My first glimpse of Ecuadorian politics came through the cynical lens of my politics professor. In an introductory talk he gave during our orientation week we were introduced to the main political contenders and told why ultimately each was a flawed candidate. Quite a base to build on indeed! Eternal optimist that I am I decided to do a little more searching. This being an election year in Ecuador there was potential for anything, not the least being a coup or some sort of civil unrest. One thing’s for sure, you can never accuse Ecuadorian politics of being boring.
Ecuador is a diverse country that has produced a wide variety of candidates from each of Ecuador’s three regions: the east Amazon, the central highlands, and the western coast. From the beginning it was clear from the ads on television, the posters plastered around town, and from my conversations with people that there were four main candidates for president. This is despite the fact that 17 contenders had put their hats into the ring for this year’s presidential contest.
The first candidate for president to appear was Cynthia Viteri, candidate for the Social Christian party. As my cynical professor pointed out, the Social Christian party is neither social, nor Christian. Certainly after having seen her ads and what she said during the debates I had a very hard time pinning down what exactly she was and what she stood for. On all her posters she wears an Ecuadorian bracelet with her hand over her heart and the slogan, “Yes, Ecuador can do it.”(Ecuador, si se puede) Despite the uplifting feeling of that slogan, what does it actually mean? As far as I can tell she supports increased health and education spending and more employment. Unfortunately that line is a standard for everyone who wants to mount a half serious presidential campaign and does nothing to distinguish her at all. It would seem that Cynthia’s election as the Social Christian candidate was more a choice of style than substance. As intelligent as she may seem, a beautiful, fair skinned, blonde haired woman as candidate is clearly a play to the most basic of instincts of every Ecuadorian male.
A more reasonable choice from the top four is Leon Roldos, representative from Izquerda Democratica (Democratic Left). The conscious feeling from my family and others was that a vote for Roldos was a vote for stability. If you liked the status quo and didn’t want radical change in Ecuador in anyway, Roldos was your man. His campaign has focused mostly on delivering a government that is free of corruption and strong on ethics. With regards to trade he supports putting the proposed free trade agreement with the US to a national referendum. Roldos’ downside is his complete and utter lack of charisma or facial expression. During the televised debates he would speak in almost a mumble (as a non native Spanish speaker I had the most trouble understanding him) while chopping his left hand up and down in rhythm to what he said. His other hand he kept glued to his side, so much so that I actually became concerned that it might be paralyzed. Halfway through he then switched to right hand movements which then had me concerned about his left hand!
A more radical front-runner is the independent candidate, economist Rafael Correa. He exudes charisma like Hugo Chavez and is backed by a strong core of supporters and a slick media campaign. In contrast to Cynthia however, you most definitely know who he is and for what he stands. His platform is based on two main ideas. First is constitutional reform. He supports disbanding congress and launching a citizen’s assembly to draft a new form of government for Ecuador. Second, he is against the proposed free trade agreement with the United States and very much in favour of economic nationalism. In the last government he, as Minister of the Economy, forcibly renegotiated Ecuador’s contracts with foreign oil companies to increase Ecuador’s share from 20 to 40% of all oil revenues. He also redirected oil revenues away from the 75% that was supposed to go towards paying off the debt as stipulated by the World Bank. As result the World Bank threatened to retract 400 million dollars in loans unless he was removed from office, which of course he quickly was. He enters the race with this baggage but also with the precedent that he will act on his convictions.
Finally we the last of the front runners, if he even can be considered a legitimate candidate: Alvaro Noboa running for PRIAN. I struggle for words to describe him but I think I can settle on these: I’ve finally found someone with more money and less intelligence than George W. Bush. He is by far the most ignorant, incompetent and ludicrous buffoon to ever enter politics. In the debates and in interviews on television several reporters and commentators have had to forcible suppress their smiles and laughter when he attempts to answer their questions. The way he erratically waves his arms in the air and shrieks when he speaks makes him seem more like some sort of fiendish goblin than a human being. One of my professors went so far as to suggest he could actually be, “mentally deficient.” Bush claims he speaks regularly with God, Noboa has publicly tried to perform faith healings while on the campaign trail. He would probably be completely ignored as a candidate except for the fact that he is extremely rich; his family collectively controls about 5% of Ecuador’s total GDP.
