A helping hand
Suzanne (Jill) Bennett writes about the earthquake in Ecuador
Suzanne (Jill) Bennett is fifty-seven and a member of Sidmouth Meeting. She took off to travel through South America on her own earlier this year with the intention of making her way slowly down the continent – travelling, exploring the culture and offering her services as a nurse wherever she felt it appropriate.
In January she attended the Friends World Committee for Consultation (FWCC) gathering in Pisac, Peru. After the event, she had just arrived in Otavalo, Ecuador, to start voluntary work in a clinic there when the catastrophic earthquakes occurred nearby.
When she heard that volunteer emergency teams were gathering in the square she joined the first response team that travelled to the devastated region.
Suzanne has been in regular contact with Friends at Sidmouth. In one correspondence she describes her experience of seeing the effects of the earthquake at first hand:
The team I went with are called ‘Topos’ Azteca, a search and rescue organisation initiated in Mexico – totally based on volunteers, with groups worldwide – that responds to disasters worldwide. It is difficult and dangerous work – digging under rubble, looking for life or bodies, paramedics and nurses on hand to give treatment if people are found alive, care for the team doing the search and give medical help to people from the area as often hospitals… are not functioning. I was with medics, not involved in digging, thankfully.
We left on Sunday 17 April, travelled overnight to Pedernarles, one of the centres of devastation on the coast, staying two days, then on to Portoviejo for four days as [there were] less rescue teams there and the whole of the centre is devastated and will need rebuilding. It’s a catastrophe for the country as a recent recession means they have no money and difficult to see how they will be able to rebuild.
There’s much pride here in their country and [a] will to help all those in need. People are camped along the streets and throng at collection points for water, food, help. Topos folk are held in high regard. We were cheered as we travelled on a bus with a medical unit. Shouts of ‘Viva Ecuador’ often passed to and fro, and at every place we met with people. I found this very moving: the pride, the passion, the heartache.
The devastation
By the scale of devastation, I suspect many more are dead than the 550-odd stated thus far. Our team found no live people, [but] a dead baby, and initiated a search for many more dead suspected under layers of concrete. Silence to hear cries for help, smelling to detect odour of dead bodies, dogs, all used to aid search. Conditions for all of us obviously rough, little running water, electricity, facilities, heat, dust, mosquitos, two aftershocks while we were there of 6.1… aargh… but, many had died and lost their homes.
It was grim, but we were thankful to be alive. For safety reasons no one was allowed to go out of the areas we worked in or slept in alone in case of a quake. We camped in an area of rough ground, and on a small area of grass in a large (severely damaged) military/police base in Portoviejo, all very basic but manageable. It’s surprising how quickly you adapt to a different level of comfort. So, for me, at first it was a huge challenge. I was unsure I could cope. I was acutely aware, as we travelled, [that] the risk to my life had shot up. I was travelling to a very dangerous situation with a team of thirty-plus Ecuadorians I didn’t know, in a group that ran on quasi-military lines, which was completely unfamiliar. I was speaking a language I was struggling to grasp, unable totally to understand the leader, who talked very rapidly, giving important information and instructions I needed to know about in the critical setting we were in, and bunking up in a few tents in a very grotty site.
A time of connection
However, the team were an absolute delight and joy to come to know and work with. They seemed delighted and intrigued to have me with them and took me into their group. I think the very fact I’d turned up and wanted to help touched them (and many others) deeply, and was a psychological boost. They are a wonderful and friendly bunch, who held me beautifully through every moment when I needed help. They watched out for me – often ‘Suzanne vamos’ (‘let’s go’) was the cue to action.
In many ways it was a wonderful time of connection, friendship [and] much laughter, all of which I enjoyed immensely and was just what I needed. I was entranced by the care and flow of friendship and affection throughout the group, the level at which everyone looked out for each other, the continual upbeat banter, fun, and camaraderie, and coming to know the people of Ecuador more deeply. A rare privilege. Much of the time I didn’t know when, where or why we were going as we clambered into pick ups and buses. I discovered others sometimes didn’t know either. One said: ‘I just go with the water’ – a nice phrase.
What helped immensely was to just be in the moment completely and not think about the next. Sometimes I needed to just breathe for a moment and be aware all was OK – a good exercise on trust. It was great not to have to make decisions for a while, route find, negotiate bus stations and find accommodation. Food turned up magically in the middle of the day, brought in by locals to support rescue teams.
Once the team, mostly men, knew I was OK and staying (some don’t) after a few days, like the true Ecuadorian males I’d heard about, they virtually queued up to flirt with me and suggest I might like them as boyfriends. It was all done in good fun, not heavy and often was a great laugh. Good for my ego, too, even if much to do with attraction of England and entering country, and lure of relatively well off Europeans. As Ecuadorians are flocking to leave the country in recession, Americans are moving here as [it is] cheaper to live.
Speeches
One of the things I learned about Ecuador[ians] is [that] they love giving speeches. Before we left Otavalo there were hours of dignitaries giving speeches. At every meeting with local officials there’d be speeches, counter speeches, on and on. I couldn’t believe it. I thought: ‘Hey, people are dying and we spend hours standing around doing formalities???’
They love the formalities and often include some prayers in the gatherings, and, of course, the chants of ‘Viva Ecuador’. Sometimes it felt we spent more time on this than on the work.
On the way home we stopped at the Mitad del Mundo where [the] equator is, and the longer established Mexican group lined up to one side of the equator line and the Otavalo group on the other. There then proceeded a bizarre initiation ritual for all the Otavalo group, a more newly formed group, carried out by the Mexican group. By this time I had been invited to join ‘Topos’ and was very happy to do so. I felt strongly that I’d been called to this work with this group.
The Mexicans lined up in front of the Otavalo line [of team members], passed some words with them and then slapped them three times across the face, sometimes very hard, sometimes less hard. All Mexicans would slap each of the Otavalan team members as they moved down the line. This, apparently, is meant as a gesture of recognition that in the work you face hardship and so can easily withstand a mere slap, and [is] also related to lessening of ego. So, now, one way or other I am proud to say I am a member of Topos, the only one from England as yet, and could be called on to help in disaster areas worldwide.
I’m loving being here and feeling part of this community.
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