28 Enero 2012

Last night I decided I needed some more therapeutic dancing. Usually in huititi you look for a partner to dance with, then you put on your traditional dress and go add onto a column of people in he streets. Men on one side opposite their partner on the other. Some groups even get together and choreograph during the day to dance in unison during the evening parades. But, I had weeding and washing to do during the day, so I just dressed up later and found a group of women and Roxana and I partnered up in their line. We were surrounded by cousins and friends. I didn’t want to be encumbered by my camera so I have no photos of us dancing around together, but it was SO much fun. The two leaders of our double line were pretty talented huititi dancers (one being roxana’s half sister) so the rest of us followed their lead. We got a pretty good group of ladies movin together.

The tradition on this day of the festival is for all the different dance troops that have been formed throughout the day to go to the top of a hill bordering the city with their marching band and dance up and down the hill. It really was a beautiful thing to be a part of. All the locals lovingly accepting me into their traditions, and allowing me to not have a care in the world and just dance (that was until my back started hurting, how does it just know when I am dancing?).

The electricity was out, so we ate with everyone at the top of the hill but hurried back into town with a half drunk doña juana before everything went pitch black.

Roxana and I took some of the neighbor girls back to their house and then got Doña Juana in bed, changed out of our heavy dresses, and decided we didn’t want to go to bed yet. We made an excuse that we needed to buy more candles and headed back to the streets only to be the witnesses to a theft. Most thefts happen during festivals. They say that there are these groups of thieves that travel town to town that is in fiesta and rob. Because, literally, everyone in town is in the plaza and drunk, it is easy to take advantage. In fact, the only time of year I actually lock my door when I leave the house is when the town is in fiesta. Roxana and I walked past a power line that was down. But, there was no obvious reason to the line being down. Because the electricity was out I picked it up and pulled it out of the middle of the road and told Roxana to never do what I was doing. Then she spotted the box from the pole the line was from and said, “someone is stealing here.” We went straight to the police station and by the time we got back with some officer friends the line and box were both gone and the officers started running around the dirt roads with their flashlights. How can someone from elsewhere really steal from this village? And if it is a local doing it, how can you steal from your own community?

I was surprisingly unfrightened by the whole thing, but Roxana was not so unscathed. She insisted on going back to the house and cheking our lines. Everything was fine. As I made us tea and snacks she sat with the flashlight on the door to ensure no one was coming in, continually seeing shadows that weren’t there.






Jess, this is a photo of me and two other peace corps volunteers in traditional colca dress last year at my birthday party...

27 Enero 2012

This entry is one I would usually remove from my public blog. But, I want to remember that some days I feel this way…

It is funny how the inconveniencies feel so little when you are happy, healthy, and motivated.

Today, we are in festival still. Which means that there were marching bands until about midnight last night, then they started again early this morning. They won’t stop for about another 2 days.

Yesterday the city’s water was turned off for a while. Today, there is no electricity.

The lack of water, electricity and other inconveniencies used to be ok (and to be honest had a cool factor), and I could deal with them when I thought it was a financial thing. An impossibility thing for the community. But, now that I see it is possible, and it is due to a combination of greed and laziness that they don’t have these conveniences that I can’t deal with them. I am just angry. I sit on my bed and chant and chant and chant and I can’t get all the anger out. No electricity means no phone line. I can’t even call Tiffyn or Sky or my mother to talk it out and get some lovin. 

Eating. Bathing. Cleaning. Even sleeping and listening to my music is half impossible right now.

I can’t blame this community. They are cut of, generations of poverty. No wonder they themselves are depressed and unmotivated. I blame their government. Their greedy government. I blame my country. My greedy country. I can’t solve this community’s problems here. They are beyond them. All I can do is be hungry, tired, dirty, and plaster on a smile and dance around in the festival pretending everything is ok.

26 Enero 2012 take three

There is something about these festivals that is particularly healing. I have written about the music and the dancing. I find myself bouncing around with them not wanting to stop. Even if my group stops, I want to keep going, keep the rhythm going. You could say it is the dancer in me, but I think it is the dancer in all of us. There is something particularly healing about vibrations that many meditators, drummers, chanters, and dancers can corroborate.

eg: "t is the vibration of our voice which is so important in our Buddhist practice. It is said the voice does the Buddha's work (2). This is why we chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo aloud, rather than performing a silent meditation. 'Kyo' is the interconnectedness of all phenomena; and how our prayer or the sound of our chanting can affect people and situations out of our immediate sphere."

