Merley and Jesus (who live with us).
Story-time with the gringo.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
¡2006 update from Perú!
The holidays have passed and I’m begining to see what normal life is like in Carata. Unfortunatly for us (pc volunteers) we arrived in the beginning of December which is a non productive month for Peruvians. Everyone is thinking about Christmas and new years, and not about work. Not to mention the kids end their school year in mid December as well. It becomes summer vacation. This worked out well for me though, as I have been able to meet the locals and participate in the festivities. What’s better than the holidays to bring people together? Christmas came and went, and although it was my first Christmas away from the States, I had an excellent time with my host family in Trujillo and their extended family. A Peruvian Christmas is similar to ours but much simpler. Each family member receives a few presents, “Paneton” which is fruit cake is consumed in mass quantities and everyone dances late into the morning of the 25th.
I spent the 25th on the beach of Huanchaco, the closest beach to the city of Trujillo. It’s a very tranquil surfer town, that isn’t very developed but still touristy. I hung out with other volunteers, ate a lot of delicious food (including vegetarian!) I can’t find in Carata. We all stayed at a hostel and paid $3.50 a night. My friend Eli rented a tent and slept under the stars. All and all it was a great Christmas. I came back to Trujillo and Katie, another volunteer took me by the store where she bought her mattress. I bought the same one, for 220 soles ($66.00). She said it would change my life and it has.
New Years was unreal. We ate a late dinner at 11pm and waited for midnight, dancing salsa from the music of the radio. At midnight we toasted with 12 grapes in our champagne (for 12 months of good luck). Then we went outside, met other locals on the street and doused homemade-life size-dolls with gasoline and lit them on fire. The burning of dolls is done in every town in Peru. The dolls symbolize the old year, and by burning them a new year can begin. It’s very pagan/voodoo. There are other superstitious activities for new years as well, such as running around town (in a circle) with suitcases for safe travel in the New Year, and wearing yellow underwear for good luck. The color yellow? I don’t know why.
On January 3rd Rosa (my counter-part) and I had a meeting in a near by town at the health center. I decided to take the opportunity to go to Otuzco and check my email. This is the only other place I can check email, unless I’m in Trujillo. I went with Ruth the niece of Juan (my host dad). We had lunch with another friend and I chatted via msn messenger with Mom and Dad in N.H. It was so great to hear from them, and see them “live”. But the day didn’t end there.
Getting back to Agallpampa for the meeting was an adventure I will never forget. I knew Rosa and I would be staying the night in Agallpampa (to return to Carata that same day would have been difficult in the dark.) so I figured I could take my sweet time in Otuzco. By 4:30 I was done with internet and shopping. I waited for a taxi and when one finally came by he wanted to wait until the car was full before we left. I anticipated this, as it is typical here. There are taxi’s called “colectivos” that carpool passengers. It ends up being a cheap fare, but you often have to wait until the car is full before leaving. Time is definitely not an urgent issue for Peruvians. In fact, that night I learned how unimportant time and schedules really are.
It was 5:15pm when we left Otuzco. The driver was to take us to the fork in the road where I would wait for any truck, bus, van, whatever that was driving through Agallpampa. I paid the driver and waited on the side of the road with the two others from my taxi. We got cold, and decided to wait in the taxi. Someone said at 6 a bus would be by. I got out a book and began to read. The woman beside me began asking who I was, and what I was doing(in Peru). I recited my rehearsed response, to cease her curiosity and went back to reading but was quickly interrupted by her verbose tale about a woman named “Barbara” from Minnesota. “No, I don’t know “Barbara”. I told her, looking at my watch. The U.S. is a big country. lol
By 7pm I was getting antsy, and thinking about walking to Agallpampa (which would have taken 2 hours or so). The three others in the car could tell I was ready to peace out by my comments like, “the bus should have been here by now”, “I’ve got to get to a meeting that’s probably over by now”, and “it’s getting dark, huh?”. They assured me that they wouldn’t rob me, (chuckling) and that they were honest people and that I should just wait it out. I wave of panic over-struck me as a realized I had left my USB drive in the back the hard drive of the computer in the internet café in Otuzco! We were only a 10 minute drive from Otuzco and I pleaded with the driver to take me back to see if it was there. He knew he could make some $ by driving me there and back, so he accepted. The other two passengers got out and waited on the street. I told them we’d be right back, thinking of the significance of the USB and how I would be crushed if it was lost or stolen, considering all the important files and pictures it contained.
