Indigenous Minded

Children are adorable. Visiting any culture, travelers can learn copious amounts of information from the younger generations, ranging from toddlers to teenagers. In Otavalo, Ecuador my bond with an indigenous 4 year old was the highlight of a six week volunteer trip teaching English. Inti was a bouncy, but shy little boy with a braid down his back and two outfits to his name. His chubby cheeks constantly had dirt smudges on them, but those splotches never really hid the healthy pink bloom of his cheekbones. The youngest of five children, and the only male, Inti was rather spoiled, but his version of rebellion was to silently pout or act sleepy; rarely did he scream or yell. By hanging out with Inti in his family’s home, I got to experience a culture that not many tourists see: the non-rainforest indigenous life.
A trip to Central America or South America often includes a visit to the rainforest for intrepid travelers wanting to view the gorgeous vegetation, animals and people that inhabit those areas. In contrast to the vibrant shading of greens, browns and rain found in the wetter section of Ecuador, the house where Inti lived had a dirt floor of a nondescript brown which extended out into the ‘yard’ where he could play ‘kick the ball.’ Prior to arriving, I had known that Inti’s family wasn’t exactly in the upper echelons of society, but having some form of floor in the house had been an expectation I had unconsciously made; yet, I quickly adjusted since no one else found it odd. The house was a one-story, four ‘room’ structure with a kitchen on one side, the master bedroom constructed opposite it and then the main body which was one massive room divided into two by a blue tarp sheet that crinkled whenever someone walked by. All the children slept together in one half of the main building in a room with two beds that acted as sofas during the day and which was dominated by a medium-size tv and dvd set. The two eldest daughters worked 5 days a week, sometimes 7, and as a gift to themselves they had purchased the television to watch while the remaining siblings worked on sewing together different parts of sweaters for which they’d receive 5 cents apiece. Well, all of the kids except Inti.
It was hard to leave him behind when time was up. Every day Inti would wait outside the house for me to return, grab onto my hand and accompany me inside; this routine is the strongest snapshot of my time in Ecuador and is the first to resurface whenever I think back to that time. Living with him and his family lent a sense of community and acceptance to which I was excited to return after visiting other tourist destinations nearby. It is for connections like these that we travel; to experience a time and place unique unto itself but which becomes a part of ourselves.