These people that have some of the most hard and depressing lives in the world release every trouble with the drums and the horns (probably unconsciously). While I find those drums and horns particularly obnoxious when I am not out dancing and drinking with them (especially when they decide to conveign in the corral that runs up to the wall that is the back of my house. Just imagine a full blown marching band on the other side of your bedroom wall when you are trying to sleep. Seriously). When you are in the group, dancing with them, it is hard to keep your day’s worries in your mind. You are released. It becomes a congregational meditation.

Adam was dressed up tonight. It was the first time I have ever seen him not in one of the three outfits he owns that don’t fit him right. As usual, he was by himself, but he didn’t care. He is one of my most loyal students, as any eight-year-old downs syndrome child would be.  Roxana wasn’t feeling well tonight, so she was keeping a particularly tight grasp on my arm. But when I was finally fed up with the drunk men flirting with me and the visitors from lima and arquipa taking my picture I left Roxana with a friend and went and danced with Adam. He is unaware of the crowd staring and pointing because he is at the head of the parade. So I come up and start dancing next to him in the middle of the street.  As if he had been waiting for me all night, he grabs me by the waist without missing a step and dances with me proper huititi style. Stunned, I pull out my very best huititi skills. The two freaks, dancing together at the front of the parade had some women looking away, and some jealous men whispering, but most were clapping and smiling awkwardly. It was a horribly beautiful moment. I coaxed him back into the group of boys dancing and told him to stay there and keep dancing so well, that I was going to find my family. And for a few minutes he did. But, when I looked back he had made his way out of the group again in his unending spins. As long as he is happy.

Roxana didn’t look well. The rain had picked up and we were wet. Mamai Juana had bought us both juice to keep us occupied while she went and danced in a circle of friends. Roxana did not look well. She is usually shy and not into dancing, but her grasp on my arm had weakend dramatically.

“We should go now. Your mom is alright. She is sober. We should go home.”
“but, I wanted to bring her back with us.”

I understand. Leaving Doña Juana at a festival alone is only asking her to get drunk. And it was rainy, cold, and late.

We stand there for a little while until roxana turns to me and says, “Can we go now?”

Stunned, and confused at the sudden change, “Of course.”

She tells her mom, Mamai Juana says she will follow shortly. Roxana heads straight for an alley in the wrong direction. ‘Damn it.’

I send her friends away as I stroke her back and she vomits in a dark corner where teenagers usually make out at festivals.

I am thinking, how many times a year is this girl going to get sick? When I arrived from Sibayo and asked Doña Juana how she was,  she told me bad and asked for pills. Somehow, I have turned this completely organic and pill hating woman into a bit of a pill popper. Somehow, those little capsules I hand her always make her diarrhea, vomiting or headache go away.  Now Mamai Juana is feeling better, and Roxana has picked up the same symptoms 5 fold because of her tinyness.

I was trying to think back. How many times in my childhood did I get sick? Like vomity sick with diarrhea. I can only remember 4^th grade a day home from school vomiting, then strep throat in high school that kept me home for a week due to an allergic reaction to penicillin. That is what, twice between the age of 5 and 18? This girl has been ill that much in just a year.

 When talking to Doña Juana about what they had eaten she says paneton and gaseosa- a pre-packaged cake and a bottled soda. Obviously not the culprits. It must have been some unproperly boiled water or some of the meat from the two sheep we just slaughtered. But, since I wasn’t here for the slaughter, I have no way to know.  Or perhaps it was just because Mamai Juana doesn’t wash her hands after she goes to the bathroom and then fixes the family’s lunch. I restocked the bathroom with toilet paper (as there surely was none while I was gone) and soap that Dave and Linsey brought back from Brussels for me. Then I poured bleach water over the toilet and soil. Then gave new tooth brushes to Roxana and her brother Washington and a tube of toothpaste courtesy of Lisby and Dave (Juan and Juana don’t brush their teeth, partly cause they have none).  I got Roxana some medication and Emergen-C the oncologists left behind after their last campaign. I asked her to sleep in my room with me because I worry about her and I know my room is warmer, and she looks at me longingly but knows that would upset her mother, I can see that in her eyes, and don’t ask twice.

So many mixed feelings so quickly. Belongingness first.  I love when the children run up to me one after the other, “srta. Luuuuuuuz”. Anomalousness second. I despise it when Peruvians walk up to me during festivals, especially men, and try to teach me about the ways of Madrigal. These are usually people who were born here but left for the city as quickly as they could, leaving their family behind, often. My new tactic is to respond in quechua, “managn intendichu” which means, ‘I don’t understand what you are saying’ in the local dialect.

