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.”
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