Some Día de la Mujer gifts I received from my students. Candy just for existing? Sure, I'll take it.

Thursday, March 8^th, was International Women’s Day, a holiday celebrated both officially and unofficially in countries across the globe – although, oddly enough, I’ve noticed that it doesn’t seem to be particularly popular in the United States. Here in Colombia, it’s celebrated as a sort of combination of Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day, with women receiving presents, flowers, candy, cards and constant wishes for a “Feliz día” (happy day).

I wrote about my personal feelings and impressions of Día de la Mujer on my own blog, so here I’m going to focus instead on some of the reflections it inspired on the state of women and women’s rights here in Colombia. Latin America, like basically every other region of the world, doesn’t necessarily have the best record on women’s rights. The combination of strict Catholicism in many places, machista culture and a strong adherence to traditional gender roles, particularly in rural areas, has created an environment that, until very recently, allowed limited options for women.

I’m not saying that all women in Colombia are housewives or cooks – and many of the ones that are do so by choice, rather than a lack thereof. There’s definitely a lot of space in Colombian culture for successful women, and despite the historic basis of machista culture (which is still alive and well, don’t worry), there does seem to be a healthy amount of respect for and appreciation of strong, accomplished women here. For example: When the former mayor of Bogotá was suspended in 2011, the president of Colombia chose a Harvard-educated female economist to serve as acting mayor until the end of the term. There are women serving in high levels of the government, powerful female lawyers and many female leaders of NGOs. As of last year, 13% of people in governing bodies were female – not anywhere close to 50%, of course, but sadly a much higher percentage than in many other nations.

However, this doesn’t mean everything is just peachy. The 2011 Global Gender Gap Report, which measures gender inequality in areas like salaries, work opportunities, education, health and other factors, ranked Colombia 80^th out of 135 countries – a significant change from its 2010 position in 55^th place, and the single biggest drop in Latin America. According to the report, this was based mostly on a huge decrease in women’s earned income, especially compared to men. A recent report by an investigative unit of the National Police found that, on average, a woman is assaulted every 38 minutes in Bogotá – and that barely 42% of women report cases of abuse to the authorities.

Whenever you hear anyone extolling the myriad virtues of Colombia, the beauty of Colombian women is always extremely high on the list (especially if the speaker is a straight dude). Far be it from me to dispute the accuracy of this description – Colombian women overall are seriously gorgeous, enough to make even a nail-biting gringa consider getting a manicure – but I think until the country focuses on promoting the accomplishments of its women, rather than their allure, there’s still a lot of progress to be made.

And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Women and men across the country held marches and demonstrations on Día de la Mujer to advocate for women’s rights and to raise awareness of the need for change. Hundreds of women marching in Medellín chanted “Take your rosaries out of our ovaries,” and a Bogotá-based lawyer told news organization Colombia Reports, “It is not the day of the woman, it is the day of women’s human rights.” The president of Colombia recently signed an agreement pledging to create publicity and awareness campaigns across the country to advance women’s rights – as with most political actions, it remains to be seen how successful this program will be.

It’s inspiring to see how people and organizations in Colombia are using March 8^th as a platform to advance women’s rights campaigns, but it’s important to remember that one day is not enough. As a female traveler, I want to live in a world where I can feel just as safe as a man, no matter where I go – my physical and mental safety should not be affected by my gender. Even more so, I would love to someday feel that, no matter where I traveled, I could meet women who have had the same educational and professional opportunities that I’ve had the privilege to pursue. We’re far from perfect in terms of women’s rights in the States (hey, Rush Limbaugh!), but at least I’m legally allowed to drive myself to the grocery store.

So: one day down, 364 to go!

Natalie Southwick volunteers as an English teacher for WorldTeach in Bogotá, Colombia. For more on Natalie’s adventures in Colombia, check out her blog.

On the surface, the public and private schools don’t seem so terribly different. The layouts are similar, the student population is about the same size and the uniforms are exactly the same. But once we began to scratch the surface – to speak with the English teachers and visit a few classrooms – the vast gaps between the two became painfully clear.

