where it all began

As I mentioned in my appeal, I'm raising money for the two foundations I worked with last year in Ecuador-- la Fundación Rostro de Cristo y la Fundación Nuevo Mundo. So far, you've heard a lot about Nuevo Mundo--from my first few weeks teaching there over a year ago, to witnessing the 14 seniors I taught graduate last January, to Pat McTeague's talk with visiting retreat groups. Today I'd like to tell you a little more about Rostro de Cristo, specifically the retreat program we run with high schools, colleges, and parish groups from the States.


Rostro de Cristo was founded in 1988 by Fr. Jim Ronan, a parish priest from the Boston area. Fr. Jim joined the St. James Society, which meant volunteering to serve as a priest for 5 years in Peru, Bolivia, or Ecuador. Fr. Jim was assigned to a parish in the oldest part of Durán, which was beginning to see a huge influx (or invasion) of Ecuadorians moving from the countryside to Durán, where they could squat or buy cheap land and work in the big city--Guayaquil. Durán quickly balooned to a city of over 500,000 people, most living in cane houses built over the swamps of the Guayas River. With such sprawling poverty unlike anything in the States, Fr. Jim began inviting high schools, college, and parish groups down to Ecuador to see Durán for themselves and meet some of the people who live in this reality every day.

Fr. Jim with Pat McTeague and Sonya Rendón, founders of Nuevo Mundo
outside the newest Rostro de Cristo house in Mount Sinai, Guayaquil

Before Fr. Jim's 5 years were up, he began recruiting volunteers to live in Durán and help continue the program--to receive the retreat groups, show them around, keep them safe, translate, and introduce them to their friends and neighbors in Durán. Over the years, the program grew, working with partner organizations like Nuevo Mundo to build volunteer and retreat houses in the Antonio Jose de Sucre neighborhood in 1994; the Arbolito neighborhood in 2003; and the newest invasion community, Mt. Sinai in western Guayaquil, in 2010. From one volunteer living with Fr. Jim to now sixteen volunteers living in three different communities in Duran and Guayaquil.

visiting Damien House with Cabrini College

The retreat program now hosts 26 groups a year--mainly Catholic high schools and colleges who stay anywhere from 6 - 12 days. One volunteer is responsible for leading each retreat, so with sixteen volunteers, most volunteers lead about two groups per year. The primary function of the retreat program is education--to expose and educate North Americans on the realities of the developing world, to meet and get to know real people who live these realities, and to witness firsthand some of the work being done by Ecuadorian partner foundations to change these realities.


Before a group even gets to Ecuador, Rostro provides them with extensive background information on Ecuador and the developing world; so the first day in country, retreatants dive right into neighbor visits. Volunteers and retreatants live in houses in the hearts of these developing communities, so we often literally walk just next door to talk to neighbors. Most neighbors have known the Rostro community for years, and are more than happy to share their homes for an hour or two with retreat groups.

visiting friends with my Dad

These conversations can be anywhere from terribly uncomfortable (imagine a dozen gringos crammed in a one bedroom cane house when it's 100 degrees out trying to make conversation with Ecuadorians through a translator while the pet dogs, cats, ducks, chickens, rabbits, and geese are all making noise in the back of the house); to hilarious (some of the neighbors love to push the retreatants for all the juicy details on their boyfriends, girlfriends, or "amigos especiales"); to heartbreaking (when a neighbor opens up about deaths that didn't need to happen because healthcare is non-existent; or husbands, sons, sisters, brothers they haven't seen in years because they work three jobs and live illegally in the States or Europe).


Whether it's a lighthearted chat or a visit that leaves everyone in tears, what retreatants most often realize is how close we really are to people who on the surface would seem so very different. Through the language barriers, economic barriers, geographic barriers, we all laugh, we all cry, we all love.

sharing a birthday with neighbors

And as simple as that may sound, that is an integral part of the retreat program. Compared with other 3rd world "service trips," retreat groups don't actually do any work in Ecuador; they don't build houses, paint buildings, or give handouts. Rather, retreatants come to Ecuador to be with the Ecuadorian people, to listen to them, to learn from them, to share their time with them. Instead of leaving with a sense of accomplishment--"I built a house"--retreatants leave with relationships, memories of the people they took the time to be with. The hope being that that memory, that person you connected with will be a constant reminder of not only how much we have, but moreso how much we owe to those who don't.


And so, again, I ask for your help. Rostro has very little overhead in the States--from every dollar you give to Rostro, 91 cents goes straight to Ecuador, ensuring that the retreat program, the volunteer program, and our partner organizations in Ecuador can continue to do work where it is needed the most.


