"Feet Made for Walking"

NEW YEAR'S 2012

2011-12-31T15:25:00.002-08:00

I am ready to ring in the New Year with a group of great new friends. After spending the holidays in the land of mustaches, aka Mexico with close and extended family, coming back to Peru felt like coming home. I am feeling excited to be in this country and to finish my service in Amashca-there are new prospects on the horizon. The coming of a New Year is always like the shedding of a skin, leaving behind the unnecessary and carrying forward the new lessons learned and the strength to put our growth into action.

At this point there are many unknowns, but I welcome them as I welcome the sunshine.

La Chocolatada

2011-12-17T13:01:00.000-08:00

This title refers to Peruvians favorite pastime during the holiday season: hot chocolate with paneton, a type of Christmas bread that comes in a box. In the mountains the weather has become rainy and the morning fog and evening clouds cover the snow capped peaks for most of the day, it's all very "North-Westy."

Many volunteers are traveling for the holidays visiting family and friends back home. I too, am fortunate to be traveling to Mexico for a visit to the familia. I look forward to seeing my grandmother and eating copious amounts of tortillas.

The last several weeks have proven to be fairly productive, with the close of the "Amigos y Libros" program with the local high school seniors in my school. For our finale, they put together a puppet theater production for the elementary aged kids. On December 21st they celebrate their graduation and release into the wide world. Some will continue their studies, some will stay and work the family land, others will head for the cities in search of work...usually in a factory of as a domestic. I'm proud of these kids.

Come New Years I will have about 7 months left of service, which will go by fast. These are the last 7 of the 27 total months. I will have many decision to make. Should I stay a 3rd year? If not, what next? Grad school, NGO work? Where to live? There are many uncertainties, and the situation in the US right now is somewhat scary economically. I think of all my friends back home and wonder how they are doing a midst all the unknowns that they also face.

Missing home is definitely a feature of the holiday time, so this goes out to all of you in Oregon, in Canada, in the Ukraine (I know someone out there is reading) and wish you a happy holiday season. I'll be ringing in the New Year back in the Peruvian Sierra and will send a big shout out from the mountain tops.

Elke

P.S. Papa, I made stollen again!

Awesome Photos by Katie Halasz

2011-11-25T08:40:00.000-08:00

Back in July the newest group of Youth volunteers cam to my site, Amashca for their "Field Based Training." One of those volunteers took these amazing photos. I hope you all enjoy!

What the @#$% am I doing here?

2011-11-23T12:56:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I have been living in the Peruvian Andes for about one year and three months, which leaves me nine months of service as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Thus far diary-like form of writing, and focusing more on what is going on around me, rather than what I am doing. In this blog I do hope to shed some light on what I have been doing here, as a volunteer both in work and in leisure.

So what the @#$% am I doing here? I have asked myself this question many times, and in various lights. But really, my job as a Youth Development volunteer has encompassed a range of activities. My goal is to work with youth and those who influence them; teachers, parents, health workers, etc. In my first year of work I had several short lived projects including a world map mural, “summer school” program, and a girl’s self-esteem group. Currently, I have been helping in the school with a project called “Amigos y Libros,” (Books and Friends) that meets twice a week. Created by another PCV, this project consists of a series of workshops in which high school kids learn to read stories to their younger elementary aged peers. They are taught how to project their voice, read clearly, use gestures and fun voices, and to ask the kids relevant questions. When the workshops are done the kids get into the classroom, usually two at a time to read to the youngsters. This has worked very well. The high school kids have greatly improved in their out-loud reading skills, and the little ones enjoy the stories and picture books. The teachers also learn that reading does not have to be boring and repetitive. Our finale for the year will be a puppet theater written by the older kids on topics such as hygiene and taking care of the environment.

Most recently, with the help of other volunteers, and the local health post I have finally begun the greatest challenge as of yet in my service: teaching sex-ed to rural Andean high schoolers, scary! We had a series of charlas the other week, and plan on using the upcoming World AIDS Day as a launching point to form a Youth Health Promoters group. These are kids that will be trained in all aspects of sexual and reproductive health, serving as leaders in their communities; because really, where do most kids get their information on sex? From each other of course! The health promoters will be a group of kids who have correct information, and this information will bleed out into the wider community.