But, more than anything, I love that I can predict. When they say, “we are going to the festival tonight.” I know that means they will come into my room between 6 and 8 and expect me to be ready to hit the streets in that moment to dance in the rain, have some shots, and return around 10 wet and tired. If I want to buy from any street venders, I need to bring a couple soles for picarones. These cultural things that no one can prepare you for, I can predict now. It is kind of like when I used to go to high school football games as a teenager. We didn’t actually watch the games. Middle-schoolers and young high schoolers who weren’t dating the players were expected to congregate next to the stands and gossip and attempt to flirt with or kiss the boy you liked. A strange social norm that everyone just knows… unless you aren’t from Midwest Ohio. 

So, now madrigaleñamanta (from the land of madrigal), I work and hurt with them, then heal with the vibrations and bouncy dancing with them as well. 

26 Enero 2012 take two

I went back and read my journal from this time last year. I love skipping though my journals January 2010, January 2011, January 2012 (it goes back ten years!). It is always interesting for me to see how I became the young woman I am.

January 2010 I had received my Peace Corps acceptance and was anxiously awaiting my assignment. Not knowing in what country I would spend the next two years of my life.

I was taking the lightest course load of my life: African American History 2, The History of Latin American Communities and Cultures (in Spanish), Complimentary and Alternative Medicine provided by the Pharmacy Department taught one floor above my most challenging class: Behavioral Neuroscience. I was working three mornings a week in Echols’ lab (child language development), two mornings a week in the Meston Lab (women’s sexuality), one afternoon a week volunteer mentoring, 4 days a week tutoring or aiding Sarah, and weekends waiting table at Sushi Zushi.

What I was discovering at the time: What my specific interests are within psychology. What I am capable of.

Today’s reflexion: To be honest, it is hard to imagine that woman surviving that. Especially when I can just sit down now and read a book for 10 hours straight if I want.

January 2011 Already finished training and was serving in Peace Corps Peru. I had just finished organizing and helping run a dental campaign here in the colca canyon. I was just stepping into the teacher workshops and grant applications that would feed into my “baby”; the VALE program, that I was just finishing writing the curriculum of at that time. I was learning the things to be sure to focus on, and how to work within my assigned community. I was happy. Very happy. Very proud. Excited. Naïve.

What I was discovering at that time: What my specific interests are within the work force. What I am capable of.

Today’s reflection: I seemed so happy at that time. My excitement and love for the world allowed the challenges of everyday life here to roll off my back.

January 2012 I have just finished running the VALE program, and installing the “starter kit” for the Madrigal library. I have accomplished so many life goals at this point. Not only have I successfully been accepted into the Peace Corps, but technically I have accomplished that big goal that I set for myself while walking to Chacrasana from Chaclacayo during training by Libby’s side. That idea ,World-Community-Self, that I was sure could help a community help itself from the roots up, now has.

What I am discovering at this time: What my specific interests are with my lifestyle. What I am capable of.

January 2013 I will be in the middle of a course preparing me to take the GRE and apply or grad schools while working a great job in Europe?

January 2013 I will have just finished graduate school essays and applications and will be waiting to hear where I am going?

January 2013 I will be bouncing around doing some more traveling and spending time with family and friends before I tie myself down to another 2-4year program (grad school)?

It is funny, when I look back I see someone very happy and motivated and constantly moving forward. But, I know, in the moment, I did not feel that way all the time. Just as I feel deep fear and excitement all at once right now for the months to come, I know I did then as well.

What must have been in my head:

2010“You can’t survive outside the dance world. Throw yourself into your studies and your future in psychology. Overflow your mind with good, interesting work so you don’t think about that past.”

“cook yourself a delicious dinner with good wine, good conversation, and good friends to relax and have a good time”

2011“Do you really think you can live in a little mud hut somewhere and be happy and do good work? Throw yourself into projects and good work to make yourself feel good and productive in your service.”

“cook yourself a delicious dinner with good wine, good conversation, and good friends to relax and have a good time”

2012 “Do you know how to ‘take a year off’ to figure out your next step? Throw yourself into an interesting and new job, study for GREs and entrance exams, and fill out grad school applications all at the same time in yet another strange country.”

