First Impressions, Lasting Lessons

During the 10-minute walk to school, with a cup of coffee and piece of toast in hand, I felt anxious about my complete lack of expectations for my first day volunteering at the Rainbow Center. I didn´t know what age group I would be working with, what type of disabilities the children would have, how I would be assisting the teachers, nor how to accommodate the children´s learning needs.

            The five other volunteers and I entered the Rainbow Center´s gate and Laura, the volunteer coordinator, greeted us for a tour around the school. Just as we took our first steps out of her office, a young boy ran toward us and hurled himself onto Laura for a bear hug.

“¡Profe Laura!” he exclaimed in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. Here at the school the teachers are called profesor/profesora which is always shortened to the endearing term of “profe.” My name is officially “Profe Kait” since Kaitlyn apparently does not roll off the tongue very easily in Spanish. I had to repeat my name at least four times to both the students and teachers, and after hearing their agonizing imitation of “Kayleeen?” I decided to permanently shorten my name to Kait during my stay in Peru.

During the tour I found out that our tag-a-long friend is named Piero.  As we walked the grounds I noticed that Piero has a strange limp with each step. At one point he ran ahead of us and it looked like he couldn´t control the speed of his legs and I was sure he was going to tumble to the ground at any moment. Fortunately he didn´t and he stood waiting for us to catch up. When we reached him I looked down at him as he stood with one leg straight and the other stretched out much further to the side. I realized that one leg is prominently longer than the other, causing the hindrance in his stride. I later found out that Piero had complications during birth that also impaired his ability to speak and left him with a low-functioning right hand as well.

At this point it was just a little after 8:30 a.m. and students had started to trickle in the school. Looking around and accessing the students made me realize there was a huge range of disabilities. There was a spectrum of both physical and mental disabilities and the children greatly differed in severity.   Some children are like Piero with physical disabilities. Others have Down Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy or Autism. Three of the children are deaf.  Almost all of them experience abuse, neglect and/or impoverished living conditions.

At 9 a.m. we started the school day in a common group. During this time, one of the Profes asks how the group is doing today (everyone yells “¡Bien!” to this question) and then goes on to ask what day it is, the date, and what the weather is like outside. Everyone is very enthusiastic and sign language is used along with verbal responses as to include the deaf children.  The Profes then organize some kind of physical, kinesthetic activity.

After this morning routine the group splits into three groups: the youngest group (which focuses mostly on toddler activities), the intermediate group and the “grupo funcional” (which focuses on more complex lesson plans and incorporates life skills lessons).

I spent the day with the middle group, going over the vowels. It was very difficult trying to overcome the language barrier and learn how to effectively work with the children. However, the instructor was very patient with me and helped me understand what she needed from me with slow, emphatic instructions accompanied with lots of gestures. She would make an excellent charades partner.

At the end of the day I was feeling highly emotional. I had so much love for the children, yet sadness for their plight in life. I immensely appreciated all of the people who come together every day to give this school life, yet I felt frustrated by the inefficiencies caused by the diverse range of disabilities. I felt thrilled with participating in the wonderful cause, but defeated by the language barrier. 

That night the girls sat around the common-area’s table for some dinner, and just as I thought I was about to drown in an emotive sea of conflict, Chloe, one of the volunteers who has already been here for a few months, piped in with some perspective that I think will be my motivating source to a positive attitude for the remainder of my time here.  

She gave us the background to some of the children at the school and listening to each child’s story reminded me that we are impacting their lives by simply being a part of a safe and caring environment.  At home most of the children are completely ignored and live in terrible conditions with very little food or clean drinking water and lack attention for their different conditions. Eric, one of the boys with Down Syndrome in my class today, spends much of the class time crawling around on all fours, making animal noises. I now realize he does this because his family neglects him and he passes much of the day with the farm animals. I imagine that he is sometimes confused as to whether he is a person or an animal.

We also discussed how most of the children experience extreme abuse at home due to high occurrences of alcohol abuse and a common lack of understanding/acceptance of their disabilities in the culture. Before coming to the school, Fernando, one of the oldest boys with a severe case of autism, was found tied under his bed, completely malnourished and beaten. His parents had psychological problems and did not understand his disability and how to cope with it. Fernando and his five siblings are the reason that the Rainbow center was started. His brothers and sisters now live in the Rainbow house with a stand-in mother while Fernando, at age 19, holds the title of “grounds-keeper” of the school and lives on the campus.

After some of the children´s stories were revealed during our dinner, I started to feel better about my inadequacies. These children simply need positive caregivers, constructive stimulation and a safe environment…and this is exactly what the Rainbow Center provides.

Urubamba

After a couple long days of traveling, I was very thankful to be landing in my final destination of Cusco, Peru. The lush green of the rolling mountains in Cusco was quite a contrast to the endless brown of Lima. Laura, my volunteer coordinator, picked me up at the airport to take me to the volunteer site in Urubamba, which is just an about an hour car ride from Cusco.

Before finding a cab, we stopped in a café for some maté de coca, an energizing tea that helps with adjusting to Cusco´s high altitude of 10,000 feet. I was obviously in need of the tea as I felt myself become heavily winded after walking up a single flight of stairs to the café. The tea had a pleasant, earthy taste and I would send some back home for everyone to try if wasn’t an illegal commodity in most other countries.

