Despite four previous trips abroad, stepping off the plane in Guayaquil, Eduador began my first experience as one of the minority. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I unsuccessfully attempted to communicate English with an airport vendor or when my teammates and myself became the target of many stares — especially when traveling in a large pack.
Within our 20-person Alternative Spring Break group, there were a few who spoke the Spanish language with great skill and proficiency. Others used their skills from courses and trips to Spanish-speaking countries to effectively communicate needs, questions and hold conversations. However, I knew “hola” and “gracias.”
Despite the language barriers, we ventured out into the city, exploring the “malecon”, or boardwalk, which was recently revamped and includes an IMAX theater. We climbed over 450 stairs to the top of a house-stacked hill to see a view of the city and the river bordering it.
The next day, we made the three hour drive to Salinas, Ecuador, where we laid on the beach and swam in the ocean.
On the third day, however, we began to fulfill the main purpose of our trip.
In teams of 10, we split up and drove to the Habitat for Humanity work areas — one north of the city, one south.
At the northern site, “maestros”, or foremen, patiently showed us how we could begin to turn concrete pillars and a somewhat muddy foundation into a home. Within 30 minutes, I was a bricklayer — or a cinder “blocklayer,” to be exact. By the end of the day, many sections of the walls stood taller than my head. Climbing into the van as we left that day, covered in mud, sweat and concrete mix, I was excited about the progress we had made.
So we would experience work at both sites and with a variety of teammates, our group leaders rearranged the groups for the days that followed.
I arrived at the South side site and eagerly put my new “blocklaying” skills to the test. To my dismay, the “maestros” removed the blocks as quickly as I placed them on the new walls. It didn’t take knowledge of the Spanish language to understand why — they didn’t approve of the job I was doing.
These “maestros” were more hands-on than those at the previous site, more in control of the building process and less willing to let us do the tough jobs. Instead, we spent the day sifting many shovelfuls of dirt, creating assembly lines to pass a shipment of blocks from the street to the work area, and filling in cracks on the new walls.
Each night, our group convened to discuss the workday. We came to Ecuador to serve the people there, but we had to remember what we were going to take home with us: new understandings and views of cultural differences. It was easy to agree on the differences we saw, but what we differed on was why the differences were in place. On other occasions, our leaders posed questions for discussion and thought like, “Is there just as much poverty in America as there is in Ecuador, and should we be serving there?” The answers that came were unique. Many of them differed based on interpretation — should we serve in America at all? Should we serve there instead of in Ecuador? Whether the discussions changed our opinions or not, they provided us with food for thought.
The rain came after three full days of work. It kept us in the city on Thursday and gave us the opportunity to explore a local museum of art and anthropology. What seemed like hundreds of school children were visiting on a field trip, and they excitedly used us to practice their English. Several of them greeted us with, “Hello!” and one even said, “How are you?” I wasn’t sure if they understood my responses, but it made me smile to see they were on the same level with English as I am with Spanish.
Our Habitat representative, Daniel, led us to a market in the city. It was exactly what I pictured when I imagined a market. The vendors offered colorful jewelery, clothing, and souvenirs. It was here that I could use the other words I knew from elementary school Spanish: numbers one through ten. I bargained for gifts to bring back to the states, often reducing the originally stated prices by nearly half. My favorite of these was a wooden boat, hand-carved with the word “Ecuador” pasted on the side. The only downfall of this ingenious creation was my inability to effectively arrange it in my suitcase.
I returned to the north side on Friday, the last day, and saw what was clearly a house. It wasn’t an outline or bare pillars — a roof rested on walls that were nearly complete. I wasn’t there to see the roof go up, but I heard my teammates’ stories and felt so proud of their work.
As we ate dinner with the family who would soon occupy the south side home, I watched my teammate speak conversationally with them, not missing a beat. I asked him to translate multiple questions — did the teenaged girl have a drivers license? Did the family ever travel to the beach or mountains? Did they like to cook?
I wished I knew how to ask these questions myself. For the first time, I truly saw the importance of learning to speak another language. I realized how self-centered the notion was of expecting the world’s people to speak English. Each language is not just a way to speak, it’s part of the culture.
Throughout the week, I tried to keep my eyes open. It seems like a simple concept, but even as we drove, although somewhat recklessly by American standards, lanes seem to be simply “guidelines”– I stared out the window, not wanting to miss anything. When we went dancing to Salsa music, I watched the Ecuadorians and saw the flavor we often lack.
In our pre-trip meetings, we discussed the differences between what it means to “help” and what it means to “serve.” Not once did I see the families who would live in the new homes and think they were in desperate need of help. We did, however, serve them by contributing to the building process. In return for this service, I took with me insight and a new view of life outside of the American borders.