All I can say is:

“cook yourself a delicious dinner with good wine, good conversation, and good friends to relax and have a good time”

26 Enero 2012

 Upon arriving back in Madrigal after my trip to The States I expected a few things:

1)    a room completely covered in dust and dirt

2)    chickens out of the coop eating my garden and still underfed with no eggs

3)    weed-filled, chicken attacked or Sun-scorched garden

4)    a huge dog having grown out of our puppy

well, I scored about 50% on that test for this is what I found:

1)    a room not only covered completely in dust and dirt, but varmint droppings and dinner mess. It appears that it had oatmeal for breakfast every day and slept warm and cozy on my pillo that it also turned into a toilet

2)    the chickens were in the koop (woot!) and had just laid this morning. While they were indeed underfed and eating their eggs, they still had enough nourishment to lay. First step? Check! Not as bad as I anticipated

3)    a sincerely weed-filled garden. I can’t even tell the difference between weed and vegetable. Within the next few days we will be looking at the plan we drew up and trying to guess what is what.

4)    A dog, much more huge, grown up, and well mannered than I ever expected. She is not only no longer a puppy, but she is a sophisticated young adult. She knows the rules of the house. she will sit and watch them cut up and salt a sheep sniffing the air intently, but never coming close to the carcass; just waiting patiently for a toss of fat here and there. She remembers me like I never left. Today, I was working on the computer at my bed and she brought me a full piece of fat and laid it next to me on my blanket. This hungry dog carried me a whole piece of fat in her mouth and dropped it by my side, still whole. Then she sat and looked at me like, come-on stupid. I have never had an animal do this. I was stunned. Those stories people tell are true. I pretended to nibble some with my fingers, said thank you, and when I pulled my hand away from the disgusting lard. She did a little whatever shrug, stood up, ate the fat, and trotted away to go find more.

5)    So many community members expect me to have gifts from America for them. I am a little confused, as I have explained that I am poor too to them thousands of times. But, I have also not been to The States and back before. The gifts I brought back are for the people that don’t ask, the children- books, sweaters, and school supplies- almost all purchased by my family and friends and donated to the library project. Every times someone askes me what I brought back for them it fills be with the pangs of guilt. If only I could have packed something small and stupid and inexpensive. Anything, so they could say they got a gift from Srta. Luz from the US. But, you can’t do that for an entire community. And I hate that.

6)    The neighbor said Doña Juana cried in early January because she thought I was never coming back (I didn’t call them while I was in The States due to the expense). And then I got back, I was reprimanded for not calling, I handed out the family’s gifts and business went on as usual. They were trying to coax me to hike to the cows with them today, but I insisted on cleaning and making my living space habitable again.

7)    This place is disgusting. When I first moved here and saw the space, I remember being utterly disgusted. Doubting my ability to live here healthfully for two years. Then cleaning up my room and going on periodic rampades cleaning our shared bathroom (shit hole), the patio, their dishes, the spicket area that regularly overflows. Living here you get used to it. You manage with what you have. You clean as much as you can while still living a life that isn’t 100% cleaning up after other people. When I visite the states I  thought, “This is disgustingly steril” Then I get back here and I think, “this is disgustingly overly disgusting.”

22 Enero take five (?)

Courtney, who's last name I don't even know, and a young woman I can't even claim to know particularly well, was in my Training Group ( Peace Corps Peru 15).
She is particularly hilarious so I wanted to share some more quotes from her blog that I find particularly relatable or hilarious...

"Roadside diners, the places where my busses stop and have us all get off for a quick and dirty menú, have become one of my favorite things.  I don't know why.  They are gross and awesome.   They are like the fast food of Peru.  I have two: one on the way to Chiclayo, that is just a little joint by the orange bridge, and one on the way to Chota, that is in the plaza of the little town of Chancay Baños.

You get there and you have just a couple of options - maybe pollo guisado, carne guisado, arroz con pollo, and sopa de res - and you are like, "Man, those have to be the four least appetizing Peruvian dishes.  Guess I'll get the arroz con pollo, again, because at least it's not completely buried in grease."  Then you dig in with a spoon and your fingers, trying to find the meat lost in the rice and you get covered in grease anyways and you pour on the ají, even though it looks like you may lose your intenstinal wall later from it, and it burns til you are crying and they bring you a nasty, nasty chicha morada to wash it down and all you have to clean up with are these little strips of glossy and completely unabsorbant recycled paper.  And when you get back on the bus, all you can do is pass out.

God, it's great."

"The Bad:

• At the hot springs today, I learned that it's official.  I do not like playing with children.  Except for specific children that I like, such as my friends kids and my nieces and such.  But random groups of children of strangers?  Leave me alone.
• The Muni finally grew a pair and told me to give up on the library idea, as they were never going to help me and were never going to encourage anyone else to help me because reading is stupid and no one wants to do it. 
• No  matter how much they fix up the road, they don't make the drivers be any less drunk.
• I have a sore throat.  Almost always.
• Did I mention rainy season?

