El primer viaje

(events correspond to November of 2010)


So I know it's annoying to hear me complain (again!), but this time I swear it's warranted, because it has been so.. RIDICULOUSLY.. HOT!!! And the worst part is, it's inescapable. I survived three weeks of summer in Arizona once, and the only way I got through it was with carefully planned trips between one highly air-conditioned location and another. No such luck here. Multiple days over 40°C (104°F), a third story apartment and weak ceiling fans all add up to sleepless nights and miserable days. Going downtown, with all the concrete and smog from old cars, is about like entering a deeper level of the inferno (although not that far down, because at the bottom it would be ice).


Fortunately, although things are less than ideal on the physical side, mentally things are looking up. I think it has to do with how great I am getting along with my new "boss" Beatriz (read "2nd mother"), and even more to do with my excitement for my first "viaje". I use the Spanish word, because "trip" doesn't really sum up what it means to go out in the field with ADRA in Salta. A trip is what you take when you go to see your grandma for the weekend, or sit on the beach in Hawai'i for a week. A trip with ADRA is not a trip; it is a journey-project.


That is what I learned before I ever hopped on a bus out of Salta. That's because word came back from the people who went on the "trip" I had missed before. Even hotter temperatures (though I think a little exaggerated), except without food or drinkable water for miles around. Although it kind of made me thankful I hadn't been able to go, in reality it made me more anxious to get on the road. I wanted to be able to help, in whatever small way possible, the communities where they have to live in those conditions all year long.


And finally, that day came...
Destination: Yuto, Jujuy, Argentina
Project: Conduct a community assessment about interest in the foundation of a literacy program, and help with various other physically demanding tasks for local families.


Day 1:
12:40AM seemed like a strange time for a bus to leave, but in terms of the heat it was probably for the best time. I had already packed my bag two days ago, not so much out of anticipation but out of confusion about which day we were leaving (yes, my Spanish still sucks). Juancito (ADRA's driver) took us--Beatriz, Pilu and I--to the bus terminal at around midnight, where we met up with Graciela, an evangelical missionary who had become ADRA's regional contact in Yuto. Pilu (short for Pablo) and I had been working together in Salta over the past few weeks on organizing ADRA's depositories, so it made sense that he would be my partner in the project. He is 17, and has worked with ADRA for over 4 years. So really, I'm his partner.

Beatriz booked us seats at the front of the top level of the bus, so we waved goodbye to her out the front window as we pulled out of the terminal, with our ADRA chalecos ("vests") showing our allegiance and purpose (Rule #1 of the ADRA Salta code of conduct for volunteers is to have our chaleco on at all times during the execution of a project). Going up the hill out of salta, we looked out over the beautiful night lights as I attempted to find international music on the radio of my cellphone. Michael Jackson's "History" faded out as the tuner lost signal, and I drifted into half-sleep for the next... 2, 3, 4 hours?


Arrival. A clan of mosquitoes had found their way in and had been, presumably, feasting on me the entire trip. We got off the bus in what I would later, in the absence of my sleep-haze, recognize as the center of Yuto. Even though it was early morning, it was hotter than it had been in Salta, and worse: humid. We got off the bus and took turns carrying the 10-person ADRA tent for about 2 km to their residence (they said it was only 1km, and it felt like 5). We reached their home, sweating profusely and continuing to fight off bugs in every direction. Too tired to set up the tent, Pilu and I took up Graciela's offer to sleep in an extra bed located in a mostly-outdoor shelter. Bad idea #1.


With all of the roosters crowing I don't think I slept at all. I woke up feeling as dazed as I had 4 hours prior, the quickly rising temperature of the humid air seeping into my lungs and fogging my brain. Fortunately, Graciela's husband Juan made an amazing mate--with fresh mint leaves--that along with their handmade baked bread helped to bring me around (note: even though it was served hot, that is still the best mate I have had to date). We spent about an hour finishing breakfast and getting our things ready, and then we were off to the surrounding neighborhoods to do our assessment surveys...

It is hard to describe extreme poverty to people who never seen it before. As for me, I had kind of expected it to be an overwhelming experience of sadness and anger and frustration. The truth is, all of those feelings come much later. Being on those streets of Yuto, what I experienced was complete blankness. I was blank because I didn't know what to do with what I was experiencing. Poverty was no longer simply an idea, constructed from years of seeing "Sponsor-A-Child" commercials and reading reports from Amnesty International. It was an object. It was right there in front of me, and yet it was totally incomprehensible how it could possibly exist. How could children run around without shoes on the scalding earth? How could a tiny shack fit 16 people inside? How could a family live adjacent to a garbage dump, flies swarming around their meager lunch? How could a "bathroom" be defined as an old refrigerator frame placed over a hole?

