caravans and communities

March 2, 2008

The soft woosh coming from the left rear of the bus could only mean one thing. The bus had a flat. Luckily, or one might say, by providence, we had just passed a volcanizadora 200 meters back. No, it’s not some star trek gadget, but the local tire repair gang. Around these parts with the rocky pot-holed roads, and the tendency of buses to catapult over speed bumps, they ran a steady business. The bus turned around and limped back with a now audable thump for every tire revolution. We pulled up to the road side business and the show began.

The bus was jacked up and then two men scurried over with nut removal thingy’s and blasted off the bolts holding the wheel onto the axel. The wheel was maneuvered off and rolled away to another man wielding an anvil. He went at it with a fair few mighty swings and some how got the tire off the rim. I’m not certain how they do it in the US, but I’m pretty sure it’s not done with axe blows. The bus tire tube was pulled out and I am told they fuse the hole by melting the rubber back together.

This particular volcanizadora was also in the business of fighting cocks. While the road show continued you could have a look at his selection of four battle ready roosters. They were on display under four separate wire traps and scratching and pecking the dirt in a vain. One of them had completely lost his tail feathers, presumably in the last fight. I have never seen a cock fight, nor do I want to, but I am quite sure GOD was showing them mercy when he made them with a very small brain.

A half hour later and we were once again on our way.

This particular trip was organized by The Iglesia Esperanza Eterna. We were part of a medical caravan on our way to assist indigenous farmers displaced by the eruptions of Volcan Tungurahua. Sixty families living under the rim of the volcano had been rehoused by the government into one room dwellings without water or electricity. The Esperanza church was bringing clothes, blankets, food, and three doctors to provide free medical care. HCJB was providing a doctor, a nurse, free medicine, and three helpers to disperse and organize it all. We were provided a covered hallway between residences to set up shop. Four consultario rooms were set up and divided with blankets down the length of the hall. The Swedish nurse Kirsten and I took information and vitals before sending them to the blanket rooms. After the doctor visit they stopped by the table pharmacy and picked up some meds from Johanna and another nurse. We saw 60 people in 1 ½ hours. Most of the women my age were missing half their teeth. The most common ailment was “bichos del estomago”. Literal translation, “bugs of the stomach”, actual diagnosis, “worms”.

I felt sad for these people who lived such a difficult life with no hope of anything better. They lived a meager existance to begin with, farming and carrying back breaking loads down precipitous slopes. They spent their lives carrying enormous weights, and when they were too old to carry loads anymore, they spent the rest of their lives doubled over carrying the weight of a spine that would no longer straighten. How could I who lived a life of comparable luxury, not give more?