I´m feeling good. I have just dotted the i´s and crossed the t´s on a very productive class. One of my students will certainly be a leader in the future, whether or not it is for the red army remains to be seen. Nevertheless, this class held a level of significance due to the fact that my hawkish/dovish/hawkish bosses were sitting in. The students were all at a level where they could be asked essentially any question worthy of a response. The theme quickly moved toward the Chilean worker. I asked my very astute pupil his thoughts on the inherent characteristics of the Chilean worker. The student briefly glanced at the ceiling, then at me and then over to the director of the program, the leader of the hawkish/dovish/hawkish coalition. He began, "Chileans don’t work to make more money. Chileans work because it is necessary." I asked what could be more important than survival and isn’t making money a way for people to survive. "Of course to make the money allows survival, but it is very complicated. The Spanish business owners don’t want to pay." I tried to summarize this cultural collage. So, your telling me that Chileans work out of a sense of duty rather than to make money. "Yes." I proceeded to ask more questions but was thinking about my original loaded question. Do Chileans want to achieve status and wealth in order to bring about the South American dream? Or - am I a child of privelge trying to learn the rules to a game that really doesn´t exist. It is very easy to see that Chilean’s know the score. All that can be done will be done and the rest is too deep and confusing to really think about.
Our man, let’s call him Don Chile, runs the show in my neighbourhood. He can be seen and heard directing traffic throughout the day and well beyond the evening hours six days a week. The traffic cops let him run his car washing/mixed sales business without sanction, the pigeons bring him coffee and any gringo lucky enough to get home at 4am might look out a window down into the plaza square, where he lives under a palm tree to see Don Chile dancing a solo salsa – a perfect salsa. Don Chile seems to know who he is. The natural leadership isn’t what impresses me about the Don, it is the detail and effort the man displays as he washes the 162nd car of the day. The white rag is now black and the Don´s clothes aren´t nearly as crisp as when he started but he continues to wash each car as if it were his first – like Bruce Lee repeating a cadence for the nth time – flawless. It is the kind of effort a man of few possessions puts into his most prized asset – but for what end – more business tomorrow or next week, food at the centre of the square or is the end the car. A concept lost to my generation, possibly my people. It seems more apparent that children of privilege hold few things dear in life – even family at times. When adversity presents itself it is an opportunity for character development, what happens to those who lack defining moments… What next….
As my class came to an end the hawkish/dovish/hawkish coalition called me into a meeting. We were discussing a few students and going over some classes that were incorrectly scheduled and needed to be changed. As we were discussing the rhythms of the universe we heard a chorus of voices…. The students have been protesting for the last three weeks-they intend to have the rector/president of the university removed. It is believed that the rector is apathetic to his duties because the university is not accredited as a whole and there is an issue with a government subsidy that half of the students aren’t eligible for. There are certain schools within the University that have an accreditation but the university as a whole is still not rubber stamped. Watching the students run their own program is a little scary, who is the pseudo revolutionary pulling the strings of the organized chaos? This city has nearly six million people; needless to say there are several high traffic areas near our location. The students stretch large cloth protest banners across a wide thoroughfare and turn the vein into a four way stop – a sort of Chilean toll booth. Tensions run high between the motorists and the students – the rest of the onlookers are innocent….. As the voices build on the street Rene, Amelia and I get up from our table and walk over to a panoramic set of windows that provide a view of the city and a bird’s eye view of the street below. The students have railed in front of the rector's attractive building, a proud piece of Spanish architecture, and have brought along all the necessary ingredients for making a desayuno omelette. We have eggs, potatoes, tomatoes, flour and of course something to garnish this fusion. Approximately 65 students set up shop and begin breakfast, Chilean style… Like a cavalry the students are set in line, they begin to shell the rectors building with any and all methods at their disposal – faint trumpets are playing somewhere in the distance – the students begin to sing loudly with one voice- similar to a futbol match….I can only call it nationalism….. I look over at Rene and Amelia and they seem embarrassed and unsure about how to proceed. I, as I usually do in awkward situations, speak first – I tell them that I love the spirit of the students. They know a change is needed and they rally because they know there is no one else to rally for them. My American brothers’ don’t rally like this! – I continue speaking out of the deviant side of my mouth – The only thing that you hope is that this mob is made up of the best, brightest and most respected of students. Perhaps there are some potential PhDs in the crowd.. I hear glass break on the street. Rene looks at me, "There are no PhDs in that crowd; I’m going to call the police." The students have egged, potatoed, tomatoed, and floured the landscape, now the garnish – the most outstanding toilet paper job I have ever seen.. The students disappeared as quickly as they had set up shop and all that remained of the battle field were some very tired looking Peruvian janitors. Ah, ser un niño de la revolución.
As my class came to an end the hawkish/dovish/hawkish coalition called me into a meeting. We were discussing a few students and going over some classes that were incorrectly scheduled and needed to be changed. As we were discussing the rhythms of the universe we heard a chorus of voices…. The students have been protesting for the last three weeks-they intend to have the rector/president of the university removed. It is believed that the rector is apathetic to his duties because the university is not accredited as a whole and there is an issue with a government subsidy that half of the students aren’t eligible for. There are certain schools within the University that have an accreditation but the university as a whole is still not rubber stamped. Watching the students run their own program is a little scary, who is the pseudo revolutionary pulling the strings of the organized chaos? This city has nearly six million people; needless to say there are several high traffic areas near our location. The students stretch large cloth protest banners across a wide thoroughfare and turn the vein into a four way stop – a sort of Chilean toll booth. Tensions run high between the motorists and the students – the rest of the onlookers are innocent….. As the voices build on the street Rene, Amelia and I get up from our table and walk over to a panoramic set of windows that provide a view of the city and a bird’s eye view of the street below. The students have railed in front of the rector's attractive building, a proud piece of Spanish architecture, and have brought along all the necessary ingredients for making a desayuno omelette. We have eggs, potatoes, tomatoes, flour and of course something to garnish this fusion. Approximately 65 students set up shop and begin breakfast, Chilean style… Like a cavalry the students are set in line, they begin to shell the rectors building with any and all methods at their disposal – faint trumpets are playing somewhere in the distance – the students begin to sing loudly with one voice- similar to a futbol match….I can only call it nationalism….. I look over at Rene and Amelia and they seem embarrassed and unsure about how to proceed. I, as I usually do in awkward situations, speak first – I tell them that I love the spirit of the students. They know a change is needed and they rally because they know there is no one else to rally for them. My American brothers’ don’t rally like this! – I continue speaking out of the deviant side of my mouth – The only thing that you hope is that this mob is made up of the best, brightest and most respected of students. Perhaps there are some potential PhDs in the crowd.. I hear glass break on the street. Rene looks at me, "There are no PhDs in that crowd; I’m going to call the police." The students have egged, potatoed, tomatoed, and floured the landscape, now the garnish – the most outstanding toilet paper job I have ever seen.. The students disappeared as quickly as they had set up shop and all that remained of the battle field were some very tired looking Peruvian janitors. Ah, ser un niño de la revolución.
