There’s something euphoric about marching through a village leading a train of beautiful children chanting obnoxiously.
This was my escape this past reading week from books and classes. Often, when people ask about my trip to Ecuador, I tend to just say, “It was good,” or, “A nice getaway,” but truthfully, it’s what’s helping me get through my program at Carleton.
As a student with some knowledge of Spanish, I was able to lead my group of my “turtles” (our group name and mascot) through the camps we set up in different villages across the Onzole River. I remember one of the villages called Sangudo. We were about to run a camp with kids we didn’t know, in a village we had never visited, in a level of heat our bodies were definitely not used to. I think I speak for many in our team when I say I was quite nervous, but we were ready.
After a quick lunch on what seemed like the smallest chairs known to mankind, the children were split up and I was given my group. We marched to the first activity. I immediately noticed one particular character in my group. He was a young fellow who had a very big influence on the group, which didn’t make my job any easier.
We had a tough go that day. But slowly, as I continued to try my best to react kindly to his disruptive behaviour, he began to wait for his turn to speak, treat others kindly, and I saw something in this boy that made him special.
At the end of the second day, our last in Sangudo, as he was walking out of the door, he paused and turned to me and gave me a smile I’ll never forget and a quick but sincere hug. With his handpainted T-shirt and craft in hand, he ran into the rain, pausing to grab his toy boat, pulling it down the little stream that flowed through the village. I thought to myself, this is a moment worth storing away.
Today, as I wander the halls of Carleton, sometimes I like to just pause and go back to that moment before continuing on my way to my next class.