Most of the students could barely manage to put together three words in English, much less understand us when we introduced ourselves. Even the majority of the English teachers struggled to hold a conversation in English. Of course, I have no doubt that they’re excellent, committed teachers, and this has more to do with Colombian teacher requirements than any sort of personal shortcoming, but the result is that the students in these schools simply don’t have the opportunity to progress as far in English as the students in my school, who are learning from my excellent, basically fluent co-teachers.

And that isn’t even mentioning the social issues. These schools are in bad neighborhoods – the kind of places that elicit gasps from Bogotanos when I tell them that I visited there. They’re located in the distant southeast of the city, so far up the mountains that visitors can practically catch the clouds in their hands (one neighborhood is actually called Entre Nubes – “between the clouds”). The people in these communities are in the very lowest socio-economic strata of Bogotá – many of them displaced persons who’ve fled from the civil conflict in other parts of the country.

One school has altered its schedule to keep high school students from having to walk home in the afternoon, when there’s too much gang activity in the streets to ensure their safety. In another school, I met Miguel, an amazing kid who spends his Saturdays walking for two hours each way to take a free university-level class in the northern part of Bogotá, because he and his mother don’t have enough money for him to take the bus.

These are not excuses for not doing homework. This is real life.

Now, granted, my school is not without its challenges. There are still classrooms stuffed with 35 students, serious social and family issues and chronic shortages of just about everything. But it’s a different world up there on the mountain, where those kids will be lucky just to graduate from high school in one piece, or at all. Where they don’t have the luxury to think about how bilingualism will qualify them for more jobs. Where just having a job is enough.

I love my school, my students and most of my co-teachers, and after just a month here, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. But it’s difficult and frustrating to think about how much deeper the need goes in other places, how much these other schools could desperately use more support, more resources, more everything.

I think that most of us who choose to work as volunteers do so at least partially as a result of some innate desire to help, a compulsion to do something when we recognize need. I realize that the work I’m doing at my school is important and I can already begin the see the impact it’s having, but there are some days when I can’t help thinking about the other schools, far away to the south, and their students – who, with the exception of geographic factors, are no different from my students – and the perfectionist and idealist in me can’t help but feel like I could be doing so much more.

The truth is, in the world of non-profits and volunteering, we could always be doing so much more. There is always another civil conflict, another unequal education system, another child trafficked across borders. We will always be capable of doing more. While I believe it’s crucial to maintain this perspective and to seek out places where we can be of service, it’s also essential to remember that each of us can only work with the tools and opportunities we have or create for ourselves. None of us can take on all of the world’s challenges alone – but, for the sake of kids like Miguel, we can keep trying.

Natalie Southwick volunteers as an English teacher for WorldTeach in Bogotá, Colombia. For more on Natalie’s adventures in Colombia, check out her blog. And to read more about challenges in Latin American schools, take a look at “Money Matters: An Awkward Request from Students” by Kimberly Friedland, “Small Frustrations and Big White Elephants” by Nereida Heller, or “La Vida: Teaching English in Quito, Ecuador” by Philip Dixon.

It looks like this at some point pretty much every day in Bogotá

“So, I’m actually moving to Colombia to teach English for a year.”

“Congratulations! That’s so exciting! You’re going to love New York!”

I can’t begin to tell you how many times I had some variation on this conversation during the last few months of 2011. Needless to say, the reaction changed once I explained that my destination had a different vowel, different language and a bit of a different reputation.

But here I am, a few months later, about 2500 miles south of Columbia-with-a-u, in beautiful, polluted, bike-friendly, congested, diverse, sprawling Bogotá, Colombia. I’m currently six weeks into my 11-month commitment with WorldTeach, a U.S.-based organization that sends volunteer English teachers all over the world.

I work at Colsubsidio CEIC Norte, a small-ish school in the northern part of Bogotá, where I’m expected to magically teach English to a population of almost 850 students. I have yet to explain to my supervisors that my magical skills end with my ability to accidentally jinx my favorite sports teams, but in the meantime I’ve been busy falling in love with the city, the food and, most of all, my students (in a totally platonic way! Calm down, FBI representatives).

