Looking with New Eyes - Marie Skertic

It happened two years ago, in April of 1995.

I can't remember her name, although I'll always remember what she said and how I felt. Because of her I was able to see the world differently and more realistically - again.

It was a Thursday, during the rainy season. I was at the house of a good friend, Liliana, enjoying time with her and her six-month-old baby, Angel David. Lili introduced me to her friend, whose name I cannot remember now, and her daughter, about the same age as Angel.

We three women complained about the 72 hours of constant rain that we'd experienced. We were impatient with the rain, the lack of water and electricity, the latest paro (strike) by the teachers (about the fourth one in the last two years), as well as the attack on the Federal Building in Oklahoma City ("in your country!") the night before.

Everyone was sitting around talking about the terrible economy, the incredible rate of inflation that year (about 35% according to the local papers), the latest corruption scandal involving high political figures, the privatization of many companies causing the rate of unemployment and underemployment to skyrocket.

The political, economic and educational systems of Ecuador were at a weak point. Ecuador is a country in which 65% of the population lives in poverty and where approximately the same percentage of the population are children under the age of 12. Infant mortality is high, and hunger, disease and instability are a fact of life for the majority of Ecuadorian children.

In spite of all these "facts," Ecuadorians are, on the whole, active, welcoming, positive; they are used to working in groups to accomplish tasks and they are very resourceful. The women, especially, are accustomed to hard work, to long hours, and to being an integral part of the family unit. Like women across the globe, they only want the best for their children and for their children's future.

During a lull in the conversation, Lili's friend turned to me. She looked me in the eyes for a full fifteen seconds or so, then looked down at her little daughter, who had beautiful brown skin, black hair and was wrapped in part of the mother's clothing. The mother was an indigenous woman, a woman of the land who had had to work hard to overcome many difficulties and obstacles in her life. Although only 20 years old, she already had four children. Like me, Spanish was not her native tongue and we amused each other with the mistakes we occasionally made in an attempt to convey our thoughts in our second language.

Suddenly, the young mother lifted her daughter up, placing her in my arms, as her eyes filled with tears and her voice broke. Her words were strong and sincere. I had the feeling that they came from the very heart of her being and that the twelve words had been thought about for a very long time before they were articulated.

"She can give you so much and I can give you nothing."

Just like that, she had said what was foremost on her mind. The indigenous woman was aware that I, as a gringa, had access to services and opportunities that someone living in a developing country would never have.

Then she spoke again, this time with tears running down her face and with an expression of total resignation such as I have seen very rarely in my life.

"Please, María! Please take my daughter with you when you return to your country. I will make the sacrifice of being without her. She would be able to have a much better life there than she would here in Ecuador."

Head bowed, she continued crying and pouring out her heart. The baby, sensing her mother's anguish, began to cry with high-pitched sobs.

Stunned, I just sat there for a few seconds, breathing in deeply and trying to think of how to explain to this loving mother, who was quite sincere, that it would be impossible for me to take her child back with me to North America when I returned at the end of that year.

Part of me wanted say, "OK! Yeah! I'll take your child back with me. I'll do what I can to assist her and keep you informed of her progress," etc. However, realistically, I knew this was impossible. It was a dream that the mother had, to give her child all the advantages she herself had never had. As a woman, I understood her love of her child and her willingness to sacrifice her own long-term happiness for the future of her child.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, and after wiping the tears from my eyes, I spoke with the mother. I explained that, contrary to what the majority of Ecuadorians thought, North America did have problems and difficulties. We are not a society where everything is perfect, where the streets are of gold, and where we throw away clothing after having worn it only once.

I explained that we, too, have crime, drugs, discrimination, difficulties with privatization and government officials, etc. That's the nature of being human and of living in community.

No one is perfect; no society is perfect. We all have positive and negative aspects, both as individuals as well as countries. We're all just trying to do our best, living day-by-day, working together to understand ourselves and our complex world.

I explained that Ecuador has many things to offer child, things she may not have articulated to herself before. It is a beautiful country, with rivers and streams and a scenery that is just breath-taking. The people are friendly, helpful to others and enjoy talking and dancing. The climate is gorgeous, 60-75° all year round (no snow! No 95% humidity!). Her daughter was born into a loving family, with many aunts, uncles and cousins, who will be there to help raise her and to offer emotional, financial and social support. She will have the opportunity, should she wish to pursue it, to learn other languages and to meet people from around the world who live for time in her country. She will benefit from a slower pace of life, where being 'productive' is not of the utmost importance and where people still have time to chat, to dance and to have family gatherings.

In short, Ecuador is where she belongs and where she will be most fulfilled.

Finally, the mother nodded her head in agreement with me, and we were both changed in a profound way.

I am reminded of the quote by an anonymous author: "The voyage of discovery is not in looking for new landscapes, but in looking with new eyes."