3 Mayo 2010
I am headed home today—to the United States that is. My life in Ecuador has been suddenly ripped away from me in the matter of a few days and this will be my last blog entry.
I would love to explain to you what happened exactly but as of now my heart is too pained to explain this to you. WorldTeach felt that my life was in danger in Ecuador and therefore sent and forced me home in order to save my life. I disagree. I was tricked by WorldTeach on Monday night to come to Quito for a week—once I arrived I was informed that I could never return to Guaranda/San Miguel, that my contract with WorldTeach was being terminanted and that my visa was being canceled. I did not get to say good-bye to my students, or anything in my life that once existed and now is only fading…
I didn’t know that Monday that it was the last time I would see their smiling, enthusiastic faces…the last time I would teach. The last time I would see my house, the hills, the streets I grew to love with all my heart. I spent a week in Quito crying—waiting for the plane that would officially rip me from the land in South America I consider home. I spent these days depressed, angry, disillusioned, confused—doubting myself, doubting those around me and doubting myself again. Unfortunately, I have not left the place I came to with an open and nervous heart, peaceful and I have not left my students with a complete sense of accomplishment. Behind me is a town in rage and confusion, tears and screams trying to understand why I disappeared and why I cried when I spoke to them in my last hours on the phone. One by one, I heard their anger, their desperation, their confusion.
My student, who is a University professor, made me cry as I listened to his speech 1 last time. He had asked me probably a total of 10 different times this year to explain to him the difference between come back and go back. Each time–in Spanish or English—we struggled back and forth with our personalities clashing. I thought he understood and he didn’t—2 weeks later we were there again in the same exact conversation. Saturday night on the phone, he abruptly broke out into English from our conversation in Spanish. “COME BACK, Jenny, COME BACK!”. There was a sense of desperation in his voice—in tears I began to laugh. I said, “Very good, Franklin” with a stretching smile on my face. “Entendi, Entendi!”, he shouted. Yes, you did, Franklin. And, I am so sorry to you and all my precious students and my family that this had to happen. My pain reaches deep and long. I will never forget each moment we had together and the feeling that I was infused with in my life there with you.
Even though this seems like a sad ending to this whole adventure, I have hope that the adventure is not over and that my Ecuadorian book has not been closed. I am waiting to see if the story can continue and who knows, maybe one day there will be another entry to write.
I promise, I’ll come back.
Te esperamos Jenny para que continúes con tu historia