November 26, 2010

24 Noviembre 2010

8:00am

Today is my host father’s birthday.

As I am frantically tabulating all the information in my surveys and writing my community diagnostic my host mother is killing, cleaning, and preparing rabbit for dinner.

I am very frustrated that I wasn’t able to knit with her yesterday afternoon and chop up some rabbit with her this morning, but the responsible woman buried somewhere in me knows I only have 3 days to write this diagnostic for Peace Corps and two of those three days I will be on buses traveling to Early In Service Training.

Wish me luck! 20 pages of puked Spanish, here I come.

1:20pm

What is even harder than working through complicated statistical equations you haven’t studied in years? Working through complicated statistical equations you haven’t studied in years with the most annoying creature on the planet buzzing around your head, hands, computer, tea, feet, everything! Damn flies might actually cause me to lose my mind.

5:00pm

My host father came back from the fields today and when he saw my face peek over my laptop he smiled and walked over so that I could wish him a Feliz Cumpleanyos. Today was the day I ate food with the family that actually tasted good to me. Roasted hare. So delicious! I devoured my rabbit leg (yup, it still had the toes and everything, the dog got the toes, don’t worry). Dinner was followed by a series of traditions that I felt elated to be a part of. My host father kept telling me that I am a part of the family now as I helped him break apart pieces of alpaca chest, count out 6 coca leaves, wrip pine needles, count 3 corn kernels at a time and them pile them all together in a historically specific design. Then my host father whispered prayers to the small, specific pile, and poured a strong alcohol into a shell and sprinkled it over the small mountain. Then every woman in the room breathed on the pile before we threw it into a pile of incense. As the earthly gifts burned we listened carefully to the cracks. You have to hope for at least three cracks which symbolize a prosperous year to come. With each loud pop the whole room “wooped”. Today we had 6 cracks in total, a very good sign. The small ceremony was followed by drinking and dancing. They are still just tickled pink to hear me speak quechua or wear a pollera (local dress), so tonight was a particular treat to see the gringa dancing around in local exuberant attire with her 60-year-old host father in his traditional poncho. In all of the silliness, I have to say that there were these moments of unreality. Disbelief that I could really, truly be here, a part of this ancient offering. Then this strange euphoric experience as I came down out of a bounce in my pollera circling my family’s room. This utter and true happiness that you usually only feel in a familiar hug or an intimate kiss. Where the world just softens into nothingness and all you can feel are the people with you and complete happiness

23 Noviembre 2010

Today I went to the schools for like the 5th school-day in a row in an attempt to get all the permission slips/pacts from the kids with their and their parent’s signature so they can participate in my afterschool program. It is a permission slip because it informed the parents where their kid will be once a week, it is a pact because they promise to read a book a week and be on-time to the get-togethers with the same signature. It is literally like pulling teeth getting kids to do their homework, but I think I only need about 15 more and I will have the signatures of every kid and their parents in Madrigal.

Last night on the bus ride home from Chivay I had met with a teacher, who I adore, and we chatted and brainstormed for the full 2 ½ ride. It is her class that I came to today with an armful of hand-written cards from kids from a classroom in the United States. A PC volunteer alum now teaches at a bi-lingual school in Massachusetts and we organized letter exchanges between our students. His kids wrote letters about their lives, families, and hometowns. Each of his students I paired with one of mine and with much excitement and pride they opened their letters and begged to read them out loud to each other. It was fun to see what the 11-year-olds from The States wanted to include about themselves, and it was even more fun to see how kids here reacted to the foreign but personal information. We did a little talk about where Massachusetts is, how the seasons differ, what hockey and softball are, the different systems of measurement, and how to address a letter. The kids are so proud to be able to write a letter back to the very same kid that wrote them. This Thursday they will bring some art supplies to class and we will compose responses for their new United States friend.

22 Noviembre 2010

This weekend I went into the city and spent Saturday and Sunday in Chivay with my enamorado. I like that word, enamorado. It literally means the guy I am enamored or enfatuated with. It has a much more appropriate ring than “boyfriend” for some reason.

