Living in Oasis

Oasis. Really doesn't inspire the right kind of image of the area we work in when you hear its name, although maybe it was an act of optimism calling it that! We go everyday for school and then leave, so it was an unusual turn when two volunteers showed up wanting to live in the barrio - no other volunteers have done it before. Oscar (the director) told them he thought it would be safe (they are a couple, I don't think it would be recommended for girls on their own) so they went about finding a house.

The entrance to Barrio Oasis

There are a few really good points about them staying there. Obviously, they save A LOT of money by living there. They get a slice of 'real life' of the people we are working to help, and learn a lot. Of course, there are a lot of bad points too...


Last night they both invited a few of the teachers round after school to come see their house and hang out a bit. So off we went, walking along the dirt road like some kind of pied pipers - we had kids following us the whole way! We were warned of the rules before going into the house: No kids inside. When we got there we saw how this rule came into being. The house has a porch, and a front gate. Hanging over the gate, sitting on the porch, peeking through the windows: children. Naughty, loud, cheeky kids looking for attention! This couple wake up each morning with a child peeking through their bedroom windows giggling, they cook each night to the sound of the kids fighting to get closest and everything else in between is accompanied by a stream of questions "Profe, senor..."


The house is nice by the standards of some in the barrio, luxury compared to what I was used to in Peru, and horrible compared to anywhere I have lived, or seen people living in at home. As I said there is a porch, a 'sitting room' (comprises of two plastic chairs and a plastic table), a bedroom (concrete floor with a matress)  and a kitchen (has one tap and one hob to cook one - pretty fancy!) The 'bathroom' is an outdoor shack with one compartment to shower - this involves taking water from the local well and chucking it over yourself - and another compartment with the bathroom. It was pretty basic. All in all though it was a lot nicer than I was expecting. Some of the kids in the school have eight or more brothers and sisters, and they all live with their parents in one room shacks, so this is definitely the higher end of living in Oasis. Interior design comprised of a shiny plastic poster hanging up high, of what can only be described as a pretty English cottage. Very strange. This was artistically hung exactly beside a painting of a waterfall, causing a weird clash of images and a bit of an eyesore.


To shut the doors meant the heat became stifling, but to leave them open meant there was always an audience standing on the threshold peeking in... 


The bad points of living up there must surely be the dirt. There is rubbish everywhere, and the smell of it burning is toxic. It is so hot and dusty, and the dirt just sticks to you while you are working - everyday I come home feeling disgusting. To feel that constantly must be tiring. The dirt is also filled with tiny bugs who nip at your feet all day long, I am covered in bites! Inside the house geckos crawl the walls and cockroaches scuttle in the corners. The worst though are scorpions. I haven't seen one (thank goodness) but one of the volunteers has been bitten, and Gabby (one half of the American couple) found one sitting comfortably on her shorts the other day!


In the school we have a problem with how violent the kids can be with one another, and a big part of this is throwing rocks at each other. They pick up the biggest stones from the road that they can find / lift and lob them at the unlucky victims head... Women sit outside their houses and watch the kids do this, and never decide to step in or say no. This is because, as we found out through our 'inside couple' many of the adults have the exact same attitude to arguments. Last Sunday at 9am, Wren and Gabby were woken up by the sound of yells and screams down the road. A crowd had gathered to watch as a woman pelted rocks at the house of her ex-husband; the venom was directed at his new wife. Everyone stood by, doing nothing, as massive rocks smashed into the house, nobody was concerned that somebody may get hurt. 


With these tiny examples that we uncover each day, it becomes clearer to see what we are up against. It is about more than just teaching the kids to read, it is also about offering them an alternative outlook on life, and showing them they can aim to do something different. The question is though, how do you get that across!

    Kids playing on the railway tracks that border Oasis. Their kites are plastic bags tied with string.

Barrios Fundadores y Oasis

So, the reason I am here, to volunteer! I started a week and a half ago now, but wanted to wait before I wrote a post about it all, as to be honest I wasn't sure where to start. Already there are so many things I can comment on, feel sad about, admire and despair over! The best way to start, I think, is to explain a bit about where we volunteer.


Fundacion Mariposas Amarillas works in two barrios: Fundadores and Oasis. The two neighbourhoods are much the same: dusty, dirt roads lined with brightly coloured houses. When you catch a glimpse inside some of the buildings you see very basic living conditions - sparse, plain rooms. In some areas the road is inexplicably dug up and piles of rubble form obstacles to the carts and anorexic donkeys that are everywhere. There are bony dogs and cats scrummaging in the shade, and rubbish is a standard feature of the landscape. It feels even hotter when we get up to these areas, and people sit on the sides of the road and greet you as you pass. In the streets surrounding the school building everyone is aware of the work of the foundation, so it is relatively safe to walk around. After a certain time, or a certain distance though I think security becomes an issue.