Below is a link to Rostro de Cristo's giving page, where you can donate with a credit card, debit card, or PayPal. Since Nuevo Mundo doesn't have a US 501(c)3 (it's an Ecuadorian Foundation with no US presence), Rostro has agreed to receive all donations, then pass on half to Nuevo Mundo. All donations are fully tax deductible.

http://www.rostrodecristo.org/give/index.html

On the "Review Your Donation Screen" (after you enter your card info or sign into PayPal), please enter "Mark Perlite" in the "Add special instructions to the seller" field so Rostro can tell me how much we raise at the end of the month.

Or, if you would prefer to make your donation via mail please send a check (with "Mark Perlite" written in the memo) made payable to:

Rostro de Cristo

P.O. Box 920433

Needham, MA 02492

As I mentioned before, my goal for this month is to raise $5,000: $2,500 for Rostro de Cristo and $2,500 for Nuevo Mundo. A lofty goal, but I email these blogs out to about 100 people, and at $50/person, I think that should get us there (someone check my math, I'm terrible with numbers). Obviously not everyone can give $50, but hopefully some people give more, some people give less, and we can get to that $5,000 goal. If you could at least give $10, it would mean a lot to me--not to mention all the Ecuadorians each of these incredible foundations serve.


Thanks again!

Mark




another birthday with neighbors... MY birthday!
(and Jessie and Henry, too)



What's Next?

Alright, I know I'm back in the States and Rostro no longer lists me as a current volunteer, but my ass is still unemployed, so I'm gonna keep writing. Deal with it. Through all this transition time, one thing I keep coming back to is this little thing we call the "What's Next?" talk. I'm sure I've mentioned this in previous posts, but in addition to our works sites, a big responsibility of being a Rostro de Cristo volunteer is hosting the 26 high school and college retreat groups who come down every year from the States. The retreats usually last anywhere from 7-10 days, and on the last day, we give this talk/guided reflection we call "What's Next?"

Now that I'm back, I've been doing a lot of the same kind of reflecting on my year in Ecuador, and what I'm going to do with that going forward. One thing I keep coming back to--one of the most powerful parts of the retreats, in my opinion--is taking the retreatants to Nuevo Mundo to meet Patricia McTeague. Pat first came to Ecuador as a nun in the late 60s, and she saw education as the tool to empower Ecuadorians to lift themselves out of poverty. In the early 80s, after a whole lot of "now's not the time" answers from the church/nunnery, Pat quit the sisterhood, partnered up with Sonya Rendón, and with $4,000 started the Fundación Nuevo Mundo in Sonya's parents' house. Today, the morning school offers the best education money can buy to Guayaquil's elite, all while subsidizing the education of hundreds (thousands over the past 30 years) of kids from the poorest areas of Guayaquil.

Seeing the impact this school has had on countless families, students, alumni, etc. is enough to inspire anyone, but talking to the founder herself can literally be a life changing experience. In not so many words, Pat is a bad ass bitch, and she does not pussyfoot around what she expects out of people. Her favorite statistic to throw at retreatants (most of whom come from expensive private Catholic high schools and universities) is that only 1% of the world's population gets a college education. Pat asks each student individually "What are you studying?" "What do you want to do when you graduate?" and "How are you going to change the world?" Heavy shit. Coming from someone who actually is changing the world, these questions carry weight.

Being in this 1% is a gift, a privilege--without a doubt--but for Pat, it's so much more than something to be thankful for. It's a goddamn obligation to use that gift, that privilege, that power to do what that other 99% can't do to make the world a better place. 99% of the world--maybe more--will never have the opportunities we have. That is the status quo--the nature of the unjust world we live in. Being in that 1%, though, we have the opportunity, the power to speak and act for those who can't. To work for a more just society, where maybe one day 2% or--God forbid--3% can get a college education.

And then Pat gets all serious and tells them something like "I'm old. I'll be long gone before you start doing something with your life. But I know I'm going to heaven. So when you get there, and you didn't do anything to make the world a better place, and you say 'I didn't know what I was supposed to do,' I'll be there, and I'll tell you. Yes you did. On this day in 2011, in Ecuador, the crazy bitch with the white hair told you what you had to do."

I've heard Pat bring down the wrath of God on at least 1/2 a dozen retreat groups, and every time I get a little lump in my throat when she gets to the "I'm telling you today what you have to do" part. You don't have to be Catholic or even believe in heaven and hell to get the point. We are that 1% who have the education, who have the power. Whether it feels like we can make a change or not, the fact is we can--if we choose to. Pat listened to her heart and did what she knew was right--not what the nuns or everyone else expected of her.