With this as the background Ecuador lurched it’s way into election day on Sunday October 15th. At the polling station in Sangolqui everything seemed normal, except of course for the typical Ecuadorian idiosyncrasies. Ecuador has a no drinking law on election weekend, as apparently in previous years many have showed up totally plastered to vote. Along with the voters there were the ice cream, hot dog, and other food vendors that you find at any event. Men and women had to vote at separate voting booths, each of which was protected by an army officer in full fatigues and caring an automatic rifle. Circling in the background were medics from the Red Cross, just in case.
After visiting the polling station with my host family I returned home to watch the proceedings on television. The main focus during the day was the voting by each of the main candidates. Cynthia, all smiles as usual, proudly proclaimed she was voting for her list of senators, Correa, moved through the crowd at his booth with his usual charisma. At Noboa’s booth it was pure pandemonium. It was not clear what the problem was but he needed the protection of his personal bodyguards to even get to the booth. Once there he made a show of each ballot he marked, and then, with his trophy wife in hand, escaped through a side passage.
With voting finished and the polls closed, the entire country then anticipated the first results, which would be the exit polls that would come out shortly after 5:00 p.m. Ecuador’s system resembles somewhat that of the United States. They elect a provincial council, a national congress, and a president with executive powers. This is combined with a run off system; the top two candidates in the first round then face off against each other in an additional month of campaigning. All throughout the campaign people had been talking about a Roldos-Correra runoff, although at the end some had been talking about the slight possibility of a Noboa-Correa contest. The shock came with the release of the first exit polls. Noboa was in first with 28.2% followed by Correa one percent behind. The sense of shock was palpable. Responding to these shocks the national television networks rushed to get Noboa on their programs. His incompetence did not disappoint. Pumped up by his apparent victory his hand movements were even more wild, his shrieks several tones higher, and his speech even more incomprehensible. To top it off his cell phone went off in the middle of the interview! I can’t even fathom who would want or need to call him at that point.
Later in the night as the official results came in it was apparent that Noboa’s lead was even greater. While polls done the day before the election had showed Correa in the high 20’s and Noboa in the low 20’s the actual results were the exact opposite. Although there was still 27% of people who were undecided the day before, the fact that things had changed that much seemed suspect at least. The Correa supporters that I watched the results with were convinced it was fraud. They claimed that Noboa had paid people $40 each to vote for him. After seeing the results I found this not hard to believe. Noboa received 40% of the vote in the coastal region where he owns huge tracts of banana plantations. How easy would it have been for him to pay all his workers a little extra to vote for him?
Partisan bickering aside, there was one more election night fact that stuck in my mind.
Although all Ecuadorians have to vote, over 500,000 of them chose to leave their ballot blank or spoil their ballot. This is perhaps the true message of the election: some are so sick of the process that they won’t vote for anyone.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Night on Bald Mountain
In hindsight I can hardly believe that I got myself into the following situation. Usually I am a very careful person that takes all the normal precautions whenever I get myself into something. Yet somehow within a twelve-hour period I pushed myself as close to the precipice of death as I have probably ever been.
Our weekend excursion was supposed to be challenging, a little bit of hard work, and a whole lot of fun. Eight Canadians from our group, including my girlfriend Jennifer, were led by one student’s host father Colonel Louis on a climb of the nearby mountain Pasochoa. We all met at his house in the early afternoon and after the truck we had rented picked us up, we were off on our adventure.
The trip began as ideally as any trip could have. Sitting in the open back of the truck we had the wind in our faces and a common feeling of enthusiasm. Our trek up the mountain was like entering into an entirely different world. Although we only went a few minutes down the road from Sangolqui’s urban core, we were instantly in an entirely different rural setting. The road up the mountain had a small town feel: cobbled mixed with dirt roads, huge stretches of farmland, small family owned plots, and the occasional stable or corner store. As we moved further up the mountain it became a bit greener, there were lush green eucalyptus plantations around us, and we were given a magnificent view of the valley below us. Our enthusiasm was high and pushed forward with a sense of adventure.