Thank you, Jesus. The USB was still attached to the same computer where I once sat, hours before. It had gone unnoticed, as it was plugged into the back of the hard drive. Out of breath, and gasping, I thanked the internet attendant and took off running down the hill to retrieve my taxi driver. He wanted to wait until the taxi was full before we left again, and I forced a laugh, reminding him I needed to get to Agallpampa, which meant I had to catch that bus from the fork in the road. I told him I’d pay him 6 soles roundtrip and he finally agreed after some bitching. I looked at my watch and it was 5 til 8pm. I hoped we’d make it back before this supposed “bus” would arrive, if it would arrive at all that night.
We returned to the fork in the road, and I disembarked the taxi, paying the inflated price. At least the USB was safe in my hands. The same two passengers waited on the side of the road, updating me that nothing but logging and mining trucks had passed. Least I didn’t miss the bus, I thought to myself. The wind blew, making things colder; I pulled out my winter hat and put it on snuggly. The other two were pacing in the dark to keep warm. I asked them, what the deal was and they replied, “A bus is sure to come by at 9pm”. I joked with them that the most significant thing I’ve learned from Peru is that “demora”=delay, is a part of daily life. And explained how punctual we are in North America, and that everything runs on time. (a little white lie….)
9pm!! Are you kidding me! “I cannot, no, will not, wait 4 hours for a bus, when I could have walked in the dark 2 hours and arrived just fine.” I told the male passenger I would rather stay at a friends or a hotel in Otuzco for the night than wait any longer. I was cold, hungry and sick of talking with these strangers. I thought of my living room in Carata, where I usually was at 8pm watching “El Cuerpo de Deseo” a trashy soap opera that the whole country was hooked on. I looked up at the stars and decided to go buy something to eat from the tiny house lit by a kerosene lamp, for there was no electricity. I bought some saltines, (as there was little selection) crossed the street and offered the goods to my fellow passengers. The three of us finished the package instantly. I told them I’d wait until 9pm, but not any later, as I had made up my mind to walk to Otuzco and stay the night.
Every set of headlights that climbed the highway was mistaken for the bus. Larger trucks passed, none willing or able to take passengers. The police passed. I thought of stopping them and explaining my ordeal, but they didn’t look terribly friendly. By 9:15 I was pissed, still hungry and cold, and ready to walk. But my new friends on the street convinced me to stay, as they had over heard from another driver that the bus was indeed coming, they had just stopped for dinner. DINNER!! Are you serious! Don’t they know there are people, starving people, waiting for them!!! This was incredible!! More than incredible, ridiculous!
At 9:30 the bus arrived and I held back from yelling out “Hallelujah”. It was extremely packed, so full, the coldness I had felt from being outside for 4 hours was quickly alleviated and overtaken by the body heat and body odor from the dozens of other passengers. I hoped they enjoyed their dinner. I stood, cramped in the aisle next to two seats where 4 people and small dog sat. Now, how long would I be on this amusement park ride I wondered, 30 or 40 minutes until Agallpampa? It was too dark outside to see landmarks..I felt sick.
I knocked on the health center’s doors, hoping not to wake anyone, but not really caring if I did. “Hermus” opened the door and I jumped inside as if I was being followed. I explained the hell I had been through and he looked at me, as if I was crazy. With attitude, he explained the fact that there was no transportation back from Otuzco after 2pm, as if it was common knowledge. Scum bag. I asked where Rosa was and he said she had gone back to Carata, much earlier. The meeting had ended early and she was able to get back before dark. Sweet. Thanks Rosa, for leaving me….As if my night couldn’t have gotten any better.
