Karina De Gracia

Professor Voltz
English 1102
Journal 4
February 8th, 2016
Guayaquil, Ecuador
Two years ago I went on one of the greatest adventures of my life to the beautiful city of
Guayaquil, Ecuador. The saying a beautiful tragedy encompasses this country perfectly; a
beautiful country filled with some of the most generous people, but tragically struck by poverty.
Day one: I woke up to the sound of honking cars and shouting in the streets, a typical morning
greeting in Guayaquil. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread filled my room, inviting me into
the kitchen where a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice was awaiting my arrival, courtesy of
the amazing women hosting me. I enjoyed my chocolate filled bread, and savored every drop of
the delicious orange juice while staring out the large window overlooking the street. Suddenly,
my moment of bliss vanished and reality hit me like a brick.
Homeless men lay on thin cardboard asleep on the sidewalks. A few Ecuadorian children
kicked around a makeshift soccer ball, an empty water bottle repurposed for their entertainment.
I watched as their faces lit up with joy as they played their game, passing the time as their
parents sold corn, bracelets and other various knick-knacks. I later discovered these kids were
also homeless After breakfast I packed my bag and headed out for my first day of ministry.
Our first stop was a soup kitchen, where we put on a mini Childrens program, which included a
bible lesson, silly songs, and lunch with the kids.

Upon our arrival children shouted hola! left and right, speaking a mile a minute in a
language I was, unfortunately, clueless in. My heart ached as little children, as young as six years
old, wandered in from the streets struggling to hold their baby sibling. My mind was blown at the
sight of a baby caring for another baby. I shook the unsettling thought, and went around playing
with the kids and making a poor attempt to speak to them in their language- Spanish. The kids
giggled as the white gringo (me) struggled to speak a sentence that somewhat made sense. After
hours of playing, laughing, and loving on the sweet friends I just made it was time for goodbyes.
I pulled out my phone to take a photo with a little girl, when suddenly ten then twenty more kids
jumped around me and posed for the picture. They squealed with excitement as we showed them
the photo, some of them seeing themselves for the first time ever in a photograph. Kids left and
right came up to me asking to take a picture with me, I couldnt help but feel like a popular
celebrity, when in reality their motives were purely interest in seeing the captured image of
themselves. Regardless, I felt pretty darn cool.
Little arms wrapped around my neck, hugging me tight as we said our goodbyes. I
watched as they gathered their things, and walked the dirt roads lined with dilapidated houses
as they made their way home. I watched as kids, even toddlers, walked home alone. I couldnt
help but feel a sense of fear that something would happen to them. All of a sudden I turn around
to see one of the little girls I had bonded with run back towards me; she jumped into my arms
and said goodbye for the second time. My heart melted in that moment, and I knew then leaving
this place wasnt going to be easy.
Once the children were all gone, one of the women who worked in the soup kitchen
invited my team and I to her house for a meal. A gesture that spoke volumes here this woman,
with very little, offered her hard earned food to feed a team of missionaries she had never met.

Her home was a stone shack, for lack of better words, plain and simple with not much inside
besides a few chairs, a run down kitchen, and a kitchen table. We all gathered around, blessed
our food, and ate the delicious meal of chicken, rice, and patacones. A nearby pastor had heard of
our arrival, and came to this womans house to meet us. He shared incredible stories from his
life, the miraculous healing of his legs after a nearly fatal car accident, and the promise he made
to God on his deathbed. Now healed, he shares his testimony with people as a testament of The
Lords incredible work. I sat, amazed, listening to this Mans life story. The kind of story that
makes you appreciate what a gift life is, and every moment should count. After we finished our
meal, I attempted to use the bathroom. In Ecuador, because of small pipes, you cant flush toilet
paper, which as Im sure you could imagine, makes for some interesting experiences.
Afterwards we hopped into a van, and made our way make to our temporary home we
were staying at. Cars zipped around, honking as they took risky turns and lane changes, a norm
for third world countries traffic. Men and woman stood in the middle of the road with various
products in hand looking for opportunities to sell you something. They came up to the car
windows, insisting you buy their product; some used a tactic of performing various tricks such as
juggling etc. and then would demand money. We gave in and bought a few waters from a vendor,
and continued down the dirt road to our home. Once we arrived, the homeless children we had
met that morning greeted us, they waved and smiled as we made our way down the sidewalk. We
exchanged a few broken sentences in Spanish, and parted ways. I gazed up inside the building
we were staying at, and took a deep breath as I made my way up the five flight of stairs. I
immediately went to the kitchen, boiled some water, and made a hot cup of Ecuadorian tea. A
gentle breeze lofted through the living room and I sat in silence reflecting on my first day in
Ecuador.