Author Archives: tim

So. My police came back to class yesterday. There were eleven of them, which brought my class total to 27, and my percent of students who don’t understand me to 41%. I made sure to make the class a little more difficult than usual to scare some of them off, and I certainly succeeded. After class, they came up to me and asked what they could do. “We were completely lost,” they said. “Maybe you can give an extra hour-long class every day for the next month in the police station,” they suggested. I think my face betrayed my reluctance. “What are our alternatives?” they asked.

And before I could really answer, they asked me to come to the station to talk to the Major about the options.

Uh. . .

“No, it’s best if you talk to him, Tim.” Ok, but . . . “He’ll listen to you.” Yeah, um . . . “You have time, don’t you?” Uh. . .

And so I went. A summary of the whole situation would be boring. For reasons I don’t understand, the Major wouldn’t allow the group to be divided, meaning I couldn’t just take the four competent students and send the other seven to a lower level. So the question was whether all of them should enter my class and struggle, or if they should enter Westra’s lower level class and be okay. The remaining question was whether or not SECAP would give a certificate of completion to the students who didn’t pass all the levels. Such a question would not be asked at the vast majority of educational institutions in the States – especially by policemen.

(An interesting aside: one of my policemen was showing me all the nifty toys on his policeman’s utility belt – bullet clips, cell phone, baton, toothbrush and toothpaste even – and the only thing missing was the pepper spray, which, he explained, had been stolen at the police station!)

This afternoon, I rushed to get the grades ready to take down to SECAP for a meeting with the director, Ernesto Gonzalez. I would ask him myself whether or not the police could get a certificate of completion having missed a month and failed others. When I arrived, however, the gates were locked, and a sign was posted claiming that classes were “suspended” for the time being. It gave no information about why. The guard wasn’t helpful, and he wouldn’t let me through the gate to talk to the director. In fact, he said the director was gone.

I didn’t leave right away. I hung out and text messaged one of the police and Jess, the WorldTeach director, to try to figure out what was going on. As I was waiting for a response, I saw the SECAP custodian coming toward me. I said hi and asked if any police had come to talk to Ernesto today. Yeah, he said. Is Ernesto gone? I asked. No, he’s in the office.

Aha!

I half-asked the custodian and half-asked the guard (again) if I could go to the office to talk to Ernesto. This time, he let me through.

I interrupted a card game to ask Ernesto what had come of the meeting with the police. They’ll wait a month and enter Westra’s class, he said.

On my way home, I heard from Jess. At the north SECAP, they were basically staging a coup. They shut down operations and demanded that the national director, Fernando Alban, step down. They said they would then elect one of their own as the national director. It was more or less a miniature version of how Lucio was ousted.

It’s funny. This morning, I was in the bathroom standing at the urinal. I had made the conscious decision not to close the door. I see about five men every day peeing on walls in Quito, so just being at a urinal, I figured I was exceeding the city’s standards. I looked around the bathroom at the dark yellow pool of stagnant water in the toilet that doesn’t flush; the sparse wads of toilet paper in the rusting garbage can; and the thin, ripped and stained carpet.

Recently, they’ve posted signs in all the classrooms that say “Señor participante, ponga la basura en su lugar.” Literally, this means, “put garbage in its place.” It works on so many levels — the trash being the president of the country, the national director of SECAP, failing students, or wads of toilet paper.

I met several students of mine at the park this past Saturday. We hung out and talked for a while; and then a Canadian woman showed up, asking my students if this is where the “forajidos” were going to meet. My students knew nothing about it, but since they’re all leftists who very stongly opposed Lucio, they were interested. It turned out that this Canadian woman was a radio journalist and she was putting together a piece for the CBC (Canada’s equivalent of BBC or NPR) about the role of a radio station in Quito called Radio La Luna and of the word “forajido” in precipitating the events of last Wednesday.

