Ecua-nogguna, Nogguna, Noggunapayme

So it all started back in January. The organization that I am currently directing works hand in hand with a quasi governmental organization, SayCap, here in Ecuador. We have about 12 volunteers who work at SayCap and usually it is a great deal. Due to its affiliation with the government SayCap has extra funding which allows volunteers to teach students from a middle and lower class background. Awesome. Exactly why we are here.

Furthermore, government affiliation brings with it many exciting things in addition to funding. First you have good old bureaucracy. I mean we think that waiting in a bank line or being on hold is frustrating, but frustrating takes on new meaning when working with SayCap. First of all SayCap is organized kind of like a crappy electronic store. Every had an experience when you go up to one of those funny looking dudes in a blue vest and ask him about cameras, he sends you in search of Clyde, a guy with a blue vest and some kind of earpiece. You search high and low for Clyde and finally find him after ten minutes only to disover that Clyde no longer works in the cameras department and you must find Bianca, a girl with yellow vest and a organge wrist band. Bianca turns out to be the most gigantic pain in the booty that you haver ever met and after a while you just give up on the whole camera thing.

EXACTLY what it's like working with SayCap. Let's take a pop quiz: I have a question about paychecks. Should I call the Finance, Center of Commercial Services, Executive Direction, or Planning department? Finance seems like the obvious choice so you call Finance and guess what? "Sorry sir we aren't actually in charge of that, you have to call Senorita Sanchez in the Planning Department." So I call the Planning Department. Any guess who is on vacation for the next two and half months?

Anyway, one of SayCap's biggest responsibilities is to pay our volunteers every month. A whopping $380 per volunteer. Cannot be too hard right?

Used to actually be pretty easy. Thought they used to promise our volunteers their money during the first week of a month, it always took at least an extra week. Consistency however is a hard thing to find in Ecuador, so we were all OK with the one week delay. Part of the experience.

That's when the Correa bomb hit Ecuador. Old Raffy has actually been up to some crazy stuff lately, and a lot of it has had a direct impact on my job. First, Raffy has completely redone the taxation system in Ecuador. In the past, organizations had to write retentions for various payments. These retentions were basically a way that organizations had to file their taxes with the government. Whenever I wrote a check over $100 I got to withold money that the government and I would basically split. For example, in 2007 if I bought something for 100 dollars, I got to subtract 70% of the tax and 2% of the Sub Total from my total. From there the government and I would split the money that I witheld.

Not that way anymore. Now the only people that get to withold money from their purchases are organizations that carry a special tax status that basically says, "We are rich." This in turn makes all the organizations that "are rich" pay way more money in taxes than organizations that are poor. Thus, under Correa's new law, the poor organizations don't pay many taxes, while the rich pay tons of taxes. And we know what that means. Socia-I mean, Equality baby!

Another thing that Correa did was invent a way that he could put an end to corruption in public organizations. In the past all public organizations, who receive money directly from the government, were in charge of their own bank accounts. Wanna guess what happened? Somehow "gallons of whiskey" got expensed and paid for by the EC government. So Raffy says, "Well fuck that" and just pulls every public organization's bank account of the books. Puts all the money into the hands of the Ecuadorian Minister of Finance. One man controlling ALL of the governments money. We know what the means. Socia-I mean Security baby!

So anyone out there want to take a guess which organizations did not get to have their own bank account as of Jan 2008? SayCap!! Humdinger!

SayCap pays all their volunteers a month after they do their work. Thus a volunteer receives December pay in January, January pay in February, and so on. So I was patiently waiting for December pay around the first week of january, did not see anything pop into volunteers' bank accounts, and consequently called SayCap to give them the old, "Um, when are you people going to start doing your jobs?" The answer I got scared the beejesus out of me.

"Oh well, Correa implimented a new payment system since we don't have our bank account anymore." Thus you will probably not get your payment until next week."

A new payment system on a country wide scale? At the time I was pretty well convinced that a new payment system in Ecuador would go off as hitchless as the time when every computer in the United States of America suddenly switched operating systems without warning. I stayed optimistic, but the worry thermostat suddenly fired up its engine.