Up next I will be planning another round of “Vacaciones Utiles” (utilitarian vacations, doesn’t have quite the same ring), which will meet twice a week in the hope to give the kids of Amashca fun and educational ways to spend their vacation time.

In my free time (believe me, there’s plenty of it) I enjoy hiking around the beautiful landscape, chatting with neighbors, yoga, cooking (and eating), the occasional art project, reading (I’ll be posting my reading shortly), and yes, I admit, a daily dose of TV (I have learned there are so many good shows out there!) This helps keep me sane and happy. I also talk with other volunteers, write in my journal, and dance huayno with my little host sister. All good stress relievers.

As a side note, I am looking for illustrated children’s books for grades 1-5. Preferably in Spanish (or Quechua if it’s out there), but if the text is simple they could be translated. You can contact me at elke765@yahoo.com

Part II: Epic Adventure

2011-11-16T11:32:00.000-08:00

The Raft Race Continued:

Building a raft is much more difficult than you may think. First, you need to make sure it is going to float. The right sized logs are everything. Each team was given eight logs; this to be our “home” for the next three days. The whole process was a mad-grab for logs by each of the 48 teams; some fighting broke out, “that’s my log!” It got a little ugly. I for one knew nothing of raft building. A couple of Peruvian women approached us and offered to help us lash, nail, and get our raft together for the price of S. /100 (Soles). My three team members (all strapping young lads from Oregon) said nah, we can do it! So we tried, and tried, and three hours were still hacking out notches for the crossbars (on either end) with a dull machete, which instantly gives you blisters. While all this was going on, it was upwards of 95 degrees, humid as a bathhouse, and lunch was simply not arriving. We were all starting to lose it.

While the boys struggled with the machete, I tried to secure some rope for lashing. This was supposed to be provided for us by the organizers of the event, but there had been some problems, beginning with the fact that the president, a woman in her sixties, was in the town on the other side of the river, getting plastered. She had apparently given cash to an “assistant” to supply all the participants with rope, but this person (maybe seeing an opportunity?) never showed up, pocketing the cash. This little fiasco would set the tone for the rest of the event. Despite all this, our team of four kept plugging away. With the generous help of our neighbors (a team of locals who would end up winning the race), we got our raft notched up for the crossbars, found rope (also thanks to a generous team), and with much help, got our raft lashed together, and the legless chairs nailed down. By this time it was dark, and finally “lunch” arrived-alleviating some of the stress-then it began to rain.

Also thanks to the above mentioned negligence, drinking, etc. on the part of the organizers there weren’t enough tents for all the teams. We ended sleeping in a makeshift covering that originally had served as a shade structure. Others, were not so lucky, they ended up sleeping (or not) on their raft, good god. Thankfully, the day’s events (which had started with leaving Iquitos left us exhausted enough to catch some shut eye until dawn). Side note: dinner arrived at about midnight.

The next morning was the big day, all the teams launched into the water, ready for a long day of paddling. We got our raft in the water, at this exact moment realizing that it didn’t really float too well. The back right hand seat was basically submerged, but in the moment we didn’t think it would be too bad. They sounded the bullhorn and off we went! The minute I dipped my paddle in the water for the first push I knew this was going to be a trial and a half-the water felt heavy and thick as mud as it resisted against my paddle-I was sore after a few minutes. We paddled and paddled, even passing a few teams, and were feeling pretty optimistic despite our rafts defects. Then it started to rain. I was soaked through in about 5 minutes. About this time the currents started to convolute us, you can see them snaking through the enormous river sashaying this was and that. At one point we were dead center of the two banks, not moving at all. We crossed back over, heaving our half sunken raft that we had affectionately named “Zoolander,” because he had a hard time turning left. We were all tired, having paddled about five hours at this point; I had an emotional outburst at one point exclaiming, “We should have spent this money on a jungle tour!” (I told my team, “I am allowed one emotional breakdown per day”). Then we saw the docking point, thank God. We arrived, at about 3:30pm to a small jungle community named Nueva Esperanza. This was nice; to see what a tranquil Amazonian village is like, as it gets invaded by 300 foreigners.

