Now, it really is considered quite rude to turn this offer down, even though it can, at times, turn out that the family that asks you is really only interested in you footing the bill for a massive party, and then being an on-hand bank to fund various stages of the child’s life.  I am not stingy, but I have always made such an effort to make friends through being myself here, rather than by dishing out cash.  So I wanted to be very careful how I played this.

I asked around and got various answers about the level of responsibility and cost that this role would entail: from ‘should anything happen to the parents you may have to take responsibility for the child’, ‘you may well end up having to foot the bill for the whole party’, ‘you may have to pay for the full education of this kid’ etc etc…   I listened to all the advice given to me by locals and foreigners alike, but decided that I didn’t want to be so sceptical.  These people were my friends and I would hope that they had different motives to others.

Me and my ahijada having a fun day dressing up

I decided to simply speak to them openly and honestly about my concerns and ask about the differences between my British perception of being a madrina (basically remembering the child’s birthday and giving a present then and at Christmas along with being a moral role model) and their perception of the role.  Often the request is to be the madrina for a religious milestone – I am not catholic and would definitely not feel comfortable having such a key role in that.  Thankfully, they were asking me to be the madrina for the haircutting ceremony (a tradition here – the hair gets styled into small plaits and there is a party where everyone who comes contributes financially whilst cutting off one of the plaits, supposedly towards the child’s future, but it is often suspected that is goes towards the party costs).  So, we discussed my concerns and what they wanted my role to be in my future ahijada’s life.  Luckily for me, they actually wanted someone to act more along the lines of what my perception of the role was – someone to be there as a moral role model for their child and also as a way of us always having a bond and keeping in touch should I move away from the area in the future.

Something that has always struck me as interesting is some Peruvians’ choice of foreigners over Peruvians to play this role in their children’s lives.  It just seems like a very short-term investment.  There are not many foreigners that end up staying for indefinite periods of time, or come back every year; so even though they may seem a better choice for funding the event itself, will they really play a key role in their ahijado/a’s life?  Mind you, life choices here quite often are for the short-term benefit, rather than for the long-term and to be honest, I can’t blame them – they have lived through periods of gross instability and inflation, so perhaps it is better to just think about the here and now.

I, however, do really want to play a key role in my ahijada’s life and try and spend as much time with her and the family as possible.  From time to time I’ll bring a little gift, but I don’t want to be her ‘fairy godmother’, only associated with showering her with presents.  I’d prefer to be a reliable, stable and loving figure in her life and be there as much for her as being a friend to her parents.

Fran Talavera is currently the International Projects Manager with Latin American Foundation for the Future. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Promotional Poster for the 7th Annual Mathapi - designed by Henry Ticona

The community of sikuris in Buenos Aires is, to say the very least, unique. We are our own little world. Though the community has surely always existed, many consider 1992 (the 500 year anniversary of Columbus) a marking point in its history. Over the past two decades it has been growing steadily and in 2005 a small group of sikuris from different bands in the city organized the first Mathapi Apthapi Tinku.

The essence of the Mathapi is reflected in its name. Mathapi and tinku mean ‘gathering’ in Aymara and Quechua respectively and apthapi refers to a tradition in which communities come together to share. The Mathapi Apthapi Tinku embodies these values.  It is the largest gathering of sikuris in Buenos Aires, this year with more than 500 people in attendance, and it is truly a communal effort. So, after playing in my first Mathapi in 2010, I was intrigued by the organization of the event and decided to attend the bi-monthly organizational meetings and to perhaps lend a hand in 2011.

The process of putting together the Mathapi is without doubt one of the most impressive efforts I have ever taken part in. I had put together small events in college but always within and with the help of the university structure. This was a horse of a different color. With no external funding or official platform, the Mathapi is the definition of grass roots organizing. It is completely funded by a raffle and donations of time, goods and labor on the part of participants. Bands even provided communal meals for all sikuris who had travelled long distances (as far as from Chile and Peru!)