My reaction on the first couple of days was of slight surprise. The areas didn't seem as poor as I was expecting, and the kids looked cleaner than I imagined. There were actual concrete floors in the schools, and the buildings had proper roofs and walls (not just tin!) There is power and water in these barrios too. This is all in comparison to Peru - I am not sure if I have been acclimatized to sights of poverty and was less shocked because of this. Either way, it isn't as simple as just looking and deciding it is not that poor. It is, of course, worse than anything you would find at home, and painful to confront. There is no sewage system, the power and water supplies that surprised me are sporadic at best, nobody comes to collect to rubbish... On top of all of this when the rainy season comes the houses and streets flood. I spoke to one man who told me that he has had water up to his chest in his house, but local government doesn't help, as according to them "there is no flooding." 


The people in these areas are unemployed, make a living as cheap domestic help or collect rubbish to bring to recycle. I have also been told that some children come from displaced families. The Sierra Neveda lies on Santa Marta's doorstep, and cocaine production in these areas means that entire families can be stripped of their land and left with nowhere to go, so that more cocaine plants can be grown. Hearing stories like this makes it even more disgusting to see so many of the backpackers who come through South America and rave about how cheap it is to take as many drugs as you could ever dream of.


It is still early days here, and I know there is so much more to learn about these areas and the people in them. I can already feel time starting to speed up and pass me by! Next week sees me take on a class of 10 - 13 year olds in Oasis, and I am nervous! For some reason the children in Fundadores (where I have been based the past week) are a lot better behaved than in Oasis. We have speculated on reasons for this - the area is more religious, the parents stricter - but all it really means right now is that I am in for a bit of a rougher ride next week! Wish me luck...

Joining the gym... Colombian Style!

As always I come away for a few months with the best of intentions: read a lot (all in Spanish), eat healthily, exercise... The list goes on. So this time round, things are no different and I hunted out a gym to join. I also figured it is a good way to feel a bit more settled here, as it will help me have a routine. Luckily, I found two other volunteers who had the same intentions, so last week the three of us went to find "Lucho Fitness".


The man on the front desk of the gym was a character, to say the least. One of my new gym buddies is an English girl called Ranj, her parents are both Indian. Walking down the street on my own here is quite an experience, but with her it is another level! They are fascinated by her, and the stares and comments multiply by ten (which is really saying something!) I have seen people discuss Indian politics with her, ask her about what life is like on the isla India... it goes on and on. So, the man on the front desk was no different. In fact, he was probably the worst. He was so disgusting I felt like stepping in front of Ranj to protect her from his leering stare! 


As there was three of us we got a discount to join. We handed over our money, and the guy gave us a receipt. No card, nothing went into the computer, just a receipt. I asked him was he going to put our names into the system or anything, but he informed me with a creepy grin that he would remember us so not to worry! As we were leaving a small group of men had gathered by the desk, and were asking the guy where we were from, what we were doing etc etc. So we were pretty sure that when we next came we would be the entertainment!


The temperatures hits about 36 degrees on a daily basis here, and the gym has no air conditioning, only ceiling fans. This means it is difficult to know if you are bright red and sweating because you are working really hard, or simply because as soon as you do anything more than sit still here you feel hotter! Despite all this, we decided our first class would be spinning. We got there early to sit under the fans, and the class went pretty well. But, the instructor took it upon himself to strike up conversations with each of us in turn, at the hardest parts of the class. "So, where are you from? Why are you here? Lovely eyes, good Spanish etc etc" while the rest of the class carried on. Hopefully the longer we stay, the less of a novelty we become! 


The next day saw us decide a rumba class was a good idea. This is a dance class, in the country that gave us Shakira. Even the little kids on the street start moving when a beat starts up here... In short, we looked like idiots. But, the people are so nice here, and so interested, that even though we had no idea how to do it, we didn't feel that ridiculous. We decided that we would keep going to the class until we could actually do it. 


I might have to change my flight and stay longer...

My New Home!

Four hours on a bus brings you to Santa Marta, another coastal town in North Colombia. I arrived here on Sunday, to my new home for the next three months! It is actually daunting to arrive somewhere new knowing that you will be there a while, as you look at everything slightly differently than when you are just stopping through. As it was a Sunday, and Carnival as well, everything was shut. I took a left out of my hostel and wandered up the streets, everything was quiet except for sudden bursts of life every few streets. People were sat on plastic chairs by their front doors, blaring salsa, cumbia, reggaton and drinking beer, with some couples dancing in the streets. Then you would turn a corner, and all would be quiet again, except for maybe a stray dog lying panting in the shade.