He took a bus in from Arequipa, where he lives, to see me. We spent a majority of the day at the hot springs. This is usually a place where locals come to bathe by morning and tourists come to relax by evening. Well, I have to say, with my darlin there, no one gets to relax. He is a huge ham and everyone smiles when he is present. Everything from sharing his drink with anyone within reach (a common part of historical Peruvian culture that is dieing due to western influence), to teaching kids how to swim with me, to offering his enamorada to pachamama (Mother Earth) and throwing her into the 90degree pool… very loudly.

Walking through the market with him was quite a trip. By now, the local growers and sellers have come to know me and often slip a free banana in my bag here and there, but with him there it was like they wanted to offer their entire tienda to him. He is so charismatic every woman falls in love with him in seconds. I think I got double my week’s spinach for the price of one, and another woman pulled out the fresh broccoli for me from a wooden carton hidden under other fruit. It was also good for me to be seen with him around town so that any men that might have bothered me in the past know he exists and I shouldn’t have to deal with them in the future.

Sunday we played soccer with Chivay locals that I have come to know. The past couple Sundays I have come into Chivay to do my market shopping, play soccer, and bathe. Women don’t really play, so I play with the teens and men my age. I have to say, I have a blast every time, and usually other locals stop to watch us play. I am not a very good soccer player, but I love every minute. The constant running at this high altitude, if nothing else, will strengthen my heart and thicken my blood like chocolate.

Monday I had my quechua classes in Chivay. Our teacher is fabulous. He is a tour guide that is a native quechua speaker and he is extremely animated. He is teaching the class in a well-organized fashion and when he starts telling stories we are all sucked right in. In learning quechua we are not only learning a language, but a culture and a history. It is a little odd that the other volunteers and I are learning our third language from our second, but somehow, it works.

Monday evening my enamorado returned to Arequipa City and I went to the AICED library to do some research on Madrigal. AICED is a non-profit formed by the Spanish government that set up shop here in the Canyon to do vocational trainings and repair the Spanish churches that were destroyed in an earthquake about 10 years ago. Their goals and Peace Corps’ differ in many aspects, but we both have resources to offer each other and get along very well. Over all, we both want to help. They are the group that actually put us up in Chivay when I was translating for the health survey for Health Bridges International and Quechua Benefit. Their library consists of about 4 shelves of books, but it is the best in the canyon and only contains information about the canyon. I am researching for a Community Diagnostic that all volunteers must write for the Peace Corps. This weekend I will travel to Ancash for Early In Service Training and will be required to turn in this 10-50 page diagnostic and do an 8 minute presentation on my town. This diagnostic will contain some history of Madrigal, information about the lifestyle, what people want, and what I am going to offer them. Then, I will return to Madrigal and present my findings to the professors and municipality members here. I have handed out and received about 200 surveys at this point and both Peace Corps and Madrigal want to know what I found out. One set of surveys was done via convenience sampling on health access, the second to each kid in the local school on education, and the third to the parents of the students on lifestyle.

Once I have written up the CD (Community Diagnostic) I will try to post it here. However, it will be written in Spanish… sorry. Perhaps when I am not feeling so busy with work I will translate the whole darn thing.

Wish list

.7 pencil lead

sports bras (34B or 32C)

Bronner’s lavender hemp oil soap

indestructible digital camera (yeah, mine hit the dust)

my favortie snack, veggie booty and smart puffs http://www.piratesbooty.com/

peanut butter

ranch dressing

4.0G external USB (left mine in an internet cafe)


some artists whose most recent albums I will absolutely never find here, but the few songs of theirs that I have help me through the rough days:

Dan Mangan

Lost In the Trees

Sharon Van Etten

James Vincent McMorrow

Stornoway

Lord Huron

Atlantic/Pacific

Anni Rossi

Kat Edmondson

Edith Piaf

David Vandervelde

Active Child

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Grafitti

Inara George

Lost in the Trees

Sun Airway

Phosphorescent





if only you could mail ice cream and pizza...


18 Noviembre 2010


You know you are an experienced latrine user when:

You never, ever, go anywhere without toilet paper in your pocket.

When you rejoice at the site of a full moon because you know you will be able to see your way to the pot in the middle of the night.