In the end, more than 30 bands participated in the two day event, playing musical styles from all regions of the Andes, as varied as  Lakas from Chile, Suri Sikuri from Bolivia, Sikrui Mayor from Peru, and Huaynos Jujeños from the North of Argentina. You can experience a taste of the Mathapi through the hundreds of videos on youtube!

I highly recommend the following (as I appear in all three videos!):

My band IMPA playing Huaynos jujeños: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gmma8_EV3oM

The ever energetic Lakas del Oriente playing Cumbias from Chile:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99pX5thoxtU

And the poderosos Aymaras Intercontinentales de Huancane Base Argetina with whom I had the pleasure to dance the gorgeous huaynos lentos of Peru: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wW-caFsqTmI

Lauren Deal is a former Fulbright Scholar and Program Assistant at Sustainable Horizon. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog.

It’s a story of deforestation and reforestation; of destruction and rejuvenation; of changing perceptions of land use; and of ecology.

Last week when I visited Mindo (a small town less than 2 hours west of Quito, Ecuador) with a group of teachers, the taxista taking us up to the waterfall hike and zip-line canopy area couldn’t contain himself. He was non-stop chatter the entire 30 minute ride up to the trailhead. His pride in his community was palpable.

As we climbed up the windy rough road in his pickup, the town of Mindo slowly got smaller and eventually almost blended into the surrounding forest. Apparently, it didn’t used to be that way. According to our new guide, just 15 years ago the area surrounding the town was completely deforested. The town was using the land to make a living, and a meager one at that. Then, change happened. A foreigner visited the town, and was captivated by the beauty and potential for tourism. With the support of the local community, he set up the first tourism agency, and started bring customers from Quito to Mindo to explore the forest canopy on zip lines and hike through waterfalls. At this time, the trip from Quito to Mindo was a 6 hour trek, instead of the 2 hour trip it is now.

Eventually, the locals banned together with Quiteños to create a foundation. Later, they succeeded in gaining governmental approval to create a protected forest in the area. This forest came under threat when the state oil company was planning to run a pipeline basically through the town. But the locals protested, and the pipeline was diverted to protect the forest and the growing tourism boom in Mindo.

“Now, it’s true….we’re not true ecologists… we’re green ecologists here, green like money,” said our taxi guy. He explained to us the transition from and extraction based local economy, to tourism. The government helped too, by renovating the road from Quito to Mindo, making it more accessible to tourism. Today, Mindo has gained a reputation as a hot spot for bird and butterfly watching, so virtually every weekend the town is filled with Quitenos and backpackers. The American Bird Conservancy even has a partner organization there, http://www.mindocloudforest.org.

So for me, Mindo provides an inspiring example of how Thomas Friedman’s “Green Revolution” is in action here in Ecuador. And if developing countries in Latin America can do this, just imagine if some bigger “leading” economic powerhouses could do the same…

phto credit: Mary Cornwell-Wright

photo credit: Mary Cornwell-Wright

photo credit: Mary Cornwell-Wright

Philip Dixon is an English literature teacher in Ecuador, who has just relocated from Guayaquil to Quito, and a devoted mountain biker. For more information on his experiences, check out his blog.

Kristin went with me. We first entered the police station in the front and spoke to the officer on duty. He referred us to the back of the building where the Investigation Office is located. I had visited the Investigation Office several times in the past and always found it to be highly unprofessional. No one is in uniform, there is no computer or office equipment other than a phone and a notebook where cases are recorded in the illegible handwriting of the man working at the desk, and I once was waiting in there when a man walked in and set a large bottle of rum on the desk. I have also been there to witness corruption where police are paid off to arrest people without any warrant or evidence, etc. This is, of course, not done out in the open but has happened twice where I have seen the person go in the back room with an officer and then exit with the officer taking a completely difference course of action. This is why I didn’t even report the theft in the first place but again, with hearing that stolen laptops had been retrieved from the exact spot that my car was parked, I had to give it a try.

