When you hear a cliched comment like “the journey of a thousand steps begins with just one” or “a mountain can be moved, stone by stone,” you probably feel like scoffing and rolling your eyes. I get it, they represent an extreme scenario that we don't really experience in our lives. However, here in Jicamarca, the analogy couldn't be more appropriate or accurate.
The building of a home for a resident of Jicamarca begins by selecting a small plot of land; sounds fairly self explanatory right? Wrong. Any available space is typically high up in the hills, accessible only by steep Inca trails to be traversed on foot. While most of us (myself included) gripe about being unable to park close to the grocery store, imagine having to carry your groceries up an extremely steep incline, on an uneven and winding path that is likely only as wide as your shoulders. Oh, and add a child on your hip as well, just in case that scenario wasn't difficult enough.
Homes here in Jicamarca are built first with wood, sporting no foundation, and are lacking in electricity and running water. Bricks are bought a few at a time; if I remember correctly, the average salary is 200 dollars US a month. If you take off the exorbitantly high price of water, food, and any other basic necessities, and you could be left with a few bricks a month. At that rate, a home could take years, potentially even decades to fully build, never mind the risk of earthquakes and flooding in that space of time.
Given these conditions and challenges, you might think the people who live here would have grown bitter, or developed a habit of putting themselves first out of necessity. If so, you couldn't be more wrong.
The people that we have seen in the last few days have been some of the most gracious, generous, and selfless people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. People will regularly step up to help others in line with questions and writing at registration, and are quick to point out if a person before them has been missed. I have received a remarkable number of hugs, kisses, and all manner of “thank yous” in the last three days, and I know the rest of the team has experienced the same. A couple of patients have shared treats such as candied peanuts or popcorn with me as a thank you for their glasses, while others have gifted me with great photos and laughter for requesting a “selfie.”
Going on this trip, and Ecuador in 2013, serve as incredibly humbling and heartbreaking experiences (in the best way). I’ve met people I likely never would have encountered as a tourist, and by doing what feels like so little at the time, I am allowed the chance to play a part in the changing of a person’s life. Marina compared the glasses we provide to organ donation, and I wholeheartedly agree. In places like Jicamarca, a person’s vision is their life. Without adequate vision activities like work, school, and, well, essentially everything are more than limited. Remember the Inca trails on a steep incline? Imagine attempting that without the ability to see clearly past the end of your arm. Providing eye care to those without access or funds is not only a privilege, it's truly an honour. A gift. I have to thank Marina and Derek, and all of the volunteers on this trip and previous ones for making these little miracles happen, every day that we are here.
So… perhaps it's fair to say that those “cliched comments” aren't so irrelevant after all.
By Delaney Querns
Great post Delaney!
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