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Grain of sand Where we come ... I rough


Image: Petr Malina

During my trip to Sweden three times I took the boat. Two Swedish ships were sometimes back and took a German ship that was to Rostock. The difference was amazing.

In Sweden I found as a very pleasant, neat and clean, and the Swedes as very kind, happy and well educated. Despite the harsh climate and a very short summer the Swedes are among the happiest people in the world. For our young democracy Czech Scandinavia have always served as an example of how a small country can operate within a community as large as the European.
The first two trips in the Swedish ships were welcome. People enjoyed the board the sun and did not care, strong wind. In the cafeteria quietly waiting in the queue, and the staff treated everyone with kindness and all spoke English. It was really easy to get used to that.

Rostock on the boat did was different. Most passengers were Swedish, but people in Eastern Europe, Germans, the Ukraine, Russia, Bulgaria, Slovakia ... and Czech Republic. Many of them were drivers of trucks or workers. And suddenly, after seeing the Swedish acostubrarme well dressed, athletes, healthy and well nourished, I was shocked to see people from "other Europe", worn, fat, bald, with dark circles, smelly and old clothes ... But not only was appearance but also the behavior. People came running to the cafeteria, colliding with each other, personnel forward and shouted in Russian (or whatever), knowing that they were German, and eagerly taking a quantity of food that could not be eaten.
I said, welcome home! and I felt a mixture of shame and sadness at the thought that's how we see the Swedes (German, French, English ..) also for us. In other words, is the world that I belong. A world that still was not sure where to go or who can walk well.

But then, to ask that another country would be born if given the chance to choose, I realized I did not find a better alternative. I am happy to be born in the place and time where I was born. I like the point from which I can see the world, the point has shaped me for who I am today. It seems more than perfect to have been born under communism, live in it just enough to remember the sadness and emptiness in which people learned to live, and it has collapsed just as I started to become aware. I could study and in an era of greater justice and freedom, I've lived through the change, I've seen how democracy was born and how hard is learning not ever neglect it.

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Sometimes I do not recognize. I'm not that be. And which is one of the periods of transformation in which I no longer enough to be who I am. Recently I discovered that women are going transformed from a time of life to another, redefined with every role that I have to represent. As a tadpole loses its wings to become a frog, she also loses something of themselves during the process of becoming a lover, partner, wife ... mother. So far I am not clear how that works to transform. Many times I see women on the street and wonder as they were when they were twenty, and where those girls are gone.

Recently the issue of motherhood is attacking me from all sides. So tired ... I have the opportunity to observe as women are turning around. Gradually lost almost all the friends I had. It sounds hard but it's a bit like that. Have become mothers despite having / is certain that nothing will change ("If you talk about diapers, I stop ahead!") Conversations that we are not now before. I look like the friend who can talk about other issues, not just their children but as they do not go away. And I do not stop when I speak of "diapers" because it seems unfair. I hear them, but it's as if I spoke the other side of river.

a woman may now seem anti-child. But this is not. Children have always liked and it seems that I liked too. I love spending time with my nephews or other children, enjoy the possibility of fond of children who are not mine. I think being a mother hardly feel it. I do not think that becoming a mother the world ends. But as I see, is quite different. I never had doubts about whether being a mother, but I think I have fear of losing my fins.

So I find it hard to identify with the woman I am now. I feel trapped in time, a tadpole from the water pretending to keep swimming but dying with every breath. I feel that I can not continue. Need to get a new being, one who can breathe the air without choking. I do not know how to ...

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Translating

I have on my desk twenty letters from children Paucartambo. These letters of Peruvian children to their sponsors Czechs, sponsors who do not know but thanks to those who can study. This aid for poor gifted children and organizes Foundation Inca Cusco department, a small organization founded by Olga Vilímková after spending a year teaching in a school of the department of Cusco. Since 2001 has provided assistance to more than 930 children, many of them have graduated and now exercise their professions in their communities and a girl received Czech government scholarship and went to the University of Prague, where he studied Czech.

I, besides being proud sponsor of a Chibolo, I volunteered as a translator of the letters into Czech. For me it is a unique experience, a closer contact and authentic it could have. Most are children of 4th to 6th grade, and it is interesting to see the English skills of children whose mother tongue is Quechua. It causes me very tenderly read phrases like "In bacacion halegre and felis and state" or "I leave you with strong huabraso" or "Being proficional would be a great victory for me would be happy."

Some of the letters are a bit repetitive, they note that the boy did not know what to write, then put what the teacher said. Some tell of their lives, describing their homes, families and customs in the village. One even wrote a poem, where it has :"... there playing with my brothers, there is laughing, joking with my friends my hobejitas and grazing habes habes has Huallamoco to grass up to my rabbits. " There are more personal stories, which we note that the child can not express themselves well in Castilian, so it is not well understood. There is an undecipherable letter, which neither recognize whether English or Quechua, which seems to be a dyslexic.

And there's also sad and touching stories, where the child tells his troubles to the sponsor, being the only person who can complain. A girl has her dad Boracho that sticks to her and her mother, or a teacher who beats children in school: "My teacher was bad, we rubbed with pointer." He says: "Sponsors of mine, I want you to come, I can not come because Prague is away. But a little les conosco in buestra picture ...".

I wonder how the future of these children. As they affect the experience of meeting with the other world? How to continue studying, if you will find in Cusco discrimination by citizens of their own country? They will know that somewhere far away there is someone who considers worthy of a good education? Help them feel safer? And meet the expectations that graduates will be working in their communities, and not go to live "Better Life" to one of the largest cities?

is not known. But I want to believe they will, regardless of whether further study or not, just to see what literacy is for more than grades. And not only care about money that one gives but how much interest in other shows and how much love you put on the written word. Because it's good to see that there may be a dialogue between two people who do not speak the same language, who live far away and have not even seen. That despite many obstacles the letter to reach its final destination. I believe that you get to transform your look, attitude and values \u200b\u200bto enter the world of another. Because dialogue changes to its participants and to confront them, makes them more human.



Quote: Culture of peace, bilingualism and multiculturalism, Juan Carlos Godenzzi

Inka Foundation: http://www.inkaperu.cz/