The next morning our team, sleep deprived, sunburned, and mosquito bitten, and sitting in a sinking raft incapable of steering to the left, was not so eager beaver. But a wave of calm washed over us. We knew we had no chance to dominate this river, so we opted to go with the flow. Our strategy: stay to the left bank, paddle as little as possible. For most of the day this worked quite well. We had fun; we saw pink river dolphins, birds, and a crocodile. We ate oreos and shared funny stories. The sun was relentless, we got a little dehydrated, but overall we stayed positive. Our safety net was that we could get towed in by the coast guard be it that we didn’t make the next post.

The sun began to set, and a large dark cloud was building on the horizon. We had been on the water for ten hours, and really had no idea how much farther we had to go. We passed a man sitting on the side of the bank who said that we were still far away from the end. We started to get a little nervous, just then, we saw the coast guard boat, and in a final push we paddled to the boat. The main organizer, who had taken the place of the drunken lady, welcomed us on board. We lashed on the rafts and took off. Man we were happy to be off that raft! The sun started to go down, and a light rain started, thunder and lightning clapping in the distance-nature was now in full force. That’s when we found out there were still at least ten other rafts still on the water. What a disaster. By now it was dark, the river looming large and languid, its two banks separated by at least a half kilometer. Where were the boats? The rain was obscuring the spot light from the coast guard’s boat, the crew began to yell orders and a sense of urgency and fear fell over us.

The first team we spotted was stranded on the side of the bank, their camera flash going off and on frantically, their raft floating in the increasingly choppy water. Then there was another team, and another, our rafts were abandoned as the scared wet participants clamored on board. We made it to Tamshyaku, the medium sized town serving as our refuge for the evening. Tired, recovering from our scare, we ditched the refugee-style camp in the school gym to look for accommodations elsewhere. We met a man who offered us a small but dry room in his home for a very reasonable price. We took bucket baths and slept as soon as we hit the mattress.

This was the end of the race for us. Our raft abandoned, our arms and spirits exhausted, we rode on the crew’s boat back to Iquitos the next day, sipping beer and chatting with the rest of those who had to be rescued the night before.

We arrived to the last marker, watching the amazingly fast local teams come in first, nearly as quickly as we had on the boat. A man who had been taking photos for the event approached our team with a newspaper, “check this out,” he said. To our surprise, there we were on the cover of El Comercio, the most widely distributed newspaper in Peru. The last team, on the front page, ha! At least we survived.

The Dense Jungle
Raft building in Nauta
The Team

15 minutes on the Amazon

2011-10-19T10:20:00.000-07:00

October 6-9 was the annual Great River Amazon Raft Race, held now for 13 consecutive years, the race is the longest of its kind. The beginning post is Nauta and the course traverses 180 kilometers to Iquitos, the largest city in the Amazon jungle of Peru (and notably the largest city on earth that cannot be accessed by road). There were a total of 46 teams, each with 4 participants, from across the globe. To describe this experience the word ordeal must be used. Arriving in the jungle, the first adjustment is heat, humid, tepid heat. Then, in the city, are the "mototaxis," as cars are not popular (lacking roads and all) the zooming mototaxis are everywhere. Going out into the jungle one hears an assortment of sounds: birds, insects, monkeys, everything is alive.

Here is my version of the events:

In preparation we had to secure the goods necessary for this event, the most important being lightweight paddles (they supply you will newly cut, but heavy paddles, not conducive for three days on the river). My team and I ended up in the markets of Belen, the floating city, and much behind in development and safety than the rest of town. Here, open sewers and outdoor barbershops line the streets. We made a friend who attached himself to us, somehow knowing exactly what we were there for. He took us across the river (my teammates named this "Rapeville"), to talk to a guy who "knows about paddles." Here we entered the mysterious paddle underground. We ended up meeting a very nice family, who supplied us with four suitable paddles of various sizes (our safety was never in question). The advantage to buying a used paddle is that a)this is what the people of the area use everyday, and b) they are properly "dried out" from use, and therefore lighter. After this, our new friend took us to "El Chino" for some plastic chairs (no one sits on wood logs for three days straight). Luckily, "El Chino," a good looking Chinese born immigrant with awesome tattoos, sold us the chairs at a reasonable price, and (to the amusement of his workers) cut the legs off for us...who needs legs on a raft? After buying some snacks, such as Oreos and "Granola Economica," we were ready for take off.