Almost without fail, every Colombian I’ve met has asked me, “Why Colombia?” People here are acutely conscious of the image many foreigners have of their country – an outdated image, sure, but a stubbornly persistent one. Why, they want to know, would Americans willingly choose to leave their homes and friends and family to move to a country that many people associate with drug cartels and violence?

It’s hard to explain just what drew me to Colombia, rather than the other Spanish-speaking countries with WorldTeach programs. For now, I’m sticking with some combination of “I love the accent” (true), “I heard it was beautiful” (also true) and, if I’m feeling particularly honest, “I wanted to travel somewhere different.” Translation: I didn’t want to be just another face in a crowd of gringos.

Though Colombia is slowly sneaking up on the tourist radar, I’m still the first American many people here have met. And while sometimes that makes me feel like an unofficial ambassador (who’s expected to answer questions like, “Can you describe the American educational system?”), I’m kind of okay with it.

And for the record: New York pizza may be famous, but Bogotá pizza isn’t half bad. And it’s definitely more affordable.

This is Natalie’s first post on La Vida Idealist. Natalie just began work as a Volunteer English teacher with WorldTeach in Bogotá, Colombia. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog!

It’s so wonderful to have old friends visit!  Their impressions of my life here, and my concerns over their comfort, are illuminating.  Yesterday, my twilight bus ride through Centro’s Friday market seemed fresh.  Individual people shimmered against the background of a city I have been riding through for six months.  I anticipated how my friends would see these scenes —shirtless young men steering fruit-laden donkey carts;  cheery, aggressive bus drivers; beggars and pedestrians with grotesque physical deformities; clumps of lovely, aimless school girls —and they looked new to me. New, in a different way.  Because I finally realized yesterday that I’m starting to know this city.  Life in Barranquilla has been becoming unremarkable to me without my even noticing, and that comfort (dare I say grace?) is something really remarkable.

Sonja and Josh are not impressed by the moldy frying pan I offered as a simmering apparatus.  But they were blown away by the beauty of Parque Tayrona.  They danced salsa in the street last night at La Troja, and today we gave some historical perspective to their trip with a visit to El Museo del Caribe.  As their host, I am luxuriating in the fact that I have plenty to please a couple of guests with here.  As a visitor to the city myself, I thank my friends for reminding me of the beauty of my Colombian home.

Eliza is currently an English professor for WorldTeach at Fundación Aliarse in Barranquilla, Colombia. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Finally, the downpour slowed and the bus sped up. The pudgy driver honked his horn along with the brass in Oscar de Leon’s Llorarás, soliciting the soaking people who huddled under awnings along the sidewalk. Those who responded to his offer climbed in with a smile. These twice-daily bus rides to and from school, spanning Calle 79 all the way down to Calle 18, are often the highlight of my day.

Grace, the head teacher at Fundación Aliarse (where I teach English), told me that the wet weather was on account of La Virgen del Carmen, Barranquilla’s patron. In preparation for the 16th of July, el Día de la Virgen, firecrackers and rain have colored this coastal city’s atmosphere for more than a week. Today, Grace guaranteed, it was sure to rain. It always rains on Saints’ Days in Barranquilla.

This is the kind of logic I travel for: I want to experience the world as a series of correlations that exist outside of the rationality I was brought up with. Today, though, I woke up to sun filtering through the mango tree outside of my window. As I made coffee, an old woman with a strong, scratchy voice sang homages to the city in the backyard below. Taxi drivers line up at churches to have their vehicles blessed, and firecrackers are still exploding. But no rain. Yet.

This is Eliza Clark’s first post on La Vida Idealist. Eliza is currently an English professor for WorldTeach at Fundación Aliarse in Barranquilla, Colombia. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

For two years, La Vida Idealist.org has reached audiences in over one hundred and fifty countries and discussed the highs-and-lows and ins-and-outs of nonprofit work in Latin America. We’ve discussed the g-word (gringo!) and the ethics of “poverty tourism,” wondered how much impact teaching English really has in the long run, and dispensed dozens and dozens of tips on working and living abroad. We’ve fostered connections and collaborations between volunteers and social change organizations all over Latin America. And speaking for myself, we’ve had a blast while doing it!

