Darkness and Light

March 27th

Esperanza de Azama

     Margot received a phone call from a household in the neighborhood this afternoon.  She went out quickly, returning ten minutes later with the news that a woman had just died after being hit in the head by her husband with a gardening tool. Whether or not the man will face legal justice remains to be seen, but it appears that cultural norms are on his side. 

     Meanwhile, we are learning more about the number of children here who are victims of abuse – some of whom I see in class each day.  A longer entry here would differentiate between the various forms of abuse – mild or major – sexual or non-sexual, but it is present enough for Margot to seek help in knowing how to help the children and adults involved.

      I am well aware that more than a handful of my students in Maynard are victims of maltreatment in all forms.  One difference however is that we have a team of counselors and other professionals on hand to at least begin to acknowledge and address the problems, even if in some situations the effects are complex and long-lasting.  Here, there is little or no such care, other than what may be offered by caring people such as Margot who have extremely limited resources to know how to move forwards.   Behind some of the smiles and endearing demeanor reside dark secrets that must often go unattended.  I am not naïve enough to be surprised by this, for of course humanity has a universal knack for harboring evil in places mundane and spectacular. 

     Most of us succeed in passing each day without having to confront such matters directly.  As tourists, we can admire the mountains, the colorful markets and the richness of visions, sounds and smells to which we willingly expose ourselves.  This is by way of reminding the reader that this is more than a tale of oddities and curiosities.

     The next day, Nan’s first grade class went to visit the family and to see the body laid out.  The woman’s grandchild is in this class.  Nan and Emma went along too.  It is truly hard to imagine such a visit happening at home.

     On a more cheery and leisurely note, we have been able to enjoy something other than being at school and contemplating the darker side of life.  My sister Susan arrived here about ten days ago, spent a day and a half with us, and disappeared to the Rhiannon Community between here and Quito to help them out with some guidance counseling.  She returned five days later with interesting tales of a community at work and a Shamanic ceremony that lasted from midnight to about 9:00 in the morning. Perhaps she will publish her story one day.

     At the weekend, Nan, Emma and I took only our second trip away from Otavalo – a twenty-minute ride to the Laguna Cuicocha on the flanks of the Cotocachi volcano that overlooks our home.  The laguna, like Quilatoa that we visited in February, is a caldera, the remnants of a volcano crater that last erupted 3000 years ago.  Even on a somewhat cloudy day, the majesty of the place was very moving.  We took a 30 minute ride on a boat around the two islands in the shape of guinea pigs in the middle that give the laguna it’s name – cui is guinea pig.  A five-hour hike around the lake is a possible, though I will save this for another day.  We contended ourselves with a shorter wander and a couple of bags of chips from the store before catching a taxi back home.

     Our ‘home’ switches frequently between a state of buzzing with activity, or an island of tranquility.  The extended family and other volunteers come and go.  Margot’s son Eric occasionally likes to play reggaeton music at a volume that a thriving nightclub would be proud of.  Rucco the dog likes to ‘chat’ with distant neighbors, sometimes in the middle of the night, while the children provide their own entertainment.  Emma and Nicole plus an assortment of other girls from the neighborhood may be found practicing dance moves or watching Youtube videos. In the evenings, various gatherings of people assemble in the spacious kitchen, sampling assorted leftovers from lunch.  Margot, the indomitable workhorse somehow finds time to engage in conversation before doing some extra work around the house late into the evening.  Much as this lifestyle is a refreshing change from our own life with a family of three, it is pleasant to find the moments when we can sit in the courtyard, watch the occasional hummingbird hover by, and breath in the tranquility of the moment.

     The water supply has been intermittent during our day, though it is hard to tell when it is due to the work being done on the main lines in the street, or when, as Margot says, it is because the guy who controls the main valve is feeling pissy.  Fortunately it is rarely off for more than a day, but there are times when we have to manage with buckets from the concrete barrel outside.  On this weekend, the three of us did take advantage of the showers at a swimming pool in Otavalo, along with the luxury of dropping a week’s worth of laundry at the ‘lavanderia’ in town.  Washing by hand is not difficult, but it is really time consuming.  A lady does come in to do laundry, charging $1.25 for a dozen items. How many of the rest of us would work at that rate? Curiously, the town lavenderia is directly connected to a bar.  Whether this is to provide a place to wait while the clothes are being washed, or to provide a place to wash clothes after drinking too much was not immediately clear.

      Susan returned from her sojourn to the Rhiannon community on Saturday evening and shared with us her experiences of participating in a Shamanic ceremony.  We do have a contact to visit a Shaman during our stay here, so stay tuned for news about that.  On Palm Sunday morning, about eight of us piled into Marcelo’s car (the last time I rode in the boot/trunk was a good 30 years ago) and drove into Otavalo.  Emma went to church with the family, while Susan, Nan and I watched a Palm procession, and wandered the market where Susan and I each found a good hat. Every good journey needs an appropriate hat.  

       Over a leisurely breakfast overlooking the market, we decided to take a trip out to a 400 year-old hotel and monastery some ten miles out of Otavalo. The Hacienda Cusin is a much more expensive hotel than any other we have found, but we were able to amble around the gardens and appreciate the flora – much of it unknown to me.  Apparently Simon Bolivar, the great liberator of much of South America stayed here during his expeditions in what became Ecuador in the early 1800’s.  I don’t suppose he paid over $100 a night for the privilege, but presumably he too enjoyed the tranquility of the adjacent monastery, and the towering peaks of Imbabura overlooking the valley. It was almost spooky to walk around these gardens and barely see anybody else there aside from a couple of gardeners and an armed security guard equipped with a Kevlar vest. We settled for a light lunch – the waiter seemed to hope we would have a more hearty midday meal in true Ecuadorian style, but we were not up for it. We took our taxi back to Esperanza de Azama, appreciative of the visit, but grateful that we had not actually chosen to stay in this somewhat elaborate inn.