It started with me picking up large foam alphabet jigsaw pieces. Within two seconds I was attacked by half of first grade. Unable to control my laughter, I fell to the floor and was soon being swotted by 5 cute cuddly monsters. As I was buried under the a's to z's of this world, lost in laughter with the rest of my grade of 6 year old terriers, I thought I'd better get up of the floor before the teacher walked in. It was then I realized, I AM the teacher.
Some would argue you need to be a six year old to teach a six year old, well, at least have the ability to be six all over again. And what a privilege it is. Especially with these children of creation. We have eight in all in Grade One. And though not allowed to have favorites, even amongst the cuteness of it all, Edwin the orphan, is mine. From my first week, it was clear he just needed help, but then they all do. The school is based in Sachaca, a pueblo joven. A cute name meaning young town. Sort of hides the fact that in other countries, a Shanty town is equally befitting. SO, with the poverty that exists, parents working in the surrounding fields under the shadow of three great volcanoes, Misty, Chachani and Pichu Pichu, earning something of a pittance, by Peruvian standards too, the children absorb and carry all the problems that come from the background of poverty, alcohol abuse, arguments, beatings, general abuse and the great hidden killer of all, shame. When I was first high fiving with some of the kids, it was terrifying to see them cower as they thought a raised hand meant only one thing as they turned there backs to protect themselves from an oncoming beating. That was sad to witness. So we teach and never know from day to day, which child will turn up, and sit there, gazing into the distance to a place far from here. Unresponsive, hidden and sunken. It takes time to bring the child around. This is where being a six year old helps. No adult conversation will heal the pain, but being simply playful and there, slowly works. For them to know they exist, can be loved and are important, and rewarded with attention, the world begins to change. And amongst this, we teach.
So to dear Edwin. My second day, during the lunch break, I'd written on the board A to F, just to teach the beginnings of the alphabet and Edwin came in .He looked at me sitting on the table as I thought how was I going to make this fun, when he started to copy the alphabet. Within two days, I'd seen how difficult it was for him to write. All the tension trapped within a pencil, gripped in his hand, as he struggled to write, tearing the pages as he dug his pencil in. Then if it's too much, and he feels the others are watching , the slightest tease, the shame that exists, envelops him, his teeth become clenched and jaw taught, and the breathing shallow and angry. When I saw this on my first day, Edwin became my favorite. So, there he was, writing beautifully on the board, each letter correct, we exchanging a Darme Cinco..a high five. His face radiated, the smile broke the dirt on his cheeks and he carried on, and as I called out the letters for him to write and circle, I started to cry. It was one of those golden moments, where creation shines through.
Teaching with Jacqueline, we've seen such progress within the last three weeks. Edwin can now write and his book doesn't look like a ticker tape creation. Angel, the youngest of 12, is writing too. Can hear the phonetics we are teaching, can hear, identify and write them down. Yep, when Angel was doing this and my hand sore from each high five, I had another tear of joy. Angel doesn't smile that much, but when he does, little miracles can be seen. Felix. Yep, he's my favorite too. Every so often he finds the ability to listen and then does it. Otherwise he's distracted by the sound of the wind passing by, anything than the work in front of him. Then when asking "what is this" as we take turns pointing to what were are teaching, he'll run-up to the board and slap the correct answer, turn to his friends and tell them too, but when it's his turn, he turns into a limp piece of spaghetti, smiles so warmly and I can see the mind has gone somewhere else as he's so embarrassed. But when he does get it write, we don't exchange a high five. We dance a little jig of joy. The other day, he took his school shirt of and showed an old red t-shirt, with a slogan printed " Built for Speed". That day, a new Maverick was born. Edwin became Goose and Top Gun was reborn. Edwin, Angel and Felix we sit on the one table and help as much as we can as we balance grade one with the other five bundles of joy we have the honour of teaching.
Alex, Felix's brother, is the brains of the group. Every task he does, it's easy, he knows it, and only if we can get his maths better, we can get him back into grade two. He loves getting it right, he too, receiving the attention and recognition of his life, and loves high fiving. Jonathan, he's the quite one. Three brothers at the school. Never looses his pencil or notebook. Does his work and learns fast. As Jac's and I look on , he's the one we believe who one day , might obtain a better life. Then we have Alejandra. Cute, sharp , even dangerous. She knows it all, and does the work when she feels like it. The game of No/Yes, can take on a new meaning with her, though nobody's fool. Raul, looking like a boxer from Bugsy Malone, shouts out the correct answer all the time. He takes quite a fancy to covering himself in selotape, to wearing a banana skin on his head, again the youngest in his family, he loves playing and bright too. Magdalena, who only started school four or five weeks ago is challenging Alex to be the brain of grade one. Her brother in grade two, she met for the first time 6 weeks ago, when she came down form the Highlands with her father, to join up once again with mother and brother who'd she hadn't seen for 4 years. That's the struggle of the family here. Unable to afford to stay together, they wait for the day it can happen. Every task we do, her voice scream across "profeeeeeeeeee, ya termine"
Did I say they are all my favorites, but Edwin, he gets the most attention, the orphan who gets beaten up at home. Life has to be better, and fun. To learn, to be able to have hope. And so over the last three weeks, the classes are speeding up, the La, Le, Li, Lo, Lu`s of this world are remembered as are more and more. We can teach more and look for the balance of learning. Though writing can be difficult, we're soon to breach another junction, count to 50, sequences of even and odd and more.
