I’ve spent the last two weeks in Quito and the surrounding areas. When I talk with other travelers they are astounded that I spent two weeks in Quito. For most of them Quito is a place to pass a day or two before heading off to the Galapagos, the rainforest, or somewhere else. But I really enjoyed spending two weeks in Quito. In even that short amount of time I began to feel the rhythm of the city and the rhythm of its people. I had a chance of recognizing the person I passed on the street. The person at the bakery recognized me. The city opened itself to me in a way that wouldn't be accessible if I had just passed through.
Earlier this year, in writing about my plans for this sabbatical, I focused on four areas. They were:
First, to have an immersion experience in a Spanish speaking country, and to improve my ability to speak Spanish.As to the third and fourth goal, the fourth is a private matter and the third is a matter of process.
Second, to study and observe the intersection of race, religion, and ethnicity. To understand how racial and ethnic identities are understood in a different country. To explore how the legacy of colonialism is regarded and how religion regards race and ethnicity.
Third, to have the experience of living in a country very different from my own.
And fourth, to connect with the country of origin from which my sister was adopted when she was four years old.
As to the first goal I seem to have my good days and my bad days. There are times when I’ve been able to hold up an hour long conversation in Spanish and times when the simplest question catch me off guard and I find myself tongue-tied. I’ve made a commitment to speaking only Spanish while I am here. At museums and other attractions I ask for the tour guide to speak only in Spanish. I decline the English “gringo” menu. I click the Spanish option at the ATM.
I am improving and yet I also feel myself hitting plateaus and tripping over the same phrases time after time. I’ve been told by many people that my Spanish speaking abilities are quite good, but that I speak slowly and take a lot of time to think of exactly what I want to say. In other words, pretty much like how I speak English.
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When I started this blog entry on the plane I planned to mention how superficial a lot of my blog entries have been thus far. Upon further reflection, that they have been superficial isn’t exactly a surprise. For one thing, the ordinary tasks of the day are more challenging. Catching the correct bus or buying Chapstick with UV protection are elements of the day that pose challenges much greater than if I were engaging in the same activities in the United States. The hyper-awareness with which I spend the days tends to sap energy away from deeper reflection.
This brings me back to my second stated goal for the sabbatical, the observation of race, ethnicity, and religion. I haven’t neglected this aspect of the sabbatical, but I have found it harder than I had expected.
For one thing, I am a stranger here. And, I am not just any stranger. I am a stupendously privileged stranger whose grasp of the language is flawed and whose knowledge of the customs is incomplete. Who is this stranger who just flat out asks how indigenous peoples regard the historical legacy of colonialism? Who is this stranger who asks questions about syncretism between indigenous religious practices and Catholicism?
I will tell you a bit about who this stranger is. This stranger is a United States citizen. This stranger comes from a country with a pretty rotten history when it comes to race relations, a country that has over the course of its history found ways to systemically marginalize and do horrific violence to every race and every ethnicity that is not Anglo-Saxon. Slavery. Indian wars. Broken treaties. Reservations. Internment Camps. Jim Crow. Immigration raids. Lynching.
Not only am I a citizen of a country with an appalling legacy of racism, I am also a citizen of a country that has time and time again had dirty dealings in Central and South America. In Augusto Pinochet the United States put a brutal dictator in power in Chile in the 1970s. Che Guevara was killed in Bolivia in 1967 with assistance from our government. In Central America in the 1980s we propped up brutal regimes in some countries while undemocratically (and violently) installing regimes friendly to the interests of the United States in others. Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez enjoy immense popular followings in Ecuador while Cuba and Venezuela are treated coldly by the United States.
Scholars of race relations have pointed out that people of color often have two ways of speaking: a way of speaking when solely in the presence of other people of color and a way of speaking that is used in dominant white culture. Similarly, native Ecuadorians and Peruvians adopt a similar practice. Tourists are spoken to one way; locals speak to each other differently.
Let me summarize the last several paragraphs in one succinct thought. I was naïve to believe that others would be frank and forthcoming with me when I have asked questions about religion and race. The times when I have broken through have been few. What has been consistent is that the times when I have broken through have been with a person with whom I have taken the time to develop trust and intimacy.
Other conversations have been much less fruitful. I will discuss a few of these conversations in future blog entries. At the same time, there have been other clues available in the material culture that point to a much more complicated reality. These examples are seen in the pictures below. Here I point to chess sets depicting Indigenas vs. Españoles. (I can’t imagine similar games being sold in Selma, Alabama or at the Trail of Tears National Historic Monument.) Or, consider the following portion of a sign at Quito’s botanical garden. This sign introduced an area of the garden that grew plants that indigenous people harvested for medicinal uses.
[“How the West was Won and Where It Got Us” is a song by R.E.M. from their album New Adventures in Hi-Fi.]
