people (similar to Ayacucho) have very little. These are the smallest structures that one could possibly live in (and if you think that your studio apartment in Manhattan is small, I am telling you now, you are wrong), but these people have a pride and happiness with their developing way of life that is remarkable. Upon my exit, I learned that Deporte y Vida has only existed for 3 years, and so has that entire side of Villa El Salvador. And, across the street, in a massive expanse of sand dunes, I noticed a sing that read, Universidad. This is the future site of the University of Villa El Salvador. These people are campaigning to the Peruvian government to grant money to build a university and educate their children on a higher level; these people who live under a corrugated roof are looking to succeed on a higher level, and I am both in awe and humbled. It is such a different level of standard, excellence, and priveledge. I look forward to more exposure.
We finally reached a fenced in basketball court, that served as the entry to the center. This center was comprised of a series of classrooms with plywood walls and doors, which, one after another, we entered. Each classroom had at least one teacher and one teacher aide, and was full of eager eyed children. We were introduced to each class, and every group responded in a chorus of hello to us. This center is a support school. Basically, during the school year, this center provides extra help to those who need, homework help, a place for kids to spend time who have working parents, and some extra cirricular enrichment. In the summer mornings, as it is now, the center provides an hour and a half of educational enrichment (for ages 6-12), a snack, followed by an hour and a half of time to play. At noon, I head back to my house and the kids to theirs for lunch, and in the afternoon, I do not return, but the shift changes; in the afternoon, the older kids (ages 12-17) come to the center. But basically, I take this as the Villa El Salvador version of day camp...how perfect that I found camp in Peru.
During the educational time, I spent a little bit of time in each classroom. There were five, split by grade levels, and I was surprised to see the set of each room. Every room was relatively packed with children...perhaps 30 in each room. All of the children had notebooks open, pencils in hand, and backpacks at their side (the boys had Sponge Bob and the girls had Barbie). They sat on benches around tables, watched teachers handle chalk on a makeshift chalkboard, and attentively worked along. These kids were respectful and eager, and seemed to have much, much more than the kids I met in Ayacucho. I do not know if it is because their parents have so little, or because their grandparents built every inch of the land they walk on, but these kids have got educational supplies and they are seemingly grateful.
I tried to sit down next to some of the kids and talk for a little while, just to introduce myself a bit more extensively. The older kids were less interested, and their classes were more informal, so it was hard to get their attention. Some of the younger girls were excited to meet me, and wanted to ask a million questions, and make sure that I remembered their names. I spent some time with a few second grade boys who were struggling to do math problems. They had yellow tiles in a nearby box, and each time the teacher would give them an addition problem, they scrambled to lay out the tiles to help solve the equation. Math has never been my fortee, but I can handle basic addition with tiles. I worked with these two boys, who were significantly struggling, for a while.
After an orange juice and watermelon snack, the kids were released for what seems like a free choice time. The older boys scrambled to the fenced in basketball court to play soccer with a few random German volunteers who I could not communicate with at all (therefore, have no idea who they are or why they were there), a handful of the younger boys went to play fooseball in a small room, and the girls split between painting an outline of a clown in an art project and learning Peruvian dances. At this point, I had befriended a littel girl named Flor, who is 8 years old, has little silver glasses that outline her enormous brown eyes, and a hand that fit almost perfectly inside mine. Flor really wanted to dance, so that was were we went. The dance instructors kind of seemed like three women who could be dancers in music videos to me, and the dances did not seem too PC for these kids under 12. A little provocative if you asked me...but, Flor, myself, and other girls had a ball attempting them.
When dance class ended, as a tired group of dancers, we sat down. And then something remarkable happened, I spoke Spanish again. I probably only understood every third word out of the mouths of these girls, but we communicated for a long time. They wanted to know all about the names of people in my family, since they are so different, if I had children (of course), if I ride in cars, what color cars, what my favorite thing to draw is, if I came here in an airplane, if anyone died on my airplane (interestingly), what I saw in the airplane, what things are like in my country, what kinds of things I eat, and if I like flowers and dogs. After we talked for about an hour, it was time to go. I explained to the girls that I would come back the next day and we could all talk some more, and they seemed excited.
Just as I turned to leave, Flor and another girl grabbed my hands. They said that they were going home and it was on my way to the street...I shrugged and took them with me on the trek up the sandy hill. I then realized that some of the structures that I passed on my way down were the homes of these girls. Sure enough, as I passed them, one by one, the girls went home for lunch.
They may have structure and supplies (unlike Ayacucho), but these people (similar to Ayacucho) have very little. These are the smallest structures that one could possibly live in (and if you think that your studio apartment in Manhattan is small, I am telling you now, you are wrong), but these people have a pride and happiness with their developing way of life that is remarkable. Upon my exit, I learned that Deporte y Vida has only existed for 3 years, and so has that entire side of Villa El Salvador. And, across the street, in a massive expanse of sand dunes, I noticed a sing that read, Universidad. This is the future site of the University of Villa El Salvador. These people are campaigning to the Peruvian government to grant money to build a university and educate their children on a higher level; these people who live under a corrugated roof are looking to succeed on a higher level, and I am both in awe and humbled. It is such a different level of standard, excellence, and priveledge. I look forward to more exposure.
# posted by Marci Soifer @ 1:19 PM 