Now we’re looking for new writers to share their stories, experiences and insights with us and our readers. Whether you’re a temporary volunteer or running your own organization, a photographer or photojournalist, or someone traveling abroad and making volunteer stops along the way, your anecdotes and acquired wisdom can continue to facilitate connections and enrich the ongoing dialogue of “just what does nonprofit work in Latin American mean?” If you’re interested in contributing to this conversation and joining our team, check out our Opportunities page! We look forward to hearing from you soon!

I was never much a fan of the ‘host family’ idea. After all, I live alone in the United States and quite dig having my own, well, digs. Breakfast in my skivvies, sometimes lunch and dinner too, is hard to pull off with my own family around, not to mentioned strangers. So, when World Teach informed us we’d be living with randomly-selected families (random in the sense that no personal information had been used to match us to a suitable family) I was shivering in my flip flops.

I only lived with my assigned host family for a month before seeking my own studio closer to school. Now, I live alone and am back to breakfasting in my boxer shorts. But, another volunteer’s host family has absolutely changed my time here in Colombia for the better.

Meet Libardo, Patricia, Enrique, and Andres. They are the host family every study abroad student and volunteer dreams of – great conversation, amazing food, and a constant eagerness to share their culture and their city with us. They’ve taken us on the back roads, to rooftops we never knew existed, to find the most amazing views of the skyline. They’ve introduced us to all the local dishes and taught us how to prepare them ourselves. Just today, they invited all the local volunteers for a day trip on Libardo’s company boat. We cruised the open waters surrounding Cartagena and lolled about in the turquoise waves near the Islas de Rosario.

As I watched them bounce around on the ship’s bow, I got that little jingly-belly feeling that I call my “wahoo rising” but others call “love.” How fortunate are we for the friends, families, and strangers we meet in our respective new communities, who toss us the life buoy when we’re thrashing around in a sea of newness? So fortunate.

So, here’s a big huzzah to L,P,E,& A, and all the other wonderful people out there who are helping us in our acclimations and explorations. Thank you. ¡Gracias!

For more posts on life with homestays while volunteering abroad, check out “Living with Locals, for Better or Worse?” by Becca Mondshein, “Department of Homestay Security” by Kent Green, “Homestay in Rio: an Ode to Ica,” by Mehr Amin,  or “For a House to Become a Home,” by Flora Lindsay-Herrera.

This is Brittany’s first blog post with La Vida Idealist. Brittany is currently an English professor for World Teach at La Universidad Tecnológica de Bolivar in Cartagena, Colombia.

In the northern part of Colombia, five hours inland from Santa Marta, you´ll find a small town named Valledupar. When asked if I would like to spend my three weeks of vacation with a Colombian family, I jumped at the opportunity. After all, that’s why people travel: to experience different cultures. Had I known what I was getting myself into, I might have opted for a shorter visit.

Three weeks with any family can be intense. Personally, I come from a very small family: I am an only child and I grew up with my dad and my aunt and that was about it. You can imagine the difference when I met Camila’s family. Or maybe you can’t. Every time the door opened, I was meeting a new cousin/aunt/uncle- a pretty stressful situation when you’re trying to make a good impression on everyone, using a language you haven’t fully mastered. On a daily basis, amid the seemingly never-ending rotation of whiskey bottles passed around amongst the men, cousins were fighting, children crying and Vallenato music blaring. I don’t think the decibel level dipped below that of any rock concert I’ve been to, but there were no speakers or amplifiers present: chaos.

I can’t say that I was welcomed with open arms. The only proper comparison for my experience with Camila’s four brothers, uncles, aunts and endless number of cousins would be to that of slowly walking through a gauntlet of 50 people, all armed with the same arsenal of wisecracks (mostly regarding my long hair), pausing at each person to allow them ample time to take their turn with the paddle. And they did take their turn, telling me I look like a girl and that I was more than welcome to sleep outside with the dogs. I am happy to say I took it all in stride. Sticks and stones, right? A trying experience which I am sure has made me stronger.

