I woke up early Sunday morning to meet my best friend, Niche, at the bus terminal in Quito. Last week his father was diagnosed with lung cancer and not knowing how fast it was progressing, we decided that it was high time I make the trip down to the coast to meet the family and see where my tall, almost-famous, soccer playing friend, grew up.
Once in the bounds of La Concordia you can get into any taxi and ask them to take you to the house of Don Sixto Delgado, Niche's father. They just nod their head and start off in the right direction. That in itself is a sign of respect and legacy. When we arrived the house of full of different people. I had no idea which one's were family and which ones were just neighbors, but overall it was not that important, we greeted everyone the same. The women were in the kitchen preparing lunch and the man who I would come to find out was Niche's father was laying on the couch watching a soccer game. The house was filled with pictures of Chuchu, one of the older brothers who played on the 2007 pan-american team in Brazil. It was obviously a source of great pride for the family and for the whole town. Out of 8 siblings his picture was the only one scene on the mostly barren walls.
I was told by everyone that they had been waiting so long to meet me and that they knew a lot about me. I suppose people in the states might say the same thing about Niche. As we sat down for lunch I was surprised to find out that two of the older siblings requested that we pray together before eating. At first I though that they were trying to be being sensitive to my customs, but it was obvious from the prayer that the town were faithful Jehovah's Witnesses, something I would become much more familiar with in a few hours.
After lunch Niche and I went with his father to the town 'stadium' (a dusty looking soccer field) where he acted as the official for the local tournament games. As we walked up everyone, black, mestizo, young and old, greeted us and asked Señor Delgado how he was doing. I really felt like I was walking around with some important people. Stares were only magnified at the sight of a white girl in the town..something that I imagine is few and far between.
The rest of the afternoon consisted of people passing by the house, a 2 hour long conversation with Eloisa about how I should be interpreting the Bible (you better believe i did some research afterwards on how to converse with JW’s), and my favorite part...motercycle driving lessons! In spite of the immense poverty that exists in a town like La Concordia, EVERYONE on the coast rides around on motorcycles. A friend of Niche’s let us take his out for a spin and, (mom don’t read this part), I have never gone for such a crazy fast ride. As we whipped through the dirt roads and palm trees I have to admit that I was a little nervous, but as the same time I was surprisingly comforted by the fact that my friend, who only recently turned 17, grew up running the bumpy roads with a manual bike. When we reached a more open space we traded places and I learned how to change gears and drive at a comfortable speed. If i thought people were staring before, imagine what it was like for people to see the same white girl driving a motorcycle through theire streets.
As evening came we bought some 10 cents ice cream and sat outside of the house chatting on the typical plastic lawn chairs that are seen outside of every house. Chatting turned into dancing when someone down the block turned up there music, and again everyone was surprised that white girl had a few moves :) I took turns dancing with every person as to give each fair chance to judge for themselves, but in the end they all concluded that I danced ‘like a negrita.’
Sitting around the house with Niche’s family felt like being back at Wheaton. It was a different scene than Quito...entertainment came from our own imaginations rather than the flashy clubs or advertisements. When we were all pretty tired Eloisa came up with the idea to play categories, we broke up into teams of 2 and started with the letter ‘T.’ Further into the game I would figure out that the winner was the one who could cheat the best, but for the moment I was too concentrated in trying to figure out the name of a fruit that started with T in Spanish. (Taxo and Tomate, for those of your who were curious.) I had always known that Ecuadorian geography was pretty bad (no one has ever traveled to anywhere outside of the country) but I was still pretty shocked to see that under the ‘city’ category every single person had put Tailandia.
I do not know much about lung cancer and what it entails, but as it got later Señor Delgado seemed to be in more and more pain. His breathing got heavier and it became harder for him to sit still in one position. Eventually Niche’s mother sent everyone home and the atmosphere of the house became solemn. We all sat around the sofa, quite, watching the miserable patient toss and turn. The siblings took turns massaging their fathers chest or running a hot water cooler up and down his back. At one point Niche knelt beside his fathers prostrate body and began to weep. His mother and sister pulled him away knowing saying that if his father started crying he would not be able to breathe. My dear friend groaned ‘Mi papi, Mi papi...’ as he was led into another room to compose himself. I sat with him in the vulnerable state knowing that all I could offer was a shoulder to rest on and my shared tears. An hour or so later the hard breathing had past and everyone went back to their normal routines. On the one hand there is room for mourning and on the other, death and sickness have their place a mist the poor and survival implies the ability to cope and move on. There is talk of an operation and while everyone talks as if this sickness too is something that will pass, the word cancer to my ears has a fatal and tragic ring to it.
As we got ready for bed sweet Eloisa helped me bathe myself in the back yard. There is no actual shower or hot water so we took turns pouring buckets of water over each others heads. It is a humbling experience to realize that i had no idea what I was doing even in something as simple as taking a shower.
Walking back inside she offered to paint my toenails, something it turns out that she does for a living in the small town. We laid on her bed, chatted and I got the best pedicure I have ever had. My toes are now adorned with small flowers and sparkles. :)
Just as soon as we had come one morning we pulling out the next saying our goodbyes...I am amazed by how much one day can change the way we see the world.
Pictures: Family and friends dancing and posing for pictures, Niche with his father, Señor Sixto Delgado, Me with the littlest Delgado, 12-year-old Andres.
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