So I call back next week. "Yeah it's going to take a while. We have no idea what is going on."

Towelie? Is that you??? Glad to hear you made it down to Ecuador!?!?

And that my friends is when I got to make my newest acquaintance: the beast with clickety clacking keyboards and an old ketchup smell.

"If you want to know what is happening with your volunteers' payment you gotta go to,

THE MINISTRY OF ECONOMICS AND FINANCE"

PS Did Harry Potter ruin the word "ministry" for anyone else? I mean every time I write that word I just think of Cornelius Fudge and people in pointy hats flying around on brooms.

Ecuanundrum

I am going to describe a scene that I have seen with my own eyes.

Your job is to think about and try to guess exactly where the scene takes place.

Ready? We are going with the old five senses approach.

SMELL
The first whiff is of rainy cement. You know, that smell when you step onto an outdoor basketball court a couple hours after a long duration light drizzle.

TOUCH
Your feet sit on concrete followed by linoleum floor. You also can throw in the comfort of a fold up metal chair and the click clackitty clack of fingers on a keyboard.

SOUND
Lots of Ecua Spanish ranting and raving in a voice that kind of sounds like a cross between a kid that cannot find his way home and a kid that is not getting his favorite shiny new toy for Christmas. You also hear high school kids talking to adults as if the adults were people who were extremely hard of hearing.

TASTE
There is the faint taste of ketchup and stale plastic. Kind of like what you might find at a fast food restaurant that has not been cleaned in a while. This taste also appears in assorted frat basements around the country on a Sunday morning (except beer is unmistakenly absent from the frat basement smell).

SIGHT
Zillions of people with a look on their face like they just saw their favorite football team lose to Eli Manning in the Super Bowl. Zillions of metal fold up chairs everywhere. Computers being partrolled by high school kids. I get the sense that I am getting a first hand look at a Hooverville or something.

All right. That's the scene.

Stay tuned.

The Peytonios of the World

I love fantasy football. It's the coach in me.

I also love meeting Host Families. In fact, Host Families are probably my favorite aspect of being the director of my organization. Interacting with host families provides one of the most profound looks at the underside of the culture iceberg.

Now. Who would attempt to explain host family selection for volunteers, pretty much a complicated web of Arranged Marriages, using fantasy football?

Me. Allow me to explain.

Volunteers live with host families for an entire year. That's pretty intense. I think we can all agree that living with our own family for an entire year would provide some exciting fireworks. Thus imagine trying to live with complete strangers who speak a completely strange language for an entire year. How can one ever hope to succeed?

It all comes down to an ability to carefully pour over the scouting reports known as volunteer and host family profiles and choose a host family and volunteer that will gel together for a whole year. Sure it was tough to decide whether I should start Vince Young aginst the Jags in Week 1, but what would you do if Mr. Healthy Eating Hates Small Children had only two possible host families to be placed in: The We Eat Healthy Because We Have Small Children's or the Thank God Our Small Kids are Gone, Break Out the Potato Chips!'s. I mean if Vince Young plays bad in Week 1, I can lick my wounds and switch it up in Week 2, but Host Family Decisions last a whole year.

Obviously this is not a problem with the LT's of the Host Family Community. There are a couple of HF's (host families) in my organization's community who are absolutely money in the bank-perenial number one draft picks for the next 20 years. I mean you could pair these families with any volunteer on the planet and still come up with 100 yards and a touchdown average per week without a problem. These families are unbelievably kind and generous souls that truly value the benefits of intercultural exchanges. There is one host momma we have in Quito that invited me over to her house for one of the most delicious servings of Fritada ever, just because she heard I was new in town and new to the director position. She is actually a breast cancer survivor who claims that volunteers keep her motor running. The last volunteer who lived with her, one of my good buddies, commented that his host mother was the cheeriest breast cancer survivor in all of the world. She cooks unbelievably delicious food, lets volunteers stay out till 4 AM, is great teaching vols Spanish, and just makes people feel like Ecuador is not that far away from a real home. If this woman ever stops hosting volunteers (she has had already hosted like 20) her name should be retired in my organization's office on a glorious gold trophy emblazened with the letters M.V.H.M.E. (most valuable host mom ever). I might even go on a limb to say that calling her the L.T. of host mom's isn't fair, because her ability to cater to any volunteer on the planet giver her multiple position eligibility-a first for fantasy football. Let's just call her Peytonio Harrisomlinson.