When you have trained your body to only need to poo midday when with sun has warmed the small mechanism-less porcelain seat, instead of after nightfall when your booty just might stick to the frozen bowl.

When you have used the same latrine so many times in a sleep-full stooper that your bottom can find the seat and your hand the toilet paper in complete and utter pitch-black.

17 Noviembre 2010

When I returned to my humble abode in Madrigal from Arequipa I was greeted by my loving host sister, Roxana. I must say that her awkward teenage smile is what makes this place home for me. But, the hugs are what keep me joyful. Because touching is not a part of the culture every time I go in to hug her and give her a kiss on the check she has this moment of shock that quickly melts into comfort. It just might be the first time my bony hug actually comforts someone instead of just encircling them in wiry discomfort.

We sipped some tea and like real Peruvian sisters she talked about her classes and the award she won last week in an art competition, and I told her about my new, dare I say, boyfriend. Then we stapled a couple hundred surveys together…

Today, I went to the elementary school and handed out surveys to each kid asking questions about preferences, hygiene, world knowledge, living situation, etc.

Some sad:

What do you do after your classes?: I go help in the fields.

I help my parents.

I do my homework when there isn’t work to do.

What would you prefer to do after classes?: Heat water and take, like, a 2 hour bath.

Play.

When do you wash your hands?: When they are dirty.

List come countries of the world: Madrigal, Lima, Cuzco.

What was the age of your mother when you were born?: 15

Who do you share a room with: My whole family.

How many books have you read outside of the classroom in your life?: I just read text books at school.

I think less than half said they play or relax after school.

I can’t really wrap my mind around the idea of not ever reading picture books as a kid. I live with them and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. Can you imagine not being read to every night before bed? Can you imagine your teacher at school never sitting the class in a circle and reading aloud. It is all very hard to fathom.

The ‘bathing after classes’ answer is particularly sad because this shows me that she/he WANTS to clean her/himself. Cleanliness is a huge issue here. It isn’t really a part of culture to wash. Can you imagine how often you would wash yourself if your only option was ice cap melted freezing cold water? And why can’t she just heat water and bucket bathe? Because we are so high in altitude, not many trees can grow here. Firewood is rationed. The families that have gas tanks and kitchenettes also ration the gas as it is expensive. And why is heating food so necessary? Because people that don’t boil everything they eat in a soup get sick and die. We don’t have refrigerators, if you want to eat meat or vegetables, you need to boil the crap out of it before consumption. If you ran out of resources you would be in serious trouble. I see it as it literally coming down to two things for them: cold showers, or death. Seriously.

I can’t even say the number of kids that asked me what a religion is. Most of them didn’t answer the question inquiring about world religions. The only religion they have ever heard of is Catholicism. They don’t even recognize their gifts to mother Earth as a religion. When asking, “what religion does your family practice?” one kid answered, “quechua” which is the local dialect. I am not sure if that answer is closer or father away from what I was looking for.

Some of the world maps consisted of a circle with some wiggles making out alien continents. Others were literally just an outline of Peru. Peru, is literally all they know. It is all they are taught by the government issued text books.

Did I mention that there are a ton of white-skinned Jehova’s Wittneses crawling all over the canyon trying to save the lives(souls?) of the poor who live here? Yeah, a couple of my kids said they read the scriptures of Jahova.

Of course, I didn’t just give out the survey today. First, I did a little talk with them about what a survey is and what it means to be your very own person with your very own answers. One of the most challenging parts of working with these kids is the huge variance of ability in each 9-student classroom. Because there isn’t any legitimate testing, each kid pretty much advances by age. That means you have kids struggling to read and understand language because of parental deprivation in the same classrooms as kids who have parents who read to them regularly and help them with their homework. While the second happenstance is rare, there are a couple, and they are years ahead of their classmates. This makes keeping kids’ attention a huge challenge. They all need vary different forms of learning and the classroom is a huge challenge to keep under control.

Some beautiful answers:

What was your favorite book: When we read “cuentos blancos” I loved it because it had a lot of important stories with morals.

What do you prefer to do after classes: Read stories or things that teach me.