I have found, in my limited experience, that in smaller towns people love to stare at the foreigner walking around, but here the stares aren't so bad! There are of course the usual comments that seem to follow girls around South America, but they seem to be such a standard these days that I would probably wonder what was wrong if all the men suddenly were polite and quiet! I was greeted with the usual couple of scary stories on arrival - someone got mugged, people have been held at knifepoint - but actually there is a nice atmosphere here, and I feel very comfortable walking around alone.


The sea front here is lined with small bars and restaurants, which are pretty expensive. Sitting right on the beach are vendors selling all kinds of things - cigarettes, drinks, food, ice-cream, USB sticks... There is also a massive digital clock which tells you the temperature, which constantly hovers around 35 degrees Celsius. It is HOT. The evenings bring a small break, as the breeze picks up and the sun lowers. But the temperature never seems to drop below 28 degrees, and the fan in my room is going constantly through the night in an attempt to cool things down! The heat also brings the bugs... I have killed several cockroaches so far (one by accident with my bare foot), and am sure there are more to come. Yuck.


The best discovery so far has been the street stalls that gather in a cluster in the centre of town, cooking all kinds of food, everything from pizza to arepa. For less than a pound you can feast on skewers of marinated chicken, or empanadas, or a full plate of food (fish, rice, salad). My new favourite is arepa con queso, a maize/corn bread cooked with cheese inside which is delicious! They also have fruit stalls everywhere, and you can get jugs of freshly blended juice to wash down all the delicious food. Some fruit I have never even seen before, let alone tried, so it is all a learning experience! 


So, I think the next three months could pass quite comfortably here, as long as I learn to get used to this heat!

Kalamary (Cartagena de Indias)

"Colombia tiene su cerebro en Bogota, pero su corazon en Cartagena de Indias"

I don't know if I can comment on where Colombia has it's heart, seeing as I have been here only two days, and this is the first city I have visited. But, if the quote is right then Colombia can only be good! Cartagena de Indias grabs you from the word go, as soon as I stepped off the plane I was hit by a wall of heat, despite the clouds! I got in a taxi, discovered I didn't understand a word the driver said (I was worried that it was the Colombian accent, but I think it may have just been him) and we drove into the town. My first impressions from the taxi window were of lots of traffic, people, stalls and noise. We drove past some sea - my first sight of the Carribean - and it looked yellowy and uninviting! The taxi got stuck between a bus and a cart, so I had time to watch three men get arrested and bundled into a police van, before we sped on...

My six-pounds-a-night-hostel is small and cramped, and again, HOT. But, for six pounds a night I can't complain too much. I decided to venture out for some food and explore a bit, and spent an hour walking around. The streets leading up to the old town are crammed with different stalls - old books, fruit, phone-chargers, and any spare space is filled with men sitting and chatting, smoking, spitting. It felt really dirty and loud once you added the traffic zooming past and the salsa music blaring from all the different speakers. "Nena, Americana, Blancita, Guapa, Lady, Amiga, Bonita" was all I could hear as I tried to figure out where I was going, and the whole package, combined with the fact I had got up at 3am to catch my flight, meant I was quickly overwhelmed. I did a quick lap of the old city and retreated to the hostel!

After a few hours of rest (and panic - why am I in Colombia on my own?!) I went back out and had much better luck. Today was even better. The old city is really beautiful - it is easy to see why it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

 

Bright colourful buildings line every street, with flowers hanging from the balconies. The streets are busy: with locals and tourists alike. There isn't really very much traffic - unless you count the horse and carts that can give you a tour round the city. It is full of characters as well. I stopped at a cafe, in a church square, and was greeted by an old man in a hat with a grey mustache. He sat there like he owned the place, bossing the waitress around. The best part was his reaction every time a pretty girl went past - he waved regally at every single one of them, as though they were the luckiest people in the world to receive his attention. 

Every so often you come to a square, filled with palm trees and shade, the benches crammed with people looking for respite from the heat. The atmosphere is really different to any other place I have been before. It is only normal to compare to places you know, but so far Cartagena has escaped comparison! Maybe a touch of Barcelona here and there, a bit of Peru. Sometimes you can stop and there is no traffic, there are no tourists, and it feels like you have gone back in time...

The walls of the old city, looking out over the Carribean Sea.

Colonial Architecture that makes the city a UNESCO site

Some much needed shade!

Cliche Carribean!

Escaping the heat...