There is nothing quite like being in another culture in order to see your own. I suppose it is just easier to see the assumptions others take for granted.  I count it pure grace to then be willing to ask “what assumptions do I take for granted?” 

I hold this opinion carefully as I have been here for such a short period of time but it seems to me that racism is endemic in life here.  The indigeneous peoples are clearly on the bottom of the social and economic pile. 

The way I experience it is that racist assumptions are like an invisible net of assumptions and hidden attitudes that covers the entire planet.  Another assumption is that violence gets you what you want.  I don’t know about any statistics about violence here in Ecuador but from what I see and hear from volunteers at El Centro, there is a lot of violence within families directed, of course, against women and children.  Just last week, Tony, one of the volunteers here accompanied parents to the house of a relative in one of the provinces, on their trip to return their 14 year old son home after the father had beaten him up.  Dan, another volunteer, has told me of a mother who beat her son to the point of pushing him to the ground and kicking him in front of her.  A volunteer who had been here longer than he had been at the time, intervened to stop Dan from stopping the mother telling Dan that if he intervened, the boy would get it worse at home. 

Violence works.  Dark skin is bad.  Indigeneous culture is expendible. 

Feel familiar? 

These invisible “taken for granted” assumptions join societies together and are so endemic that we only notice them with difficulty and recognize them with defensiveness. 

Only, there is another net, the net of the Gospel that joins people together without violence. Somedays it feels like a Herculean task to even imagine replacing one net of assumptions with the other net of the Gospel. Faith for me now means realizing that God has already drawn the liberating net of the Gospel  all over God’s good world so that all I need to do is to fall into it.

Friends -- Let us pray for the bishops of our church throughout the world as many meet in Lambeth for the international gathering of bishops. 25% of the bishops are boycotting this meeting: it must be stressful for the ones who are there. Our own Bishop Marc has been very vocal in his support of LGBTQ people and has boldy redesigned the way people are married in our diocese.  He is therefore taking very visible stands.  Let us all hold him in our prayers and in our heart with the strong support he has offered us and the strong leadership he has offered to the entire diocese and the communion. From what I read, many bishops are building relationships that are warm and open to the Spirit: may that bear fruit for the entire communion.

Mark

I attended the graduation tonight of the five women in the adult literacy and math class I have had the pleasure of assisting these past few weeks. The lead teacher  in the literacy section, Mike, asked me to work with Rosa, who is the student who has the most difficulty in reading.  Indeed, while the other students can actually read whole sentences, she has difficulties in remembering her letters or identifying single letters much less entire words and she especially confuses letters for which there is no corresponding sound in Kichuah, the indigeneous language of he Andean countries. There are about 6 Spanish letters and sounds like that. 

They prepared a wonderful meal of chicken and rice and potatoes.   Rosa made the potatoes and sat next to me along with her three year old daughter.  I so enjoyed chatting aimably, simply and humorously with her.  I was very happy to give her a chance to share some of her knowledge which is of her own first language, Kichuah, the language of the indigeneous people in the Andean countries. She delighted in teaching me the word for "delicious" which is "mishkii-mishkii", a lovely sound. When the other several Kichuah speaking women in the class heard that and my, apparently, quite acceptable pronunciation of it, they laughed and added their own ways of describing our meal.

As we said goodbye, Rosa's eyes were moist as were mine. I was so happy to have been some help to her these past few weeks. She can now write her own name and the names of a few friends of hers with minimal help. This is a big accomplishment for her, one that I am honored to have had a part in.

 

One year of Spanish learned from CDs is not quite enough to conduct interesting daily conversations in Spanish and the more I learn of Spanish, the more I realize that I know very little.  It is one thing to be able to recognize a particular verb form while reading and quite another to produce it in a conversation. People are kind here and know how to speak a bit more slowly and clearly and use a simpler vocabulary for me. Still, I do feel frustrated. I wish I did not have to think so much or pause so much of feel awkward at times. I know that the only way through this is through more practice and through being kind to myself.  No choice around that. 

Actually, I have heard some 3 year olds with a larger Spanish vocabulary than mine: I guess that is no surprise really. 

Patience, kindness to myself.

