As the title insinuates, I will not be writing much. Not that there isn't much going on, it's just that...
Well, you see, I am leaving tomorrow to spend three weeks deep in the heart of the Amazon. Pretty cool, right? Well, I just remembered about this trip today. Yeah, that's how busy I am these days (and on my vacation, too).
Anyway, I am scrambling around trying to get malaria pills and mosquito repellant, and I have no time to write about my life.
Sorry.
In exchange, I will leave you with the promise to post the mother of all updates upon my return. Seriously. Scouts honor.
Thank you for your understanding,
Tyler
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
I know, I know...I'ts been a while.
Normally, I don't just update to update, I like to wait for something to happen in my life that causes me to say (usually silently, Colombians tend to frown on strange white people talking to themselves) "hey, I should put that on my blog!" More often than not, this will be a story that I feel is worth sharing, or some thoughts that would serve to illuminate the reality of Bogota for those that are thousands of miles away. However, nothing of that nature has struck me in quite some time. This might be because the novelty of living in a foreign country has all but worn off, and the absurdity that I live in no longer strikes me as being anything out of the ordinary. Or, it could be that I have been too busy with other thoughts to give my blog the time of day. Or, it could be that I type very slowly, and I am lazy. Any or all of these may very well be the case, but my lack of activity here on this web page has not been for lack of activity in life. The constant state of flux (pun intended) that was reflected in my last post has not showed signs of slowing any time soon.
For this reason, and for the hate mail that I have been receiving from friends who are worried by my cyber-silence, I will once again attempt to sum up the events of my life thus far.
Let's see...where were we. Ah yes, Mabel and Mauricio! Well, they lived with us for a few weeks, and then they were lovingly transferred to another organization that specializes in adolescents ages 13 and up (we are normally 13 and younger). They still live here in Bogota, and we will sometimes get a call from one or the other, either asking a favor, or just wanting to talk.
We've wrapped things up at school. The kids performed a drama that they had been working on for all of their parents and friends, some of them graduated, and we had a Christmas party where they all received some gifts donated by a local church. This party ended up being one of the worst days of school for me, due to the lack of foresight on behalf of those donating the presents.
You see, there are these ladies...
They come once a month to prepare a big meal for the kids, and they seem nice enough, although they usually don't pay any attention to the gringos. Normally, I welcome their presence, as it usually means a tasty lunch, and even though some of them can be rather snobbish, I try not to judge. This time, they made hot dogs with tartar sauce and potato chip crumbs. I will not go into the bizarre culinary habits of Colombians right now, as that is a topic for another time. Suffice to say, I did not partake. After lunch, one of the women announced that they had some gifts for the kids. Of course, the children were elated, and as they tore into the wrapping, I was pleasantly surprised. The ladies did a great job. Most of the kids got wonderful presents that they loved, and there was very little fighting among them (an act of God, I assure you). We were all quite satisfied with the events of the day, and ready to call it quits, when one of the women made another announcement. Apparently, there were bicycles. Now, this was just too much. The kids lost their tiny little minds, and began to scream and jump about wildly. They grouped the kids up into girls and boys, and then into those that need training wheels and those that do not. Then, for dramatic effect, they hoisted up the first bike. It was for an older boy. The women made the kids choose a number between one and ten to see who gets the first bike, and the winner was then photographed, beaming, on top of his new gift. Things went on in this manner for about 5 more bikes, and then, in the midst of all of this excitement, they announced that there was only one more bicycle. Wait, what?!?! There were at least a dozen children waiting to receive a gift that they will otherwise never even dream of receiving, and there is only one left, not to mention that you have distributed them by pure chance?!?!?! The last one, a girls bike with training wheels, was handed to the lucky winner, and chaos ensued. The other children, whose only crime was being unlucky, were forced to sit and contemplate the numbers that they should have chosen while they try not to listen to the squeals of glee emanating from the street, where the fortunate ones were blocking traffic with their unbelievable new presents. I spent the remainder of the day with sobbing children in my lap, trying to console them, but not really knowing how. What do you say in that position? It's going to be ok? Yeah, in the grand scheme of things, but not in the mind of a child. Maybe you'll get one anyway? Not likely. Maybe next year? Even less. Almost all of the children with whom I work right now will be moved into another neighborhood this spring, out of our jurisdiction. All I could say to these red, swollen eyes was, "I know, it's not fair. I'm so sorry." Now, I know that not getting a bicycle is not the end of the world, but remember that these children live in abject poverty, in many ways this will be one of the defining moments of their lives. The women responsible for this fiasco, retreated to the kitchen with photos of smiling children, and a sense of satisfaction. Only one came out to see what all of the crying was about. She asked me why the children were so sad. I stared at her dumbfounded.
Take this as a lesson, if any of you readers out there feel like doing something philanthropic, do so! But always ask the advice of those who actually work in that area before you go and do more damage than good.
Anyway, the following week, we had a YWAM retreat at a very nice campground in Chinauta (I realize that these proper nouns mean nothing to you, but bear with me) and had a great time of relaxation. I also practiced my futbol skills, which is something I wish I did more of. I met a lot of cool people from all over Colombia, which will come in handy whenever I get around to doing some traveling.