The toughest thing about host families is September. In September I am confronted with the challenge of finding at least 40 different host families, because over 40 volunteers live in Quito during my organization's one month intensive training. It's the equivalent of having a twenty team fantasy football league. And, like fantasty football, the drop off is huge. I mean after the first twenty families or so we are in the clear, but then the chips start getting falling in an interesting way. After the Peytonios of the world we then have a host of differen class HF's. The first are the Trenstaverde Odsmithulpeppers of the world. These are the people that have had a history of success but can end up just skewering you due to inability to stay relevant. For example, we have a family that boasts a retired soap opera star and her loving husband. They have hosted probably a thousand volunteers. Their history is filled with ridiculous acolades of volunteers gushing and gushing. Though they are getting old-VERY old-they still look like a steal on waivers. So you send a volunteer and hope for the best. One last glorious season.

The comments I got back from the volutneers? "The house reeks of old people and I have actually never seen either of my host parents awake."

Brutal.
"With the 21st pick, Team Ecuador Director selects, Trent Green!"

It gets worse. Think of it as the last round of a twenty team draft. Everyone is off the board. People are picking guys just because they have extra apostrophes or monumentally overpowering sounds in their name. Something to the effect of, "Dude, let's take take D'Shaw'anta'e Dbrickemashawsky."

Thus I am on the clock. I have three scouting reports in front of me. I have one more volunteer to place. I examine the scouting reports like Mike Holmgren inspecting KFC's value meal menu.

Host Fam 1: "The host mom is a little crazy, some volunteers felt that she might be a stalker. She is an amazing cook though."
Host Fam 2: "This family is nice enough, but the host father is extremely racist. He also hits on everything that moves."
Host Fam 3:"This family is really fun, but they refuse to feed volunteers because they say that they don't want volunteers to get fat. "

I mean, brutal. What would you do? I think that at this point you gotta roll the dice with the most upside. I mean the volunteer I am going to place is very flexible. But he's a dude with a big appetite. Plus I am a person who like delicious food. You guessed it. Rolled the dice with the good cook and just prayed for the best.

Wow. When the family picked up the volunteers on the first day, the host mom brought a Russian man who only spoke broken English to the volunteers (volunteers go to host family houses to speak Spanish). They then told the volunteers that they were stupid for picking a hotel so far from major streets (uh oh). The next day the volunteers told me that they had an 8:30 PM curfew and that the host mom explained that she always was going to set an alarm that would send the volunteers to jail if they broke curfew. I have started a running back who posted a negative five yard day with two fumbles that were run back by the other team for touchdowns.


Missed it.

But you gotta move on. Win some lose some. I mean I drafted Lamont Jordan in the first round two years ago and still got second place. Sometimes you can just bounce back.

And that is exactly what I did this year. Ladies and gents, I pulled off one of the most ridiculous waiver wire claims of my lifetime. Facing unbearable circumstances, I got on the horn and just started calling everyone I could think of. And I finally found her. My Ryan Grant steal of a lifetime. Talking to this new host mom on the phone felt like being a part of the most wonderful moment in her day. Remarkable.

Needless to say I sent the troubled vol with the curfew to this new house with Ryan Grant. Don't even worry about it. "Best experience of my lifetime" said the volunteer.

Kanedogger is at the Twenty!, the Thirty! He! Might! GO...

All in a day's work for yours truly.

Cheers,

Letter from the Editor

February 17, 2008
(man time has flown by)

Quito, Ecuador
(yup still here)

To my Esteemed Readers,
(like there are any left)

I am back.
(I hope)

I have taken too long of hiatus and I am sorry.
(I really am sorry)

However I have been applying to grad school and really tried to do my best work.
(and now I am finally done!!)