Upon entering, I had to bring attention to myself in order to be attended, not because there were many people waiting to be attended, but because this is just how things often work. I briefly explained the case to the men on duty and let them know that I hadn’t planned on reporting the case but after hearing that men from the area had been arrested and items confiscated… The first man replied by saying, “I wasn’t working yesterday.”

“Okay, well is there someone you can look into it?”

The second man said, “We don’t have any laptops.”

“You all did arrest men from x area, correct?”

“Take her number,” on man ordered to the man sitting at the desk with the notebook who had not spoken until now. The man with the notebook prepared himself, I inquired a bit more as to the procedure that would be followed, and they just urged me to give them my number and they would contact me if anything came up.

I began reciting my number, “809…”

I was mocked by the man writing the number down as he repeated the number and wrote it in his notebook. I sucked it up and gave the second three digits and he mimicked me in the same rude way.

“Why are you talking like that?” I asked.

He stopped and others got a little bit more serious. One man replied, “Don’t mind him, he’s crazy.” I finished giving my number and we were on our way.

Any locals that I have explained this case to have replied by saying that the police likely took anything they found for themselves. I never did find the laptop and I have come to terms with it. It’s another setback but I stay the course.

So my advice to any other expats in this country or a similar country facing similar challenges is to try to influence an unjust system in your actions and conversation in a way that pleads for just treatment but doesn’t get your hopes up for it and doesn’t get self righteous about it. We shouldn’t accept a corrupt system by any means and we definitely shouldn’t ever use it to our advantage, even if it means standing in line for hours rather than utilizing special priviledges we may be given or offered. But we shouldn’t expect to change a corrupt system overnight either. Those of us who believe in justice shouldn’t abandon places of the world where justice seems hard to come by, nor should we let them corrupt us. If we do, then we’re letting injustice and corruption win.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

Artists from the Frente de Artistas del Borda Criticize Buenos Aires' Governor, Mauricio Macri, in Reinsertón (Photo by Frente de Artistas del Borda)

One of the best things about rehearsing in IMPA is that there are always interesting things going on in other parts of the factory. Be it circus training on the third floor, dance classes in the machine room, or chess in the lobby, my friends often make fun of me for getting caught up in whatever activity is going on. “Lauren, que barrilete que sos!” And they’re right, I tend to go where the wind takes me. So, a few weeks ago when Jaime, an out-patient from the psychiatric hospital El Hospital Borda who has been rehearsing with us, invited us to see his play, I was more than on board.

IMPA’s recently renovated black box theater, inaugurated the Teatro Nora Cortiñas in honor of Nora Cortiñas, one of the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, and known affectionally as the “Teatrito,” hosts 2-3 shows per weekend and is becoming an increasingly important space for alternative and activist theater in Buenos Aires.  Most recently they have been featuring a show called “Reinsertón” produced and performed by the Frente de Artistas del Borda’s theater troupe “La tenés afuera (You have it outside)”

The show, interpreted by the current and former patients of the Borda in collaboration with actors and other non-patients who together form La tenés afuera, deals with the process of reinserción (reinsertion), defined as ” returning to integrate one’s self in society after having been marginalized”, and begs the question: What good does institutionalization really do? How do we go back?

Scene from Reinsertón (Photo Courtesy of Frente de Artistas del Borda)

The audience, myself included, exploded with laughter as the only character that seemed to have a name, a young woman referred to only by her last name, Desesperetti (a play on the the word desperate), struggled her way through the bureaucratic hoops and contradictions of Argentine society. Unable to pay her rent, which, as a result of inflation, was raised overnight, Desesperetti is sent from one office to another looking for some kind of help. In the end, she finds herself on the street sleeping under an Argentine flag with her land lady, who through her own series of unfortunate events finds herself homeless as well. The play, written by the cast, throws out harsh criticisms against the city government and Governor Mauricio Macri as well as the national government in such a way that is both hysterical and extremely insightful. Most importantly, however, it provides the patients of the Borda with a powerful outlet through which to make their voices heard.