Day 1) We all met in the Plaza 28 de Julio in Iquitos, took a bus to Nauta (about 2 hours), to a welcoming ceremony held by the local municipality. Picture 200 gringos in a tent that also doubles as a microwave. From here they took us across the Maranon (the headwaters for the Amazon) to a mudflat area to build the rafts.

I know I am just getting started, but I am reaching the limit for anyone' s attention span, including my own, therefore...to be continued. But here's a link to keep your interest:

http://elcomercio.pe/peru/1315085/noticia-aventura-extrema-amazonas-carrera-balsas-mas-larga-mundo

Photos: Santa Cruz Trek

2011-09-11T10:42:00.000-07:00

The Peru 15 crew at the 4,700 meter summit

On the other side of the pass, a burrito takes a break

Heading back at dusk through the Llanganuco gorge

Face to Face

2011-08-27T13:50:00.000-07:00

There are times when the last thing you want to do is deal with conflict, with negative feelings, with hurt and pain. Being as it is, the world is conflicted, hurting, being torn to pieces; what can we do? Each of us is capable of kindness, of compassion, and generosity, but often we feel so bogged down with our own concerns to find this place of peace within ourselves. Perhaps if we could let it sink in that this is really all we have to do, the world’s troubles wouldn’t seem so great. We can work, move through life’s events, both good and bad, confront issues, resolve problems, all the while maintaining a connection with our true selves. None of us are “useless” or adding to the problem as long as we maintain in our intentions this thread with our own and other’s humanity. Each of us can acknowledge that the path of life is the path to peace and that we don’t have to buck and revolt in order to find this.

We can create the spaciousness in our lives required, regardless of how busy we are. Taking time to acknowledge a moment, to observe, to take a breath; this can be done in any situation. There is a grumbling happening on a global scale; many things are not OK. Together, we can be with this unsettled, ungrounded world, and be not-OK together. As a human population we can relax into life with its shit and love and disease and healing. What a sigh of relief this could be, to allow the messed up nature of things, knowing that we are meant to be here, sitting with it all. This certainly isn’t a petition for apathy or laziness, quite the contrary; it takes a lot of work to be able to sit with all that we feel and experience, without judging it.

I recently read a book by Pema Chodron, a renowned Buddhist teacher from the US. This is my take on some of her teachings, and how I interpret them for myself and for a global movement for change. My favorite line of hers is one in which she says that we should “Give up Hope.” She says this in the context that we are all chasing something, a better personality, a better job, a different family. Just give it up and sit with it as it is, “hoping” for something better is potentially leading us on this destructive path. It’s very un-Obama, but I please ask you all to just Give up Hope.

Think again

2011-08-08T10:47:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have had much time on my hands as there are two weeks of vacation from school, and my days have returned to the unstructured nature in which I began this experience. This, combined with a broken computer has afforded me much time to contemplate, and to rethink some things that I had begun to take for granted, and to read...a lot.
Recently, I stumbled upon an article in an old edition of the Peace Corps magazine, which focused on the re-emergence of an agricultural focus in international develoment. During the 1980's, with the Reagan administration, there was a push towards more technical and business assistance in the Peace Corps, and away from agricultural and environmental programs. While technological and business programs are still encouraged, environmental programs are going strong, and agro-forestry is making a comeback.
In rural Peru, the life of the small scale farmer is becoming increasingly precarious. Prices are generally low, the work is hard, access to water is sometimes scarce and the use of pesticides and fertilizers drives up the costs of producing a decent crop, not to mention contamination. All these issues have driven people out of the villages and to cities, both near and far, breaking up families, and causing the growth of the urban poor. Fewer and fewer of the upcoming generations are committed to working the family land, and are in search of something "better."
Currently, I am reading the Grapes of Wrath, a wonderful American classic. Reading this book while living in Peru is giving me an insight to the thoughts and emotions faced by the community. While this isn't the dust bowl of the early 1900's, the sense of insecurity, and of injustice thrives under the surface of everyday life. I mentioned this story to my host mom and how the earth became dry and inhospitable. She responded by saying this was what may come one day to this area, a fight for water, unforgiving soil, mass exodus. I hope she's wrong.
Nevertheless, this has opened my eyes. While committed to my work with youth, the realization has set in that this aspect of life cannot be ignored in my work with the community. Everyone contributes to the cycles of harvest and planting, growing and watering. Perhaps the next step is to find my place in this daily cycle. I believe that while committing to learn about living off of land, I can come to understand more about my neighbors, the country, and the direction we are going globally.