Now, I'm back in Bogota, Christmas shopping and Christmas partying. We also have a new addition to the household. His name is David, he's 11, and he is appalled at the fact that we do not have a television. His ADHD tells me that he might be accustomed to hours of Japanese cartoons and seizure-inducing cereal commercials.
As I mentioned earlier, I am getting quite used to Colombia. I really do love my life here, despite everything that might indicate otherwise. Try, if you will, to remember the feeling you had as a child on Christmas Eve, or on the night before your first day of the new school year. You lay in the darkness, eyes wide open, sleepless from the unbearable excitement of the prospect of tomorrow. Now tone that down just a little, and that is what it is like live here. You never know what will happen the following day, who will appear at your doorstep, what the kids will learn, where you will be at the day's end, but your adrenaline flows at the mere thought of it.
Love from the Global South,
Tyler Mowry
For this reason, and for the hate mail that I have been receiving from friends who are worried by my cyber-silence, I will once again attempt to sum up the events of my life thus far.
Let's see...where were we. Ah yes, Mabel and Mauricio! Well, they lived with us for a few weeks, and then they were lovingly transferred to another organization that specializes in adolescents ages 13 and up (we are normally 13 and younger). They still live here in Bogota, and we will sometimes get a call from one or the other, either asking a favor, or just wanting to talk.
We've wrapped things up at school. The kids performed a drama that they had been working on for all of their parents and friends, some of them graduated, and we had a Christmas party where they all received some gifts donated by a local church. This party ended up being one of the worst days of school for me, due to the lack of foresight on behalf of those donating the presents.
You see, there are these ladies...
They come once a month to prepare a big meal for the kids, and they seem nice enough, although they usually don't pay any attention to the gringos. Normally, I welcome their presence, as it usually means a tasty lunch, and even though some of them can be rather snobbish, I try not to judge. This time, they made hot dogs with tartar sauce and potato chip crumbs. I will not go into the bizarre culinary habits of Colombians right now, as that is a topic for another time. Suffice to say, I did not partake. After lunch, one of the women announced that they had some gifts for the kids. Of course, the children were elated, and as they tore into the wrapping, I was pleasantly surprised. The ladies did a great job. Most of the kids got wonderful presents that they loved, and there was very little fighting among them (an act of God, I assure you). We were all quite satisfied with the events of the day, and ready to call it quits, when one of the women made another announcement. Apparently, there were bicycles. Now, this was just too much. The kids lost their tiny little minds, and began to scream and jump about wildly. They grouped the kids up into girls and boys, and then into those that need training wheels and those that do not. Then, for dramatic effect, they hoisted up the first bike. It was for an older boy. The women made the kids choose a number between one and ten to see who gets the first bike, and the winner was then photographed, beaming, on top of his new gift. Things went on in this manner for about 5 more bikes, and then, in the midst of all of this excitement, they announced that there was only one more bicycle. Wait, what?!?! There were at least a dozen children waiting to receive a gift that they will otherwise never even dream of receiving, and there is only one left, not to mention that you have distributed them by pure chance?!?!?! The last one, a girls bike with training wheels, was handed to the lucky winner, and chaos ensued. The other children, whose only crime was being unlucky, were forced to sit and contemplate the numbers that they should have chosen while they try not to listen to the squeals of glee emanating from the street, where the fortunate ones were blocking traffic with their unbelievable new presents. I spent the remainder of the day with sobbing children in my lap, trying to console them, but not really knowing how. What do you say in that position? It's going to be ok? Yeah, in the grand scheme of things, but not in the mind of a child. Maybe you'll get one anyway? Not likely. Maybe next year? Even less. Almost all of the children with whom I work right now will be moved into another neighborhood this spring, out of our jurisdiction. All I could say to these red, swollen eyes was, "I know, it's not fair. I'm so sorry." Now, I know that not getting a bicycle is not the end of the world, but remember that these children live in abject poverty, in many ways this will be one of the defining moments of their lives. The women responsible for this fiasco, retreated to the kitchen with photos of smiling children, and a sense of satisfaction. Only one came out to see what all of the crying was about. She asked me why the children were so sad. I stared at her dumbfounded.
Take this as a lesson, if any of you readers out there feel like doing something philanthropic, do so! But always ask the advice of those who actually work in that area before you go and do more damage than good.
Anyway, the following week, we had a YWAM retreat at a very nice campground in Chinauta (I realize that these proper nouns mean nothing to you, but bear with me) and had a great time of relaxation. I also practiced my futbol skills, which is something I wish I did more of. I met a lot of cool people from all over Colombia, which will come in handy whenever I get around to doing some traveling.
Now, I'm back in Bogota, Christmas shopping and Christmas partying. We also have a new addition to the household. His name is David, he's 11, and he is appalled at the fact that we do not have a television. His ADHD tells me that he might be accustomed to hours of Japanese cartoons and seizure-inducing cereal commercials.
As I mentioned earlier, I am getting quite used to Colombia. I really do love my life here, despite everything that might indicate otherwise. Try, if you will, to remember the feeling you had as a child on Christmas Eve, or on the night before your first day of the new school year. You lay in the darkness, eyes wide open, sleepless from the unbearable excitement of the prospect of tomorrow. Now tone that down just a little, and that is what it is like live here. You never know what will happen the following day, who will appear at your doorstep, what the kids will learn, where you will be at the day's end, but your adrenaline flows at the mere thought of it.
Love from the Global South,
Tyler Mowry
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