The truck dropped us off at the Pasochoa hydroelectric dam and after exploring that for a bit we walked up a well worn path nearby. This part of the mountain appeared more jungle like with its intense greenery, sounds of birds, and thick foliage growing down the sides of the path we were walking. Occasionally there would be a lone flower that would stick out which made for some excellent photography. At one point I was a bit confused to find myself walking through a stretch of pine trees, clearly not a native species. I later learned that a foreign company had convinced Ecuadorians to plant them there and elsewhere in the country.
After hiking for about an hour we reached an abandoned house that seemed like it would be a good place to stop a camp and from which we could attempt the summit the next morning. Some of us, feeling a few rain drops, quickly ran off to collect some firewood. When we returned however we found that the group had decided to push on and camp near the summit; we would then be able to climb it tomorrow morning and make our descent. Having been assured that there was a camping spot we picked up our bags and moved on.
Immediately after the house there was an abrupt change in scenery. Thick low grasses, thorny shrubs, and different kinds of cacti replaced the thick forest. In one of our classes we had learned about this kind of area, known as a paramo, but seeing it for real was even better. A little further up we passed through a thicket of blueberries and although we were offered some, were told not to eat the black ones because they were hallucinogenic.
With what was about to happen, perhaps I should have taken some along with me.
At this point our climb became noticeably harder. Walking through the tough grass our legs picked up a lot of water, which slowed us down, and got our clothes wet. The path we were on was a bit steeper and because of some previous rain, quite muddy. To make matters worse it passed next to a small ravine. At times the drop was not much at all, at others, you would have been in serious trouble. This made us think twice about how fast we moved and a result our pace slowed down. As we inched our way up the hill the sun inched closer to the horizon, the wind picked up slightly, and the rain began to sprinkle down our backs.
Throughout this entire trek I had been hanging at the back of the group so I could be with Jennifer. She was feeling a little out of the breath from the altitude and because we were so close to the ravine I felt I should stick with her. Reflecting back I realized how this position affected how we contributed to the group. Because the others were always waiting for us any important decisions had already been made by the time we caught up. As a result all we could do was blindly follow those who were in front of us and trust they had made a good decision.
After surviving the ravine trek and passing through a barb wired fence we knew we were really on the mountain. All of the plant life was gone; the only surviving species was that same persistent knee high grass. The angle of the ascent was also quite steep and we were thus slowed down again. By now darkness had clearly set in and ominously the rain had picked up. Falling even further behind I suddenly realized that I had been so focused on helping Jennifer that I couldn’t see anyone of our group in front of us. As the fog set in around us I felt the first pangs of panic in my stomach. Where was everyone? Why weren’t we at the campsite yet? Who was leading this expedition? It was only at this point that I realized how grave our situation was. The darkness combined with fog meant that even with her glasses Jennifer could see nothing and I had no idea where we were going: literally the blind leading the blind.
Not wanting to trek along the muddy ravine in the dark I realized that the only thing we could do was push forward with the group. Hopefully we could trust our guide and find a campsite nearby. Wanting to catch up with the others I managed some sort of a whistle with my freezing hands and the dug through my bag for my flashlight. At this point my hands were so cold that I could hardly even move the zipper to get it. Even worse I had been sitting with Jennifer so long that even my feet where beginning to go numb. Realizing that I would have to warm up quickly I dug into my backpack and pulled out my jacket. To do so I had to untie my sleeping bag and part of our tent that was attached to the top of my bag. Turning to Jennifer I said, “come on let’s go.”
The only problem was, Jennifer wasn’t going anywhere. The rain, the fog, all the wet clothes, the cold, the constant up and down of the mountains had finally gotten to her. In exasperation she had decided to lie down and was not going to budge. When I tried to get her to move she yelled, “Matthew, I don’t want to die of hypothermia.” We needed help. Not knowing where to put the tent I stuffed it inside my jacket and grabbing Jennifer’s bag proceeded to dash as fast as I could with it up the hill. Once at the top I found that the rest of our group was doing no better. One guy was helping his girlfriend, who was in about the same shape as Jennifer, moving along as fast as they could. The rest of the group was up ahead but they had still not found the supposed campsite. Enlisting the help of one of our group members we were able to lead Jennifer up the hill and on to a small flat plateau. I felt for sure that we could go no further but no! We pushed on down into another valley and up another hill. Finally we were told to stop and pitch the tent, on the side of the hill! I do not exaggerate when I say that if you accidentally slipped on this hill you might easily find yourself a few hundred feet downhill in no time! With freezing hands we somehow got a six and two person tent set up and quickly threw ourselves into them. It was only at that point that we realized it was only 8:30 and that we would have to last at least another ten cold hours in that tent.