Fiesta Cruz

2011-07-31T13:54:00.000-07:00

I recently had the opportunity to go on an amazing trek here in Ancash, the Santa Cruz trail that leads up from the valley into a gorge, over a 4,700 meter pass and down another glacial gorge. Two nights of camping, three nights of hiking, carrying tents, food, water; it was quite an achievement and very rewarding, especially due to the lovely company of 8 other people, both Peace Corps and non-Peace Corps. Most importantly it reminded me how special this landscape is, and how fortunate I am to be surrounded by it daily.

Here are the photos.

P.S. Due to technical difficulties, photos are on the way!

Oh Canada

2011-06-24T18:01:00.000-07:00

Another side of the volunteer life is travel. This weekend I have the privilege of going to British Colombia for 10 days of Northwest summer, wedding festivities, and time with friends and family. Wow. Many emotions come up when a trip like this is on the horizon. It has been over one year since stepping out of Peru's borders, since hearing English all around (besides other volunteers), seeing clean streets, amazing grocery stores, and general order. This is not to berate Peru for its faults, but simply to state the glaring differences that make up this reality from our reality in North America. I have this twinge of feeling that I have forgotten some of this reality, and that sitting there in the airport (LA is my first stop) it will all come down on me like a pile of bricks. Yesterday I awoke in my room, in Amashca, a small mountain town in the Andes, and in a short 24 hours I will be in North America, with familiar faces, navigating a world I know, but seeing it again for the first time, with new eyes, eyes that have been surrounded by peaks, and polleras, dust and cuy, since last June. So wow, because although this transition may be more seamless than I anticipate, going "home" will never have the same flavor as before.

The Other Side

2011-06-12T11:01:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back our monthly regional meeting was organized in Pomabamba, which is found on the other side of the cordillera blanca, about 8-12 (depending on the transportation you use) hours from Huaraz. There are about 11 volunteers in this region, called the cordillera Conchucos. Things are very different, with hardly any infrastructure and towns with very few ammenities. There are however, beautiful landscapes and another climate that borders arid and mountainous with tropical microclimates; if you continue east you eventually end up in the Amazon jungle, and eventually Brazil. Peru yet again amazed me with the variety and beauty that it contains within its borders, enjoy the photos!

Volunteers in the Pomabamba Plaza The road to Piscobamba

Lago Llanganuco, muy bonito!

Again Llanganuco, but from far up heading to the pass
Cute little kid pic from my site

2011-06-06T18:55:00.000-07:00

Road construction o’mania

2011-06-06T18:48:00.000-07:00

There is road construction on the road that goes from the nearest town, Carhuaz, past my site, through the pass “Punta Olymica,” one of the highest in the world, all the way to the other side of the mountain range, to a town called San Luis. The project: to pave this road. Time projection: three years. Meanwhile, transportation is being restricted to certain times, between 6pm and 7am, and between 12pm-2pm, Mon-Sat.

There is road construction going on in front of my house as well, on the seven block road that more or less leads to the end of the community; at this time, about five blocks of it are paved. The project: to pave these two blocks. Time projection: three months. In addition, my neighbor, about three doors down is tearing down her house; it looks like a warzone. Meanwhile, the room next to mine is being used as storage for all the tools used for this project. Most of the work of tearing up dirt and rock, digging holes, and general labor is being done by local laborers, both men and women. There are about 20 workers outside of my house at about 7am getting their tools and readying themselves for the day ahead. Unfortunately for me, I awake along with them and the clamoring of steel to rock, banter in Quechua, and other noises. I walk out of my door and as if I had just arrived in town I am stared at, there are comments and clicking noises that signal: the gringa is beginning her day.