The Strange:

• I am scared of going home in eight months.
• I am a rollercoaster less than ever.  I love-hate this place.  It doesn't even change anymore.  I don't go back and forth on loving it then hating it.  I both all the time.  It will never cease to amaze and fascinate me.  Home seems so sterile compared.  But hot water..."

"The Things I Miss:

• English
• Anonymity
• Bagels
• Yards
• Maple trees
• Bacon
• Various People
• Closets
• Not feeling awkward
• Convenience stores
• Convenience in general
• Quiet
• Stocked kitchens
• Toasters
• Tiled bathroom floors
• Clean pets
• Couches and comfy chairs
• Even remote punctuality
• Melty cheeses and bready breads
• Room to walk down the sidewalk
• Lawsuits
• Customer service
• Ice cubes
• Hot water on tap
• Drinking water on tap
• Snow
• Comfortable vehicles
• Safe Vehicles
• Functional vehicles
• Variety in music
• Polite children
• Polite adults
• To-go cups
• Hours of operation
• Diversity
• Readers
• TV
• Clean smells
• Washing machines
• Dryers
• Autumn leaves"

You can keep up with her blog at:

http://plentyofintention.blogspot.com/


It is funny that I find her, and every other volunteer I know who finish service the same time I do beginning to obsess about the next step. Like we are leaving tomorrow. I feel like July is a thousand years away and so many people are acting like it is going to fly by.

22 Enero 2012 take four

Many of you know that I use podcasts like This American Life, Radiolab, and On Being to keep in touch with news, science, and faith while working in this disconnected village of the Andes.

Many of you also know that I was raised as a boycotter. To vote with my dollar, which is amazingly powerful in this world. For example, I will not shop at Walmart, I will not wear clothing articles not made in the country where I am living, and I have spats here and there where i don't go to certain restaurants because I know they purchase a certain fruit or bean or whatever from farms that don't pay their workers fair wages, etc. It is a part of me and always will be.
Others of you have no idea I do these things because this is the first time I have advertised this publicly. So unless you have gone clothing shopping with me and have seen me checking the tags on every article, you probably had no idea what a closet anti-capitalistic freak I am.

that said, this is one of the best podcasts I have ever listened to in my life. Especially because it opens with such a fantastic story-teller and concludes with research and follow-up facts. you walk away from this radio episode feeling furious, confused, betrayed, appreciative, and enlightened. If you are anything like me and Gray, it is one of those shows where you have to pause it sporadically to discuss and debate with whom you are listening.

I highly recommend listening to it in its entirety...

Of course, I don't believe we, the consumer, can blame Apple completely. If we want them to hire more people to check the facilities which manufacture our products, we have to do two things: Demand it., And pay a little more. But, as the Western Consumer, we are more interested in paying the lowest price for the best product.
You have all the control. You vote with your all-powerful dollar.

or, as my mother so wisely pointed out... apply could just decide not to have such a huge ($15.7 Billion) revenue and hire more workers from the US to oversee that the workers in their factories are paid and treated fairly. Or, god forbid, keep their factories here in the US.

22 Enero 2012 take three

Walter Brueggemann 1978 "our consumer culture is organized against history. There is a depreciation of memory and a ridicule of hope, which means everything must be held in the now, either an urgent now or an eternal now."

22 Enero 2012 take two

Excerpts from the international/interfaith summit on happiness with:
the presiding bishop of the episcopal church of the US
the Dali Lama
the chief rabi of great britian
and a muslim scholar

"Lord Sacks: The definition of a Jew, Israel is at it says in Genesis 34, one who struggles, wrestles, with God and with humanity and prevails. And Jacob says something very profound to the angel. He says, "I will not let you go until you bless me." And that is how I feel about suffering. When something bad happens, I will not let go of that bad thing until I have discovered the blessing that lies within it."

--------

"The Dalai Lama: I always believe and also share with the people, the very purpose of our life is for happiness. Those nonbeliever also they felt that religion — religious faith is a — brings a lot of sort of complication. So without that, they feel the easier to achieve happy life. So I think the very purpose of our existence is for happiness. So that mentioned, your Constitution. And then also is equally their right. You see, happiness not come from sky, but we must make a happy life. So we have a responsibility. The government cannot provide happiness. Happiness must create within ourselves and our family. So ultimately, our own responsibility, isn't it?

Dr. Schori: Happiness, is not a right, but a duty, and a duty not just to one's self, but to the whole community, to the whole of creation. When we see it primarily as a right, it is so individually focused that at least many Americans lose the perspective of the larger whole. Right to pursue happiness on behalf of society, on behalf of all creation.