I hope that you will start checking this site for weekly updates.
(i understand if you don't want to but some crazy stuff has gone down and I promise you won't regret it)

Sincerely yours,
Kanedogger

Queezy with Machismo

So everyone already knows about machismo, machista, chauvenist, or sexist behavior. However, the US faces very little of this type of action in comparison with Ecuador. It's at times unbearable, sometimes endearing, but most of the time simply interesting (however, if I were a woman my opinions about Machismo might be....er would definiltey be different).

In light of this cultural trait, I decided to take myself to an Ecuadorian play called "Pareja Abierta" that was billed to portray the story of a couple who wanted to experiment with the idea of an Open Relationship so that they could be part of the 20th century. The play got rave reviews in the papers, and it's always nice when you don't actually have to stare at a computer screen for a couple of hours. Thus I bought my tickets, not really knowing what to expect and sat down for the show.

Wow. This is awkard. Everyone is laughing at this poor unfortunate girl who is just getting dominated by her husband. Somehow I don't really find any of this very funny. I feel like my mom might have walked out.

The show basically started for a full hour portraying a sniveling girl who loved her husband, but but whose husband decided to sleep with young college girls. Rather than slapping her husband in the face the girl just tried to kill herself and the husband just kept laughing in a maniacal insane sort of way.

And the audience loved it. I have never felt so awkward in my life. Everyone was just cracking up at this poor ridiculous woman. I felt like a Westminister Dog Show Fanatic watching Amores Perros with Michael Vick. Unbelievably uncomfortable. I mean I am up for some sexist humor as much as the next guy, but when do you ask the person pummeling a dead horse with a stick to just give it a rest already.

Then I started thinking that this portrayal in the play is actually how Ecuadorians act in their relationships. No way this could be true I though to myself. How could people be so comfortable with one and a half hours of a crying sniveling defenseless woman getting ruined by her weirdo psycho laugh husband.

And that's when the woman went through her tranformation. She combed her hair, lost weight, put on a dress and some makeup, and started getting laid. And the dude freaked out, unable to handle the role reversal. The man then became the poor defenseless one, while the woman moved on.

And the Ecuadorians were quiet. Again very strange. Apparently it's not as funny when the man becomes a huge wus.

All in all the play was solid. Basically stated that Open Relationships don't work, which I wholeheartedly agree with. It's just too hard to share someone you love with other people, at least for me. I imagine that there are some people who can completely remove themself and be happy that their loved one is having relations with someone else, but I am not one of them.

However, the machismo is what really freaked me out about the play, and I learned an interesting insight that I hadn't already realized. Culture shapes humor as much as it shapes everything else, which I suppose now is pretty obvious. However, humor is not one of the first things that jumps out at you when someone says "culture." I feel like you first go through music, art, clothing, food, etc.

Which brings me to my ultimate point. Fluency is IMPOSSIBLE. I cannot even imagine ever being legitimately fluent in Spanish. I mean I understood an entire play, word for word, without problem, and the play was completley in Spanish. Fluency right?

NO WAY. I still have to understand the cultural foundations of fluency so that I laugh at the same jokes that native Spanish speakers laugh at right? I have to learn all of the speech mannnerisms that go along with just grammar and pronunciation, which allow people to identify with people from their own culture. I mean if communication is 70% body language anyway, shouldn't fluency include a conceptoin of body language and gestures also?

My head hurts. Too much thinking and GMAT test taking. Hope everyone is well.

-Kane

The Royal Treatment

So the car ride turned out to be awesome. I sat in the back and talked to Christian and his wife about life, community work, and pride. He turned out to be one of the most interesting people I have ever met. Apparently his arm had been rendered useless in a freak electricity accident while he was a teenager. Frustrated with his circumstances, he got a prosthetic arm and just dealt with the situation. He poured his heart into accomplishing goals that would not require the use of one arm and relied heavily on support from his wife.

I saw his wife look up at her husband with admiring eyes. Christian and Wendy just had it. I took up the opportunity to hear a love story, and was greatly impressed. Apparently Christian and Wendy had met in the second grade, were in love by the fifth grade, and married during their senior year in high school. Probably the first couple that got married in high school in the history of the world that still is crazy about each other. Really cool to watch.