If the time up to this point was hell, then the rest of the night was purgatory. I still don’t understand how we survived that night. Some of our group members were so unprepared they hadn’t even brought dry clothes or a sleeping bag. Two of them spent most of the night curled up in a small blanket that could hardly fit around the two of them. Jennifer and I both had sleeping bags but hers was so wet that we both ended up curling up with both of them thrown over us in whatever way worked. Sleeping was impossible as we had to constantly to stop ourselves from rolling down the hill. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was our fearless leader. Upon entering the tent he proclaimed, “Ah, just like my bed at home,” and proceeded to fall right asleep.
Seven people in a six person tent, all cold, all tired, all desperately searching for heat can make for a very tense situation. Oddly enough we finally all relaxed enough that no matter what anyone said it all ended up being hilarious. After not having slept all night I’m sure you can imagine how funny it is to hear someone say “Olsen’s Standard Book of British Birds, the expedited version.”(For all you fans of obscure Monty Python references). At this point the absurdity of the situation had reached such a height that searching for heat we all ended up pilling on top of each only to realize that we didn’t generate that much heat and those on the bottom didn’t like having their organs crushed.
Waking up after having been in the freezing cold for ten hours was oddly like Christmas morning. With the sun came some heat and the clearing of the fog and we were given the gift of a spectacular view of what we had climbed last night. If we had seen that hike before we had done it in the dark there is no way we would have ever done it. There was the also the joy of discovering what was lying in the tattered remains of our tent. Socks, pants, underwear, bras, hats, coats, food, pillows, some clean, all wet, were ceremoniously dragged out and thrown to whoever claimed them. The tent on the other hand was destroyed, but I don’t think anyone cared.
Our joy was so great at seeing the sun that we quickly got down the mountain and after some breakfast, our first food in hours, got back to the city as soon as we could. On the slow trudge home I tried to find the words to explain to myself what had happened but couldn’t. The whole last night seemed like a blur of action that I had been dragged through against my will. Only later did I recognize the significance of it all: all of this had happened on Friday the 13th.
Our weekend excursion was supposed to be challenging, a little bit of hard work, and a whole lot of fun. Eight Canadians from our group, including my girlfriend Jennifer, were led by one student’s host father Colonel Louis on a climb of the nearby mountain Pasochoa. We all met at his house in the early afternoon and after the truck we had rented picked us up, we were off on our adventure.
The trip began as ideally as any trip could have. Sitting in the open back of the truck we had the wind in our faces and a common feeling of enthusiasm. Our trek up the mountain was like entering into an entirely different world. Although we only went a few minutes down the road from Sangolqui’s urban core, we were instantly in an entirely different rural setting. The road up the mountain had a small town feel: cobbled mixed with dirt roads, huge stretches of farmland, small family owned plots, and the occasional stable or corner store. As we moved further up the mountain it became a bit greener, there were lush green eucalyptus plantations around us, and we were given a magnificent view of the valley below us. Our enthusiasm was high and pushed forward with a sense of adventure.
The truck dropped us off at the Pasochoa hydroelectric dam and after exploring that for a bit we walked up a well worn path nearby. This part of the mountain appeared more jungle like with its intense greenery, sounds of birds, and thick foliage growing down the sides of the path we were walking. Occasionally there would be a lone flower that would stick out which made for some excellent photography. At one point I was a bit confused to find myself walking through a stretch of pine trees, clearly not a native species. I later learned that a foreign company had convinced Ecuadorians to plant them there and elsewhere in the country.
After hiking for about an hour we reached an abandoned house that seemed like it would be a good place to stop a camp and from which we could attempt the summit the next morning. Some of us, feeling a few rain drops, quickly ran off to collect some firewood. When we returned however we found that the group had decided to push on and camp near the summit; we would then be able to climb it tomorrow morning and make our descent. Having been assured that there was a camping spot we picked up our bags and moved on.
