Lucia Mercedes Cuchipe Ayala

My dear friend, Lucia, is turning 51 on Saturday, and it's high time that I sit down and write a few words about this special human. I remember Lucia's 28th birthday party as if it were yesterday; I had just turned 22, and after a month of knowing her, I already loved her. Lucia is one of the coolest women I know (and I know a lot of cool women) and the main reason my family is feeling so happy and held in La Josefina. I dedicate this post to her and to strong women like her all over the world.

Lucia Mercedes Cuchipe Ayala was born at home on September 10, 1971 in Recinto La Josefina, Cantón La Maná, Provincia Cotopaxi. Well, wait a minute, that isn't actually true. Lucia's mother, Inez, remembers very clearly going into labor on November 21, the date of annual regional fiestas. Inez recalls that she started having contractions as the band was playing, followed by memories of the sound and smell of fireworks. Immediately after the baby arrived, everyone left her alone with her newborn to go back to the party.

When a baby is born in Ecuador, the father is often tasked with going to the birth certificate office to register the baby. Don Francisco, Lucia's father, went to register his newborn girl in late November, and for some reason, he told the person at the desk that the baby had been born September 10. Don Francisco is famous in his family for submitting an incorrect birthday date -- for all six of his children. The exact reason for this recurring oversight is not clear; Lucia says it's because he just isn't detail-oriented and that he attaches no meaning to a specific day or date. When probed, he shrugs and chuckles, "¿Qué importa?" he says, "Why does it matter?"

To this day, September 10th is Lucia's official birthday.

Lucia is the second of six siblings and the oldest girl. From a very young age, she was expected to contribute to the family work and economy. She grew up in the campo, living in a rustic traditional wooden farmhouse without electricity or running water, but which her mother kept spotless. As the oldest girl, she was responsible for a long list of chores: hauling water, milking cows, feeding animals, riding a mule in the middle of the night to grind sugar cane, caring for and carrying younger siblings on her back, harvesting a range of produce in the finca, skipping recess at school to sell snacks with her mom, and more. All of these skills are still evident. Lucia is a ninja with a machete, a master orange picker, and an expert cow milker; she knows a ton about local farming culture, and is a tremendous workhorse. Lucia literally cannot sit down for more than five minutes because she always finds something else that needs to be done.

At the age of fifteen, Lucia fell in love with a local boy named Washington Suatunce (he was sixteen), and they welcomed, ambivalently, their first daughter, Jesica, a few weeks before Lucia's 16th birthday. After a young and tumultuous start to their relationship, she and Washo (as he is called) were eventually married and went on to have two more girls, Alba Lucia and Sintia Mercedes. On Lucia's 28th birthday, she was already a mother to a 13, 9 and 5 year old. I, six years her junior, was twelve years away from my first child.

I insert myself into the story here because Lucia and I have long joked that Lucia is my "mamá" -- that I am her fourth (and eldest) daughter -- even though we are closer to being contemporaries than mother and daughter. Early in Peace Corps, I lived with Lucia and her family, and even after I moved into my own little house, I shared many meals and special experiences with them. Lucia was very protective of me, the young, single, unskilled gringa who couldn't make rice or wash my clothes in the river, and the few times we traveled together to the city, she would grasp my hand as though I was an impetuous child who didn't know a thing about crosswalks. This is something we both chuckle about to this day.

When I met her, Lucia was working from sunrise to sunset: raising her girls, making bread to sell, and running a small tienda, which carried everything from rice and butter to balloons and shampoo. And she was doing so much more. She was still farming -- milking cows, harvesting yuca, raising chickens-- and she was leading. Lucia has always been a leader (that's how Peace Corps found her); she is thoughtful and knowledgeable, and people come to her for wisdom and advice. Lucia took a course on first aid and helped organize the first pharmacy in town, she dispensed medical advice from her tienda, she taught catechism in church, and she was often solicited for help regarding domestic violence, family strife, and teen pregnancy issues. She is a true mujer of all trades. I recently observed her counseling a neighbor whose child has a substance use disorder; she does everything with competence and care.

Lucia held fast onto ambitions to continue her education, and she was able to eventually graduate from high school when her girls were young. But she always dreamed of more and knew she wanted more for her girls. At the age of 33, after six unhappy months in Spain working as a caregiver, she returned to Ecuador committed to get her teaching credential and start her own career. In 2006, having completed the basic credential, she started working as a primary school teacher in a rural one-room schoolhouse. She's been teaching ever since.