So, just as the retreatants reflect on their 7-10 days in Ecuador, here I am reflecting on my 365 days. Thinking about what Pat McTeague said--what am I gonna do to change the world? Thinking about working at Nuevo Mundo--the kids I taught who work way harder than I ever did, but don't have anywhere near the number of opportunities that I had. Thinking about the struggles of poverty--abusive husbands/fathers, teenage moms, non-existent healthcare, kids who can't go to school because they have to work, and kids who can go to school but are in a classroom with eighty other kids. But mostly I'm thinking about all the friends I made--the people who opened their homes, opened their lives to me this year. Shared their joys, struggles, laughter, and tears with me. Faces I will never forget. Thinking about going back to visit these friends, and what I'm going to have to say to them. What did I learn from this year I spent with them, and what am I going to do about it?

Don't worry, I don't have any answers yet. Not even close. Right now I'm just trying to get settled back in San Francisco (ask any of my former students, and they'll tell you where the best city in the world is). But these questions aren't going anywhere. And I'm never going to forget this year.

no te vaaaaaaaaaaayas, tu eres cheeeeevere

The end is near my friends... just had our despedidas this weekend, new volunteers get in tonight, my last day at Mundo is Thursday, I leave for Peru Saturday, then on August 23rd, American Airlines flight 1455 takes me home to SFO. The past couple months have flown by... still can't believe I'll be in San Francisco in less than a month.

Lots of mixed emotions to say the least. Right now, here, in Ecuador, starting to say my goodbyes, I feel like shit. There's a lot of people I'm going to miss, and that's gonna be a tough pill to swallow these next two weeks. When I think about it, though, I am excited to come home and catch up with all the family and friends I've missed this past year.

I think back to saying goodbye to family and friends this time last year; and that, too, was sad, scary, and very emotional. Sure, things would change over the course of this year, but ultimately, I knew I would be back in San Francisco come August 2011. This time around, though, as I'm saying these goodbyes, I know I'm not coming back. Yes, I will visit--I hope to be back to Ecuador within the next year, and as frequently as possible after that; but I will never live here again--in this community, with these people, sharing every laugh, tear, conversation, good day, bad day, hotter than F, sweaty, normal day.

There's so much that I'm gonna miss about living here. I'm going to miss my friends--miss those experiences we've shared this year, as well as those experiences we won't get to share next year or the year after. I'm going to miss the students I taught this year--seeing them every day, talking to them, laughing with them, playing soccer with them in my slacks and dress shoes, joking with them about who they are and aren't dating, and sometimes just wanting to wanting to tell them to shut the fffront door. I'm going to miss my neighborhood--living on a street where the kids are always out playing and the madres are always inviting me in to eat. I'm going to miss playing soccer with the kids, the hugs and vueltas, high fives and fist bumps, calling each other locos, feos, vagos. I'm going to miss the conversations with neighbors, friends--deep shit about life, family, love, justice, politics, everyday struggles. I'm gonna miss shooting the shit with the guys--playing cards and dominos late into the night, talking shit, calling each other nicknames, telling dirty jokes, and learning every possible word that might in some way have a genital connotation.

I could go on for days (especially about the genitals). There's just so many people and experiences I'm gonna miss here. Deep down, though, I know it's time to go. Kinda like that "enlightened" freshman year of college, I can never go back and do it again--have it all be new. That's the way things go. So for these last few months, I've been trying to live it up as much as possible (hence the lack of blogologue). So many memories I wish I could share. I have a bunch of pictures I promise to put up soon, but for now, here's some highlights from the past couple months:

• Remember Horatio?? He had a good run, but the REAL nickname that has stuck all year is Menendez. Ask me a year ago what I think of when I hear Menendez, and I'll tell you those creeps Lyle and Erik who offed their parents back in the early 90's. Down here, though, Menendez is the blonde haired, blue eyed Argentinian superstar who plays for Guayaquil's pro soccer team, Emelec. My neighbors Don Walter and Don Sergio made Emelec fans out of me early on, so as soon as I got a jersey, everyone started calling me Menendez. Literally Everybody. Anytime I wear the jersey--and sometimes when I'm not wearing the jersey and I'm just being white, blonde, and ridiculously good looking--people will just yell at me: Menendez!!

MENENDEZ!!

While we're on the topic of Emelec (which, by the way is an acronym for the Empresa Electrica del Ecuador, or Ecuadorian Electric Co.), way before Cristian Menendez was the famous white boy on the team, America's favorite ginger-defender, Alexi Lalas played for Emelec for about a month back in '97. Funny thing, though, apparently all anyone here remembers about him is that he was big into the cocaina...

