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.
Monday, January 23, 2006
I have arrived.
Phase 2: Lima. I arrived yesterday after Aero Condor, the supposedly more legit Peruvian airline, who first delayed my flight 5 hours, then decided they were kidding and the delay would be a mere 4 hours (and when I returned to the airport, found the plane waiting for me...the sole passenger not yet on board), and then take an unscheduled stop in a small Andean village with an airport. Classic Peru. The good news is, both my luggage and I safely made it to Lima. I spent a few hours in the airport awaiting the arrival of another volunteer with a Peruvian driver from our organization, who I then spoke to for a lengthy amount of time...you guessed it...in Spanish. It was great, and I was proud of myself.
In the drive from the airport, I realized that we are really not in Ayacucho anymore. We have arrived in Lima, a big city...complete with lights, people in modern clothing, highways with lanes, and eating facilities like Chilis, Dominos, McDonalds (sorry...I cannot figure out how to use apostrophes on this keyboard), and you guessed it...the trademark of a big city...A VALET STARBUCKS in the center of the high class neighborhood of Lima (how badly does one really need coffee...valet?). Our house was not far and is located in something of a fancy neighborhood, which is much safer for us here, but feels a little strange. There are men in guard booths outside houses with gates and fences blocking front entries lining our street. And, our house is no exception. Once we got passed the guard, bell, and front gate, we entered.
The house, which is much less like the hostel style of my situation in Ayacucho and more like an actual house (shared bathrooms, big common area, beautiful garden, ect.), and I immediately claimed my bottom bunk (yeah right, top bunk for the next seven weeks...ummmm...no thanks). The volunteers who shared my start date, all 18 of them, were mostly around by this time, and I got the chance to meet a load of new people and hear everyone tell their informal story of why they are volunteering in Peru and what they hope to get out of it. So many interesting stories, life events, and to me, echos of characters.
We woke up early this morning, especially because my room is now located directly next to the kitchen...fabulous. After breakfast, the volunteers piled into our minivans and drove through Lima. We saw more of what has now become our stomping ground, and continued on to the section of Lima called Villa El Salvador, the area of the city housing all of our placements. As soon as we arrived, I noticed desert land, sand dunes, and for the first time in Lima, homes with messily placed bricks, visible wires or piping, and corregated tin or tarp acting as a roof. We entered into the front room of a small building and listened to a man named Tony give us the brief history of this community that we were coming to help.
I learned that Villa El Salvador is an absolutely amazing example of human passion, will, survival, and intelligence. In the 1960s and 1970s, loads of families from the highlands and jungle of Peru started to move to Lima for more opportunities. They moved to any vacant land they could find, and at the time, it was called things like...a human settlement. These squaters numbered about 200 by 1971, and they organized into a unit. By the time the Peruvian government came to evict them, they were ready to fight for the land they had claimed. They fought, and some died or were arrested, but an agreement occured. The people were given 25 km of land in Southern Lima. This was a challenge, because it meant that they needed to develop desert land with absolutely nothing (no water, no electrcitiy, nothing). But, they were happy to have a home.
It was at this point that they people started to organize, completely without violence. Together, an outline and plan came to fruition. They planned for blocks, holding 24 families in each block, 16 blocks, and a park in the middle, and then, the same structure, repeated. They said things like, Since we have nothing, we will make it all a new. They created their own organizations in each block, and appointed leadership for block, as if they were all seperate neighborhoods. Someone was the manager of the block, some was the secretary, someone else in charge of education, good hygiene, health issues, survaillence, youth, women, and human rights. And, there were elections every two years for these positions. Every single building, even as they stand today, was built by the hands of these early pioneers.
The government only recognized and decided to become accountable for these citizens and their structure in 1983. Since then, they have existed, day by day, empowering and helping themselves. Everything they have got, they have because of their own efforts. Today, there are 380,000 people living in Villa El Salvador.
Before leaving the neighborhood, we went to an elderly recreation and care facility to say hello, and were greeting by about a hundred smiling and waiving elderly. Tony, the man who lectured us, asked the elderly assembled to raise their hands if they were pioneers of the community, and nearly all of them did. I stood in the back of the group, and listened to the microphone echo Tonys voice throughout the room. Suddenly, I felt something on my back. I turned around to find a little women tapping me, asking for a hug and a kiss. And, when I kissed her, another stood up. And, another. And, another. It was as if this entire table had to warmly greet me. And, it was not easy for these women to get up and move around, believe me. It was then that I realized that this community is extremely interested in sharing their work and putting their energy toward improving their lives with us, and are grateful for any time we are willing to give.