The Frente de Artistas del Borda came into existence in 1984 with the objective of using art and artistic expression as a way of criticizing and transforming society and empowering the voices of in- and out- patients of one of the city’s largest psychiatric hospitals, the Hospital Interdisciplinario Psicoasistencial José Tiburcio Borda or as it’s known El Borda. For the past 25 years they have been fighting for desmanicomialización, a word that is hard to define in english as it is as inherently political. The concept of desmanicomialización is that of both deinstitutionalizing but also more importantly de-stigmatizing mental disease.

La tenés afuera is a theater group based out of the Borda Hospital which confronts the issue of desmanicomialización throughout improvisation and collective construction concerning  issues relevant to the participants both inside and outside the hospital.

Despite outcries by hospital staff, patients and general public, the Borda Hospital has been without heat or hot water for nearly 4 months. This has brought about severe criticism of Macri, the current state of Argentina’s public health system, and the marginalization of mental disease.

Lauren Deal is currently a Fulbright Scholar and Program Assistant at Sustainable Horizon. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog.

Crashing is part of this sport, but Quiteños seem to have taken to it and are embracing bike culture in other forms as well. Today race finished in Leonidas Plaza in front of the Iglesia de Guapulo in Quito. The racers careened down part of the “Camino de los Conquistadores,” which was used by Francisco de Orellana in 1542 on his way to discover the Amazon River. Besides the Urban Downhill series of races that Quito hosts, the city is a center of progressive bike activism.

Quito has several organizations actively working to promote bikes in every form. Bici Accion, http://www.biciaccion.org/; and Ciclopolis, http://www.ciclopolis.ec, are two of them, so, in my next posts, I hope to report on the progress and specifics of some of these projects.

This was the final and biggest jump of the race, participants had to enter with plenty of speed to clear the 8 meter gap.

This rider was 12 years old, pretty impressive! He is going to be fast.

Philip Dixon is an English literature teacher in Ecuador and a devoted mountain biker. For more information on his experiences, check out his blog.

Among Haitian women, I have learned that they have learned and been trained to somehow remove feelings of jealousy when their husbands start second and third families with other women. I have seen several situations where the woman is criticized for expressing feelings of jealousy, rather than the man being criticized for adultery. What I felt when witnessing this for the first time was perhaps the most upside down and confused I had ever felt… as though human nature was being completely skewed.

I conclude that if men are taught or influenced or allowed to seek more than one wife and women are taught to remove feelings and actions of jealousy then love is removed from the family structure, trust is non-existent, and the family is completely unstable. With families being one of the most basic building blocks of society, society as a whole, therefore, lacks stability. Perhaps this is one factor behind the instability of Haitian society although I do not mean to say that all Haitians practice this. From Dominican society I have experienced and witnessed more sexual harassment whereas from Haitian society I have witnessed more gender inequality.

The Chinese have a great point with the yin yang symbol, representing interconnected and interdependent polar opposites in the natural world, including male and female. Machismo really creates a lack of balance where men, in an attempt to be masculine, go overboard to the point that they actually do weak and childish things: abandoning responsibilities, lacking self-control, acting victimized when they themselves are abusive, and more. Women, then, are forced to fill in the man’s role if they are to hold things together. It is really quite a mess.

I conclude that the reason this practice continues when it has negatively affected society throughout history is due to the fear of those involved. Sons are afraid to stand up against the practice and may end up practicing it as well when they have already lived through its destruction themselves. Wives are afraid to address the situation head on, open their hearts, and let their jealousy and bravery run wild to protect their families and marriage despite the criticisms of others. Men who live such lifestyles must be afraid of appearing weak or inadequate to just one wife and family, causing them to seek multiple. Neighbors and extended family are afraid to go against the grain and continually stand up against this practice. However, I do believe that there is a simple, yet simultaneously difficult and complicated solution that is declared in 1 John 4:18.