Immediately after the house there was an abrupt change in scenery. Thick low grasses, thorny shrubs, and different kinds of cacti replaced the thick forest. In one of our classes we had learned about this kind of area, known as a paramo, but seeing it for real was even better. A little further up we passed through a thicket of blueberries and although we were offered some, were told not to eat the black ones because they were hallucinogenic.
With what was about to happen, perhaps I should have taken some along with me.
At this point our climb became noticeably harder. Walking through the tough grass our legs picked up a lot of water, which slowed us down, and got our clothes wet. The path we were on was a bit steeper and because of some previous rain, quite muddy. To make matters worse it passed next to a small ravine. At times the drop was not much at all, at others, you would have been in serious trouble. This made us think twice about how fast we moved and a result our pace slowed down. As we inched our way up the hill the sun inched closer to the horizon, the wind picked up slightly, and the rain began to sprinkle down our backs.
Throughout this entire trek I had been hanging at the back of the group so I could be with Jennifer. She was feeling a little out of the breath from the altitude and because we were so close to the ravine I felt I should stick with her. Reflecting back I realized how this position affected how we contributed to the group. Because the others were always waiting for us any important decisions had already been made by the time we caught up. As a result all we could do was blindly follow those who were in front of us and trust they had made a good decision.
After surviving the ravine trek and passing through a barb wired fence we knew we were really on the mountain. All of the plant life was gone; the only surviving species was that same persistent knee high grass. The angle of the ascent was also quite steep and we were thus slowed down again. By now darkness had clearly set in and ominously the rain had picked up. Falling even further behind I suddenly realized that I had been so focused on helping Jennifer that I couldn’t see anyone of our group in front of us. As the fog set in around us I felt the first pangs of panic in my stomach. Where was everyone? Why weren’t we at the campsite yet? Who was leading this expedition? It was only at this point that I realized how grave our situation was. The darkness combined with fog meant that even with her glasses Jennifer could see nothing and I had no idea where we were going: literally the blind leading the blind.
Not wanting to trek along the muddy ravine in the dark I realized that the only thing we could do was push forward with the group. Hopefully we could trust our guide and find a campsite nearby. Wanting to catch up with the others I managed some sort of a whistle with my freezing hands and the dug through my bag for my flashlight. At this point my hands were so cold that I could hardly even move the zipper to get it. Even worse I had been sitting with Jennifer so long that even my feet where beginning to go numb. Realizing that I would have to warm up quickly I dug into my backpack and pulled out my jacket. To do so I had to untie my sleeping bag and part of our tent that was attached to the top of my bag. Turning to Jennifer I said, “come on let’s go.”
The only problem was, Jennifer wasn’t going anywhere. The rain, the fog, all the wet clothes, the cold, the constant up and down of the mountains had finally gotten to her. In exasperation she had decided to lie down and was not going to budge. When I tried to get her to move she yelled, “Matthew, I don’t want to die of hypothermia.” We needed help. Not knowing where to put the tent I stuffed it inside my jacket and grabbing Jennifer’s bag proceeded to dash as fast as I could with it up the hill. Once at the top I found that the rest of our group was doing no better. One guy was helping his girlfriend, who was in about the same shape as Jennifer, moving along as fast as they could. The rest of the group was up ahead but they had still not found the supposed campsite. Enlisting the help of one of our group members we were able to lead Jennifer up the hill and on to a small flat plateau. I felt for sure that we could go no further but no! We pushed on down into another valley and up another hill. Finally we were told to stop and pitch the tent, on the side of the hill! I do not exaggerate when I say that if you accidentally slipped on this hill you might easily find yourself a few hundred feet downhill in no time! With freezing hands we somehow got a six and two person tent set up and quickly threw ourselves into them. It was only at that point that we realized it was only 8:30 and that we would have to last at least another ten cold hours in that tent.