                After tea, we found a taxi where I basically spent the entire drive to Urubamba with my face smashed against the window, gawking at the breathtaking scenery. The terrain is stunning and I have never seen so much green—everything is carpeted with a verdant cover. At a couple points we could see horizontal rows carved high up along the mountainside. These were the Incan terraces used for farming. It was a bit surreal to think of how the ancient people of the Incas walked this same land and the remnants of their life are still standing today, looking over modern civilization with immortal dignity. Once we reached Urubamba we each paid the cab driver 7 soles…that’s right, for an hour cab drive we paid a little more than $2 USD.

Urubamba is a tiny city nestled below the mountains of the Sacred Valley. Although it is small, it feels crowded with narrow, one-way streets that could never accommodate a large SUV and houses that are butted up next to each other in a fashion that I interpret to be crucial to the integrity of their architectural support.

Our first stop was the volunteer house that will be home to six girls including myself. I dropped off my backpack and headed out the door for a tour of the town with Laura. While walking the streets it is unavoidable to be honked at by tiny, motorized tricycle bikes with covered cabs attached in the back for passengers. At first I thought the cab drivers were simply honking for fun or to annoy the gringa, but later I realized that since there are no stop lights or stop signs in the city the cabs simply slow down and honk at each cross-section to warn others of their presence.

                The surroundings of Urubamba are absolutely beautiful with green mountains enveloping the city. Between two of the mountains behind the city, you can see a huge, snow-covered glacier extending out to the perpetual, partial cloud cover.

                After Laura gave a quick tour of the town (quick because it takes 15 minutes maximum to walk from one end to the other) we stopped by the rainbow school where I will be volunteering for the next eight weeks. I peered through the gate at the meticulously maintained school. The buildings are brightly covered, as expected with a name like the Rainbow Center, and the grounds are lush and well-kept. I smiled with the thought of starting school in only two days.

           

Ready, or not?

            Planning my trip to South America has brought me excitement in its most genuine form. I get butterflies every time I think of embarking on my adventure to a continent I have always wanted to explore.

            First on my travel agenda is to complete two months of volunteering with Greenheart Travel in a facility for disabled children who have been abandoned or abused. I will fly into Lima, Peru and stay in a hostel overnight. The following day I will take a bus to Cuzco and be picked up by volunteer coordinators to continue on to Urubamba.

            Volunteering at this facility is undoubtedly what I look forward to the most. I visited seven countries in Europe on a three-week backpacking trip with a couple of girlfriends in 2009. While it was an amazing experience to see the historical sites of Europe, I will never do a whirlwind tourist trip again. I felt I had completely missed out on local flavor and culture. When I look back on it, I am appalled with the total lack of interaction with local people. So, while going about planning my trip through South America I knew contributing to a humanitarian effort would be a priority.

            After my stay as a Greenheart volunteer, I have a few weeks open to nomadic, spur-of-the-moment, type of traveling. At the end of May I will go to Chile to study with USAC with the University of Nevada, Reno. Upon completion in the end of June, I again plan to hit the road and travel around Chile and possibly Argentina or Ecuador.

            This is the plan. It is completely subject to change but I feel reassured to write it down. (I did that brief outline as much for other readers as I did for myself).

           

            Last night for the first time I sensed a darker emotion hiding within my excitement. I think the butterflies are becoming restless to leave, as am I. As I sat in bed going over the details of packing and getting everything at home in order, I suddenly felt something similar to panic. The voices of all the skeptics I had encountered during my preparation time at home began ringing in my head. I often got funny looks from people as I told them my intent to travel around South America. I would witness the creases in their foreheads deepen into dark valleys as their brows sunk into a disapproving frown while they listened to my plans. “You are traveling alone? As a young woman?? Through South America??? Without a strict agenda?!??” I would hide my frustration for their unsupportive statements and politely smile as I assured them I was exercising a good amount of caution while preparing for this journey (and no, I am not just saying that because I know my mother will read this).

            But now that reality has hit, my confidence that I paraded around has temporarily surrendered to the domineering emotion of fear. I tossed around thinking about all of the research I still wanted to complete before leaving, about the logistics of traveling after my stay at the volunteer house with Greenheart, about the unforeseen obstacles that would surely emerge. I tried to push the obtrusive thoughts aside as the hours went by and the faint color of morning peered through the gap in my curtains. But something inside of me snapped and I jerked to an upright position and thought, “Oh my god. I am traveling to South America, alone, as a young woman, without a strict itinerary!” 

            I focused on breathing and felt better after a few minutes. For other first-time solo travelers, be prepared for this kind of moment—a moment when you lose faith in your capabilities as a person. Do not panic, that faith will come back if you let it.

            I then read a few passages from the book by Rolf Potts called “Vagabonding; an Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel.” I recommend every traveler to read this book before their bon voyage—especially if it is your first solo expedition. It is a wonderfully written guide on how to travel by living abroad without an itinerary rather than visiting abroad as a tourist. Even if you don’t want to take all of Potts’ tips or disagree with his ideology of travel, this book is extremely motivating and will at least spark your desire to seek an adventure.

            Potts advice for preparation for travel was especially helpful with putting my mind at ease that night. He wrote, “The goal of preparation is not knowing exactly where you’ll go but being confident nonetheless that you’ll get there. This means that your attitude will be more important than your itinerary, and that the simply willingness to improvise is more vital, in the long run, than research.”

            Today, exactly two weeks from my departure, on a scale from one to meltdown I would say my sense of panic has simmered to the equivalent of a caffeinated jitter.