Draw.

Study and learn interesting and important stuff.

You wouldn’t believe the number of kids that said they want to learn. They are so hungry it is unbelievable. And the teachers are so eager to teach. The lack of resources to do so is horrifyingly sad.

A teacher pulled me aside when she saw my surveys and said, “you know what we really need is printers in the classroom.” Can you imagine a school without a copy machine? They function here without printers or copy machines. The teacher usually writes the questions on the board, the kids copy, then answer. It takes SO much longer to get anything done, and the kids’ attention spans are not extended due to their lack of resources. What was interesting to me was the way she explained to me why they need printers. Almost like I didn’t realize it, or the reason they don’t have printers isn’t because they don’t have the money, but because they don’t realize they need it. It was like she just realized how convenient a printer would be when she saw my stack of machine copied surveys I made in Arequipa. Conversations like this are like a stab in the leg that make me wonder how I am going to keep walking. They are so cut off. There is so much to teach. How can I and where do I start?

For the kids that have, a few times in their life, read books in their free time, they remember every one. Every book title, and every detail of the story. With pride a few kids wrote things like, “I have read 6 books:” then the list of each specific title.

Over all, the surveys were a success. They mostly told me things I was aware of, but now have on paper.

November 15, 2010

15 Noviembre 2010

I actually lost money today.
Like, lost it, completely.
I assumed I left it at home, and took some money out of my American account to cover me for the day. Of course, I had saved money the last two weeks so I could buy some new tennis shoes (mine are completely and utterly destroyed-in Sunday's soccer game with the kids I actually injured my foot because my shoes). I bought new off-brand shoes and with 20 s/. in my pocket came back to my room in Arequipa to find that the money I thought would be waiting for me wasn't there. I don't know what happened to it. I am so mad at myself and the pickle I have put myself into after hoarding and saving this month to buy tennis shoes and the supplies to build the family chicken coop. Would have been a lot easer if I had lost the money before I bought two luxuries!

Now, I am hoping mom and dad will save the day. What a child I am.

I was thinking about feeling so worthless as my friend and I went through my packpack and the pockets of every pair of pants I have here with me. In The States, when I am not making enough money to feel secure, I change jobs, or pick up a second. Perhaps this is part of the whole Peace Corps experience or something. Knowing how it feels to not have. I mean, really know (my present case) feel it. Like, to not have enough money to buy a bus ticket to get yourself to work tomorrow. That feeling of knowing you need to let your boyfriend's mother cook you dinner because she knows you don't have the money to buy dinner yourself. That feeling of walking up to a cash register to pay for a bottle of water, reaching into your pocket, counting your "pennies" and realizing you actually don't have enough. That realization that your money will not outweigh your thirst is crippling. All of it is not only embarrassing, but it makes you feel utterly and completely worthless. I just want to crawl into a hole and not come up until it starts raining cash.

November 13, 2010

14 Noviembre 2010

cochina colata...

I can't really decide which part of the day was the most entertaining.

I came into the city this weekend, kind of on a whim, because I was offered a free ride with the HBI folk. I have spent the past two days with a fella who finds me as interesting and fun as I find him. We met about a month ago in the city.
When he heard I was coming into town he went out and not only bought me a rose, but everything you need to make sushi healthfully in a landlocked town. We spent about 4 hours preparing it together. It was a beautiful escape from the lifestyle that has become my reality. Smoked salmon, asparagus, acocado, cream cheese... it was a dream.

What is funny about the cross-cultural relationship that is forming is everything we are learning together. We communicate almost purely in Spanish, which is fun and strange at the same time for me. But, he speaks English pretty darn well and is very patient if I don't know how to express myself or commit a grammatical fallacy. He lives with his whole family (which is a part of Peruvian culture, not to be looked down upon, he supports his single mother) and his 17-year-old brother was very curios about this whole japanese food business. It was the most expensive meal that the kid had every eaten (about $40) and he ended up throwing it up, the poor thing. My buddy and I enjoyed every bite while his mother stared at us in horror at the table puffing a cigareete, quizing us on the green goo we put on the fish, and repeatedly questioning why we would have spent so much time making this... shushi. What I thought would be a romanic dinner between the two of us became a bit of a circus show and it was more fun than I could have imagined.

