Wednesday, January 11, 2006
The mix, listed
I have got a whole mix of things to report today...for a change of pace, I will list them.
1. On Monday, I brought a host of yarn into the prison, to give some work to the women inside. I am having a couple things made, and my program coordinator, Marisol, came in to help explain what I was hoping to create and communicate my vision of the final products. As soon as I walked in, however, I was temporarily distracted by both Willy running to me and jumping into my arms and by the women hoarding around me when they heard that there was work to be had (this is pretty typical when business is in the picture). Marisol broke into my explanation and distributing out the yarn (complete with little illustrations made by yours truly) in Spanish, and I stood on the side with one ear to what was going on, and the other busily making noises with Willy and tossing him around on my hip. All of a sudden, I heard one of the women ask a question about the size of my breasts (called titas), for knitting purposes, and Marisol turned and posed the question to me. I was not sure that I heard correctly, so I asked her to repeat the question. Willy, the voice on my hip, then constructed his little fingers into a pointing fist, and moved closer to my chest, shouting, TITAS! I looked down at this two year old and smiled at him, laughing. He then repeated himself with a question for confirmation, TITAS, YAH? Willy giggled, and the women uproared. I could not help but laugh hysterically. Yup, Willy, those are indeed what you think they are. This kid is on his way.
2. I have embarked upon some kind of daily routine with the kids inside, beginning with random romping around, and ending with an organized activity that I prepare the day before. Thanks to many of your suggestions, we have been playing Simon Dice (Simon Says), tracing body parts ---like hands and feet--- on paper, labeling them, and placing them on the wall, and my personal favortie thus far, singing in Spanish. I have learned and continue to learn a series of about 8 songs for children...and it is rather funny. Not only funny for the mothers, because they laugh at both my pronounciation and the fact that I need a cheat sheet inscribed with the words to sing a silly little nursery rhyme, but it is funny for me, because it is fascinating to watch these kids grow. One day, Christian may not remember his colors, and the next day, he is a wiz. Another day, Nick will continually shout, WOW WOW WOW WOW through our game of Simon Dice, and put his hands on his arms when I called out knees, and the next day, he will put his hands on his head when I said so (while still shouting his favorite word over and over again, of course). One day, Jorge Luis will hide from his overwhelming shyness and poke his head out on ocassion, and another day, he will plop down on my knee, give me a hug, kick off his shoe, and ask where a crayon is to trace his foot. You cannot blame him...I mean, we are having fun. Who knew that I was a preschool teacher? And, in Spanish? Suprise...for you and me both.
3. Today was visiting day inside, as all Wednesdays are for women and children. It felt more chaotic this week than those previously (I can hardly believe this is the fourth one I have witnessed...time is flying). I think it is because I am now more in tune to things going on around me, and observing the daily routines and intimate moments of the women and the children. About 10 people today asked me if I had children, and why not (that is becoming my new favorite). A couple of people asked me how I got my eyes or skin to be such light colors, to which I smile (and forget about the questions I get about the freckles sprinkled all over my shoulders). One person asked me what Michigan is like, and I said...cold. The other volunteer ran a more busy English class today, since tons of women decided today that they wanted to not only learn English, but they wanted their relatives to learn English too. Mauricia, the mother of Willy, decided to join in today, leaving him alone with a plate of spaghetti, a half a papaya, and a chicken drumstick with the skin on. Now, I do not know much about eating with children, but I do know that the plate in front of this child was a little much for him. I watched him try to shovel the entire papaya into his mouth in one shot...failing miserably, and then listened to him scream things at me in Spanish when I took his fork and tried to cut it into pieces. The spaghetti was literally all over both he and I by the time he had shoveled a little into his mouth. And, by the time he got to the drumstick, I let him go to town. He got some into his mouth, and spit out the skin, asking me to eat it for him. I would really do anything for this kid at this point, but I had to draw the line at eating chicken skin that had been in his mouth already.
The most interesting part of visiting day, and also the saddest, was watching Suzie, the mother of Pierro, greet her family. I immediately noticed that she was alone on her blanket, and rose to greet her family uneasily, dressed in an atypical outfit for her, which looked sloppily like a pair of filthy pajamas (she is usually very tailored). Her eyes were red and puffy, and the clenched fists she threw around the four family members grasped onto wrinkled toilet paper. I immediately asked Mauricia, sitting next to Willy and I, where Pierro was. She answered abruptly and without affect, that Pierro left yesterday. He is gone. And she continued to tell me that Willy would leave in September, because there would be no way to feed him either. I looked up at Suzie with her family, and wondered if she could sleep last night, alone in her bed. Pierro would never be there again, and who knows how long she would have to sleep inside the prison, alone. I cannot imagine.
4. In other news, I have found the post office, have not had any real illness, finished two books to date, am still asked for my handshake on the street, just be nature of the color of my skin, and know where to get the good ice cream in town. Life in Ayacucho continues...and it being the rainy season, must stop being reported about here and now, since I can already smell the oncoming rain and must get back to my house.
Stay tuned...and again, thanks for reading.