Obviously there was some miscommunication between Rosa and I, because I was sure we were staying the night in Agallpampa. Whatever. Otherwise I would have come back earlier, say… before 2pm! I bought some yogurt, more crackers and juice from a store, ate it and went to bed at the health center. The next morning I waited another 2 hours for a ride home and started walking then got picked up by a logging truck, and rode in the back.
I ate some mango that day after lunch. That night I woke up dizzy, feeling sick to my stomach. I threw up various times though out the night, and took a couple of trips to the latrine with diarrhea. The next morning was the 5th, which began the town’s celebration of Three Kings Day on the 6th. I woke up Mena (host mom) and we walked to the health post to wake up Rosa. She gave me some kind of antibiotic and Mena made a disgusting re-hydration drink called a “suero casero”. I was sick all day Thursday and very weak Friday but out of bed to see some of the festivities. Two marching bands from Otuzco came and played all day and all night. The festivities ran from Thursday morning to early Saturday morning. Music played all night, and fireworks were lit off incessantly for 48 hours. It’s hard to rest when it sounds like gun shots. Three Kings Day was bigger than Christmas and New Years, and I was sick.
Since then I’ve been just fine. Trying to plan out projects for the month and new year. I had a successful program where I read a children’s book to a group of kids. Topic: Hand washing and general hygiene. The highlight was getting all the kids into the health post bathroom to wash their grubby little paws.
It’s hard to stay positive and motivated when I look around town and see nothing but work to be done. It’s depressing and overwhelming. I went for a walk to clear my head. As I sat on a stump overlooking the mountain range I tried to rationalize my existence in this community, for all that they think I am the strange American, they are growing to accept me. And for that I am thankful, but still struggling with the huge tasks that lye ahead. Projects that will take much more than two years to complete. Such as potable water, trash disposal, a recycling program, healthier stoves, cages for cuy, and general hygiene practices. The locals think they will get sick if they bathe (cold water=sick), they think it’s perfectly normal to drink tap water, burn trash and throw litter, and share a kitchen with dozens of guinea pigs and rabbits. This is what I’m dealing with, and it’s only the beginning.
I’ve realized that it is very easy to get overwhelmed by the enormity of these problems in my town. Ironically few think they are problems, this is normal life for them. It is me, someone from the outside who recognizes these discrepancies. And only I see them as tribulations because of my culture which idolizes cleanliness and sterility. If I can work to change the minds of these people, and get them to agree with me I’d be happy. It’s a matter of improving quality of life. But it’s going to take a lot of compromise on my part and theirs. And I have to remember to work with them, and not against them. Because where would I be otherwise?
I spent the 25th on the beach of Huanchaco, the closest beach to the city of Trujillo. It’s a very tranquil surfer town, that isn’t very developed but still touristy. I hung out with other volunteers, ate a lot of delicious food (including vegetarian!) I can’t find in Carata. We all stayed at a hostel and paid $3.50 a night. My friend Eli rented a tent and slept under the stars. All and all it was a great Christmas. I came back to Trujillo and Katie, another volunteer took me by the store where she bought her mattress. I bought the same one, for 220 soles ($66.00). She said it would change my life and it has.
New Years was unreal. We ate a late dinner at 11pm and waited for midnight, dancing salsa from the music of the radio. At midnight we toasted with 12 grapes in our champagne (for 12 months of good luck). Then we went outside, met other locals on the street and doused homemade-life size-dolls with gasoline and lit them on fire. The burning of dolls is done in every town in Peru. The dolls symbolize the old year, and by burning them a new year can begin. It’s very pagan/voodoo. There are other superstitious activities for new years as well, such as running around town (in a circle) with suitcases for safe travel in the New Year, and wearing yellow underwear for good luck. The color yellow? I don’t know why.
On January 3rd Rosa (my counter-part) and I had a meeting in a near by town at the health center. I decided to take the opportunity to go to Otuzco and check my email. This is the only other place I can check email, unless I’m in Trujillo. I went with Ruth the niece of Juan (my host dad). We had lunch with another friend and I chatted via msn messenger with Mom and Dad in N.H. It was so great to hear from them, and see them “live”. But the day didn’t end there.
