That first day, I met Tia Carmen, David´s aunt and the matriarch of the house. For those of you who don´t know, David is the founder of Espaanglisch. I am now convinced, 6 days later, that Tia Carmen does not know and/or doesn´t know how to pronounce my name because she always addresses me as ¨Chica¨or ¨Niña¨. At some point I´m going to call her out on it, but I haven´t found the right way to do so yet.
On Monday night, I was introduced to my other housemate, Ruwan. Ruwan is 18 and hails from London. Like most Brits, Ruwan is taking a gap year to travel and volunteer before he heads to Oxford in the fall. I also met, Rodrigo, a Peruvian university volunteer who teaches math during the summer months. Later that evening, Ruwan and I sat in on Jean Paul´s adult conversation class, where I met his students Carla and David. Carla is a psycologist and volunteers for USDA (Una Sonrisa de Amor), Espaanglisch´s partner organization. Her English is fantastic and she has a great sense of humor. David (different David) is studying with Espaanglisch in that hopes that one day he will be able to join his sister in the U.S. who currently resides in Potrero Hill in San Francisco!
The next morning, Jean Paul, Ruwan, and I walked to the USDA offices to get our supplies and head out to an area called El Milagro (The Miracle). Ruwan insightfully noted that the worst areas in Trujillo are given misnomers such as El Milagro and Esperanza (Hope), perhaps in a half-hearted effort to bring some cheer to the slums. There were seven volunteers heading out to teach that morning, and I was surprised when Norma, the head of USDA´s volunteer program, hailed just one cab. This, I would learn quickly, was standard protocol for transporting us out to the far-reaching corners of the city. With 5 people squeezed into the backseat and Ruwan and Rodrigo sharing shotgun, we headed off for my first day of teaching.
El Milagro is a dirt track located about 5K outside of the city center. When we arrived at the facility, all I could do was think back to the daycare in Cuenca, which, at the time, I considered to be a barren and under resourced school. Needless to say, when I saw the majority of kids sitting on used paint cans, the mud brick walls beginning to crumble, and the plastic tarp canopy offering the only shade in the space, I realized that my judgements of CDI SF were premature and unfounded.
We spent the majority of our time that day teaching English basics such as, ¨hello¨, stop¨, ¨go¨, and ¨goodbye¨. The kids were very enthusiastic and easily swayed into participating by the promise of stickers at the end of class.
The classroom in El Milagro.
Ruwan and I with our first group of students.
With my first day of teaching in the bag, I felt enthusiastic and excited about the next four weeks. It wasn´t until we were back at the house in the afternoon that Ruwan told me the bad news. Apparently, USDA decided to cancel half of their English summer program (two days before I arrived) and replace us with a mobile library that travels to the different slums. I was not thrilled to hear this news, but since then, things have been somewhat resolved. We are teaching English part time and also helping with art classes until the final week of February when we return to our regular schedule.
On Tuesday night, I had my first Spanish class with David and he apologized to me for all of the confusion with our schedule and heartily welcomed me to the program. For the first time since I arrived in Trujillo, I felt some sense of belonging.
The next morning, we headed out to La Esperanza, which Ruwan informed me had a better facility than El Milagro but was worse off in every other aspect. The name of the slum where we were teaching is referred to simply as ¨Uno A¨ (One A). To give you a sense of what I´m talking about when I say that Trujillo is a city of mind blowing contrariety, take a look at the pictures below:
Trujillo´s Plaza de Armas
and...
...a ditch representing the first stage of Uno A´s plumbing system.
When we arrived at Uno A, I was hit immediately by the overwhelming stench of rotting garbage and sewage. The level of poverty here makes El Milagro seem like a quaint suburb. There are stray dogs everywhere rummaging through trash and many of the homes are protected by tin planks or plastic tarps. Once again, I was amazed by the kids and the unwavering happiness they displayed when we all arrived at the school. We spent time going over the same lesson as the previous day and also covered numbers up to 10.
The School in Uno A.
Rodrigo singing with the kids.
On Wednesday night, I had my first adult English class back at the house. Only one student showed up, so she and I went over some basic verbs, greetings, and outlined what she wants to cover over the next month. My next class on Friday night also consisted of one student, but this time it was Rodolfo, who volunteers for another organization in Trujillo. So far: two classes, two students, and some major one-on-one learning!
Friday was our day off from teaching, so a bunch of us headed to Huanchaco, a small beach town about 20 minutes from downtown Trujillo. Gringo sightings are a rarity in the city, but in Huanchaco they are a dime a dozen. The little surfing/fishing village has a very laid back vibe and we enjoyed our time sunbathing and hanging out on the Espaanglisch roofdeck. Over the course of the weekend, multiple beach volleyball games ensued as the sun set over the Pacific. David runs a separate Spanish school in Huanchaco for tourists, and the view isn´t too shabby...
David and Rodrigo jamming on the roof.
On Friday night, we went with Carla to hand out meals to struggling street vendors and the homeless on one of Trujillo´s main drags. Everyone we fed was extremely gracious and thankful, and I was impressed with the efficiency with which Carla and her team worked. My first week in Trujillo started out a bit rough, but by the end of the weekend, I knew that I made the right decision to come down here. I have met some really great people who work tirelessly to alleviate hunger and improve the education received by Trujillo´s poorest residents.
Oh, and in case you were curious, the guinea pigs have been spared from the guillotine, for now.
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