1. On Monday, I brought a host of yarn into the prison, to give some work to the women inside. I am having a couple things made, and my program coordinator, Marisol, came in to help explain what I was hoping to create and communicate my vision of the final products. As soon as I walked in, however, I was temporarily distracted by both Willy running to me and jumping into my arms and by the women hoarding around me when they heard that there was work to be had (this is pretty typical when business is in the picture). Marisol broke into my explanation and distributing out the yarn (complete with little illustrations made by yours truly) in Spanish, and I stood on the side with one ear to what was going on, and the other busily making noises with Willy and tossing him around on my hip. All of a sudden, I heard one of the women ask a question about the size of my breasts (called titas), for knitting purposes, and Marisol turned and posed the question to me. I was not sure that I heard correctly, so I asked her to repeat the question. Willy, the voice on my hip, then constructed his little fingers into a pointing fist, and moved closer to my chest, shouting, TITAS! I looked down at this two year old and smiled at him, laughing. He then repeated himself with a question for confirmation, TITAS, YAH? Willy giggled, and the women uproared. I could not help but laugh hysterically. Yup, Willy, those are indeed what you think they are. This kid is on his way.
2. I have embarked upon some kind of daily routine with the kids inside, beginning with random romping around, and ending with an organized activity that I prepare the day before. Thanks to many of your suggestions, we have been playing Simon Dice (Simon Says), tracing body parts ---like hands and feet--- on paper, labeling them, and placing them on the wall, and my personal favortie thus far, singing in Spanish. I have learned and continue to learn a series of about 8 songs for children...and it is rather funny. Not only funny for the mothers, because they laugh at both my pronounciation and the fact that I need a cheat sheet inscribed with the words to sing a silly little nursery rhyme, but it is funny for me, because it is fascinating to watch these kids grow. One day, Christian may not remember his colors, and the next day, he is a wiz. Another day, Nick will continually shout, WOW WOW WOW WOW through our game of Simon Dice, and put his hands on his arms when I called out knees, and the next day, he will put his hands on his head when I said so (while still shouting his favorite word over and over again, of course). One day, Jorge Luis will hide from his overwhelming shyness and poke his head out on ocassion, and another day, he will plop down on my knee, give me a hug, kick off his shoe, and ask where a crayon is to trace his foot. You cannot blame him...I mean, we are having fun. Who knew that I was a preschool teacher? And, in Spanish? Suprise...for you and me both.
3. Today was visiting day inside, as all Wednesdays are for women and children. It felt more chaotic this week than those previously (I can hardly believe this is the fourth one I have witnessed...time is flying). I think it is because I am now more in tune to things going on around me, and observing the daily routines and intimate moments of the women and the children. About 10 people today asked me if I had children, and why not (that is becoming my new favorite). A couple of people asked me how I got my eyes or skin to be such light colors, to which I smile (and forget about the questions I get about the freckles sprinkled all over my shoulders). One person asked me what Michigan is like, and I said...cold. The other volunteer ran a more busy English class today, since tons of women decided today that they wanted to not only learn English, but they wanted their relatives to learn English too. Mauricia, the mother of Willy, decided to join in today, leaving him alone with a plate of spaghetti, a half a papaya, and a chicken drumstick with the skin on. Now, I do not know much about eating with children, but I do know that the plate in front of this child was a little much for him. I watched him try to shovel the entire papaya into his mouth in one shot...failing miserably, and then listened to him scream things at me in Spanish when I took his fork and tried to cut it into pieces. The spaghetti was literally all over both he and I by the time he had shoveled a little into his mouth. And, by the time he got to the drumstick, I let him go to town. He got some into his mouth, and spit out the skin, asking me to eat it for him. I would really do anything for this kid at this point, but I had to draw the line at eating chicken skin that had been in his mouth already.
The most interesting part of visiting day, and also the saddest, was watching Suzie, the mother of Pierro, greet her family. I immediately noticed that she was alone on her blanket, and rose to greet her family uneasily, dressed in an atypical outfit for her, which looked sloppily like a pair of filthy pajamas (she is usually very tailored). Her eyes were red and puffy, and the clenched fists she threw around the four family members grasped onto wrinkled toilet paper. I immediately asked Mauricia, sitting next to Willy and I, where Pierro was. She answered abruptly and without affect, that Pierro left yesterday. He is gone. And she continued to tell me that Willy would leave in September, because there would be no way to feed him either. I looked up at Suzie with her family, and wondered if she could sleep last night, alone in her bed. Pierro would never be there again, and who knows how long she would have to sleep inside the prison, alone. I cannot imagine.
4. In other news, I have found the post office, have not had any real illness, finished two books to date, am still asked for my handshake on the street, just be nature of the color of my skin, and know where to get the good ice cream in town. Life in Ayacucho continues...and it being the rainy season, must stop being reported about here and now, since I can already smell the oncoming rain and must get back to my house.
Stay tuned...and again, thanks for reading.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Picture from the outing on Friday
So, another volunteer took this picture and I was able to figure out how to get it on the blog. This is from Friday, and the little boy on my lap is Willy (I promise that he had a ball, but at this moment, he was struggling with the melting creamsicle all over his person). You may remember him from the story from the Christmas party, or other blog entries. Anyway, here I am, and here is Willy, and you can even see some of the other volunteers, as we sat in the Plaza enjoying the icey treats.
I will try to figure out more of this technology stuff and picture business in the future. For now, hang on to this one. In the meantime, I will continue reading, ¨Blancanieves¨(¨Snow White¨) to my little friends, playing hide and seek, and teaching myself ¨If you´re happy and you know it...¨ in Spanish.
Later...