Ah, the trials of living in a developing land, in much of the wealthy nations we simply take concrete for granted, its nice smooth finish making walking, driving, and getting around a pleasure, rather than an obstacle course. The reality is that all this construction, while good for the long term signifies much of what is not going well down here; it is a pain to get around, it takes a long time, you have to wait for the right time to catch a car, the roads (while on the way to improvement) are rocky and make maintenance on any vehicle frequent and expensive. And who lives out here, in the rural areas? People who are already poor, lack adequate resources in their communities, and in order to access a market, a hospital, a “better” school, have to endure the transportation equivalent of jumping through hoops, and it all costs.

I decided to write about this because of my mom. While I was feeling irritated and sorry for myself that the rest of my service will be in conducted amidst the rubble, wreckage, noise, and cat calling that comes along with construction, she found it all to be quite hilarious. Of course it’s MY house that becomes the home to 20 wheelbarrows and picks axes, and me who gets taunted in Quechua each day by a sassy lady. Well, at this moment in time, I am saying, " what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger," and I can dream of the still mornings to come in some cramped city apartment, or the meanders down an overdeveloped strip mall. Perhaps the tradeoff is to know that there is an open land surrounding me, where crops and dirt rule, where there are no roads, no asphalt, only wind, trees, animals, the occasional person, tiny against the landscape, and the open sky.

Memories...

2011-06-06T18:17:00.000-07:00

I wrote this next piece for a Peace Corps Newsletter for Volunteers called "Pasa la Voz." The subject is what it is like to live with a Quechua family.

If I had to describe what it’s like to live with a Quechua family, I would start with bewilderment. This is how I felt much of the time for the first several months. When I first arrived to my site, my room was filled with 50+ bags of nitrate ammonium, a commonly used fertilizer. I had yet to buy a bed, and I was given a straw mattress on the ground. It was cold and I won’t lie, I thought the smell of the fertilizer was going to give me permanent brain damage. Of course I began negotiating with my host dad regarding the removal of the fertilizer. A month or so later, he and my host mom moved it all in one go. Each bag weighs about 100lb’s and I helplessly watched as my 29 year old “dad” moved all the bags by himself.

My host dad works in the local preschool by mornings as a maintenance man/teacher, and a combi driver in the evenings, my host mom, also about 30, works in the fields most days. My first few days I observed an unusual pattern; after breakfast I would be in my room and hear the door close, after this, no one would be home all day, sometimes until after dark. There was no menu spot so I was left to fend for myself in the food department, casually stopping by my host family’s relative’s houses around the lunch hour, hoping they would invitarme to some papas. It didn’t take long for me to purchase a gas stove and get my cooking on. Many things are simply left unsaid, and even if you ask, or try to prod, you may get the most vaguest of responses, along the line of “mas tarde”, “ahorrita”, a shrug, or the ubiquitous, “claro.”

Meals with the family were an interesting affair. On many occasions I found myself sitting with my host mom, with many gaps of silence, wondering, when were we actually going to eat? I check my watch, 9pm; my stomach says, “food now please!” But it wasn’t until my host pop rolls in after his combi shift that the plates are served. The kitchen is a tarped off area in the back patio, a low bench serves a seating for all as my host mom tends her cocina de leña. Dinners were usually potato soup, yerba (tea), and a piece of bread. Quechua conversations dominated, especially if grandma or grandpa stopped by, which happens frequently. I would stare off into space, willing myself to understand the strange sounds.

While I was vigorously pursuing the completion of my CDS I did many community walks, trying to get a feel for my new home. Sometimes I would step out my door and hear gasps, followed by “griiinga!” Yes, there were times I wished I had a cloak of invisibility, or at least a pollera and tall wide brimmed hat, the local garb for women in this part of the sierra. I started exploring the landscape surrounding me, the endless ups and downs of steep hills and valleys mirrored my emotional states in the early weeks of my service. But the more I trekked around, spoke with people-sometimes having to use gestures and super basic Spanish to communicate-the more I began to learn. At first I felt self conscious to just wander around while everyone was doing hard labor day after day, but this faded after accompanying my host family to their chacras a few times. Yes, I harvested potatoes, picked peas, and cultivated hard earth. I got blisters and felt exhausted from the work and the hike just to get to the field, but I got street cred; cooking and eating in the chacra, I made friends with my host family and showed that I wasn’t too delicada. These days I’m happy just to pasear and people are used to me doing this, but the days I spent in the fields were certainly important.