But there wasn't time to think about why, when, and how it had happened. It was too hot, and we had work to do. Unfortunately, I wasn't really able to be help that much. It felt invasive asking people questions without giving them something in return, even though the idea of the survey was to provide, in the future, a positive benefit--literacy. I was even more uncomfortable asking because of my nervous and broken Spanish. I can't say for sure if it was better that way, but it definitely meant that we did fewer interviews per hour. In fact, we did very few surveys at all. Even though we had an umbrella to somewhat protect us from the sun, after about 2 hours it was becoming difficult to stand the heat.

Still, although I wasn't accomplishing very much and the sun was blazing, the work was somehow energizing. Simply listening to the stories of the people, tragic as they were, made me want to continue on. A family that worried about the growing leak of a sewage pipe near their house that the local government refused to fix. A farmer who was out of work because the harvest was smaller this year. A fisherman who brought in less than half of what he used to, because a company had built a commercial fishing center upstream. A 13-year-old girl, pregnant with the child of an auto mechanic from downtown who paid off her family to keep their relations quiet.


Eventually, mother nature got the best of us. The sun was now stronger than ever, and we hadn't brought along any water. We went back to the house, ate lunch, and subsequently crashed for the entire afternoon. Trying to sleep was futile, but the rest was welcome. We had dinner, followed by the now-typical conversation about where I grew up, why I decided to come, how long I've been studying Spanish, etc. Afterwards they insisted we shower--even with their limited water supply--and the cold water was divine. By that time we were again much too tired to set up the tent. Bad idea #2.


Day 2:
The following morning it felt like I had slept even less--with an army of dogs barking all night, until the roosters took over again--but the new bug bites I had all over my legs and arms told a different story. For some reason, I was the only one affected by the bug bites, as Pilu remained unscathed. Go figure. I guess my blood is tastier?

Exhaustion had really set in, and although it seemed impossible, it was even hotter than the previous day. Thus, it wasn't a surprise that we didn't end up doing surveys until much later in the afternoon, when we finally got some cloud cover. During the afternoon some children came by, and since we were far too tired to entertain them they took center stage instead, singing and dancing along to the latest reggaeton hits. Afterwards, Pilu and I invented a simple game of tossing prematurely fallen mango buds into a tin can, wet towels covering our heads to fight the unrelenting heat. We also snacked on some fried fish that a family insisted we take, which although very salty was much appreciated.

The surveys went much the same as the day before, just with less heat and more time talking. Since it was around the time most people take their afternoon mate, a few families weren't interested in having us interrupt, and those who did made us temporary members of their conversation hour. This was good because it felt less invasive than asking point blank, but also worse, since our goal of 300 surveys still seemed very, very far away. As it turned out, however, we would have much more time to canvas than we thought: one of our major jobs for the week, painting a community center, fell through. They hadn't bought the paint.


After our long trek, we were once again ready to wind down. After another great mate, dinner, and shower, it was time to once again try my hand at sleep. For some reason it didn't occur to us to set up the tent, so I resorted to my confidence in using more bug spray to fight off my new enemies.


Day 3:
Make that overconfidence. Whatever poison I was using didn't seem to affect them in the least. I received just as many bites, if not more than the night before. Fortunately it had rained during the night, which made the morning much more bearable. By about 11AM, however, things had gone back to normal. Graciela decided to do the surveys on her own while we would be occupied in manual labor. The door had fallen off the home of a neighbor, an elderly woman who was one of their first converts to the Evangelical faith.


The simple task of taking off the hinges and putting on new ones turned out to be incredibly taxing. The wood of the existing structure was extremely dense, which made it difficult to remove the old screws and nearly impossible to drive in new ones, both of which we had to do with flathead screwdrivers. On top of that, the oven of the one-room house made the heat inside at least double what it was outside. We developed a system of taking strenuous turns for about 2 minutes and then "cooling off" outside. Needless to say that we finished we were elated to be liberated, both from the heat and the Pentecostal-like music that had been blasting the whole time.

We returned to the house for more showering, lunch, and another languid afternoon. With my mind now oriented to manual labor, I put myself to the task of fixing a broken box fan so that we could sleep with less heat--and fewer bugs. Fortunately the problem was pretty simple, only requiring some cleaning and oil of the internal rotor, which had simply been jammed.