If the time up to this point was hell, then the rest of the night was purgatory. I still don’t understand how we survived that night. Some of our group members were so unprepared they hadn’t even brought dry clothes or a sleeping bag. Two of them spent most of the night curled up in a small blanket that could hardly fit around the two of them. Jennifer and I both had sleeping bags but hers was so wet that we both ended up curling up with both of them thrown over us in whatever way worked. Sleeping was impossible as we had to constantly to stop ourselves from rolling down the hill. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was our fearless leader. Upon entering the tent he proclaimed, “Ah, just like my bed at home,” and proceeded to fall right asleep.
Seven people in a six person tent, all cold, all tired, all desperately searching for heat can make for a very tense situation. Oddly enough we finally all relaxed enough that no matter what anyone said it all ended up being hilarious. After not having slept all night I’m sure you can imagine how funny it is to hear someone say “Olsen’s Standard Book of British Birds, the expedited version.”(For all you fans of obscure Monty Python references). At this point the absurdity of the situation had reached such a height that searching for heat we all ended up pilling on top of each only to realize that we didn’t generate that much heat and those on the bottom didn’t like having their organs crushed.
Waking up after having been in the freezing cold for ten hours was oddly like Christmas morning. With the sun came some heat and the clearing of the fog and we were given the gift of a spectacular view of what we had climbed last night. If we had seen that hike before we had done it in the dark there is no way we would have ever done it. There was the also the joy of discovering what was lying in the tattered remains of our tent. Socks, pants, underwear, bras, hats, coats, food, pillows, some clean, all wet, were ceremoniously dragged out and thrown to whoever claimed them. The tent on the other hand was destroyed, but I don’t think anyone cared.
Our joy was so great at seeing the sun that we quickly got down the mountain and after some breakfast, our first food in hours, got back to the city as soon as we could. On the slow trudge home I tried to find the words to explain to myself what had happened but couldn’t. The whole last night seemed like a blur of action that I had been dragged through against my will. Only later did I recognize the significance of it all: all of this had happened on Friday the 13th.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Evangelism in Quito
Saturday the 23rd of September I got my first introduction to religion in Ecuador, albeit in a very interesting way. When I had first arrived in Quito I saw a sign at the airport advertising for an event featuring the evangelist Franklin Graham, son of Billy Graham, and hearing that the family of one of the students in my group had decided to go, I decided to take advantage of the invitation. Honestly I didn’t know what to expect, but I thought at the very least I could understand a little more about this side of Ecuador. Besides, it was free.
In order to get to the event, which was being held at the Olympic Stadium in Quito,(the same place as the soccer game we had previously been to) we had to take the local bus which is always lots of fun. Previously the plan had been to go with only three or four people, but in typical Ecuadorian style half an hour before the event I got a call from my friend saying that her whole family was coming, and that we had to be at the bus stop now! I quickly ate my lunch and then after calling Jennifer, sprinted down to the bus stop on a full stomach. Luckily I got there before my friend, but where was Jennifer!? After many tense minutes of waiting she finally arrived just seconds before our bus left!
The bus ride to Quito was as calm as an Ecuadorian bus drive could be. Stops and starts and sudden swerves to the side of the road to pick up anyone who blinks are all too common. Perhaps in anticipation of what we were about to experience in Quito our bus was boarded by a traveling evangelist who preached in an apocalyptic style for about five minutes then circled with a collection cup. These sorts of events are very common in Ecuador; while sitting on a bus you might be approached by evangelists, little kids who sing, or vendors of all kinds.
Arriving at the stadium in Quito we were immediately hit by the sense of atmosphere. While the soccer game had been big, this was much bigger. The vendors where out in full force selling drinks and food of all kinds, along with religious paraphernalia of all sorts. The entrance to the stadium was so crowded that we would have easily been separated if we hadn’t all held on to each other. Finally we were able to secure a seat and settle into the atmosphere of the stadium.
Although this was an evangelizing event, what held everything together for the first part was the music. Singers from all over the Spanish speaking world (Ecuador, Spain, Puerto Rico, US/Mexico) sang a variety of rock, gospel, and spiritual ballads. Some songs were had obvious Christian messages, while others seemed to be played simply because they were fun, although they were prefaced with something along the lines of “this song is for God.”
Besides the music it was impossible to ignore the economic significance of the event. A stadium packed with 50,000 people will undoubtedly attract all sorts of people looking to make money in some way. As the music played on stage, a man with no eyes was being led around in front of us with a small cup for donations in front of him. If you missed him on the first pass you could easily see him again when he continued around on the next row up.
