15 Diciembre 2010

Yet another shenanigan at the post office.

My patience is waning.

I show up early and there are 6 people ahead of me in line. That usually means a 3 hour wait. But, as I sit there working on my lap top the people are coming in and out quickly. I am pleased that they will get to me quickly, but I did not note that no one was walking out with their actual packages. I should have taken that as a sign. I wait for another hour or so and get shuttled in to the customs office pretty quickly. At this point in my life in Arequipa I get kisses from the women who work there. We are familiar and comforting to eachtoher, and they know they just might get a chocolate from the States if there are any sprinkled in the box I am receiving. I fell into the usual rhythm pulling out all the paperwork necessary. But, I didn't recognize the guy behind the desk. He places my package on his desk and just looks at my paperwork. With two copies of my passport laid out right in front of him he says,

"Your passport".

I explain that I don't have my physical passport because it is at the Ministry of State because I am receiving my green card. He stands up puts my box back in storage and says,

"I can't give you anything without the original passport that is how people steal things from our government."

Um... I am thinking, I have come here at least 20 times and gotten packages without the original passport. I never travel with it, it is too dangerous. I politely explain, "No, you see, I always come here with copy, it make sme scared to walk in the steets with my passport. I can show you my license from the states with my photo and name on it."

He completely ignores me, "Number 8"

"But, you only keep packages for a month, and my passport is going to be in the Ministry for 3-5 so how will I be able to get my package?"

The worst part of this whole thing is that the package is RIGHT THERE taunting me.

He pulls some Peruvian machismo, stands up, and raises his voice,

"This is a joke. You don't respect the Peruvian governement. How can you come in here with a copy?!" He holds up the copies I have laid before him and waves it in my face, "You don't respect our country to come here with this."

As you can imagine my cheecks have flushed in a rush of sadness and anger. Without a word I place my things back in my bag and the assistant comes to me and says, "Dont worry, just come back tomorrow with the passport and I will put you at the front of the line." in true South American feminine feeble quality.

What can I do? I gave her a warm smile as she handed me my paperwork from his desk and I asked her to walk out with me avoiding all eye contact with the governemtn official whose little head I just wanted to squeeze off.

When we got outside the door I wispered to her,

"Is he working tomorrow?"

"No, dear."

"the young woman that is usually here will be back tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am" she smiles and winks

"Thank you, see you tomorrow."

It is conversations like this that take it all out of me. Everything I have. Like a vacuum my lungs shrink into nothingness and I have to concentrate on keeping my heartbeat strong and reoccurring.

This is a perfect example of my biggest challenges in Peru

The Peruvian Government

Machismo

the weak female

The introduction: The beurocracy and the lack of logic that exists in the Peruvian governmental system is beyond frustrating for anyone, let alone someone accustomed to proficciency.

The climax: Not only did the man think it was ok to yell at me when I had logic to trump the decision he had made to reject my passport copy, but he tells me I don't respect his country. How, could anyone think that I don't respect this country? I talk like you, live like you, dress like you. You probably want me to get skin grafts, die my hair, and grow it out long to braid.

The cherry finale on top of this cake: The women who know me didn't stand up for me to him, instead, they play the South American mother nurture card and help me manage his immaturity and self-righteousness. How can women ever get respect here if they think that this is just the way that men are and there isn't any way to change that? How can I teach my girls to stand up for themselves when their mothers won't stand up for them, and it puts them in such a dangerous position?

And what did I do? I walked away. I am a representative of the United States, and my superiors require that I not react to such situations. They want me acculturated and working on more simple scales. They want better relations with the Peruvian government, they don't want me attacking it.

I leave the post office about to explode and all I want to do is call my boyfriend and whine to him so that he can tell me the guy is a creep and I am awesome. But, of course, in typical Peruvian style, the Telefonica phone lines are down. I am trapped in my own head, alone. I can't even call another volunteer to attempt to heal myself with camaraderie.

Why have I done this to myself? Why didn't I just appreciate the fact that I was born into a country that protects me from such emotionally toling situations? Why do I feel I owe something to the world?

Now, how do I let this go? How to I release these huge frustrations and return to my optimistic self? As these experiences continue to pile on top of each other my lungs become more and more weak and it is harder to talk other people into working with me towards, "good".

Perhaps this is just a bitter vitamin that will nourish me tomorrow.