The water tank sat like a slimy portent of a Friday poorly spent. Big boss lady at the N.G.O. wanted the mold scoured from the walls of our drinking water reservoir, something about a health hazard…
As a community health volunteer, I had to agree, to disagree, with her. While green scum had no business being close to our liquid for consumption, I did not plan on being a part of the clean up crew. Not because I didn’t care about the children drinking poison disguised as hydrogen and oxygen but rather, after 2.5 years in Peace Corps, I’ve been subjected to my fair share of job responsibility abuse. Only after many regretful days invested in unpleasant tasks that fall way outside of my job description, a.k.a. not getting paid to do others’ dirty work, I’ve taken a stand. Instead of bonding over filth, I was going to take advantage of the newly declared free Friday, and so I invited myself to the coast to visit my other 3rd year volunteer friend.
“Be sure to bring back some monkeys!” My host mother giggled behind her hand at her own joke. In Ecuador the coastal people are called monkeys, and in Peru ALL Ecuadorians are called monkeys. (I’ve done a good job of not mentioning that cultural nomenclature to my new friends; no reason to further kindle the fiery animosity between these two South American countries.) “I’ll see what I can do…” One souvenir I was definitely not going to bring back was malaria.
Chone is a coastal town rife with wetlands, cattle, pristine beaches, delinquency, and cat-callers. All of the above were encountered during my short and muggy (not mugged!) foray. The “La Segua” wetlands are home to more than 164 species of birds, nearly 100 of which are migratory, and there is a fish called el Chame that can survive out of water for up to 48 hours! Wouldn’t that be a painful experiment to watch… Likewise, I only survived in that humid jungle for two days. The beach we spent a few hours on was magical; I splashed happily in the tepid miniature waves, knowing that the UV monster couldn’t touch me under my 70 spf, while my friend snored atop her latest book. Though it was a Saturday, there was hardly anyone underfoot; more coconut milk vendors than beach-goers.
Paradise, however, comes with a price. The tame whistles heard around my sierran capital city of Ambato from male citizens were no preparation for the onslaught of inappropriateness on the coast. Yuck. And our nights were spent cooped up watching movies in the house, huddled close to the air conditioning, turned subtly to high by yours truly. The future gang members of Ecuador roam the streets of Chone; you can’t kick a beat up soccer ball in that town without hitting an unscrupulous riffraff. Or at least that’s what my friend’s host mom implied. I was nervous to buy ice cream from the corner store at 7:34 pm and it was only 15 feet from the house.
Olenka’s host father, concerned with my concern, kindly offered to drive me to the bus station on my final night. After two nights of sleeping with my appendages wrapped around the single unit air conditioner and still sweating ungodly amounts, I can’t say I was sorry to leave. The humidity…and the creepy baby doll in the corner of the room where I slept were enough to send me off without looking back.
More about the doll…I’ve been guilty at times of hoarding relics of the past. There was a certain hand crafted doll house with ornate molding that seemed to stick around longer than pop culture calls for, but everyone should exercise limits. Mine are drawn way before the life size, unblinking, blue eyed creature from the dark with blonde curls earns a permanent spot in the guest bedroom. Were they trying to scare guests away?? At one point the doll looked at me and mouthed “Red Rum”. Shivers.
Fumbling for my bus ticket many hours later, and jostling my way down the narrow aisle to seat 7 I found my baby doll adventure was far from over. The woman who sat next to me, a short almost Asian looking 50 year old of petite build, dragged a small grandson by his left arm, nearly wrenching it out of the socket as she tumbled into a seated position. Face down, arm twisted painfully back behind him, the boy didn’t utter a sound, not even a groan. When she recognized my furrowed brow and pursed lips she laughed explaining, “It’s just a doll.” That ‘just a doll’ glared at me the entire 6 hour bus ride, his eyes catching the light glare of passing cars and menacing me with his paralyzed half smile. Eeeeee.
When I got home I placed a collect call to Matel to inform them that their products were a bit too life like for my liking.
