Our work site rested at an altitude of 3,962 metres in Cruzada Loma, a community where Free the Children had previously built a high school. It was our job to build an extra classroom. Our work included sanding roof tiles, carrying and mixing dirt, mortaring and carrying bricks.

We also taught English to students that were quite a contrast to my North American classmates, who tend to avoid extra work at all costs. These students have already beaten the odds, as most indigenous children drop out of school at a young age to help care for their families. Still, 99 per cent of them won’t go to university. Although education, including university tuition, is free in Ecuador, students must pay for books and transportation. Transportation costs about a dollar a day, which is half of the average family’s daily wages.

The parents we met were equally passionate about their children’s education. They joined us each day — some with infants on their backs — to help the classroom take shape. While they don’t have anywhere near the material possessions of the average North American, they acted content with what they have and were more than willing to share both their time and possessions.

Our group was lucky enough to experience a special community gathering when we spent a day volunteering in a village called Shuit. For this project, we were demolishing an old school that had to be replaced by September. The goal was to tear down the building by the end of the day, so a minga was called.

There is no English word for minga, but basically it means the community comes together to accomplish a common goal. Within an hour, the entire village had arrived to offer help. We all worked together — youth from North America alongside indigenous women. Most of the men were away, looking for work in the larger cities. Our group left in the afternoon, but we later learned that the community stayed until midnight to finish the project.

During our time in the mountains, visiting various communities, we were also able to volunteer at a women’s co-operative, where we experienced firsthand the members’ daily tasks.

While we sheared sheep (with scissors) and wove wool, one woman asked, “I hear that you have sheep in Canada, why don’t you use them for these tasks?”

We explained that our clothes are made from fabrics other than wool and we buy them ready made from stores, but I kept replaying the question in my mind. I don’t own anything made of wool, but if I did, I would acquire it without ever seeing a sheep.

While I realize that I take a lot of things for granted, this woman gave me a clear perspective on just how different my life is from that of an indigenous woman. I was also asked if I was married, which made me laugh, but the truth is, had I been born in Ecuador I would already be married, waking up early to herd animals and take care of a household.

Before I arrived in Ecuador, I asked myself, “I’m only one person, how can I make a difference?” The answer: by joining with 24 others. The best advice I can pass on is to appreciate every moment you’re given and every person you encounter. And, always, dream big.

(Wardrope is a Grade 12 student at Cardinal Newman High School in Hamilton, Ont.)