“There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.”

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

What this means is that families do not need to be religious to receive the NGO’s services nor do volunteers have to be religious to work for the organization.  I was informed in my volunteer interview that volunteers should support the NGO’s values and every week the national office had a team meeting to discuss a passage from the Bible and how to best put our ‘faith in action’. Since I can count the times I have been to church on one hand, this was an unfamiliar experience. I have never read the Bible and it’s not exactly on my reading list. But over time, I found these discussions refreshing as they generally focused on topics such as being humble, listening to others, peace and serving the poor. For me, it was motivating to discuss my personal philosophies regarding fighting poverty with my coworkers. Whether you call it charity, Tzedakah, Zakah or Dana, helping the less fortunate is part of all the world’s major religions. And while I may not agree with all of their principles, I can certainly agree with this one.

Still it was a leap of faith (figuratively) to sign up to volunteer with a faith based NGO. Why? I think for many of us without religious affiliation, there is a stereotype that faith based organizations inherently seeks to evangelize, and this is an especially sensitive topic when applied to international development work in Latin America. Perhaps this depends on the organization, but my experience volunteering has allowed me to make space in my world view to incorporate faith based volunteering.  It has been an absolute honor to work with people who are extremely passionate about what they do and who are committed to serving others. If someone has a religious motivation to do the work that they do, than that is ok with me, because lord knows they ain’t in it for the money. Multiply this sentiment by four when you consider a salary in Argentine pesos. Everyone has their own personal reasons for working in non-profits. Given that money isn’t the main motivating factor, there has to be something else. And through my volunteer work, I have gained a wider perspective and respect for those who work every day to put their faith in action.

Megan Kaseburg is currently the International Volunteer Coordinator with Habitat for Humanity Argentina. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog.

While busy running errands one day, and briskly walking along a footpath towards some government office or other, someone walked up next to me and asked, “tienes un cigarillo?” (Do you have a cigarette?) I don’t smoke, so I stated that I had none. But he repeated his question, and it turned out that he’d actually asked “te puedo decir algo?” (Can I tell you something?) Taken aback a little bit, I agreed, and stopped. Typically, as some might say, I thought that something might be wrong with the way I was dressed, or that I was in some sort of danger.

English Camp - click picture for the video!

He turned, looked into my eyes, and, seemingly earnestly, stated, “Quiero decir que tienes un poto muy rico.”

This was so unexpected. I immediately laughed, said thank you, and kept walking – as it turns out, I have “a delicious/hot bottom.”  I felt both complimented and embarrassed. Complimented, because it’s nice, and amusing, for me to think of my bum as “delicious,” and, I thought later, moreso that someone would risk insult or injury, in such a homophobic country, to communicate his appreciation for my hindparts. I strode along to the government office, as only someone with a delicious bottom can.

Later, however, I began to feel nervous and I actually avoided the main street on my way back home. What if he confronted me again? What would I do? How would I respond? Obviously, he did not, and I made it home with a compliment and without a confrontation.

Here in Chile, at an older age than perhaps at my most handsome, I have received more compliments than ever have in my life. Some are the sales assistant saying, “I’m only giving it to you because you’re beautiful”, and others more polite – “my boyfriend (sitting right there) won’t mind me saying this, but you’ve got a great style,” to an English camp in which I received a number of whistles and declarations of love. I know that this doesn’t compare to any of the molestation that women in Chile receive, but it’s allowed me to reflect a bit about what it might feel like. Obviously, the fact that I can list the times that it has happened means that it is not a daily occurrence.