The evening went on similarly to the previous ones, except that I unknowingly became part a prayer meeting with Graicela, her husband, and a few visitors. Pilu caught wind of it before I did, and stayed in the room instead. Hearing their testimonies was interesting, especially from the woman who we had helped earlier--her newfound faith had given her the strength to save herself from her abusive husband. Praying, on the other hand, was considerably more uncomfortable. The approximately 30 minutes they prayed seemed endless in comparison to group prayers I had been a part of in the past. After awhile it became hard to distinguish who was the leader of the prayer, as a simple "sí Jesús" grew into more intricate adulations.


The meeting ended as casually as it had started, and with the weather cooling down a bit we decided to go downtown for awhile. The central plaza was very relaxing, a pleasant change from the last two days. As we circled the plaza, Juan stopped to talk with a few acquaintances and I tried to explain my hobby of longboarding. Pilu and I bought some cellphone credit, and headed back to the house. [There's another substory here, but you'll have to ask me personally :)]


Day 4:
Ironically, on our first night with the fan the weather actually let up from being so deadly hot. And it rained.

The rain and the cloud cover made perfect conditions for our other manual task: making a new "bathroom". Having slept better than the other two nights gave us energy to get through the work, which involved digging a 4x4 foot square hole, 8 feet in depth. Even with gloves, it wasn't easy. We took turns with the shovel until about 3 feet in, when we had to switch to a pick to get through the rock-hard earth. As we got deeper and deeper, it became easier to take out the dirt with our hands rather than try to use the shovel in the tight space. Even with Juan coming by for about an hour to give us a hand and an energy boost (juice!), it took us nearly the entire day to finish.

Over dinner I was kind of anxious to get away again. I was tip-toeing my way around a conversation with Juan about why I disagree with the typical perspective on homosexuality, and about how for me the Bible and the spiritual world is more vague than most religious people are willing to accept. Even though I wasn't getting too deep into it, Graciela began to look at me a little differently before. Luckily Pilu I think sensed that things could heat up pretty quickly, and suggested we go downtown again. We showered and walked the distance that now seemed shorter every time. We walked around and eventually played some pool (I think I won 2-1, but my memory might be biased), talking about everything but work: girls, cellphones, the differences between our cultures. A pleasant change from strenuous shoveling that put a good end to a productive day.

Day 5:

Our last day had arrived, and although some residual exhaustion remained from the previous days, we didn't object to helping Juan on some yard work. Apart from being a spiritual guide, I must say that Juan's home represents a great example for the people that visit him as well. Although he is only marginally more financially secure than his converts, he has a garden full of edible vegetables and a sturdy chicken coop, which ensure that he won't have to buy those things at a higher price down the road. We occupied ourselves with moving the chicken coop and some withering plants into the shady half of the yard. The plants were much easier. Some of the roosters that had been separated had escaped and were fighting, especially the tail-less instigator who, in the spirit of hospitality, had been named after me before I arrived (yes, "Sac").


We finished up most of the work before lunch, and went to the nearby soccer field to watch part of a local championship. Afterwards we went downtown to buy our bus tickets, worked in another quick game of pool, and before we knew it we were waiting for the bus to arrive, sharing a Coke and saying our good-byes. And we were gone...

Our bus left around 9:30PM (scheduled at 8PM), which gave me time to reflect back on what we had seen and done before dozing off. First, I was glad to know that we, as ADRA, were willing to working openly with people of other faiths. It didn't matter that "we" were Adventist and "they" were Evangelicals. What mattered is the people that we could help by working together instead of nit-picking on differences. Second, I hoped that we could follow through on what we had found from our surveys. Although our methods weren't exactly scientifically rigorous, it was clear that the majority of the people living in the surrounds of Yuto hadn't finished elementary school, and many of them were partially or totally illiterate. An additional educational resource was definitely needed. Third, having seen the impoverished lives of the residents Yuto, I wanted to solidify my understanding of how they had become so desperate, and why they couldn't seem to escape it. Generally my tendency is to blame the oppressive and corrupted systems of the world, with colonization, globalization, and corruption having negatively affected much--or all--of Latin America. But is that the whole picture? What do we say about the family that chooses to get satellite TV instead of buying more food? What about those who buy an expensive sound system instead of getting medical attention? Or investing in alcohol instead of the education of their children? As Pilu pointed out to me, this seemed to be the case for many families in Yuto. For me it poses a difficult question: Are they partially responsible for their own poverty, or is our society to blame for warping our priorities, making us believe that entertainment is at the pinnacle of importance, regardless of the sacrifices we make to achieve it?


click here to see all the photos from the trip (and a couple videos!)