Anyway, after a quick Ecua-lunch in Ambato, we continued on the road to Guaranda and Christian told me that the views were going to be awesome, and even gave me a seat in shotgun so that I could take in all of the scenery.

Jaw dropping is the phrase I would probably use to describe the road from Ambato to Guaranda. You probably spend at least 75% of the trip at the foot of Chimborazo, or Chimbo, staring up at what could only be described as immense. Plus we were lucky enough to be able to be taking in the views of Chimborazo from a cloudless sky. I was able to see every nook and cranny in the mountain's face, and see the peak, 20000 feet above me.

Maybe you knew or maybe you didn't, but Chimborazo's peak actually clocks in as the farthest point from the center of the earth, mostly due to the equatorial bulge. So sure, Everest is taller, but Chimbo puts you up higher in the atmosphere. Pretty cool right?

We finally arrived in Guaranda at about 4:00 PM, and I the VIP treatment continued. I was taken to meet every single human being that ever was related to the University of Bolivar in Guaranda. Some highlights were:

-Meeting the English teachers. One of the most awkward parts of life now is seeing how chubby kid in a candy store people become when they have the opportunity to speak English with a native speaker. These English teachers spend their whole lives dying to be able to see if they can converse on a real stage. Just unbelievable. Their entire English education has come from the pages of the book, without ever hearing an English word pronounced by a native. The awkardness arises out of the fact that undoubtedly it's fun to practice practice, but I got to be sure that people know what I am expecting of them to begin an English program. Thus you almost have to have the conversation twice, just to make sure that the basics are covered.

-Meeting the Director of the University. These guys are always so formal and full of themselves. So the director starts chatting away and then pauses, waitiing for the English teachers to translate his jargon. So then I respond to his questions in Spanish without waiting for the English teachers to struggle through the translation, and the director just looks at me dumbfounded, like he had never seen a white person speak Spanish in his life.

-Meeting random females in Guaranda and at the University: I literally was introduced to EVERYONE in the whole town, but the female population is always funny. Sometimes a guy just feels more like a piece of meat than anything else.

-Getting taken out to the nicest restaurant in Guaranda by the Director and Sub Director of the University. Delicious food, awkard conversation since these guys have the personality of a dead fish. I finally broke the ice and got everyone lively when I brought up the subject of idiomatic expressions. As I fired off classics like, The early bird gets the worm, Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and the apple never falls far from the tree, the Ecuadorians resounded with 1 bird in your hand is worth more than 100 flying around you, Thief that steals from thief has 100 years of pardon. Definitely interesting how different languages have their own way of saying things. Also great conversation fodder if you ever are trapped in a intercultural business meeting with nothing to say.

-The Radio Show: This probably should have been its own column, but I don't have any of this so-called "free time" now that I am preparing for the next volunteer group and have to spend time applying to grad school as well. However, here's the story.

I was pulled out of bed at 6:30 AM so that I could make the 7:00 AM Guaranda Radio Show, which is basically the only time everyone in the city listens to the radio. The host of the show is Don Ronaldo de la Vega, or something absurd like that, and he speaks with one of those voices that just belongs on the radio. In fact, when people from Guaranda hear him speak in person they do the "Why is that voice coming out of your mouth instead of a television of radio" face that you might see with on a young Shrek Fan talking Mike Myers in person, or what it must be like to talk to Nancy Castellana, or whoever the voice of Bart Simpson is. I mean sometimes a voice just doesn't seem right coming out of human being when you have only heard it on television or on the radio. I will never forget the first time I saw Chewey Gomez in person. I digress.

Anyway I walk into to Don Ronaldo's studio and get escorted to the green room, where they give me a cup of tea to make sure my voice is ready to go. Don Ronaldo starts mouthing off on the radio about the weather, the news, and everything else. He goes to one commercial, rambles again, cracking jokes and just emanates "I am in my element." Before he goes to commercial he drops the, "I have Kung Ruesol here in the studio today, who has come Guaranda especially to help our city speak better English. I will be right back after a short commercial break.