As a generally shy person, I’ve felt both complimented and awkward, embarrassed. To some extent, I like this culture, in which people feel much freer to compliment another person, and where the idea of male beauty is much more accepted. And, on a personal note, by changing cultures, my bum has become less “oversized” and more “rico.” However, I’m sure that if it happened more than once every few months, I would fall apart in a collapse of self-consciousness.

For more on dealing with “machismo” in South America, check out “Does Machismo Exist in Argentina? Or is this a cultural misunderstanding?” by Megan Kaseburg, “Coping with the Burn,” by Nereida Heller, “Warning to Women: Thicken Your Skin, Machismo Awaits in Costa Rica” by Sebastian Kindsvater, or “Watch out for  What, Exactly?” by Lizzie LaCroix. Paul Kearney is is currently living in central Chile and teaching English. He just finished up a year volunteering with Chile’s English Opens Doors program. To hear more about his experiences, check out his blog.

My previous experiences in Latin America were confined to rural communities in the more conservative, Catholic countries of Central America.  There were few catcalls, replaced mostly by these looooooong looks (equally creepy).  I discovered that I could come to town in sweatpants, an old T-shirt and glasses, and I’d still get these looks; this was my first introduction to machismo.

Catcalls...one of the less-flattering aspects of Venezuelan culture

Caracas is something altogether different.  For one, people are a lot less conservative and a lot more direct.  Blacks are called ‘negros’, Asians ‘chinos’, fat people ‘ gordos’, etc.  Combine this with a generally chatty culture and an emphasis on physical beauty (Venezuela is not known for its beauty queens for nothing), and the ‘piropos’ – catcalls – here are a class by themselves.  Everyone has their own piropos they hear especially often.  Mine is ‘flaca!’ or ‘flaca bella!’ – essentially, someone is  attempting to holler at me by saying ‘hey skinny girl!’ or ‘Pretty skinny girl!’  Nice.  Another one: ‘flaca, pero bella!’ – ‘skinny, but pretty!’

Depending on the day, my inner response ranges from amused to irate.  I couldn’t help but laugh once when I was caught walking behind a particularly voluptuous Venezuelan woman sauntering around in too-tight jeans and stilettos.  Many a man who passed her did the slow turn-around and stared dumbstruck at her retreating rear.  Of course, when a passing man waits until he’s inches from my face to lean in and blow a kiss, I’m generally less-than-tickled.  Still, my outward response is one of Zen calm – I pretend I don’t notice.  When I got comfortable walking around Caracas with my iTouch, I found that a little bit of music helps drown out the hisses.

Only once have I snapped back; at a 12-year-old who came up to my waist and decided he wanted to make some comments.  My response was mostly impulsive: ‘Seriously?! You’re about 12…you must be joking.’  Now, do I feel guilty for yelling at a 12-year-old?  Only marginally.  I’ve never tried to say anything back to my older admirers.  Mostly because nothing I can say will invoke the ideal response I want (a contrite apology, or else a reflection on the destructive role machismo attitudes play on gender relations), and partly for my own safety.

Some male friends once tried to provide me with some ‘rationale.’  Women expected it, they told me; if a woman is all dressed-up and made-up and strutting down the street and doesn’t hear anyone hissing or making comments, she’ll be insulted.  The catcalls are an affirmation that she looks good – like staring in a mirror except this time the mirror can shout its approval.  I stared at them incredulously.

For more on dealing with “machismo” in South America, check out “Does Machismo Exist in Argentina? Or is this a cultural misunderstanding?” by Megan Kaseburg, “Coping with the Burn,” by Nereida Heller, “Warning to Women: Thicken Your Skin, Machismo Awaits in Costa Rica” by Sebastian Kindsvater, or “Watch out for  What, Exactly?” by Lizzie LaCroix. Lianne Gonsalves is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Centro Venezolano Americano. To hear more about her experiences, check out her blog. This is not is not an official Fulbright Program blog. The views and information presented are Lianne’s own and do not represent the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State, or any of its partner organizations.