22 Julio 2011

Today was a local celebration of the cleaning of the canales. As the water system is such an essential life source, it is celebrated yearly through a community voluntary cleaning. I would consider it a beautiful tradition, if everyone in site wasn’t stupid drunk.

There was a morning parade to begin the festivities. Different community groups competed in which yours truly was featured. I bounced around with a shovel at the head of my family’s group in some sort of an attempt to duplicate their dance style. We won third place and a bundle of sodas.

It was then that I caught wind of a rumor that I am Don Juan’s daughter from a relationship he had before he met Doña Juana. Naturally, Don Juan and I find this hilarious, and Doña Juana, not so much. Funny how everyone seems to know me now, but they still haven’t quite figured out what I am doing here.

The second part of the tradition is drinking like maniacs, and then hiking up to the spout of our mother canal, cleaning it, and making an offering. I intended with all my heart to make the hour and a half hike, but failed miserably. As I had been a featured dancer every little old woman with a bottle of chicha and every gentleman with gazillion proof alcohol insisted I take a drink with them. Saying, “no” would have been a huge disrespect, so I sipped away and tossed many a glass over my shoulder. I was only feeling mildly tipsy when it was becoming time to start the hike, but by then the men were well past tipsy. As the touchy-feelyness increased and my host dad had to continually save me from uncomfortable situations, I excused myself and headed back to the house to avoid the ridiculousness.

The rest of the day I worked on numbers for the greenhouse project. As night fell Roxana came in the room and begged me to go with her to find her parents in the drunken mass of people who had returned from the offering site. I can’t say no to the girl, so I wrapped myself in blankets, and off we went. Don Juan y Juana were tired from the hike and easier to pull home than we expected. But, Elvis was still missing since midday. Round two, once Roxana put her parents to bed we headed to get Elvis from the group of kids playing soccer in the plaza. Ready for a fight, I took a wide stance and hollered, “Elvis, it is time, love.” And without the slightest argument he followed me back to Roxana. I think he knew hot chocolate and strawberries would be waiting for him in my room… and they were.

I have written about the drunkenness before. I have written about how sad it is that the children have to take care of their parents. How money that could go to bread, fruit, and vegetables gets spent on rubbing alcohol for shots and beer. I couldn’t believe how much of our barely harvest went straight into the chicha brew.
Today, I reached a different understanding. As a daughter figure, and loving Juan y Juana, I am fearful to leave them drunk wondering the streets. What if they fall? So, it forces me into the community of drunks that scare the crap out of me. No wonder Roxana doesn’t want to go alone. She hates it as much as I do and every other child in the community.

In my opinion, what is the best way to fight this? Some say anti-alcholism campaigns, but it is such a huge part of the local tradition, I don’t see that working. Personally, I think they drink because they are bored. Their life is habitual, and they want to shake it up and feel something. So, what is my solution to the alcoholism? Art. If they had another way to express themselves, feel, enjoy themselves without the additional need of alcohol, perhaps they wouldn’t drink so much. My little atfterschool program is based on games and art, but I don’t think it will quite be enough to drown out this heavy cultural alcoholism. But, perhaps it is a beginning baby step.

21 Julio 2011 take two

After camping, and before heading to Arequipa city, I left my camping gear with Gray in Corporaque. Stupidly, upon returning home to Madrigal, I was sleeping-bag-less. I told Roxana and she gasped and showed up in my room with her father’s pancho, her mother’s pollera (heavy traditional dress), and the one extra alpaca blanket they could spare. Needless-to-say I piled everything on. Sleeping under so much uncomfortable heaviness I still wake up about every day in the coldest part of the night and can’t find it in me to even toss and turn. But, as the Sun comes up, I can fall back asleep for a couple hours and roll out of bed about 8 with the family.

21 Julio 2011

Here are some images of the Primary School Anniversary celebration today…






And some images of what I came home to after the anniversary party…

The men chopping the llama apart


the women cleaning and separating the inards

elvis and me returning from the corral




Somehow, llama blood is splattered on the outside wall of my room and door. Don Juan laughed and said it was an offering (he was kidding).

20 Julio 2011

Upon returning from Arequipa City I landed in Madrigal still running. I delivered a package from Hirma’s husband to her, and as soon as my face became seen in the community requests started coming in. Exhausted, but happy, I ran around helping neighbors carry food buckets, lending my belongings, and giving out medication. As this is the middle of winter, everyone is sick and therefore a little weak and tired. Every child has a runny nose, every mother has a cough, every father is over-drinking in an attempt to stay warm. As the schools are about to step into a “spring break”- two week vacation from classes, I am shifting my attention to being as helpful as possible with the daily labor, and eating up all the beauty in the canyon I can find.

Last weekend I camped-out aside the natural volcanic hot springs of Corporaque. Hours simmering under the stars and full moon healed my feet and legs from the day’s hike there and prepared me for the hike up the canyon to a small spring to camp-out the following evening. As I packed as lightly as possible and camera-less, if you want to see the spectacular view, you will need to find a way to bring your eyes here for me to show you…

15 Julio 2011

The days don’t stop anymore. With laundry, cleaning, cooking, teaching, planning, organizing, and teaching some more, I barely get time to be “cool aunt lu”. Tonight felt so good when Roxana and Elvis came in to watch a movie in the usual Friday-night-fashion. It was the first time this week I actually had a chance to give them some lovin. After popcorn, fruit, hot chocolate (with crushed vitamins dissolved inside… I am SO becoming my mother) and a movie, the kids still weren’t ready to leave, so we goofed around in my room until I had to kick them out.