I then get escorted to the interview room, which was through the window from Don Ronaldo. I get the headphones strapped on, Don Ronaldo asks me if I feel good, I nod, and then he brings us back from commercial.

At this point one though sticks out in my mind. I was FREEZING. Literally shivering, since I was only wearing a sport coat and nothing else, and we were at the foot of Chimborazo. I was mildly freaked out that I would sound like a pussy on the radio, so I did the old blow into your hands routine and waited.

Don Ronaldo's helper finally gave me the thumbs up and off we went. I spent about thirty minutes chatting up my organization, explaining the latest cutting edge teachign methods, inviting students from all over the province to come to class, telling Don Ronaldo about how learing "Hola Como esta usted" is just about as useful as learning "Hello How are you doing sir/madam" since about 2% of the population actually says stuff that formally. I promised Don Ronalado that the students of the Bolivar province would learn not only "Hello," but also "What's Up, What's Going on, How's it going," and other phrases to use when speaking with real people in real settings.

After 30 minutes Don Ronaldo grinnned signed us off, went to commercial, and told me that I spoke better Spanish than he did. He then escorted me to his courtyard so that we could snap a couple of pictures, and then escorted me out the door. Don Ronaldo had to get back to work before the commercial break was over.

I had been plugged in. 50000 watts of Kanedog. Don't know if I will top that for a while.

-Kanedog

New Contact

So my new job is OK. I never get time to write anymore, which sucks, but I have been able to do some cool stuff. For instance, a la my trip to INTAG, I just got the opportunity to set up an English program in a small Sierra town called Guaranda. I must admit that these types of responsibilities are what drives me to continue life in Ecuador.

It all started a couple of weeks ago while I was investigating possible sites for our volunteers and came across a note that mentioned that someone in Guaranda was interested in receiving volunteers. I sent one of those random cold call emails to the address listed on the piece of srcap paper, not thinking that anything would come of it. PS cold calling is hilarious, especially on email. I wrote something to the effect of,

"Hi. I have never met you before but I have this random piece of paper in my office with your name on it. Let's be friends and start an English Program. "

Sure enough about a week later there was a reply in my inbox that said "Sure. What do we do?" So I sent the big test. We have a document that describes our program for potential participants with a list of questions at the end. You can always tell which schools are serious by how extensive their replies to the questions are. Sometimes you get half assed BS and sometimes you get BS.

Thus you can imagine my suprise when I received a well written document. Happy at the reply I dialed up the contact person in Guaranda and explained that I would like to come visist. The reply?

"Hi Kane. I will send the University's private chofer to come get you on Monday morning."

What? No overnight bus??? No wandering around aimlessly looking for someone that is never going to show up? Could this be true?

Then comes another message. "Kane. I am actually going to come pick you up myself in my own car because I am excited to meet you and hear more about your program."

Wow. Despite the fact that I immediately thought "huge potential for long awkward conversation" this is definitely a first for my organization and me. I write back. "Done. See you on Monday." By the way. "Hecho" is the Spanish word for "Done." Unbeliebly useful. Feel free to bounce this around the states and see if it catches on. Just give credit where credit is due.

Anyway. I am standing around outside my apartment waiting for my ride when I have one of those classic blind date moments. "Are you (insert name here)? No? Oh. Sorry. My B. I mistook you for the other random person I have never met in my life." I continue waiting.

Finally I see a short (suprise!) man approaching me with the blind date look in his eye. I go up and sure enough I have found my contact. "Kung?"

Quick side note: This is one of the weirdest phenomena in Ecuador for me. Since neither the long "a" nor the end of word "n" sound exist in Spanish, my name is one of the most fundamentally butchered names in all of the land. It comes out in a weird hum like sound. I have Ecuadorian friends who always ask me, "Why don't you just have people call you by an Ecuadorian name? It would be way easier." My response? It's a cultural experience.

Anyway I hop in the car with my first Guarandenos. My contact, Christian is missing an arm but looks cheery and happy. His wife is beautiful, but quiet. His daughter is a little gordita cutie. Off we go...

TBC