So our days living in Timbara have ended. Due to the
landslides we are forced to move to another city so we can continue our work in
Loja. While I am excited for the change, especially because it will speed up
week seven, I am so sad to leave my wonderful family here. Goodbyes here are so
final, and after a family has taken you in and accepted you as one of their own
it is really difficult to leave knowing you will never see them or talk to them
ever again. Maybe one day in the future I will come back down to this little
town of Timbara and visit my family again… man I sure hope so.
My favorite memory of this town, besides the empanadas and
the banana trees, was the day my host mothered purchased a water filter from
our organization. During the rainy season especially, the water here in Timbara
is brown as mud and even though they boil the water the safety hazards are
horrendous. With a huge family of so many children it was heartbreaking to know
that this water was putting them in such danger. The day we assembled the water
filter, and my host mother saw how clear the water was when it came out…it was
so heartwarming.
Our work does not have a lot of external reward and, by the
last leg of our trip, it has been difficult at times to completely believe in
the work we are doing. This instance though, when my host mother was able to
drink clear, clean water and couldn’t wipe the smile off her face… that was
made it all worth it! I remember cleaning the filter off after two days, and
seeing the thick layer of mud that was left behind and humbly realizing the
reality of life here. Life in Timbara is just so beautiful. Sometimes I would
wake up in the morning and think “why am I here?” these people are happy and
are leading relatively comfortable lives… and then I am put in a situation where
I see how dirty the water is that they are expected to drink…
Dirty water or not, the people of Timbara love a good party,
and so for our final night they threw us a big going away party. From goodbyes
to cake, it was just like our last going away party until they turned the music
on and someone started the conga line. For two hours straight we all packed
ourselves on the dance floor and tried to pick up some suave dance moves from
our host families. Even though they found out that gringos can’t dance, it was
the perfect way to end a wonderful week with such an amazing community.
Lots of love from Ecuador,
Jen
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