Getting back to Agallpampa for the meeting was an adventure I will never forget. I knew Rosa and I would be staying the night in Agallpampa (to return to Carata that same day would have been difficult in the dark.) so I figured I could take my sweet time in Otuzco. By 4:30 I was done with internet and shopping. I waited for a taxi and when one finally came by he wanted to wait until the car was full before we left. I anticipated this, as it is typical here. There are taxi’s called “colectivos” that carpool passengers. It ends up being a cheap fare, but you often have to wait until the car is full before leaving. Time is definitely not an urgent issue for Peruvians. In fact, that night I learned how unimportant time and schedules really are.
It was 5:15pm when we left Otuzco. The driver was to take us to the fork in the road where I would wait for any truck, bus, van, whatever that was driving through Agallpampa. I paid the driver and waited on the side of the road with the two others from my taxi. We got cold, and decided to wait in the taxi. Someone said at 6 a bus would be by. I got out a book and began to read. The woman beside me began asking who I was, and what I was doing(in Peru). I recited my rehearsed response, to cease her curiosity and went back to reading but was quickly interrupted by her verbose tale about a woman named “Barbara” from Minnesota. “No, I don’t know “Barbara”. I told her, looking at my watch. The U.S. is a big country. lol
By 7pm I was getting antsy, and thinking about walking to Agallpampa (which would have taken 2 hours or so). The three others in the car could tell I was ready to peace out by my comments like, “the bus should have been here by now”, “I’ve got to get to a meeting that’s probably over by now”, and “it’s getting dark, huh?”. They assured me that they wouldn’t rob me, (chuckling) and that they were honest people and that I should just wait it out. I wave of panic over-struck me as a realized I had left my USB drive in the back the hard drive of the computer in the internet café in Otuzco! We were only a 10 minute drive from Otuzco and I pleaded with the driver to take me back to see if it was there. He knew he could make some $ by driving me there and back, so he accepted. The other two passengers got out and waited on the street. I told them we’d be right back, thinking of the significance of the USB and how I would be crushed if it was lost or stolen, considering all the important files and pictures it contained.
Thank you, Jesus. The USB was still attached to the same computer where I once sat, hours before. It had gone unnoticed, as it was plugged into the back of the hard drive. Out of breath, and gasping, I thanked the internet attendant and took off running down the hill to retrieve my taxi driver. He wanted to wait until the taxi was full before we left again, and I forced a laugh, reminding him I needed to get to Agallpampa, which meant I had to catch that bus from the fork in the road. I told him I’d pay him 6 soles roundtrip and he finally agreed after some bitching. I looked at my watch and it was 5 til 8pm. I hoped we’d make it back before this supposed “bus” would arrive, if it would arrive at all that night.
We returned to the fork in the road, and I disembarked the taxi, paying the inflated price. At least the USB was safe in my hands. The same two passengers waited on the side of the road, updating me that nothing but logging and mining trucks had passed. Least I didn’t miss the bus, I thought to myself. The wind blew, making things colder; I pulled out my winter hat and put it on snuggly. The other two were pacing in the dark to keep warm. I asked them, what the deal was and they replied, “A bus is sure to come by at 9pm”. I joked with them that the most significant thing I’ve learned from Peru is that “demora”=delay, is a part of daily life. And explained how punctual we are in North America, and that everything runs on time. (a little white lie….)
9pm!! Are you kidding me! “I cannot, no, will not, wait 4 hours for a bus, when I could have walked in the dark 2 hours and arrived just fine.” I told the male passenger I would rather stay at a friends or a hotel in Otuzco for the night than wait any longer. I was cold, hungry and sick of talking with these strangers. I thought of my living room in Carata, where I usually was at 8pm watching “El Cuerpo de Deseo” a trashy soap opera that the whole country was hooked on. I looked up at the stars and decided to go buy something to eat from the tiny house lit by a kerosene lamp, for there was no electricity. I bought some saltines, (as there was little selection) crossed the street and offered the goods to my fellow passengers. The three of us finished the package instantly. I told them I’d wait until 9pm, but not any later, as I had made up my mind to walk to Otuzco and stay the night.
