The Kichwa / Peace Corps Sustainable House Project, Redux

Many of you contributed to the Kichwa / Peace Corps Sustainable House Project we started raising money for at the end of last year. In fact, one of my Christmas presents was the final donation to complete our funding goal. In February, work on the house began in earnest, and this month saw its completion. Unfortunately, I did not get the chance to bus up and lend a hand, but the good news is that the house is there and open to any travelers who are inclined to make the village of Tingo a stop on their itinerary. Don't be fooled; its tiny size belies the gigantic welcome you would receive if you ended up visiting.

Here's a rundown of the project's progress over the past couple of months.

***Note: This text is lifted from our project's wrap-up report on the Global Giving website. I ain't no plagiarizer.***

(Rebar corners)

(Foundation)

In March we completed the Tingo Sustainable House Project. The community provided labor and land, and several Peace Corps Ecuador Volunteers assisted with construction, which began in February. The completed house includes an East-facing solar bottle wall...

(Bottle wall)

...composting toilet, rain catchment system, clean wood-burning stove, and natural straw-ventilation for the roof.

(Installing straw roof)

(Roof plastic and beams)

(Roof sheeting)

We also experimented with an alternative, naturally insulated form for the concrete floor.

(Floor and foundation)

(Floor poured)

Perforated brick partition walls separate interior spaces but allow maximum sunlight to filter through the house, which is organized into an entrance hall, kitchen and bedroom, with an attached bathroom.

(Brickwork)

We hope that this simple but considered program will shape how new homes are built in the area; typically, local houses lack even basic space-planning.

Extra bricks, unused in the building construction, will be donated to the community for clean stoves in existing houses.

(PCV Ronald and a ton of bricks)

We hope that the low cost of several building elements included in the house (straw insulation, wood stoves, insulated concrete floors) will encourage residents to copy those techniques in future construction. It is probably unlikely that other elements of the house – bottle walls, brick masonry – will be replicated elsewhere, however, and our final price tag of $2900 slightly exceeds our original budget and average costs for local homes.

(Plastering)

(PCVs Mike, Isa, and Angela on site)

We hope the finished building will promote the nascent community tourism initiative developed by indigenous residents in the area, and provide temporary housing for volunteers working in Tingo.

(Front door)

(Exterior)

(Interior straw roof)

(Interior entrance)

(Interior entrance and wall. The pipe sticking out of the wall is where the sink will go.)

(Interior window view)
(Admit it, you would love to have a view like that)
(Well you can)
(Just come to Tingo)

(Kitchen looking into bedroom)

(Interior bedroom wall, and clean stove is on the left. The bedroom is already equipped with a bunk bed, and in the photo men are putting in a desk, afixed to the wall in the corner.)

(View of the completed house. The blue tank outside is already full with rain water and hooked up to the house.)

Next week the villagers will put on the final touches: another coat of paint, cleaning the floor, and generally tidying the place up. And the house design and project budget will be printed as a poster, to be hung outside--the idea being that anyone in town can check out how and where to buy materials for a stove, roof, rain catchment, etc. for their own house.

***THANKS to all who contributed. You guys made this project possible!***

Pequeños Exploradores Creativos

Thrice a week for the past two months, a handful of my teenagers and I have led a day camp for children - the "creative little explorers" - during school vacation. Activities have included math, spelling, and grammar review; nature class; and arts & crafts, among other things ("other things" being activities in which I deemed it unsafe to bring out my camera for fear of it being knocked out the window or otherwise destroyed by the kids' overwhelming enthusiasm, as when we played Four Square and Pictionary).

Reading and spelling practice, combined with coloring.

Recycling plastic bottles to plant herbs.

One week, we did Lectura en Acción (Reading in Action), an activity credited to my friend Claire.

The idea is that you read a story to the group, then improvise props and costumes and assign roles, and then re-read the story as the kids act it out.

See if you can tell what story we did:

At one point the wolf jumped the gun and started tearing down the second little pig's house without having the decency to threaten him beforehand:



Continuing with this theater theme, we have spent the past few weeks preparing a "títeres show" - a puppet show, that is - to celebrate the end of our course. The celebration is tomorrow (YIKES), and some special guests will be present. For now, here's a sneak peek at the process of building the set:

(My brother, Gringo Sam, was visiting for part of the project.)

(He taught the kids to juggle with limes.)

(The story we will present involves a beanstalk.)

Stay tuned for more tomorrow. Please pray that the set holds up...that the sock puppets don't lose googly eyes in the middle of the show like they did today during rehearsal...and that the curtain doesn't fall down. Thanks.

When Life Gives You Lemonade, Gulp It Down

I went to correos the other week. The post office, that is. This was soon after Valentine's Day, or as it is called here, The Day of Love and Friendship. Waiting in my PO box for me were TWO packages. Talk about spreading the love!

Sack o' Loot #1

Sack o' Loot #2

Have you ever tasted these things?

Well you should, because they are DELICIOUS.

In order to take full advantage of what the Day of Love and Friendship had doled out to me, here is what I did:

And didn't I tell you that all the Sacajawea coins end up in Ecuador one way or the other?

My Thoughts:

Thank you, wonderful RPCV friends, for sharing the love and friendship and increased sugar levels even from miles away. I love and miss you guys.

Diabetes 4eva,
jordi

Carnaval 2012 In Review

I have dubbed the month between my last blog post and now "The Month of Crazy," because there are times when life just gets in the way.