This made me look forward to my first day of work tomorrow.
In the drive from the airport, I realized that we are really not in Ayacucho anymore. We have arrived in Lima, a big city...complete with lights, people in modern clothing, highways with lanes, and eating facilities like Chilis, Dominos, McDonalds (sorry...I cannot figure out how to use apostrophes on this keyboard), and you guessed it...the trademark of a big city...A VALET STARBUCKS in the center of the high class neighborhood of Lima (how badly does one really need coffee...valet?). Our house was not far and is located in something of a fancy neighborhood, which is much safer for us here, but feels a little strange. There are men in guard booths outside houses with gates and fences blocking front entries lining our street. And, our house is no exception. Once we got passed the guard, bell, and front gate, we entered.
The house, which is much less like the hostel style of my situation in Ayacucho and more like an actual house (shared bathrooms, big common area, beautiful garden, ect.), and I immediately claimed my bottom bunk (yeah right, top bunk for the next seven weeks...ummmm...no thanks). The volunteers who shared my start date, all 18 of them, were mostly around by this time, and I got the chance to meet a load of new people and hear everyone tell their informal story of why they are volunteering in Peru and what they hope to get out of it. So many interesting stories, life events, and to me, echos of characters.
We woke up early this morning, especially because my room is now located directly next to the kitchen...fabulous. After breakfast, the volunteers piled into our minivans and drove through Lima. We saw more of what has now become our stomping ground, and continued on to the section of Lima called Villa El Salvador, the area of the city housing all of our placements. As soon as we arrived, I noticed desert land, sand dunes, and for the first time in Lima, homes with messily placed bricks, visible wires or piping, and corregated tin or tarp acting as a roof. We entered into the front room of a small building and listened to a man named Tony give us the brief history of this community that we were coming to help.
I learned that Villa El Salvador is an absolutely amazing example of human passion, will, survival, and intelligence. In the 1960s and 1970s, loads of families from the highlands and jungle of Peru started to move to Lima for more opportunities. They moved to any vacant land they could find, and at the time, it was called things like...a human settlement. These squaters numbered about 200 by 1971, and they organized into a unit. By the time the Peruvian government came to evict them, they were ready to fight for the land they had claimed. They fought, and some died or were arrested, but an agreement occured. The people were given 25 km of land in Southern Lima. This was a challenge, because it meant that they needed to develop desert land with absolutely nothing (no water, no electrcitiy, nothing). But, they were happy to have a home.
It was at this point that they people started to organize, completely without violence. Together, an outline and plan came to fruition. They planned for blocks, holding 24 families in each block, 16 blocks, and a park in the middle, and then, the same structure, repeated. They said things like, Since we have nothing, we will make it all a new. They created their own organizations in each block, and appointed leadership for block, as if they were all seperate neighborhoods. Someone was the manager of the block, some was the secretary, someone else in charge of education, good hygiene, health issues, survaillence, youth, women, and human rights. And, there were elections every two years for these positions. Every single building, even as they stand today, was built by the hands of these early pioneers.
The government only recognized and decided to become accountable for these citizens and their structure in 1983. Since then, they have existed, day by day, empowering and helping themselves. Everything they have got, they have because of their own efforts. Today, there are 380,000 people living in Villa El Salvador.
Before leaving the neighborhood, we went to an elderly recreation and care facility to say hello, and were greeting by about a hundred smiling and waiving elderly. Tony, the man who lectured us, asked the elderly assembled to raise their hands if they were pioneers of the community, and nearly all of them did. I stood in the back of the group, and listened to the microphone echo Tonys voice throughout the room. Suddenly, I felt something on my back. I turned around to find a little women tapping me, asking for a hug and a kiss. And, when I kissed her, another stood up. And, another. And, another. It was as if this entire table had to warmly greet me. And, it was not easy for these women to get up and move around, believe me. It was then that I realized that this community is extremely interested in sharing their work and putting their energy toward improving their lives with us, and are grateful for any time we are willing to give.
This made me look forward to my first day of work tomorrow.
