Yesterday I went to the most immense farmer´s market I have ever seen...there were more fruits and vegetables that were unfamiliar to me than I could have imagined...and instead of spreading out wide, the vendors have what looked like stairs up at least twenty feet into the air, packed with produce, the bright colors, textures, and smells and crammed with diligent local Arequipeñas...there was raw meat being processed, sweets being pawned on the innocent, a three piece traditional band, loads of pungent cheeses, unidentified sauces, infinite types of potatoes and all without refrigeration, a bit disconcerting for with the meats...and it was incredible how much food you could buy for so little money...which made me a little uncomfortable...It just seems like these people work just as hard for their money, but receive so little in return for their work...I struggle daily with the confusion between the disadvantaged, lowered standards, simpler, better or just plain different. My mind begs for a value classification on everything I see...but there seems to be none.
Last night almost all of the volunteers attended a birthday party and going away party for one of the german boys here who speaks impeccable English and Spanish, is tall, skinny and squeaky clean, with gelled hair, brand new suede shoes, slim jeans and a black collared western-style shirt...what a style. He is living with a host family...and because we waited for EVERYONE to be ready at the same time, before cramming 11 people in two mini-taxis, we were an hour and a half late for the 8:30 arrival time...I felt incredibly rude...and everything seemed a bit forced...When we walked into the house, I was impressed by the formality of their parlor, was it was referred to as...with overstuffed furniture, the white building stone, sillar, which rubs off on your clothes like chalk if you brush up against it...a white faux animal fur carpet atop ornate, patterned multi-shade wooden floors, which seem to be common, because they are also in our apartment...Jacob, whose party it was, told me that the rest of the house is normal, this is simply for first impressions...and what an impression it made on all of us...it was almost embarassingly formal for such an occasion. But, once we all had a few drinks, things lightened up a bit, and jokes about language and culture in our current and shared shared situation arose and everyone was merry...the problem was that we all had dinner before hand...and came to this house...expecting simply dessert, but there was also way too much on the side of hors d´oeuvres...after a few hours of being force fed by guilt and unsuredness of cultural expectations, a few of us left to go home and sleep off the food hangover...it was a marathon, and my stomach was exhausted. What I liked best is that we sang Happy Birthday in three languages...and the host family looked so pleased so see all of Jacob´s friends there. It was very sweet.
Overall, my Spanish is improving as I grow more comfortable speaking my mind, and making mistakes in front of native speakers and others who have had more practice than I. Because I like to be such an active participant and contributor to whatever I am involved in...I can´t help myself but to speak my mind at our weekly meetings for INTIWAWA...tonight we have a meeting with all of the parents of the children who attend the afterschool homework help and snack...I see a lot of problems with the students...especially unpreparedness for homework, weather that is a problem with the child and her motivation, or the teacher and their lack of fulfilling their duties to provide adequate information for the students to be able to do their homework. Often the students have advanced homework, with very little understanding of the basics...like expondents, without knowing how to multiply properly...or filling a basics of chemistry worksheet without a textbook, or prior notes from class. One school we work with might close...the parents think the school is so bad due to the teachers, that they are sending their children elsewhere...and there is certainly no shortage of schools...each little village has at least one...all are Catholic and private, where the parents get money to pay for school is still a mystery...the community we work in produces bricks, has a federal prison and a bull fighting ring just a few miles away...but this doesn´t seem to be enough to support everyone...because so many of the children have mutilated shoes, decaying teeth, and a generally poor education.
As everyone says here...vamos a ver...we will see.
Until next time.
Brazos
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment