Two days ago the baby cow was born in the fields.
My host mother had come up to feed the bulls adb twi kuttke feet were sticking out of the mama cow.
The cute little thing has a white spot the shape of a heart on her forehead and I believe her name will come from that shape. Her skin is far too much for her little bons, and she wobbles around in an attempt to familiarize, strengthen, and have fun.
The exciting news now is FREE MILK!These first few days after the birth the mother will produce a milk like substance (in quechua called puq'o) that is thick and yellow like a milkshake. My hos tmother said she likes to turn this intoa a yogurt-like oatmeal with cinnamo and sugar. I boiled the crap out of it and mad an enzyme-less sweet cheese that we munchd with toasted and salted corn kernels. It reminded meo f kettel corn.
Te extra puq'o I boiled with quinoa, cinnamon, and sugar. I awnted to eat it with a spoon and chop up a mango to put on top but it was far too thin and sweet. Instead, w turned t into a quinoa tea and added anis and hot water. mmmm
Walking to milk the cow this morning something I can get used to doing daily.
December 19, 2010
16 Diciembre 2010 take two
As I was loading the bys yesterday a tiny little woman that I have worked in teh felds with appeared at my side. With her one-year-old tied to her back (I have never seen her without him there) she hugged me like a daughter. Our seat assignments were on opposite ends of the bus, but that didn´t keep her little body from finding her way next to me. For a majority of the ride her little one was on my lap slobbering up the window or smashing cookies into my pants. I loved every minute. When he got fussy she would ship out her tit and he would attach himself laying sideways. His lips connected at one end, and his little feet walkng all over the back of the seat in front of us. I convinced her to sleep and I would watch ovr him for a bit. As her head bobbled lazily over the asphalt-less road, her breasts still exposed under her rolled sweater, the little one too fell asleep in my lap. It must hav been funny to see such a tradtional woman and child so cozily cuddled up together with a little white woman in te last seat on the bus.
In his sleep he pantomimed nursng and his tiny little feet danced all over my legs. My emnotions fluctuated for most of the ride. To be born here. The beauty of the ancient life he will lead, and the challeng expressng itself in the obvious gum infection he already carries. Of course, his chubby cheecks, long curly hair and chewing in his sleep reminded me of my brother.
In his sleep he pantomimed nursng and his tiny little feet danced all over my legs. My emnotions fluctuated for most of the ride. To be born here. The beauty of the ancient life he will lead, and the challeng expressng itself in the obvious gum infection he already carries. Of course, his chubby cheecks, long curly hair and chewing in his sleep reminded me of my brother.
December 16, 2010
December 15, 2010
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.
December 12, 2010
10 Diciembre 2010
"Human rights are the foundation of freedom, peace, development and justice -- and the heart of the work of the United Nations around the world.
Laws to protect and promote human rights are indispensable. But quite often, progress comes down to people… courageous women and men… striving to protect their own rights and the rights of others… determined to make rights real in people’s lives.
It is these human rights defenders to whom we dedicate this year’s observance of Human Rights Day.
Defenders are a diverse group. They might be part of a civil society organization, a journalist or even a lone citizen, spurred to action by abuses close to home.
But they all share a commitment to expose wrongdoing, protect the most vulnerable and end impunity. They stand up, speak out -- and today they tweet -- in the name of freedom and human dignity..
Human rights defenders play a vital role in the fight against discrimination. They investigate violations and help victims gain justice and support.
Far too often, their work entails tremendous risk.
Defenders are harassed, stripped of their jobs and wrongfully imprisoned. In many countries, they are tortured, beaten and murdered.
Their friends and family members are also subjected to harassment and intimidation.
Women human rights defenders face additional risks, and therefore need additional support.
This Human Rights Day is an occasion to salute the courage and achievements of human rights defenders everywhere – and to pledge to do more to safeguard their work.
States bear the primary responsibility to protect human rights advocates. I call on all States to ensure the freedom of expression and the freedom of assembly that make their work possible.
When the lives of human rights advocates are endangered, we are all less secure.
When the voices of human rights advocates are silenced, justice itself is drowned out.
On this Human Rights Day, let us be inspired by those seeking to make our world more just. And let us remember that everyone -- no matter their background, training or education -- can be a human rights champion.
So let us use that power. Let us each be a human rights defender."
Ban Ki-moon
December 7, 2010
7 Diciembre 2010
My darling friend came out of surgery like a champ yesterday, and is in a bit of pain today but handling it well. We treated ourselves to pizza last night in Lima and crashed.
I will be picking up new glasses (yes, I managed to break both pairs I brought with me to Peru) then heading back to Arequipa today. Unfortunately, I probably will not make it to Chivay (in the canyon) in time for the biggest celebration of the year, but that just might be for the best... no drunk men to deal with.
I feel so far away from "home" right now. My tiny room in the canyon feels beyond distant as I walk by the 2,000 s/. ($600) dress in a Limenian boutique. It is kind of funny how I act when I have access now, it is like I don't need it. There used to be a mad dash whenever I came into town to buy everything I thought I needed. Now, I don't really see a need for a lot of it. I can go get a glass of wine, and I would enjoy it oh, so much, but it just doesn't make sense when that 10 s/. could feed me for two days in the canyon. Or, I could use money I save to make improvements on my host family's house and use that to teach them how to live healthfully. That is so much more rewarding than any amenity I could find in Lima or even the finest glass of wine.
Another funny realization... I still don't have a mirror in my room in the canyon. Every time I see my reflection when I come into the city it is like meeting someone new. During the few weeks I have been mirror-less my hair always grows or my weight varies. Perhaps I will put the 40 s/. up for a mirror, but I just can't validate it at this point. My little pocket mirror that shows me my face in portions will have to do.
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