Saturday, July 5
Today, I went with my teacher to try a very old Ecuadorian delicacy, kwee (cui) which is BBQ guinea pig -- the sort of guinea pig that appears on your plate with head and teeth and claws.  I thought I would eat it just to prove how adapted and cool I am but honestly and surprisingly, I liked it -- a lot.

No, it is not like chicken except for the fact that it is white meat. It is much more flavorful than chicken. Guinea pig tastes a bit fatty, not gamey, very fresh and clean, ok, a bit like chicken -- but not too much. It tastes better than chicken and certainly better than the KFC or Texas chicken that people love down here.  The skin is a bit tough probably because it over-cooked and there are lots of small bones and I did not like seeing the claws. 

But I have now joined the indigeneous people here in enjoying this delicacy and praying in gratitude for the life of the cui. Indigeneous people here for centuries have eaten cui to give them strength, good company, and have used them for medical diagnostic purposes.

I am grateful for the wisdom and good taste of the indigeneous people here as well as for the life of the cui.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Today I wandered throughout the local huge mall called just “El Super-Maxi” and explored the avenue where we live.  Mainly, El Super-Maxi is an American mall with KFC, McDonald’s Tony Roma’s, to name a few of the American companies present in this mall.  Most of the mannequins have skin as white as mine though most of the people here have much darker skin. I went to the Tony Roma’s, sipped a glass of Chardonnay and read from Vincent Donovan’s book Christianity Rediscovered.  When I read a passage in which the author recounts a Masai elder’s understanding of God’s work, I began to cry.  I was not weeping but a few tears came down my cheeks and I felt deeply deeply touched and relieved to cry. 

Why was I crying? I was very very touched by the image of God’s work the Masai offered.  God, according to this Masai elder, was like a lion hunting. All of the lion is involved in the hunt – ears, nose, legs, and the strength of the lion’s entire body. When the lion goes for the kill, in Masai lore, it embraces the victim with both paws and by killing it, incorporates it into itself.  Donovan calls this story “the Lion is God”.

And that got me to cry. Not that I myself spontaneously think of God as a lion but I like much within this image.  There is the lion’s strength, total dedication, a desire to become one, and a surprising reversal of how we Christians usually think that we eat God.  God, the lion, pursues and devours us.  God pursues us vigorously and wants to become one with us.  I have experienced enough of God’s pursuit to know that I sometimes feel hunted and killed and consumed.  Life ain’t all Kumbaya.   

Not living in the plains of Africa where I relate to lions, I later put this image into my own terms but long before I translated this image into my own terms, I was tearing up and felt very relieved to do so.   What I thought later is that God is constantly pursuing people in order to break down any barriers that prevent us from being in communion with each other – class, race, education, geography, ethnic identity.  I thought of how graced I feel to have been led to meet people here in Quito I never would have met without El Centro.  I sensed how El Centro brings together as friends so many middle and upper class Americans, young and old, well educated and not so well educated, with people living in 8 by 10 smelly rooms surviving on about $5 a day.  i see how we share our gifts with each other and that we never would know one another without God's work at El Centro.  God, the relentless hunting lion, pursues us to make us one.   

That is what the church project is all about – the slow but relentless pursuit of whatever prevents real communion between people, God, and all creation.  And God, the lion, according to one Masai chief, devours us so that we can become one with all that exists. 

To me, this image of God’s activity is worth a few tears.  And, writing as one who rarely cries, it feels very relieving.

Tuesday,June 24.
Leaving the colonial era churches, one teacher from El Centro who was referred to as “abuelita”, "dear grandmother", took us to three homes of families participating in El Centro.  

When I worked in Appalachia, I saw very small homes for entire families of 7 – 11 people and know that lots of kids -- 6 or so -- sleep in one or two be

ds. Appalachia's poverty is rural so there is at least the chance to be surrounded by trees and animals and get fresh air.  People in Appalachia are also less crowded together.   I'm not being a romantic about rural life here but only pointing out facts. It is also harder outside of the city to go to the "corner store" to get milk and aspirin or to get to a hospital for an emergency visit.