The world map is complete. We put the names on every country today. This weekend, Meche is painting the logos, and an image of a little girl leaning on the map, reading a book under the letters, “reading, we know the world”. It is so cute it makes me vomit in my mouth a little. And, it is finished just in time for the anniversary celebration of the primary school. So, when the parents come by for the celebration, they will see this project their kids have been talking about for the past month. Perrrrfect.

Did I mention the dogs in town finally recognize me? Instead of growls, now, I generally get paws on the chest. I proudly carry my scarlet letter/muddy paw prints on my coat around town.

The teacher quartet heard I could make that mexican food called “little donkeys” or “burritos”. So, yesterday I got an old wine bottle from the recycling and rolled out some flour tortillas. Meche’s son refused to touch them, but for the first time ever, Elvis actually said, “Que rico”- “how yummy”, and Roxana ate the whole thing! It has been over a year since I have eaten this, one of my favorite foods, and my mind kept flashing to Chipotle, Don Pablos, Trudy’s, and breakfast burrito stand on the way to class in Austin. Heaven.





On another line of thought, it is funny how my “homesickness” has changed. Before, it was a longing to be there. A longing to flee back. A longing to hug my mother and father. A longing to drive much too fast down Roachton Road blaring music with my brother. A longing to frost Christmas cookies with my grandmother at her kitchen table. A longing to sit with Tiffyn for hours and debate every philosophical topic we can come up with. A longing to sit in her house and watch Jamie paint. A longing to fix bikes in Larry’s shed. A longing to garden with Michelle in her backyard. A longing to concert-bounce with Aaron in sxsw or acl. A longing to cook a meal much too large for my dining room table to handle and eat with everyone I love.
Now, the longing has changed. I am happy here. I want you all, here. I want to show you what I have learned. I want to live my life here, with access to you. To stand on the side of the canyon with my parents’ proud arms around me. To horseback ride with Matthew. To show grandma how I am mastering handmade egg noodles in my little hut. To wear alpaca hats with tiffyn. To just see how Jamie would gaze at the harlequin sunsets here. To glide down the mountain paths on bikes with Larry. To tend to the chacra with Michelle. For Aaron and I to bring art here, where it has rarely, to never, been.

While I know that all these people that I love will never know this place, I know that their presence here is felt none-the-less. I love and miss you all deeply, but know that I am happy and healthy here.

13 Julio 2011

I slept from 10pm last night until 9am this morning. Meaning? This weekend knocked me out. Too much beauty in nature and relationships for my little body to handle. I was awoken by Doña Juana knocking on my door,
“Luz! You awake?”
“Half dead, mamai.”
Laughter from more than Doña Juana resounds from the other side of my thin, wooden door. In my pjs I roll out of my sleeping bag and there is a small party on the patio. Doña Juana stands on the other side of my door with a huge smile, and the last piece of last night’s cake. Passed out is the only appropriate turn of phrase to what happened last night to me just before the cake was cut. Completely exhausted and retiring early, I had never received a slice. Filled with warmth and love from her smile I slipped on my moccasins and took my place with this, the second round, of friends and family. They offered more gazillion proof alcohol and I offered to make tea for everyone.
The friends that had come by this morning were that of the same school grade of Don Juan. Friends from early childhood, they sat and told stories in half Spanish half Quechua laughing and crying. As we passed around the four tea cups between us I could not have been more content. With a goofy smile on my face I responded, “Ustedes” when my host dad asked me in quechua, “Who are the best parents in Madrigal?”

12 Julio 2011

This weekend I took some time to do a very Western Form of entertainment: hiking and camping. Instead of cuddling up with the kitten in my hut, I went up to the top of the nearest cerro Saturday night, then to the riverbed of the bottom of the canyon Sunday night to pitch a tent. Since the family sent Niñacha, the family dog, to the ranch to guard the alpacas, sheep, and llamas, a new dog has made our commune his home. This sweet and slightly stupid chow-looking-mut has become my buddy, and he did all the hiking along with. The heavy pack of firewood and supplies straight up the first day gave my thighs strength to hop over the rocks along the river the second. As usual, the sites and smells were breathtaking. It sure felt like I wasn’t breathing all weekend.

I took a combi back into Madrigal with the dog between my legs, and kids piled on my lap. Surprisingly, everyone on the combi happened to be friends and family, so two little ones and I sang childrens’ tunes together in Spanish, English, and Quechua as a form of entertainment when we got a flat. It was amazing how the chatty adults went silent every time the children started to sing, and in supportive applause, kept them singing for a couple hours. Having issues changing the flat in the dark the driver ended up with my camping headlamp on under the bus using the Leatherman my father gifted to me before I left The States.

I had purchased a cake in Chivay when I passed through and arrived just in time to celebrate Doña Juana’s birthday with the family. What I didn’t know, that Doña Juana shared with me in a mildly drunken stupor, was that she has been waiting for me all day so I could kill and roast a hare for her birthday dinner. Thank goodness I didn’t know that, or I would have been a hurried wreck all day, and still not arrived in time to get the freshly cleaned meat in the solar oven. Yes, she could have done the dead and fixed up the meat, but who wants to cook their own birthday dinner? And who better than your daughter to do so? But, all was well, when she got home from school, Roxana had taken some jerky from the sheep meat we killed a couple weeks ago and made a yummy stew the dog smelled from outside the house.
As Roxana and I tended to the adults, keeping their plates and cups full, we all tired out quickly and unfortunately never made it to a proper dancing circle. But, somehow, both Juan y Juana ended up with cake and frosting all over their faces.