And now with Tracy, Seema, Bhavini, Paayal and myself, the guard changes once more, but the love poured on these kids remains as pure as ever and there progress is amazing to watch. Do they act like angels each day? Of course not. Sometimes it can be the most draining of days and we never know till we arrive. So we plan and plan and then throw the plans up in the air as we adapt. But one thing for sure, they are learning
And been fed! GVI with the volunteer funds has set up a hot meal each lunchtime, which also goes into helping the community as the two dinner ladies (who look like they could wrestle an ox to the ground with an arm tied behind there backs) can sell extra food to the community .At the mid morning break the children receive hot milk and bread (I'd like to think we get oxygen and a red bull for the rest of the morning). Now the handing out of hot milk in beakers is a job I can't do. The smell sends me into spasms, so I get to open and close the toilet, aka the long drop, instead. After lunch, it's wash time. Face, hands and hair. This is fun to be a part of. The temptation to start a water fight, oh it's dangerous....Though come summer school, we already have plans for a huge Water fight. Oh yes!! (But don't tell Carla, that on Jac's last day, with Megan, the three of us had a huge water fight as the kids ate upstairs. What fun to through a pale of water over some one who thinks I jest? Afterwards we told the kids it had been raining as I was dripping form head to toe, Megan saturated from a final dousing from me and Jac's in hysterics as she was the star of the wet t-shirt contest. The kids when they returned, they knew. In fact the smile on their faces was like watching an adult look at us and letting us off, just this once)
So it's not all work. With the teachers there, we've had a few lunches ourselves at the local specialty restaurant. Not that I knew what was so special about it until i ordered the triple. I thought it was getting roast pork, a stuffed pepper of vegetables and some cerviche (marinated fish). Thing is, in the back of the van as I arrived I didn't seen the sign ......... Restaurant of the PIG. It serves pig and not much else. So what arrived on my plate was infact roast pig, crackling, stuffed peppers with PIG and marinated sliced pigs head. GULP. It tasted as you would imagine. And I didn't get to go to the toilet for three days afterwards. I've still to have guinea pig, but after watching the two local teachers question Helen why she wasn't going to eat the head of her furry dead pet, they then proceeded to share the head, to the sound of crackling bones and a mild sort of sucking noise. NICE. And yes, we've been back since!!!
You'll see from the photos we've had some weekend trips too. The photos speak louder than words could describe the beauty of the landscape here. Though on the bike ride, Jac's ate dirt, twice. Oh sweet dirt in your face!!!
And alas my climb up ChaChani was halted at base camp, 5300m. I found out I was more susceptible to altitude sickness than I COULD HAVE IMAGINED. And spent the night vomiting 20 x. I never did climb to the summit at 6025m but spent 12 hours in my tent, dazed, dehydrated and with a thumping headache. God was I glad to get down the next day. Couldn't even sleep at first as the resting breath didn't deliver enough oxygen to me and I kept waking up with gulps. I'll let you know how the next attempt goes!
And as I write, we are in the middle of a Parro. A huge transport strike. My visit to Cusco and Machu Picchu was cancelled last week because the road to Cusco was still blockaded. And today is the second day of the third Parro that's been called. Last time I went into the centre of town. And The Plaza de Armes was covered in demonstrators, fires, blockades, marches with Che Guevara flags etc etc. I was calling Nora at the time from a phone booth I used and as the demonstration built up, the owner closed his doors, but popped his head into my booth, gave me the thumbs up sign that all is well and I carried on chatting to Nora. But this time, I'm avoiding being a sight seer as the Army has been drafted in this time and it's not pretty. Plus my phone booth man has told me he's closing as it's going to be dangerous. In Lima they've used tear gas on the teachers strike (yes there's a strike for them too) throwing missiles shaped like barbed fingers and ball bearings. All we need is Kate Addie here from the BBC and I know it's then a serious riot!!!! Up the revolution I say. Bolivia is proving it can be done and from what I've seen over the last 10mths here, there's a lot of angry poor people and a few rich people. The void in between being filled with resentment.
So, I'm spending another day in the Casa de Avila, my home, whilst the centre of town throws a riot. And tomorrow , I hope to be on a private bus to Cusco for my re arranged trip to Machu Picchu. I can but hope. Though last night, after going to the flicks, as in the evenings, normality seems to come back, I was able to get a taxi. I asked the man if he was on strike. Yes he replied. And tomorrow there's a strike too I asked... Yes he replied, and now, are you're on strike, yes he replied. So I took an invisible taxi back home and wondered if the Peruvian logic of life is more complicated than the understanding of the logic of a woman
And as I jest, I do wonder what will happen here. No schools as the teachers are on strike. No transport because of the strike. Roads blocked to Cusco from Arequipa/Puno becuase of contaminated water form the mining companies
Something is wrong here, very wrong, in the way of live, and it's hard not to want to be objective, but yeah, up the Quechua Freedom Fighters I say. But please..............can I first get to see Machu Picchu. Thank you
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