Usually I dread coming into the city because it is a harsh reminder of how different my life is in the canyon, but this time, I was able to enjoy myself, relax, and not feel guilty about a few pleasures.

7 Noviembre 2010

This week has been full of absorption. I am partnering with an organization called Health Bridges International which is doing this survey project with Quechua Benefits. I am helping them translate their surveys to Spanish and administer them throughout the villages in the Canyon. Everyday we travel to about two villages (one in the morning and one in the afternoon) to collect anonymous information about lifestyles and health access. Citizens have been amazingly open to share information with us with the hopes that we can bring some sort of help. We can only hope for the same.

The days are filled with a gamut of emotion. The individuals that I am working with from Health Bridges are bright and fun to be around. I also greatly enjoy traveling around the canyon; seeing magnificent views and meeting even more magnificent people. But, the lightness and beauty cross over into a darker spectrum quickly and without warning throughout the day. Like accidentally dropping a cloth into a tub of die. With rapidity you see the color seep in one vain at a time and permanently stain.

I am here to listen, to record. Unable to function as machines we hear their stories as we tally.

-“What is your job?”

-“I used to work in the fields but I my right side has been aching and I can’t work lately. We are having trouble getting by now because of it.”

…later in the interview…

-“If there were to be an accident or emergency with your children, where would you take them?”

-Her cheeks flush and her eyes water. Behind a torrent of unanticipated and uncontrollable tears, “I can’t take them anywhere. How will I feel them if I pay to take one to the hospital?”




-To a woman who is obviously blind, her face pinful to look at. A skull. “How many children do you have?”

-“The daughter that lives with me is the only one. She is the result of a rape. I was blinded by a fire when I was a child, and when I was a teenager I would go up the mountain and work in the alpaca ranch for days at a time. Once, I thought I was alone, but a man raped me that night. I didn’t know he was there, and today I don’t know who he was. I was already displaced from the community due to my blindness, but when I became pregnant and wasn’t married it was worse.”




A woman is walking down the mountain carrying a bucket. Hunched over, traditional dress. Ancient. Beautifully ancient.

The entire interview was translated from Quechua to Spanish and then Spanish to English,

-“How many years do you have”

-“Noooo. No. I don’t know.”

-“Who else lives in the house with you?”

-“Noooo.”

-“Do you have plumbing?”

-“Noooo.”

-“Water?”

-“Noooo.”

-“Electricity?”

-“Nooo.”

-“Do your childrean live in Arequipa?”

-“Noooo. No kids. No kids… One sister. She lives there. Doesn’t care for me.” She points up the hill.

-“How do gain money?”

-“Noooo. No. I don’t”

-“Do you work in the fields?”

-“Nooo. Raise guinea pigs. Sell them here and there. I buy sugar and rice.”

…later in the interview…

-“What is your biggest need in your house.”

-“Food. I am hungry often.”




-“Have you ever had to go to Arequipa city 5 hours away for emergency care?”

-“Well, I need to go because I have this tumor,” she points, “but the operation is too much.”




The average income seems to be about 200 s/. per month to 550 s/. a month. That is about $67- $183 a month. 550s/. a month is minimum wage in Peru, and it is the lowest minimum wage in South America. The HIGHEST income in the valley is minimum wage. I barely get by healthfully on my budget and I make just under double that.

Edwin is a friend of mine. He is a tour guide that lives in town that I met at another Peace Corps Volunteer’s English classes. He is my Quechua translator and speaks little to no English. His family does well because the European and American tourists take care of him. As we walked away from a few of our interviews over the past few days we were silent. Sometimes we even had to sit in silence together for a few minutes taking deep swallows and deep breaths. Once he said, “How are we going to sleep tonight?” another time he said, “We have to bring her a bag of rice when we can.”