• All night Mother's Day parties... So aparently the Ecuadorian way of showing mothers the infinite gratitude they deserve is to wake them up with serenades on Mother's Day Eve... either with your own voice, with a paid gentleman singer, or with a rented sound system, some salsa CDs, and a microphone that the whole neighborhood can hear. Looooooooovely tradition. Minus the fact that I didn't get any sleep that night thanks to my good friend Edwin (20 something, no more than 5 feet tall, responds to Papi Pitufo, aka Papa Smurf) who apparently got hired to serenade all of South America from his soundsystem 3 blocks away. 

Gina didn't even know that she was in the presence
of an international soccer superstar...

• So my little sister Gina just graduates magna cum laude from Georgetown (no big deal, I'm not overly proud of her or anything), the whole damn world is at her fingertips, and where does she decide to go less than one week after graduating? Fuckin Ecuador to visit big brother. What a gal. After almost 11 months of choppy internet phone calls from the cyber cafe, finally getting to spend some real human time face to face with my flesh and blood was pretty awesome. I took her around AJS, Arbolito, Veintiocho, out to Nuevo Mundo, down to Guayaquil's touristy Malecón 2000, and up to the historic Las Peñas district of Guayaquil for a night on the town. Despite my best efforts with this blog, it's been really tough to put into words all the experiences I'm having here. There's a lot of "you had to be there," or "you had to see it," or "you had to know him/her" kind of stuff, so getting to share even just a few days of this with Gina was really special.

• What do you get when you put 10 teenage boys from well-to-do Cincinnati suburbs in a barrio in Ecuador with no running water, no meat, no cell phones, TVs, video games, iPods, facebook, etc? Lots of soccer, bilingual card games, unflushed shits, penis-carved soap bars, and of course, life changing experiences. One of the ways Rostro de Cristo gets its funding is by hosting high school and college retreat groups from the states. Between the 2 houses in Arbolito and AJS, we've had 26 groups this year; I led 2: Cabrini College in December, and St. Xavier High School in June. My role was part spiritual director, part tour guide, and part babysitter... it was a long week to say the least, but the guys were great, and I think they all got something out of it.

me, the St. X boys, and Oso

• Right after my retreat group, the Rostro de Cristo Board of Directors came down to visit and inaugurate our new retreat house in Mount Sinai. So what do you get when you put a bunch of middle aged white people in a barrio in Ecuador... juuust kidding. Nothing like the high school kids. All the Board members were super interesting people, all with incredible backgrounds in Latin America; so it was really cool show them what we do down here and talk to them about some of the higher level foundation decision making that goes on back home. Who knows where life's gonna take me, but I'd love to get involved in decisions like that someday.

• Did I mention I'm learning to tejer? That's right. Crocheting. Wellington has been teaching me how to make hammocks, and Pastora helped me make a little monedero last month. It's frustrating as all hell at first, but once you get the hang of it, it's really quite relaxing. And it's awesome when you finally have something to show for all your work.

• Saw Transformers with one of the kids from my neighborhood a couple weeks ago. 2 observations: 
1. While Optimus Prime is unstoppable no matter what tongue he speaks, the Spanish speaking Optimus Prime doesn't quite have the stage presence that his English speaking cousin does. 
2. Hanging out with a 12 year old boy with no filter is awesome no matter where you are. Hanging out with a 12 year old boy with no filter from Duran in a "1st world" movie complex/shopping mall is extra awesome. While we were waiting for the movie to start, we cruised the toystore, people watched, and judged the shit out of all the upper-middle class people walking around like their poo doesn't stink. Granted, I was very aware that I was inherently laughing at myself (this mall very easily could have been the San Francisco Shopping Centre, and these people could have easily been me and my friends), but it was still pretty ridiculous. Living in a neighborhood for a year where the average income is $2 a day really puts things in perspective when you walk around a toy store looking at $80 lego sets and $500 Playstations.

New volunteer orientation starts tomorrow morning, Peru with Chris F-ing Peterson the 13th-22nd, then back to the fog (oh how I miss thee) August 23rd. Unless we have another coup or something monumental like that, I can pretty much guarantee this will be my last blog from Ecuador. If you play your cards right, maybe I'll get it together to do one last blog when I get home; but for now, I'm signing off. Thanks for reading. It's been a hell of a year. Hope to see everyone when I get home.

If you've made it this long, I thank you for your commitment. I reward you with one spanish translation: no te vayas = don't leave! ugh... hurts everytime I hear it.