Yolandita

Portrait Cristina Mrquez B.

Anyone can think that Yolanda Tamayo or Yolandita (as shes known by most
people), has earned the right to rest peacefully in her home at the age of 93,
but that lifestyle doesnt go very well with her. Shes worked at schools since
she was 18 years old, and has no intention of retiring. Today, shes happy,
theyve told her one of her former students has come to visit. I came in with
a warning from the schools authorities ,dont tell her this is for an interview,
tell her youre just here to talk to her. At her age, she doesnt like to be asked
things very often. I think about the orders I received as I see how shes get-
ting closer to me; with short and slow steps, there comes a small lady, with
curly honey colored hair, several wrinkles that cover her cinnamon skin. Shes
wearing the signature blue pants and shirt that constitute her uniform while
she stares intensely at me and exhibits her great smile. We walk to a partic-
ular hall among those within the walls of Liceo Panamericano, the institution
shes worked for since its foundation 43 years ago. That particular hall cov-
ered in bricks is one of my favorites, it contains the pictures of all 39 classes
that have graduated there, including mine. We sit in a pair of blue chairs
and I proceed to identify myself: Cristina marquez, 34th graduating class.
She responds wth a I remember your face, but youve changed. Show me
where you are in the pictures. Were sitting right in front of my class picture,
I laugh while noticing the changes in some people, including myself. Yolan-
dita tells me: You see, youre a little different, I dont forget those things. I
have not been with her for over 5 minutes, but her lucidity is already evident.

She pats her hand softly on my knee whle she says: Lets see, you want to
talk about what I do? I know just where to start. I hear her intently while in a
secure but low tone she starts to tell me: Ive wanted to be a teacher since
I can remember, there was nothing I liked more than getting my friends and
pretend we were in school. A little later, I saw how my sister, 10 years older,
worked in that profession, and I always wanted to follow her example. The
moment that everything became even more clear was when I started visiting
her while she was on the job. I really enjoyed seeing how everyone just sat
and listened to everything she had to say. I loved her very much, she took care
of me; and when I entered high school, she wanted for me to get the best
education possible. She convinced my parents to send me as an intern to the
Manuela Caizares boarding school in Quito. when it comes to recent events.
She was very secure that was in my best interest, I never quite knew why.
From coming and going all the time between Quito and Guayaquil on my
own, I started learning the names of every single town, county, mountain,
river, volcano and hoya. So, between a mixture of a great memory, and my
love for travelling, I discovered that geography was for me. I started teaching
that since way before you were born. Yolandita continues to travel where her
memories take her, stories about her sister, her students, about her time in
colegio Guayaquil, her arrival as a founding teacher at Liceo Panamericano,
and of course, her beloved travels. Not only has she travelled through all of
Ecuador several times, shes been to every country in north, central and south
America, most of Europe, northern Africa, and some of Asia. After a couple
of tourist worthy anecdotes, she says that she never got to visit Australia.
When she was ready to leave, passport in hand, her sister was killed in a car
accident. She never brought herself to organize that trip again. Her eyes start
to become a little watery while she tells me the story, thats something she
would have really liked to do. Every once in a while, she stops the conversa-
tion to ask me and youre an alumnus here? I have to keep reminding her
that my picture is just behind us. To what she responds Oh, of course you
are, while slightly tapping her forehead. Her mind betrays her a little when
it comes to recent events. She comments on how her brain has filled itself
through the years with a lot of geographical data and the faces of many gen-
erations of students, so there are bound to be things that slip away; like the
name of the international competitions she represented our country when she
was in her 20s and part of Ecuadors national womens basketball team, or the
year in which she founded the school Maria Teresa Sol de Estrada in Durn.

Everytime a teacher comes by the place where we are sitting, they grant her a
huge smile. She knows the story of just about everyone; half of them where her
students here, and the ones who werent, have been closely evaluated by her
until she realizes how prepared they are. She likes to brag about the fact that only
the best can get into this institution. While the school psychologist (my former
teacher) passes by, she tells me she was also my student. I tell her: Yolandita,
your amount of former students is astounding. She laughs a little while answer-
ing me, Youve got no idea, sometimes im walking down the street and I get
yelled at from cars or people stop me right downtown to buy me a cup of coffee.
There are a couple of cases where ive already seen the grandparents, parents
and kids go through here. They remember me as well as I remember them
Even tough she didnt teach me directly because of her age, its impossible not to
remember seeing her at school everyday. She was always making her way up and
down the stairs, talking with whoever crossed her path, tapping your shoulders
while going by your side, and screaming GIRLS SIT UPRGHT! when she came
near a class window unnoticed. One is fond of those memories accompanied by
the details of Yolanda Tamayos face, a women who gives whoever knows her the
impression of being eternal. She has absolutely no intention of going anywhere.