On a serious note, I have never experienced living in a culture with such a high level of machismo. In the family I visited, men make the decisions, men have multiple girlfriends, men beat their wives, and men drink and smoke. In this family, women take care of children, clean up after the men, wash clothes, cook, are forbidden from having more than one sexual partner (even after divorce) and if they do, they are ostracized by their own family. I was surprised and disappointed to learn that this type of oppressively patriarchal culture is so readily accepted and enforced not only by the men, but also the women. This experience has reinforced my belief that organizations dedicated to women’s empowerment such as Fundación Mujer are very much needed in all parts of the world. This has been a firsthand lesson in the strength of cultural ignorance. When abusive sexist behaviour and attitudes become widely accepted as a norm in a given culture, I can see it being very difficult to change that culture. It is not likely that an outsider will have any success in altering local opinion or action; it is only the oppressors themselves who have the power to change things. From what I observed, I do not see this realization taking place, at least not anytime soon. The next generation of ‘macho’s is already being trained.

For more on Sebastian’s observations of ‘machismo’ in Latin America. check out “Warning to Women: Thicken Your Skin, Machismo Awaits in Costa Rica.” At the time of writing, Sebastian Kindsvater was  living in San Jose, Costa and working as the Kiva Coordinator/Loan Officer for Fundacíon Mujer. He is currently currently working in La Paz, Bolivia with a Canadian nonprofit in rural finance.

Three days of workshops and speeches bookended by a march and rally on a sprawling sports and education complex east of the city center. There were lots of anti’s on display: anti-capitalism, anti-militarization, anti-soy, anti-Plan Colombia. There were lots of pro’s as well: gender rights, food sovereignty, free software, free education, la lucha.

At a workshop on regional integration

The Bolivian cultural delegation patiently posed for photos with their polleras and ponchos. Argentine hippies sold jewelry next to Paraguayan Maká weaving rainbow bright bags. The Canadians presented in Spanish with French-inflected r’s and the Brazilians tried their hand at Portuñol. Rigoberta Menchu spoke on women in leadership. Paraguayan president Lugo spoke despite undergoing his first dose of chemo this week, condemning the 2009 coup in Honduras and praising reconciliation between Colombia and Venezuela. “War and destabilization don’t form part of our Latin America agenda,” he said.

Uruguayan president Mujica gave a few words on the need for multiple democracies for multiple pueblos. Evo Morales even spoke on everything from the protection of Mother Nature to a fair number of jabs against the United States. Overall, few seemed to get the memo that the Foro poster included an image of North as well as South America, but perhaps that was to be expected.

There was lots of community and lots of chanting. A group of women wearing cavernous animal print jumpsuits and face paint floated through the proceedings like some form of elemental shared unconscious: No hay justicia ambiental sin justicia social. Reparacão y distribuicão. Salvar la tierra es ahora o ahora. El problema no es pobreza; es la mala distribución de la llamada riqueza. Alerta! Alerta! Alerta que camina la lucha feminista por America Latina.

One day at lunch everyone danced together under an electric blue Asunción sky and it was easy to believe, at least for a second, that if all this buena onda and energy could translate to action, the world would be all right (in a left sort of way).

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

Corporación Condor is an organization based in Bogotá, Colombia that travels to marginalized areas all around the country to provide free medical care. In this essay, the group of volunteer doctors and members of the Colombian Air Force traveled to Providencia Island for a marathon of surgeries and check-ups, helping a total of 1,280 people over a single weekend.

ngo profile no. 01 ::: corporación condor from leah on Vimeo.

Leah is currently living in Bogotá, Colombia working with various nonprofit organizations and taking photographs of everyday stuff. This multimedia is the first of a year-long series telling stories for 25 NGO’s all across South America. To see more photos from South America and learn more about the 25twenty-five project, visit her bilingual blog or join the Facebook page.