Rather than attempt to recount every single bit of crazy that has occurred between the Then and the Now, I'd like to go back to the 17th-19th of February: Carnaval. Which, coincidentally, was also crazy.

Ah, Carnaval. It is the festival, celebrated in countries around the world, that occurs just before Lent. It is Brazil's most famous holiday, with Rio de Janeiro alone drawing thousands of foreigners. In the States, the closest thing we have to it are the grandiose Mardi Gras celebrations in New Orleans. Here in Ecuador, certain places are noted for their Carnaval celebrations. Residents of coastal towns dance on the beach and spray each other with liberal amounts of foam; the city of Ambato holds a tamer, more "cultured" (so they claim) Festival of Flowers and Fruits. But the most famed festivities in Ecuador are held in the mountain city of Guaranda.

This year, I spent Carnaval in Guaranda.

Perhaps you would like to hear the tale?

It begins with a busride from Guayaquil to Guaranda; pauses briefly when the bus breaks down on the side of the road in a tiny village surrounded by rice fields; and continues when a second bus was sent from Guayaquil to pick us up and complete the journey.

And so I got to Guaranda alive for Carnaval. A bunch of us PCVs stayed the weekend at the home of one of our host families; they were kind enough to let 10 gringoes sack out on the floor of their guest quarters. Our first night there, we all trooped downstairs to meet the host family and pay our respects. After the peremptory round of kisses (Emilia Posteña dictates: When entering a roomful of Ecuadorians, one must greet each and every one with a kiss on the cheek), they sat us around the kitchen table, and Abuelita (that's Grandma) produced with a flourish a water bottle filled with pájaro azul, a traditional liquor. She began passing out shots and admonishing us to "take our medicine." After she'd administered a couple doses of the stuff, someone decided it was time for bed. We bid the host family goodnight, and they responded with, "See you at 7AM for the pig slaughter!"

The next morning saw us all gathered on the back patio, waiting for the fun to begin. Well, everyone except a few tenderhearted individuals who were less inclined to bear witness to such a bloody event; they went to the Sunday market and bought fruit instead. The yappy family dog was chased out of the patio and the pig, or chancho, brought in. He was a big, black hairy brute, maybe twice the size of a Labrador retriever. He stood in our midst and surveyed us with apathy, apparently unaware of his impending doom.

Suddenly, and with no visible signal whatsoever, one of the host brothers gave a jerk to the rope tied round the pig's hind leg, flipping the pig on its side as two other brothers rushed in and began trussing its fore- and hind legs. Upon which the pig began emitting a series of long, high-pitched wailing notes that continued unabated throughout the entire subsequent succession of events and until its death.

The host family then called forward Thom (NOTE: Names may have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent), the PCV they had singled out as meritorious of Doing The Honors, and handed him a puny-looking kitchen knife. Thom looked at it askance, took a deep breath and approached the pig. Abuelita, who was crouching by the pig's head, pointed out where the knife should enter (under one of its forelegs) and at what angle. Without further ado, Thom plunged the knife in.

The pig's squeals intensified. We all watched, rapt, to see the effects of Thom's work...but nothing else happened, just the squealing. As an afterthought, Thom nudged the knife in a little further, then pushed it in up to the hilt and wiggled it around for good measure. Still nothing. After what must have been only a minute but what seemed like a very long time indeed, Abuelita removed the knife and plunged it in afresh through the same hole; after all, if Grandma can't do it, who can? Only this time, Grandma couldn't do it. My friend Miguel shook his head grimly. "If they'd pierced the heart it'd be dead by now," he said and walked away.

Minutes ticked by. The host family circled up to discuss the next best course of action. Meanwhile, the pig bled out onto the patio and most of the Peace Corps Volunteers began to lose interest lest they also lose their appetites. Finally--and after two false alarms--the pig was pronounced good and dead.

That's when they brought out the blowtorch.

Q: How long does it take to char a pig?
A: A long time. And after the charring comes the skinning, in which you must take the edge of a knife or other kitchen utensil and scrape off the top, charred layer of skin.

And after the skinning comes the butchering and the gutting. And after the butchering and the gutting comes the cleaning and the cooking.

The host family spent all morning and the better part of the afternoon preparing the chancho, but since this was our one day to jugar - play - Carnaval, we excused ourselves and headed outside. And here is what we found:

Bands of children roamed the streets, brandishing cans of foam and looking for a fight.

In the central park, a big stage was set up with speakers blaring music. Everyone crowded around jabas (12-count crates of Pilsener beer) with a cup in one hand and a can of foam in the other, dancing and spraying away to their hearts' content.

Alliances were made.

(And were broken shortly thereafter.)

Vendors braved their way through the crowd to re-stock the weapon supplies of those of us engaged in foam warfare. It was $3 for the bigger cans, but when you're in the throes of battle you'll pay just about anything...

People wearing protective gear became instant targets.

Then again, so did everyone else.

Getting home after our battle energies had waned proved a challenge: rooftop and balcony assailants - usually around the age of 10 - made walking through the streets hazardous as they pelted unwary pedestrians with water balloons. Also vulnerable were passengers riding in the backs of pickup trucks. Trust me. I speak from experience.

But we ran the gauntlet, and when we got back there were hot showers and freshly toasted, crispy-crunchy pig skin to munch on. And that, my friends, is the picture of happiness.

Photos by Ben Niespodziany and Deanna Camell.