"I love you baby"

With a headache, runny nose and body aches, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for work. Having been sick for the past few days, I haven’t been able to each much, so I already was feeling as though I was running on empty on my walk to the bus station. My ten minute walk every morning is overwhelming and chaotic... not the typical ‘walk’ you may think of in the States.  I walk through the crowded streets that are lined with vendors, people calling out what they’re selling and for how much, retail workers trying to get the attention of people passing by to come in to their shops, and of course there are the dozens of men who whistle and hiss at us gringos as we walk by. The sounds, after a while, all blend together as I keep my pace, trying to dodge everyone coming in the opposite direction... and its only the ‘i love you baby’ comments, in broken English, that seem to catch my ear. The smells are overwhelming and often times sickening: rotten vegetables that are squished throughout the street gutters, the immense amount of trash that fills the streets and sidewalks, the raw meet that hangs in the sun all day from some vendors’ stands, the body odor of hundreds of sweating bodies, stale urine from drunken homeless men who pee freely throughout the city, horse poop, and the pits and remanence of fruits that lay on the ground waiting for some emaciated dog to come by and munch on.  And this morning, on top of all that, I spotted a blind man, using a cane to guide his way, coming in my direction and so without much though I took a few steps to the side in order to give him plenty of room to get by without  having to inch his way in to the street where the cars were flying by. He seemed to be walking in a straight line, and I seemed to be out of his way, but at the last minute when he was conveniently right in front of me, he ‘fell’ in to me... it was obvious that it was intentional, and I realized this even more when he did it to two other girls who were several paces behind me. It amazes me how aggressive guys are here, how they’ll do anything to get a hang on a gringo.  My only other experience with this was when I was in Kenya, but even then, the men were not as aggressive.. for when I opened my mouth and they realized I could speak swahili, it was almost as though it became less fun of a game for them. Here, it doesn’t matter if you speak spanish, if you ignore them or shoot them some nasty look... they’ll continue to shout comments, put their hands on your arm or waist. Yuck.

  Anyway- I hopped on my usual bus and sat down, my legs sticking to the lovely pleather seats. Ten minutes later, I arrived at school, feeling lethargic and not ready to deal with all of the chaos that goes on at Elba Zamora. I spent more than half of my day actually looking for my kids. Though it’s usually hectic, I can walk around the small school yard and find who I’m looking for within a few minutes.. but today was harder than usual and I definitely didn’t have the patients for it. I struggled to get through four tutoring sessions; yawning and constantly blowing my nose, my children looked at me strangely and continuously asked what was wrong with me.

  Half way through the day, a volunteer group helping out with the organization ‘Give a Kid a Backpack’ came to distribute Jansport backpacks to a bunch of the kids. Since they didn’t have enough bags for everyone, the teachers had created a list of who they thought were the most in need of a new backpack. Many of these kids were carrying their books to school in ripped plastic bags, or dragged their mangled backpack through the school yard to class by the one remaining shoulder strap. Twenty-five kids were brought in to an empty classroom and were given these brand new backpacks that were also filled with 4 new notebooks, colored pencils, half a dozen pencils, pens, and a ruler. If you saw the materials that these kids had, you would understand how big of a deal this was. Usually, each kid has one pencil that they cherish and make sure to hold on to, and they use small notebooks that barely stay together through the entire year. It was wonderful to see the kids faces as they left the room with these new bags, to see the excitement in their eyes.  Again, I realized how fortunate I am to live such a luxurious life at home back in the US. One of my students, Harbi, came running up to me wanting to show me everything and it was so amazing being able to share this experience with him.  On the hand, it was sad to see the look of disappointment in the other kids faces who did not receive a new backpack... and I understood completely why they were confused. “Why didn’t I get a backpack? Mine is broken..” One my kids asked me. It was all she could focus on, no matter how many times I tried to get her attention on the math problems were were trying to complete. All of these kids come from such poor communities and have so few possessions, that I can imagine how difficult it would have been to choose the kids for this. This entire experience, from the outside, was incredibly bittersweet.