Every set of headlights that climbed the highway was mistaken for the bus. Larger trucks passed, none willing or able to take passengers. The police passed. I thought of stopping them and explaining my ordeal, but they didn’t look terribly friendly. By 9:15 I was pissed, still hungry and cold, and ready to walk. But my new friends on the street convinced me to stay, as they had over heard from another driver that the bus was indeed coming, they had just stopped for dinner. DINNER!! Are you serious! Don’t they know there are people, starving people, waiting for them!!! This was incredible!! More than incredible, ridiculous!
At 9:30 the bus arrived and I held back from yelling out “Hallelujah”. It was extremely packed, so full, the coldness I had felt from being outside for 4 hours was quickly alleviated and overtaken by the body heat and body odor from the dozens of other passengers. I hoped they enjoyed their dinner. I stood, cramped in the aisle next to two seats where 4 people and small dog sat. Now, how long would I be on this amusement park ride I wondered, 30 or 40 minutes until Agallpampa? It was too dark outside to see landmarks..I felt sick.
I knocked on the health center’s doors, hoping not to wake anyone, but not really caring if I did. “Hermus” opened the door and I jumped inside as if I was being followed. I explained the hell I had been through and he looked at me, as if I was crazy. With attitude, he explained the fact that there was no transportation back from Otuzco after 2pm, as if it was common knowledge. Scum bag. I asked where Rosa was and he said she had gone back to Carata, much earlier. The meeting had ended early and she was able to get back before dark. Sweet. Thanks Rosa, for leaving me….As if my night couldn’t have gotten any better.
Obviously there was some miscommunication between Rosa and I, because I was sure we were staying the night in Agallpampa. Whatever. Otherwise I would have come back earlier, say… before 2pm! I bought some yogurt, more crackers and juice from a store, ate it and went to bed at the health center. The next morning I waited another 2 hours for a ride home and started walking then got picked up by a logging truck, and rode in the back.
I ate some mango that day after lunch. That night I woke up dizzy, feeling sick to my stomach. I threw up various times though out the night, and took a couple of trips to the latrine with diarrhea. The next morning was the 5th, which began the town’s celebration of Three Kings Day on the 6th. I woke up Mena (host mom) and we walked to the health post to wake up Rosa. She gave me some kind of antibiotic and Mena made a disgusting re-hydration drink called a “suero casero”. I was sick all day Thursday and very weak Friday but out of bed to see some of the festivities. Two marching bands from Otuzco came and played all day and all night. The festivities ran from Thursday morning to early Saturday morning. Music played all night, and fireworks were lit off incessantly for 48 hours. It’s hard to rest when it sounds like gun shots. Three Kings Day was bigger than Christmas and New Years, and I was sick.
Since then I’ve been just fine. Trying to plan out projects for the month and new year. I had a successful program where I read a children’s book to a group of kids. Topic: Hand washing and general hygiene. The highlight was getting all the kids into the health post bathroom to wash their grubby little paws.
It’s hard to stay positive and motivated when I look around town and see nothing but work to be done. It’s depressing and overwhelming. I went for a walk to clear my head. As I sat on a stump overlooking the mountain range I tried to rationalize my existence in this community, for all that they think I am the strange American, they are growing to accept me. And for that I am thankful, but still struggling with the huge tasks that lye ahead. Projects that will take much more than two years to complete. Such as potable water, trash disposal, a recycling program, healthier stoves, cages for cuy, and general hygiene practices. The locals think they will get sick if they bathe (cold water=sick), they think it’s perfectly normal to drink tap water, burn trash and throw litter, and share a kitchen with dozens of guinea pigs and rabbits. This is what I’m dealing with, and it’s only the beginning.
I’ve realized that it is very easy to get overwhelmed by the enormity of these problems in my town. Ironically few think they are problems, this is normal life for them. It is me, someone from the outside who recognizes these discrepancies. And only I see them as tribulations because of my culture which idolizes cleanliness and sterility. If I can work to change the minds of these people, and get them to agree with me I’d be happy. It’s a matter of improving quality of life. But it’s going to take a lot of compromise on my part and theirs. And I have to remember to work with them, and not against them. Because where would I be otherwise?
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