She interviewed one of my students, Ruth, who is a lawyer and thus has a lot to say. Ruth is very articulate, intelligent, and well-travelled. She also claims she can see the future. In fact, she told us that on September 8th, 2001, she called the US Embassy and told them that two planes were going to crash into the twin towers in NYC.

I know. I don’t believe her either. But otherwise, she makes a lot of sense.

Anyhow, at 3:00, the forajidos showed up. They were a group of people trying to organize some proposals for the government — true revolutionaries. The Canadian began interviewing one of them just as we were leaving. Her radio segment is due on Wednesday. If we find a link to it, we’ll post it.

Lucio has left the building. (And the country). BBC reports the latest. We are still fine. Things here are pretty calm, but they could heat up soon. We’ll keep you posted.

Cab driver:

One of the teachers I work with lives with a host family in the far north of Quito. On Wednesday after her 9-11am class was finished, she hurriedly left school hoping to still be able to catch a bus home. Her busses weren’t running, but she flagged a cab and the cabbie offered to take her home for three dollars, an excellent deal. So she got in the cab. The driver was an older gentleman whose wife was accompanying him in the front seat. The cab passed by plenty of protests and took lots of detours. At one point the teacher had no idea where she was or if she would get home. The cabby kept reassuring her that they would get her home safe. When she finally arrived at her door (I think she said about 3 hours later), she handed him a 5 and he still tried to give her the two dollars in change (tipping cabs isn’t customary here). She told him to keep it and thanked him for everything.

Police shaking hands with protestors:

Wednesday Tim, Will, and I were glued to the television especially in the early afternoon. After Lucio was declared fallen, we watched the police continue to hold back protestors and then receive the orders to step back. They stopped shooting tear gas and rubber bullets and stood to the side of the road while hundreds of protestors streamed passed. We were amazed to see quite a few protestors walk up to police, not to taunt them, but to extend a handshake. There was absolutely no visible animosity between the people who not 5 minutes ago were in battle with one another. It looked like teams after a soccer game, “good game.” What’s incredible is that the protestors even after what must have been an emotional ordeal, knew that the police were following orders and that in reality most of them have very similar opinions about the government.