The people in the sierra are timid-a hug qualifies as a tap on the back-you have to approach the mames and tetes and strike up conversation, but people are curious, and are usually happy to speak with you and have plenty of questions, such as:

· Where are you from?

· Are you single?

· How old are you?

· How many hours to your pueblo? Response: “I took an airplane, about 8hrs.” Response, “aaaso!” or “beeestia!” Then…

· How much does the pasaje cost?

· What crops do they grow in your pueblo?

· How much do you miss your mom?

· How much does she miss you?

· Will you stay forever? Response, “no, two years.” Response, “how about if we find you a husband?”

· Are you used to the cold?

· Are you acostumbrada yet?

It has been a challenge to become accustomed to a new way of life, an unstructured work schedule, new foods, climate, culture, language, etc. I feel lucky however to have been placed in the Quechua speaking sierra, how many extranjeros get this experience? Each day I get a deeper understanding for life in this small town, and at the very least feel equipped to tell a good story.

Ley Seca

2011-04-10T07:59:00.000-07:00

Today is the presidential election for Peru. There are five main candidates, representing different agendas, ideas, and personalities. Truthfully, I am not very informed on the differences between these politicians, only knowing some of the details regarding what changes may be in store for this country. Interestingly, in the rural area on Ancash, the candidate with the most pull seems to be Ollanta, the rogue "socialist," who may or may not be friends with Hugo Chavez. The socio-political climate in South America has been shifting steadily towards reclaiming corrupt government systems, nationalization of industry, and greater social equity. While we have seen both successes and failures, in countries like Brazil, Venezuela, and Bolivia, the fact remains that a new human consciousness is emerging in this part of the world. The poor and disenfranchised and recognizing these changes and their potential power on the world stage.

P.S. The title of this blog refers to the law in place during the three days prior to the election: no sale or consumption of alcohol allowed.

More Photos

2011-04-03T13:13:00.000-07:00

Escuela de Padres

Harvesting Potatoes
Reading Skipping Stones Magazine

Good Morning Vietnam!

2011-04-03T13:03:00.000-07:00

Lately a big shift has taken place in my experience living in Peru. I’m beginning to feel more and more comfortable here in the community of Amashca, a small town of 1,200 people in the high altitude of the Andes Mountains. Life isn’t always easy here however, and there are moments when the sites of some of the “ugly” begin to grind on my western trained psyche. These are the familiar sites of underdevelopment: trash in the landscape, small children playing with broken toys (or just a rubber tire), unsupervised for long stretches, animal feces everywhere you go, dark and dingy kitchens with open fires, and then there’s you, passing through, taking it in, but also not taking it in, because it’s raw, and a little scary.

Why is it scary? Our purpose for being here is an attempt to make shifts not just within our selves, but in the world that surrounds us. What we see, the sometimes garish scenes of poverty, is representative of what any idealist aims to change. Slowly, it becomes clear, that most of this will remain, at least during the two years we are present in these communities. The shifts we hope to make are mostly invisible to the eye, and perhaps, that is what matters most.

There is one family, with which I am becoming closer, I go and visit their two room home (one part living/sleeping area, one part kitchen) frequently to chat over soup, play with their four kids, or just smile and say hello. The father of this family, Francisco, is a mild mannered, thin man. He and his wife Esperanza dedicate their lives to the fields, planting potatoes, oca (another tuber), corn, peas, and other crops. They have one milking cow, a few bulls, pigs, and burros, and when there is milk Esperanza makes queso fresco to sell. Their kids, age four, ten, thirteen and fifteen, help out with tasks after school; this is normal life for them, even the four year old is accustomed to long two hour hikes up to the high slopes where potatoes grow best.

This family has gone through some tribulations, Esperanza had an operation to get her gal bladder removed, and although almost a year has passed still experiences some pain. While generally liked in the community, they lack any important connections in the local municipality, or businesses. Esperanza scans her house, the small adobe structure which utilizes a huge boulder as the far wall, and says, “Look at my house, it’s like this because of my health, that’s were our money has gone.”