In 2010, Sintia, Lucia's youngest daughter, turned fifteen and gave birth to Lucia's first grandchild, Sandy; she was the same tender age her mother had been with her firstborn. For the past twelve years, Lucia has been a committed grandma and-- at times -- surrogate mother to Sandy, especially leading up to and during the seven months last year that Sintia was hospitalized for mental health and substance use problems. Sandy calls Lucia Mami Luci and leaves the house with her at 6:30 am every weekday morning to travel to La Maná to attend the same school where Lucia has taught for the last ten years.

In 2016, working full time as an elementary teacher and helping to raise her young granddaughter, Lucia graduated with a university degree and a title. During the intervening years, she continued to financially and emotionally support her two older daughters as well. Jesica is a successful Nurse Auxiliar, happily married with three children living in the Sierra, and Alba Lucia works for the Ministry of Health as a Licensed Clinical Psychologist in the southern Amazon.

Lucia currently teaches fifth year (the equivalent of fourth grade) at a public elementary school in La Maná. She has 41 kids in her classroom, including five students with special needs; she is unbelievably committed to their education and each child's success. She is constantly probing others for ideas about how best to tend to all her students' needs and looking for creative ways to inspire and motivate each one. Today, she brought her class a homemade cake cut into forty pieces just to remind them she cares. Next week are city-wide fiestas, and as I type this story, she is staying late at school to teach her students a folkloric danza to perform.

Yesterday, Lucia told me that she has plans to get her Masters Degree, as soon as Sintia finishes the nursing degree she is funding. It will happen. No doubt.

I have yet to list all the ways in which Lucia has helped me and my family in the last few months, so I will try to do so here: Lucia found our rental house for us and negotiated the terms, she prepped the house with a few basic pieces of furniture, she set up an apartment next door to her that served as our transitional housing while we were getting the house fixed up; she lets us use her washing machine to wash her clothes (no river washing!) and hangs and takes it down even though I tell her not to; she regularly gifts us any share of veggies she can find (she knows I am always on the lookout); she supplies Paul with a small pot of fresh milk every evening; she taught Dillon to use a machete and harvest bananas and dragon fruit; she makes Jonah rice whenever his heart desires (which is often); she braids Brynna's hair in beautiful french braids; she found us our chicken and our bunny for us. . .The list is literally endless. But most of all, she is a dear friend, a confidante and a willing participant in many of our adventures and shenanigans.

Life is not easy for Lucia. As the only household member with stable employment, she brings in a whopping $815/month, current salary for a public school teacher. Even though she has to travel forty-five minutes to work, she gets up before dawn to make hot breakfast for her husband, daughter and granddaughter (because that is what women do here). She has debts. She and Washo don't often see eye-to-eye. She has recurring low back pain and wants to work on her weight, but it's hard to find time for self-care. She stays up too late on her old slow desktop computer looking for ideas of how to work with her over-sized classroom. She worries about Sintia's sobriety and mental health. She is always trying to figure out how save a few pennies -- on toilet paper or eggs -- or make a few extra dollars -- selling quail eggs, baking cakes for people. She also is always looking for the best ways to support her adult daughters. And her mom. And her siblings. And her neighbors. She wonders what life would look like if Sintia and Sandi were launched.

Amidst these challenges, Lucia is a rock. She is a strong, positive, kind, thoughtful, driven woman, mother, daughter, grandmother and friend. Her moments of complaining or expressing anything but optimism are fleeting. Mostly she gets up and does her thing every day with a beautiful smile and a big heart. I am so grateful to know her.

I am excited to celebrate her birth on Saturday. ¡Feliz Cumpleaños, Lucia!

Making humitas with Lucia, Cecilia and Ana when my mom came to visit, Spring 2000

Alba Lucia, myself and Lucia, on a visit in 2017

Lucia and I, 2010

Lucia and Soledad on a big hike 2001

Lucia in her kitchen, 2007

Lucia and her daughter Sintia (R) on the way to the molienda in 2008

PS. We had always planned to name a baby girl after Lucia, and we had all intentions of doing so when Brynna arrived in our universe. . .but for a variety of reasons, we changed our mind at the last minute and chose the name Brynna instead. Even though Brynna is a perfect Brynna, I still feel sad we missed our opportunity to honor Lucia.

PS. I dug up these old photos on Snapfish in preparation for the birthday fiesta on Saturday. Thank goodness for Snapfish!