Finally after about an hour and a half we reached the climax of the event, the evangelizing sermon by Franklin Graham. While before I had felt that the Christian message of the event had been quite subtle, now it could no longer be ignored. As I had thought before, Franklin Graham did not speak Spanish(or not very well) so his message was delivered with him speaking in English and another man speaking directly after him in Spanish. Although we could obviously understood him in English, the fact that we could pick up some of the Spanish as well led to some interesting comparisons between his English message and the Spanish translation.
The first thing I noticed was the remark he made about the importance of police officers. He said(more or less), “I noticed coming here that you have many police officers in your country...when you leave, go up to a police officer and say thank you[for the work you do].” I may be wrong, but I think this line of his speech comes out of a post September 11th American realization of the importance of their policemen and fire fighters. However relevant this may be for Americans, I’m not sure the police are viewed in quite the same way in Ecuador.
The second discrepancy in the translation was pointed out to me by Jennifer. Franklin Graham being from an evangelical Church in the United States, devoted a major portion of his speech to the sinfulness of sex outside of marriage. “Any sexual relationship outside of marriage is a sin.” He referred to this in three or four lines of his speech, which in relation to the other themes on which he concentrated made it quite its part quite substantial. The Spanish translator in those passages, however, instead referred to the sin of “infidelity” and the importance of being faithful. Although that does convey the same general them, it was obvious that he was shying away from using the word “sex.” In North America we can use the word “sex,” even if to condemn it, but as Jennifer told me, in South America the word is so taboo it often can’t be used in any context.
Despite the serious bent of the speech, there was one point where Jennifer and I couldn’t help laughing, despite the fact that we may have been the only ones in the stadium doing so! At one point in his speech Franklin Graham said very clearly, “everyone in this stadium is a sinner.” He then continued to say, “I, Franklin Graham, am a sinner.” How did that come out in Spanish? You would have expected the translator to say with conviction, “I am also a sinner!,” but instead he raised his voice and with his arm strongly pointing to his left said, “Franklin Graham es un pecador!”(Franklin Graham is a sinner!) This was too much for Jennifer and I and we immediately burst out laughing, instantly attracting the attention of everyone in our section who looked at us with puzzled expressions as if to say, “What’s so funny?” Sometimes being bilingual has its advantages.
The event ended with a huge altar call that must have included thousands of people. Those who were ready to commit their life to Jesus were asked to come forward and join with Franklin Graham in prayer. To his credit he did say, “you are coming to God, not to me.” Those who came forward were presented a letter from Franklin Graham, the gospel of John, and a bible study to go along with it. This I found quite interesting. Basing your evangelism on the gospel furthest removed from Jesus’ life and which the Jesus Seminar(http://www.westarinstitute.org/Jesus_Seminar/jesus_seminar.html) concluded had almost no words that were actually said by Jesus himself seems suspect at best. Then again this was a mass evangelism event, not a place you’d expect to find a dedication to scholarly consistency. As my friend noted, “I hope this isn’t all it would take to convince someone.” At the same time it was significant that such an overtly protestant event could take place in such a traditionally Catholic country as Ecuador.
In order to get to the event, which was being held at the Olympic Stadium in Quito,(the same place as the soccer game we had previously been to) we had to take the local bus which is always lots of fun. Previously the plan had been to go with only three or four people, but in typical Ecuadorian style half an hour before the event I got a call from my friend saying that her whole family was coming, and that we had to be at the bus stop now! I quickly ate my lunch and then after calling Jennifer, sprinted down to the bus stop on a full stomach. Luckily I got there before my friend, but where was Jennifer!? After many tense minutes of waiting she finally arrived just seconds before our bus left!
The bus ride to Quito was as calm as an Ecuadorian bus drive could be. Stops and starts and sudden swerves to the side of the road to pick up anyone who blinks are all too common. Perhaps in anticipation of what we were about to experience in Quito our bus was boarded by a traveling evangelist who preached in an apocalyptic style for about five minutes then circled with a collection cup. These sorts of events are very common in Ecuador; while sitting on a bus you might be approached by evangelists, little kids who sing, or vendors of all kinds.