I have never seen an entire family of 8 - 11 people live, eat, sleep, and use a more or less working toilet in a dark and smelly room about 8' by 10'.  What got to me most was the smell that 11 people living together in very tight quarters make.  Honestly, the smell almost overpowered me.  Kids who come to El Centro have to shower daily but their clothes are a different matter. They sometimes wear the same clothes 24/7 for a week or two – multiply that by 11 or so people in close quarters and the stench is no surprise.  Nor are the flies and fleas in these cuartitos (small rooms).  We visited three such “homes” and I felt like I was in another world.  Life in homes like this is unhealthy and risky. To mention one risk, the rate of incest is very high. 

What is remarkable is how important are the very straightforward things that Ell Centro offers, like a daily shower.  That all by itself is a lot.  The families of El Centro have opportunities which fundamentally change their lives.  The not only learn job skills but emotional and interpersonal skills that change them from the inside out.  When I see kids at El Centro play and learn in peace, I sense the just what an extraordinary opportunity El Centro offers them and their families. Yesterday, for example, I substituted for a teacher in a first grade English class which began by singing the "auto-dominio" song, a song about self-mastery, which according to this lovely ditty, is the key to success (llave al exito). Students learn emotional skill that will fundamentally change their lives. 
  
There are thousands of families living in "cuartitos" just like these throughout Quito, the result of massive migration from the rural areas of Ecuador to the city. Most of these rural people need lots more skills and personal formation to make it in the city. 
Thus, the work of El Centro.

Tuesday June 24

Today we took a very well organized and informative tour of several of the main colonial era churches in Quito including the basilica with a statue of John Paul II who visited Quito some years ago and was much beloved, as well as the colonial era Jesuit and Franciscan churches.  The number of stunning statues, paintings, vestments and other art pieces in these churches is overwhelming. The Jesuit church with its Baroque style has intricate decorations where ever it was possible to decorate and fill in space. The walls and ceiling are covered in gold leaf, about 50 kilos of gold in the church.  The first two very large painting the visitor sees walking in are respectively, paintings of the Last Judgment with sinners in one painting on the left and saints on the right.  It is interesting that there is far more detail in the painting depicting the damned and their sins.  In case the viewer does not quite get why they are punished as horribly as they are, the artist wrote “gluttony”, “pride” “usury” “faithlessness” among other sins next to their respective (literally) hellish punishments. Our guides made clear to us that the only native faces depicted are devilish faces while everyone else is white and European, principally Spanish and French.  One guide whispered to us that this art encodes racism everywhere you look. I wonder why he felt he had to whisper.

Somehow though I was in awe at the enormity of the artistry in these churches, I also felt very sad and angry leaving these churches.  As understandable as all this art is given the theology of the times and the thrill Europeans felt at "discovering" a large conquerable world, clearly Spanish artists used native artists to make Spanish style art while either ignoring native artistic styles or using native faces to represent devils or the damned. I felt the weight of the Spanish colonial legacy in ways I had not felt before. I can not imagine what it must be like for the Jesuits and Franciscans to live in a church like this.  For me, this heritage would be a burden to carry as well as an incentive to create a church that values indigeneous peoples, their ways of life and spirituality.

June 27, 2008  -- First Impressions

I arrived here last Friday the 20^th around 9 PM and Padre Juan (Father John Halligan, SJ) drove me to the Centro deftly driving through signs pointing tourists to the not-for-real- Middle of the world (Mitad del Mundo).  The real equator is not here in Quito but tourists get a kick out of learning things like how water spins in a drain differently in the southern hemisphere than in the north and some other pieces of interesting trivia. We also passed by the largest mall I have ever seen – four stories of one store after another including a supermarket, and the usual American fast food places like KFC, McDonalds, Domino’s pizza.

KFC in Quito? Why should I be surprised? I donot think that the families I have come to serve and learn from would frequent any of these stores but obviously there is an Americanized middle class here which  is quickly catching on to American values like eating quickly on the run while away from home.

Waking up on the morning of the 21^st, I did not feel affected by the altitude though I am glad I had no need to climb hills.  I joined a group of teenagers and their chaperone from Texas on a bus ride to Ottovalo, an amazing market town with stall after stall of excellent hand made cotton, silk, and wool clothing including shawls, ponchos, t-shirts, shirts and pants.  I bought a hand made poncho for about $28.  I found it funny that it was so easy to find pizza and lasagna (spelled lasaña), an obvious sign of a restaurant’s ingenuity to satisfy tourists.