Dust, UNICEF and ever more ponderings

Here in el Cauca, if you’re travelling somewhere for 8 hours, it’s probably about 100km away. The road will be dusty, the potholes deep and the corners sharp. But the views will be spectacular, and the people so pleased to see you. For the past three days I’ve been visiting countryside towns with Paulo, from the campaign, and Sandra, from UNICEF (who is from Medellín). She is head of the project they have with the campaign developing Mine Risk Education in the 5 highest risk departments in Colombia and was in Popayán all this week to check on progress and move things along. We went to three municipality capitals where they have started, or are about to start, training 30 teachers in MRE and integrating it into the curriculum. But this is no mean feat.

Arriving in San Sebastián at lunchtime after 6 hours of mostly unsurfaced road, we looked like we’d been rolled in breadcrumbs ready for the frier. The wind was strong and the temperature cool, so the natural water shower, although welcome, made me gasp. First we went to meet some recently trained teachers, who although shy at first, were all very keen to bring about change. Equally the head of education for the area, who we met later, was very willing to plan for MRE in the coming year. And this was the case the following day and the next. Motivated local leaders, keen campaign coordinators, willing teachers. But I do wonder how long this will continue when Sandra isn’t there asking questions. I mean I’m sure they want to reduce numbers of accidents and I hope they can see the value of education (personally I think it might be the most important thing) but it just seemed so difficult to get a meeting with them, to get concrete answers, and, most cynically, to find motivation when there’s no extra pay. I don’t know what it is about local teachers and leaders in developing countries, but I noticed it in Africa as well: an affinity for doing the bare minimum. Maybe it’s their gross underpayment, or their low status as a profession (which in itself needs addressing), or maybe it’s that, as women, when they get home they still have to wash the clothes, feed the children and clean the house, but it does mean that education in country schools is not to the highest standard. This is a massive generalisation and I would just like to say that this won’t be true across the developing world, it’s just my experience. Of British teachers compared to Colombian and Ugandan ones. All of them work hard, but their focusses are slightly different.

It was definitely interesting visiting the townships. They looked like typical South America; men on horses in hats and ponchos, children playing in the street with dogs, isolated houses with flowers galore, markets of fruit and vegetables and old women selling sweets. In La Sierra there was a beer festival, with tents and kegs and everything. And I was taken to visit the weekly fruit market, where I discovered even more varieties I’d never seen before. We had to go through the meat section to get there though, and oh the smell. There were cows’ heads, upside down on tables, cut in half, jaws off. Cows’ tails hanging from bars next to ears, and pigs’ trotters being chopped with axes. A chip flew off and hit my shirt, and I wondered if I should in fact be a vegetarian given my disgust. Sorry if you are one, reader, and you just had to get through that bit. Done now.

On the return journey the jeep broke down. The ‘bomba de gasolina’ wasn’t pumping petrol into the engine apparently, which could have been due to dirty petrol bought on the roadside. Luckily, being a Scout, Paulo had various tools, and the driver had a few too, so they set about fixing it while Sandra and I acknowledged our weakness and went to take some photos as the sun got closer to the mountain peaks, casting shadows over the valley. Which in itself was a problem because as well as not being allowed to use public transport, UNICEF workers aren’t supposed to travel after dark. We were an hour and a half from our planned overnight stop, and they worked quickly. And they fixed it and we were off. It got dark and we could see small fires across the mountainside, clearing crops, or started by pyromaniacs, one can only speculate. And we passed no-one. It was a little eery.

I had a great time with Sandra and Paulo. They are full of stories, full of laughter and I enjoyed all the banter! We shared a bottle of rum one night, some beers the next, and got to know each other. And it’s been a great 2 weeks for my Spanish here in the south. I haven’t spoken English to a native speaker at all and I actually do feel a bit more fluent. Although I do have random slips, like the other day when someone said ‘Qué hora tienes?’ and I said ´Half past four’ which was bizarre. And there’s also something weird in the way I keep forgetting this is their mother tongue, they don’t have to think at all when they speak. This is the grammar structure that is natural to them, and Chomsky comes to mind. There are times when I don’t have to think either, but only for short comments and I do wish I could speak faster, like the babble that I can now understand from Colombians. A few people have told me I speak very clearly, which is nice, but equally, I don’t know what they’re comparing me to. When people seem impressed by my Spanish I can never take it seriously because I still use incorrect structures, I still form unnatural phrases and there are still so so many words I don’t know! But I do get my meaning across. What I would love is to be able to hear myself from the point of view of a native speaker, then I would know what I have to do.

Right I’m going to stop there and add some things to Cultural Learnings. Even though I still haven’t mentioned the storytellers, the University fiesta, the Scout fundraising party, the Scouts’ teaching sessions, problems with being a zona roja, the capacitación for Puracé municipality, my excitement at my veeery long journey back to Bogotá… There’s always more to say. But this is enough. Enough now. (Hi sis).

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