2 Noviembre 2010

This morning I went to the post office to pick up a couple boxes of love that had been mailed to me from friends and family in The States. Customs in Peru is a gigantic pain. You have to arrive at around 8am to get in line for a number. Whenever they decide to hand out numbers you MUST be present. Then, you wait, usually about 3 hours, while they have everyone receive, present, and record everything in the box. It is something most volunteers here have come to despise, but somehow, I have come to look forward to it. I think it is because of the conversations. Everyone in this tiny waiting space doesn’t want to be there and is impatient, and the camaraderie is fantastic. You can’t really do anything but stare at each other and wait, so the words naturally flow. I have met poor single moms from the rainforests of Northern Peru and business women who looked at their watches every five minutes because they needed to get back to the office. I even met a nutritionist there that might be helping in the future with a Peace Corps nutrition project.

Strangely enough, SerPost is definitely something I think fondly of. Today, an elderly woman arrived at around 10am and attempted to get a package. While trying to explain how it works the impatient attendant was at her wits end when she could not communicate with the woman because she didn’t speak a lick of Spanish. I stood and translated for the gringa and received many thanks. So much so that the foreigner sat down for a second to chat with me. I asked her where she was from and how her visit in Peru was going.

“Oh honey, I live here. I am an archeologist.”

Immediately I am a little shocked. The woman didn’t speak a word of Spanish let alone Aymaran or Quechuan.

“Really, how long have you lived here?”

“Five years. I am doing research for a book I am writing.”

“Wow! What are you studying?”

“Oh, sweet heart, I can’t tell you that. What the ancient people tell you is a secret. They tell you and it is for your ears only. No one knows where I am and what I am studying.”

Intrigued but utterly confused I smiled and nodded.

“What is it that you do, sweetheart?’
“I am a member for the Peace Corps.”

She stares at me blankly.

“It is an organization that is part of the United States government that sends educated individuals all over the world to provide human resources.”

Her face changes in a blink to utter horror, “Oh, no.” She shakes her head.

For some reason I felt the need to validate, “I studied psychology and I work with kids out in rural Peru.”

“Oh, sweat heart, you work for the American government? That’s too bad. That’s just too bad. All they do is destroy. You can’t change the people here to be like you.”

“Our goals aren’t to change the people of Peru to be like Americans, our goal is to help get them access to resources like healthcare and education. I don’t do anything but facilitate what they community wants.”

“Oh, you don’t even know. You don’t even know. The United States destroys. That is all it does.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They are destroying cities all over the world. Don’t you know this? That is all they do is destroy. You cannot bring back anything you learn here to them. They will destroy everything. You just can’t tell them. What you hear here are for your ears only.”

With that I glanced at the man sitting on the other side of the room that I knew was from California and he gave me the big eye, but kept his mouth shut. The older woman pilled a smile out of her back pocket and ruffled her fingers through my hair as she stood up.

“You take care of yourself.”

She walked away leaving me full of anger, embarrassment, and undeserving.

November 2, 2010

2 November 2010

I have spent the last couple days in Arequipa City attempting to get everything I can done. It never quite feels like enough time. Researching like a mad woman and having fun making games to teach what I want the kids to know. The curriculum is coming along slowly but surly and I love it more and more as I step back and look at it.

The week to come I will be paring with Health Bridges International to translate questions and answers for them as the survey the health of citizens that live in the Canyon. Very needed work. This is the information they recruited me with:
"Here is an update on Health Bridges International CARE III-Colca Valley Community Needs Assesment. CARE stands for our research projects Community Assessment of Resource and Healthcare Experiences. This is a basic demographic snapshot of underserved regions we work with as well as some health care access and utilization questions. The reason why we do these studies is a mutli-headed beast. First, there is little to no data around the Andean population and especially in regards to healthcare. The government creates many programs, which is laudable, but are they impacting the 10 million people spread out over the Andes. That's what we want to know. The second reason for this research is the adage "A bell rung, can't be unrung". Regardless as to what comes from our research, we want to give the Colca Valley a voice to be represented with real data, rather than some extrapolation from someone in Lima. The third reason is a selfish one, organizationally. Continued research gives HBI credibility and creates possible avenues for funding and capacity building for future programs. Our goal is to bridge the gap of poverty, to help everyone to have an easier passage over merely considering basic needs each day to considering hopes, dreams and happiness."