Arriving at the stadium in Quito we were immediately hit by the sense of atmosphere. While the soccer game had been big, this was much bigger. The vendors where out in full force selling drinks and food of all kinds, along with religious paraphernalia of all sorts. The entrance to the stadium was so crowded that we would have easily been separated if we hadn’t all held on to each other. Finally we were able to secure a seat and settle into the atmosphere of the stadium.
Although this was an evangelizing event, what held everything together for the first part was the music. Singers from all over the Spanish speaking world (Ecuador, Spain, Puerto Rico, US/Mexico) sang a variety of rock, gospel, and spiritual ballads. Some songs were had obvious Christian messages, while others seemed to be played simply because they were fun, although they were prefaced with something along the lines of “this song is for God.”
Besides the music it was impossible to ignore the economic significance of the event. A stadium packed with 50,000 people will undoubtedly attract all sorts of people looking to make money in some way. As the music played on stage, a man with no eyes was being led around in front of us with a small cup for donations in front of him. If you missed him on the first pass you could easily see him again when he continued around on the next row up.
Finally after about an hour and a half we reached the climax of the event, the evangelizing sermon by Franklin Graham. While before I had felt that the Christian message of the event had been quite subtle, now it could no longer be ignored. As I had thought before, Franklin Graham did not speak Spanish(or not very well) so his message was delivered with him speaking in English and another man speaking directly after him in Spanish. Although we could obviously understood him in English, the fact that we could pick up some of the Spanish as well led to some interesting comparisons between his English message and the Spanish translation.
The first thing I noticed was the remark he made about the importance of police officers. He said(more or less), “I noticed coming here that you have many police officers in your country...when you leave, go up to a police officer and say thank you[for the work you do].” I may be wrong, but I think this line of his speech comes out of a post September 11th American realization of the importance of their policemen and fire fighters. However relevant this may be for Americans, I’m not sure the police are viewed in quite the same way in Ecuador.
The second discrepancy in the translation was pointed out to me by Jennifer. Franklin Graham being from an evangelical Church in the United States, devoted a major portion of his speech to the sinfulness of sex outside of marriage. “Any sexual relationship outside of marriage is a sin.” He referred to this in three or four lines of his speech, which in relation to the other themes on which he concentrated made it quite its part quite substantial. The Spanish translator in those passages, however, instead referred to the sin of “infidelity” and the importance of being faithful. Although that does convey the same general them, it was obvious that he was shying away from using the word “sex.” In North America we can use the word “sex,” even if to condemn it, but as Jennifer told me, in South America the word is so taboo it often can’t be used in any context.
Despite the serious bent of the speech, there was one point where Jennifer and I couldn’t help laughing, despite the fact that we may have been the only ones in the stadium doing so! At one point in his speech Franklin Graham said very clearly, “everyone in this stadium is a sinner.” He then continued to say, “I, Franklin Graham, am a sinner.” How did that come out in Spanish? You would have expected the translator to say with conviction, “I am also a sinner!,” but instead he raised his voice and with his arm strongly pointing to his left said, “Franklin Graham es un pecador!”(Franklin Graham is a sinner!) This was too much for Jennifer and I and we immediately burst out laughing, instantly attracting the attention of everyone in our section who looked at us with puzzled expressions as if to say, “What’s so funny?” Sometimes being bilingual has its advantages.
The event ended with a huge altar call that must have included thousands of people. Those who were ready to commit their life to Jesus were asked to come forward and join with Franklin Graham in prayer. To his credit he did say, “you are coming to God, not to me.” Those who came forward were presented a letter from Franklin Graham, the gospel of John, and a bible study to go along with it. This I found quite interesting. Basing your evangelism on the gospel furthest removed from Jesus’ life and which the Jesus Seminar(http://www.westarinstitute.org/Jesus_Seminar/jesus_seminar.html) concluded had almost no words that were actually said by Jesus himself seems suspect at best. Then again this was a mass evangelism event, not a place you’d expect to find a dedication to scholarly consistency. As my friend noted, “I hope this isn’t all it would take to convince someone.” At the same time it was significant that such an overtly protestant event could take place in such a traditionally Catholic country as Ecuador.
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