Lord Sacks: I'd like just to reflect on one other word, which is "pursuit." Finding happiness doesn't necessarily follow from pursuing it. Sometimes the deepest happiness comes when you're least expecting it. And there is a wonderful story about an 18th-century rabbi, Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev, who is looking at people rushing to and fro in the town square. And he wonders why they're all running so frenetically. He stops one and he says, "Why are you running?" And the man says, "I'm running to make a living." And the rabbi says to him, "How come you're so sure that the living is in front of you and you have to run to catch it up? Maybe it's behind you and you got to stop and let it catch up with you." Now which bits of contemporary culture do we stop and let our blessings catch up with us? Now that is called the Sabbath, which we all share."

--------

Dr. Schori: We share many of the same forms of prayer — prayer as awareness and attending. Christians, it may happen in other traditions as well, sometimes pray with images, sometimes pray without images, a kind of emptying prayer. I think the part that is perhaps most attractive to new learners is about understanding all of existence as prayer. The Celts were very effective at blessing each moment of the day, blessing the milking of the cow, blessing the covering of the fire at night. Brother Lawrence blessed the washing of dishes. Runners begin to understand the blessing that comes with putting your body to work and emptying the mind. There are practices that each of us participates in that are about simple awareness of God's presence in every breath, in every moment, in every encounter, in every challenge. It's that awareness and attending that is, I think, so significant.

--------

Geshen Thupten Jinpa: For example, in the Gospel, you know, in the Gospel you find the commandment that, if some hit you on your right cheek, then turn the other cheek.

The Dalai Lama: So there's this sort of same idea, practice of patience and practice of tolerance.

Dr. Schori: Yes, but also subverting, subverting the violence, using the violence, in some sense, the energy of the anger to change the situation.

Dr. Schori: Hitting on one cheek in the ancient world, the superior would hit with the back of the hand. And if you turned your head, he would have to use the other hand and look you in the face. So suddenly the dynamic has changed. He would have to see you. He can't simply hit an inferior.

Lord Sacks: There's a line to me — in the 23rd chapter of Deuteronomy — so unexpected. And I want — I think we all have to hear it. Here it is: Moses is talking about the experience of the Israelites in Egypt. We read about it in the Book of Exodus, an age of oppression, of slavery, of almost genocide, attempted genocide. And eventually the Israelites leave. They go through the desert, and as they're about to cross the Jordan and enter the land, Moses says these words: "Do not hate an Egyptian for you are a stranger in his land." Now that language is very odd. You're a stranger in his land sounds as if the Egyptians gave them hospitality, as if they put up the Israelites in the Cairo Hilton [laugh], and it wasn't like that.

So what is Moses saying, "Do not hate an Egyptian for you are strangers in your land"? He is telling the Israelites that you have left the physical Egypt. Now you must leave the mental experience of Egypt. You have to let go of hate, because if you do not let go of hate, you will never be free. If the Israelites had continued to hate their enemies, Moses would have taken the Israelites out of Egypt, but he would not have taken Egypt out of the Israelites. They would be slaves to their past, slaves to their feeling of pain and injustice and grievance. This is the line he taught them and the line we have to repeat day after day in this difficult and dangerous 21st century. You have to let go of hate if you want to be free.

If you are intersted in listening...

22 Enero 2012

Upon returning from Quillabamba we visited Mario and helped out a little with his vacaciones utiles (summer camp) for kids in Sibayo.

Mario's host family raises cattle and farms alpacas and sheep.
Mario and I couldn't really figure out why I was always complaining about the inefficiency of the workers in Madrigal and the lack of flavors in their sickness-infested-food while Mario thought the people of the canyon were pretty efficient and didn't eat food that tasted that badly at all. Now we get it.
Being there for only two days we learned that Madrigaleñans are VERY inefficient and silly in their methods as Mario's family taught us how they use their resources to the fullest. And I could actually eat the food they served. They even used some spices when cooking their potatoes and chicken and did not cook over and open fire of dried cow poop.
It was nice to be on an efficient, profit producing, Peruvian farm...

22 Enero 2012 playing some diary catch up

A couple weeks ago when Gray and I were headed to Cuzco to visit Hirma's parents we boarded the cheapest bus we could get on.
This is about a 10 hour bus ride, so it is an overnight venture.

