The Indigenous Ecuadorian Class
Sitting at a mere 9000 ft above sea level or twice the altitude of Ben Nevis, the indigenous children of Urcusiqui, who are aged between seven and 12, share a classroom in the most simple of conditions. The roof is made of tin; the windows have bars to prevent thieves from stealing the much-prized stationary and with no central heating the classroom is freezing cold even in the summer. It is in these conditions the children turn up every day with such overwhelming enthusiasm. That is unless their parents want them to work in the field or with cattle for that day.
I am currently working with a group of volunteers many of whom have given up jobs and summer holidays to come here for their cause. When we arrive, every single child runs up to patter on the windows and doors as if Father Christmas had arrived. Upon a relatively short introduction, they are desperate to be picked up and hugged. As soon as you put down one another comes steaming up who wants a ride on your shoulders, back or arms. It is a touching gesture of warmth and tragedy. Warmth because of their welcome, but tragedy because they believe you can perhaps ‘help’ them when you know deep down you can’t and this is only a temporary stay.
The most awesome sight is seeing children as young as eight carrying their younger siblings on their back all day without complaint. It is, to a Westerner, at first a sweet sight watching a bigger sister or brother walk around doing normal things with a little baby on their back. But you soon feel for the situation when the elder of the two tries to read or write whilst having to pay attention to their responsibility.
They are not, as one might expect, dressed in indigenous clothes. Imperialism has reached even here, and many of the children wear trainers and jeans. They are however, very dirty and will often wear the same clothes to school every day of the week until they have a weekly wash in a bucket of lukewarm water.
Apart from being dirty, their skin has been severely burnt where they have had no protection from the fierce sun. It is incredibly painful for the children and comparable to the sensation of having chapped lips, only it is all over your face. When they smile, their skin cracks and can even force bleeding.
At the moment, they are on their ‘summer holidays’. But school is still the thing to do, which is why there is a regular turnout of at least 15 a day. This is something which shall be gone into further in a later blog.
At the end of the school day the children are given fruit by the volunteers. This is a huge treat and even a privilege for them. They surround you like pigeons do in Trafalgar Square when you have a lump of bread you pick off. One boy, who was ‘not in the mood’ for any fruit, was beaten five times with a stick by his mother for simply turning it down. It was witnessed by another volunteer, who described it as ‘one of the most shocking things she had ever seen.’
Essentially, however, the children here are treated well and have the most amazing attitude to life. If you look into their eyes they already have that mature and adult look each with its own story to tell. It is these ‘stories’ which I intend to find here in Ecuador.
I am currently working with a group of volunteers many of whom have given up jobs and summer holidays to come here for their cause. When we arrive, every single child runs up to patter on the windows and doors as if Father Christmas had arrived. Upon a relatively short introduction, they are desperate to be picked up and hugged. As soon as you put down one another comes steaming up who wants a ride on your shoulders, back or arms. It is a touching gesture of warmth and tragedy. Warmth because of their welcome, but tragedy because they believe you can perhaps ‘help’ them when you know deep down you can’t and this is only a temporary stay.
The most awesome sight is seeing children as young as eight carrying their younger siblings on their back all day without complaint. It is, to a Westerner, at first a sweet sight watching a bigger sister or brother walk around doing normal things with a little baby on their back. But you soon feel for the situation when the elder of the two tries to read or write whilst having to pay attention to their responsibility.
They are not, as one might expect, dressed in indigenous clothes. Imperialism has reached even here, and many of the children wear trainers and jeans. They are however, very dirty and will often wear the same clothes to school every day of the week until they have a weekly wash in a bucket of lukewarm water.
Apart from being dirty, their skin has been severely burnt where they have had no protection from the fierce sun. It is incredibly painful for the children and comparable to the sensation of having chapped lips, only it is all over your face. When they smile, their skin cracks and can even force bleeding.
At the moment, they are on their ‘summer holidays’. But school is still the thing to do, which is why there is a regular turnout of at least 15 a day. This is something which shall be gone into further in a later blog.
At the end of the school day the children are given fruit by the volunteers. This is a huge treat and even a privilege for them. They surround you like pigeons do in Trafalgar Square when you have a lump of bread you pick off. One boy, who was ‘not in the mood’ for any fruit, was beaten five times with a stick by his mother for simply turning it down. It was witnessed by another volunteer, who described it as ‘one of the most shocking things she had ever seen.’
Essentially, however, the children here are treated well and have the most amazing attitude to life. If you look into their eyes they already have that mature and adult look each with its own story to tell. It is these ‘stories’ which I intend to find here in Ecuador.
posted by Tom Nicolson at 10:02 AM
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