6:15 Eileen takes a bus to work, and as it passes through Patria, the lingering smell of tear gas is evident.
6:35 Eileen arrives at work. As usual, the TV is turned on right away. Footage from last night’s protests is on the morning news.
7:00 – 9:00 Tim and Eileen both teach pretty full classes. Tim is teaching sicknesses and advice (using should). Once, when his students get sidetracked, talking in Spanish about the previous day’s demonstrations, he gets them back on track by saying, “Ok, so Steve was at the demonstrations yesterday and he was throwing rocks at the police. Now he has a sore arm. What should he do?” It worked.
10:00 After 45 minutes of helping a student translate his resume, Tim leaves for the Plaza to go to the gym and do internet. The bus takes a minor detour around the demonstrations in front of the Radio La Luna (the rabble-rousing leftist radio station in Quito) office. At gym, he text messages Eileen with a warning that the bus will take a detour but don’t worry.
11:20 After having taught her second class, Eileen walks toward Patria, hoping to catch a bus to the gym. She is hoarse from having to speak loudly in class over the incessant sound of cars honking in the streets. As she nears Patria, it becomes clear that traffic is at a standstill. She walks toward Amazonas to see if she can catch a bus there, but there are only protestors stoking tire fires. She makes her way toward America Ave., avoiding chanting protestors.
11:30 Tim finishes his workout. At the gym, the TVs are all broadcasting news. The American Embassador, known as Kristi here, is reported to have gone to the presidential palace. Bus loads of indigenas arrived in Quito yesterday to “show support” for the president. The news reports that, when asked why they’re here, they all respond, I don’t know.
11:40 Tim meets Will outside the gym. His ride has been relatively uneventful. Like Tim, he was on a bus that took a slight detour.
12:00 Eileen finds a bus to the gym. It passes by police roadblock signs, several burning tires, and piles of dirt and construction vehicles parked in the middle of the street, necessitating several detours.
12:30 Eileen arrives at the Plaza. She convinces the guard to let her inside, where she finds all of the businesses closed except for the gym. She meets Tim and Will outside of the gym, which has begun closing early.
12:40 The Storms leave the plaza and get on a bus heading south on America. The trip takes about twice as long as normal; the bus goes down several one-way streets the wrong way. By some lucky turn of fate, it ends up getting detoured to La Gasca and lets the Storms off right in front of Supermaxi, which happens to be as far up La Gasca as it can drive.
1:17 A roll of thunder erupts while our heroes are stocking up on what could be a 24 hour lock-in at home. “What was that?” Will asks. “I don’t know. Could be thunder, could be a car exploding,” Tim replies. Eileen observes a young woman say to her husband, “Dios mío, que pasó?”
1:25 We leave Supermaxi with lots of food and begin walking up La Gasca. Tim walks in the middle of the street because “I can.” We pass by several wood fires. They smell much better than burning tires.
1:40 We arrive home. Will puts away groceries. Tim cranks the emergency radio – not because the power’s out but because the batteries don’t work – and they listen to the reports on Radio La Luna.
1:50 The official report comes that the military has withdrawn its backing of Gutierrez and that he has officially fallen from power.
1:51 Our WorldTeach director Jess calls to make sure we’re staying home. Eileen shouts, “acaba de salir!” but Jess doesn’t hear.
1:52 Tim and Eileen go to the roof. There is no noticeable difference from the rooftop. Someone rings a bell in the distance.
1:57 We turn on the TV and begin watching off and on for the next six hours.
2:00 Tim goes to see the landlords. They’re watching the news. They talk with Tim about the protests, the fall, and their dog Bella, who is now two days past due. Tim promises to help deliver the pups when the time comes.
2:11 The vice president, Alfredo Palacio (sometimes called Alfredo Palacios) is sworn in as the new president.
2:20 We begin making lunch. Calzones.
2:26 Tim starts cutting his hair. Will finishes the job 15 minutes later.
3:00 A helicopter leaves the presidential palace, reportedly with Lucio. It arrives at the airport and is met by protesters blocking the runway. The airplane can’t take off. Lucio gets into the helicopter again and it leaves.
3:30 The news reports that Lucio had asked Panama for political asylum.
4:00 The news shows footage of the police searching the Guayaquil airport for Abdalá Bucarám, the ex-president who had been chased out of the country in a very similar fashion eight years ago and who had just recently re-entered the country thanks to Lucio’s political maneuvering.
4:30 Reports claim that Lucio’s helicopter was heading toward the oriente, and that he had asked for political asylum from Brazil.
4:45 Tim gets restless, wants to go down toward his school to take pictures and see if his school is closed. The TV is showing footage of the Ministerio de Bien-Estar, the most violent site of the protests. The mob, apparently provoked by shots fired by a politico on an upper floor, breaks into the building and starts generally destroying things. They bring out pictures of Gutierrez and impale them on fences. The mob sets fire to the building and loots it. The police arrest several politicians. People start climbing out of windows to escape the fire. A man slips and falls two stories to his death. In the meantime, across town at the Ciespal, demonstrators are not allowing the congress or the President Palacios to leave the building.
4:55 Tim starts fiddling with computer stuff and distracts himself until 6:05. Upstairs, Eileen and Will have both fallen asleep despite the TV blaring speculations about where Lucio might be.
6:30 The rain that has been falling off and on since 2:00 has driven away the protesters at the presidential palace. The protesters at the Ciespal, however, are still at it. They are holding a public forum to decide what to do about congress. Many want to throw them all out and start from scratch.
7:00 At some point, reports circulate that Lucio could possibly be in Quito at the Brazilian Embassy. Tim starts petitioning for Eileen to make cookies.
8:00 We put on Hitch and watch it.
9:17 Eileen goes to bed. No cookies. No puppies.