Around 9pm, the bus stops. No one comes into the bus to inform us what is going on, but we can see snow has just begun falling outside the window.
An hour later it starts to get cold as the bus has no temperature modulation. We put on our coats, but the bus isn't moving, and the further we get from sunset the more I start to shiver. The bus still hasn't advanced, and the driver has turned off the engine. Gray sees that I need a blanket and insists on getting me/us our sleeping bags that are in our luggage below the bus.  He goes down to the drivers module and knocks politely. I hear his knocking getting more insistent. The driver ignores his knocking.
Gray tries hollering in some insistent but broken spanish, and the driver just shakes his head.
"He is all toasty warm in the front of the bus wrapped up in blankets and he is just sitting there ignoring me knocking."
"You are sure he can hear you?"
"Yes."
Gray is fuming from the man's rudeness and isn't willing to be rude back.
I, am willing to be as rude as needed.

This bus ride starts in arequipa, which is relatively warm this time of year, goes up to about 16,000 feet during the journey, then ends in cuzco which is also low and warm. You can imagine the temperature fluctuation and why we were not dressed properly in the case that the bus broke down.

I put on all the layers I can and tromp out into the snow... shivering.
I go to the front windshield, right in front of the driver's face, and knock. the only thing keeping my knuckles from hitting his forehead is a thin, glass, windshield.
He tries not to look at me. I hollar, "Good evening. We need to get into the luggage to get blankets. We are freezing."
he just shakes his head no.
i repeat, "We need to get into the luggage, now." while still hammering right in front of his face.
He signals me to come around to his side window and we continue conversing something along the line of:
"What?"
"It is very cold upstairs. We need to get into the luggage compartment to get blankets in our bags."
"no."
"No what? I need you to open it."
"we don't have a way to open it."
"You don't have a way to open it?" I know he is lieing so that he doesn't have to get out of his warm cacoon. "I need you to give me the key then so I can open it."
"no." shaking his head
"No, what, you don't have the key? I know you have the key."
he continues shaking his head no.
"you see me, you see what I am wearing (leggings a sweater, and a light jacket). Me and everyone else are literally freezing upstairs. You are all wrapped in blankets in your module, while we are freezing. You have to open the luggage compartment right now."
He looks at me for the first time, stops shaking his head and hollars something to a kid in the bus's driver's bed burried in blankets. He has succumb to my annouyingness, not my discomfort or his responsibilities.
The kid gets up, and in his pjs grabs a set of keys and hurries out into the snow.
Gray and the rest of the bus file out to get their luggage quickly.

"Do you have a cigarette?" the driver askes me. asshole.

Because we stepped outside, we could see the long line of buses and cars stopped ahead of us. Basically, we don't know why we are stopped. All we know is there are at least 20 vehicles a head of us stopped with their engines turned off. So our bus driver has done the same. No one knows when we will move.

we assume they just don't like driving in snow or something, and curl up in our sleeping bags. we didn't sleep too uncomfortably that night.


In the morning, the sun comes up and the snow melts instantly.
The other busses are starting to turn on their engines and inch forward, but no one knows why we are stopped. there are groups of peruvian men outside yelling at each other. I am watching out the front window everything I can.

There is one spot ahead of us that is very congested, but we can't see any sort of accident. 

After about an hour or two of bickering and no movement, women can be seen on the streets for the first time this morning. It was obvious that they were fed up with the men bickering and are going to figure this out because their kids are tired and hungry. 

Suddenly the cars are moving. Getting to their side of the road and moving forward very slowly.

Because the busses are parked in the middle of the two-way road, one particularly determined woman organizes everyone enough to get the busses to move over and only use their side of the road. Our asshole bus driver decides not to get over, but to just pass all the other buses while they move over and patiently wait their turn.

So now, we are at the front of the line of buses and still can't see why we can't continue advancing. there are just a bunch of cars, trucks and buses stopped in both directions behind us, and coming from the other way as well. Suddenly, hundreds of stopped buses come into view.
"Wow, something must have flipped in the middle of the road or something."

Then, we see it. One truck. who's back tires slid off he road. blocking one half of the road. then another large truck tried to pass it coming from the opposite direction and couldn't fit through the space of road available, so it just stopped. Parked. One truck that can't get out on our side, one truck that insists on passing through first on the other side, but unable to squeeze through are what is blocking this pass for a couple thousand people. a completely solvable issue, unsolved.
We are sitting where a small accident where no one was injured and no cars were damaged combined with stubbornness cause hundreds of busses, cars and trucks to be stopped on the only road from arequipa to cuzco.

There are no police in site, even though we are only 4 hours outside arequipa and have been stopped for about 12 hours.

Someone, to be honest, probably one of the women, convinces the cars coming from the other direction to back up (which took forever because they were hundreds of cars nose to bumper), they convince the fat truck with the stubborn driver to back up and get out of the way, and then suddenly there is a mad dash from our side of the road to pass through the skinny space now available. a game of dangerous and congesting chicken.
Our asshole driver is one of the first to get through.

As we are pulling away riders from the back of the bus start yelling, "falta gente! falta gente!"
Some people had gotten off the bus to get to a makeshift stand where someone was selling rice and noodles. "They are running behind the bus!"
the driver says, "Let them keep running." as he continues driving.
The police officers have just begun to arrive at the scene and they are signaling our driver to continue moving forward. If he stops, he could get arrested or a ticket for  disobeying orders.

There are hundreds of cars stopped coming from the other direction that we are now passing by. As we curve around we can see hundreds of cars were also stopped behind us. We can't get over the number of vehicles inconvenienced by this minor issue. This problem, that could have been solved last night in about 15 minutes if the people had organized would have only bothered about 20 vehicles. But, because it was cold out, they just curled up in their busses and waited until morning, holding us hostage in the middle of a freezing nowhere.

31 Dicimembre 2011 + 21 Enero 2012

31 Diciembre 2011

We are at the National Museum of the American Indian.
It's circular design feeds you from exhibit to exhibit showing you more than teaching you
the history of the Native American peoples.

My mother is understandably excited to show me the Peruvian exhibit in the museum. I have spent the day wondering around with my brother and sharing knowledge and ideas with him. I like talking about the Peruvian people.

I put on the headset with a woman speaking about environemental conservation in peru and end up wripping them off my head quicker than they went on. With the sound of the quechua language in my ears here in the US my body gets confused and all the feeling of frustration from my work come flooding up from somewhere. While on the comfortable and therapeutic soil of my country, I am not ready to be mentally in peru again. I want to be here, now.

The funny part is, parts of me still wants to be there. Away from the shopping malls and obsession with cleanliness (what is this business with antibacterial wipes next to shopping cart stations? excessive.)

Psychologically speaking the brain loves patterns. It loves the familiar. What it can predict.

Here I am longing for the familiar, not knowing what the familiar is.
The modernity of the US? Or the ancientness of Madrigal, Peru?

While longing for the familiar, I also long for the new.
While longing for the comfortable, I also long for the challenging.

yeah... i pretty much want a little bit of everything in my life, it's true. I want to be everywhere.


21 Enero 2012

I have been back in peru for a few weeks now. It does feel like home. That is, when I am in my little hut surrounded my american sauces and foreign spices.

16 Enero 2012

la hacienda

This past week Gray and I took a small vacation to the home of my good friend, Hirma's parents who live just outside Cuzco, close to Quillabamba, above a village called Choullai.

la cocina

They have a beautiful fruit and coffee plantation. We spent the week playing with Hirma's nephews, planting coffee trees, hiking and picking avocados, oranges, cacaos, mangos, bananas, coca leaves, mandarine, luffas and lemons. It was a shame that the tobacco, sugar cane, coffee, vegetables and honey bees weren't in season to be tended to.

picking coca

day's hike

toasting coffee

being shown how to toast coffee properly

banana bread

make-shift entertainment for the lil 'uns

They have a beautiful fruit and coffee plantation. We spent the week playing with Hirma's nephews, planting coffee trees, hiking and picking avocados, oranges, cacaos, mangos, bananas, coca leaves, mandarine, luffas and lemons. It was a shame that the tobacco, sugar cane, coffee, vegetables and honey bees weren't in season to be tended to.


You will notice in the picture we found displayed on hirma's father's wall that only nuns and the pope go to heaven while artists, ballerinas, and men with mustaches go elsewhere...

4 Enero 2012

exhausted.
after multiple flight delays and cancelations i am finally in lima.
I was dropped into steven and mila's arms and shuttled straight to a meeting with one of their biggest donors for their library (still stinky I threw on a lace top and was off).

attempting to be super woman
juggling meetings on the publication of the after school program...
meetings with important people is always fun... and stressful

1 Enero 2012

I want to take a moment to formally thank my parents.

I didn't know what to expect emotionally after spending 18 months abroad, but since the moment I stepped onto my homeland's soil they have been nothing but extremely loving and attentive.  They shuttled me into my family and friends' loving arms day after day. They catered to my every whim and craving. Thank you.
I apologize for the brat that I am. I don't feel like there is a way to thank you enough for putting up with my randomness,
"matt, stuff your pockets with those ketchup packets for me"
"seriously?"
"yes! no shame!"
he had ketchup packets coming out of his ears

"mom, dad, grab all the one serving cream cheese you can"
without a pause their pockets a filled

thank you family and friends, for being so wonderful and available for me during my short jaunt home.
and thank you to everyone who donated books, school supplies, and warm clothing to the youth and parents of madrigal.