But this family is not impoverished of strength and values. This, Francisco makes clear by always insisting I sit down for a meal, that his kids say “hello” and “thank you” and by treating his wife with respect. While Francisco’s understanding of the world revolves most intensely around the pueblo, the crops, the forces of nature, he understands that there are systems of injustice at play that dictate much of his well-being and that of his family; crop prices, controlled by an unfair market system is a piece of the oppressive hand that keeps this family in an uphill struggle. Esperanza’s ill health was met by a discriminatory health system that puts patients like her, indigenous Quechua speakers, on the back burner, only until a medical crisis is their adequate intervention.

To have the ability to share in their lives, and to hear their stories puts a face on all the academic work I did in the past, learning about the “sub-altern,” the more than 2 billion people on the planet living off a few dollars a day. It helps me to understand that life goes on, happy, sad, joyful, tragic, whether you have a bank account or not. But what is striking is the growing awareness, due to changing global information and the shrinking of the planet, that Esperanza and Francisco have of what is out there and unavailable to them and their children, and there is a tinge of grief that comes along with this awareness.

The other day Francisco said to me, “When you go back to your country, tell our story.” I don’t have the ability to eradicate poverty, but I have the ability, and the privilege to observe and bare witness to the lives of those who surround me. And here, thanks to the newest and latest technology am bringing it home as it unravels before me.

"One sees clearly only with the heart, anything essential is invisible to the eye."

-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Recent Community Pics

2011-01-27T11:40:00.000-08:00

Recycled Art Projects
Rosa and Sayda Celebrating Choclo Sale in the Chacra
My Host Dad Jaime Enjoying Choclo
Kevin's Project
Gratuitous Chicken Pic

Kichwata palanki Huarazchaw

2011-01-27T09:29:00.000-08:00

The "Peru 15" girls at Laguna Churup
Lovely Thai Dinner
Me and Verito at Laguna Shallap
Mind Boggling Valley en route to Shallap

Five days of Quechua lessons, and I have a mixture of words, that I'm not quite able to form into sentences, in my head. I am looking forward to taking this new repertoire to the community for some real world practice. In the past few days we have had the opportunity to learn not only the basics of the Quechuan language, but given a window into the culture that surrounds us.
There are two main branches of Quechua in Peru, one is based in Cusco in the South, and the other here in the Cordillera Blanca. In contrast to popular knowledge, it is most likely that Quechua originated in this region, this being supported by the fact that there are multiple sub-branches of the language up in the north, pointing to a longer period of evolution. While Cusco was the seat of power for the Incan empire, the heart of the Quechuan people began to palpitate here, amongst the snow covered mountains. And here we are, a group of US citizens, our job: to integrate into a culture with ancient roots.
As our group of volunteers grows in Ancash, our presence becomes stronger, the variety of experiences grows, and bonds form within the volunteers and their communities. There is an amazing group of individuals dedicating two years to serve in communities near and far. On the other side of the Cordillera Blanca lies another set of mountains known as Conchucos, where over 10 Peace Corps volunteers have recently arrived for the first time since the 1960's. Access to transportation and basic services is very limited, and the terrain is rough by any standards. These volunteers are adjusting to life and work under extremely challenging conditions, beginning a new journey. Witnessing this beginning has provided me with a reaffirmation of our work here, of the potential, whether it's focused on building relationships, or new after school or health programs, those of us engaging in this work are doing our best to engage, create and build a life that matters.
In the space when we can come together as a group we have opportunities to explore a mesmerizing landscape, treking to isolated glacial valleys and lakes, trying to take it all in. Enjoying time with friends has been one of the most rewarding aspects of this experience. Engaging with each other has helped to put it all in perspective, generate understanding, and build a context for this strange adventure-a little clarity amongst the twists and turns.
This entry is dedicated to you, friends, both near and far, thank you.
Elke

Arg...this won't last long, I promise

2011-01-10T07:38:00.000-08:00

Things I hate:
when people come into a cafe and don't order anything, oh, just lounging, browsing the lending library, you know, we're on a shoestring travel budget...arg

The combi from this morning, what I sat on did not qualify as a seat, not with a metal bar in my back and a kid sleeping on my arm while the guy next to me coughs up his lung and we lunge through one pot hole after another, arg

"Buenos Dias preciosa/guapa/gringa/etc," I am not your girl, nor will I ever be, leave me alone! All I want is a shower and some breakfast and this guy is leering into my space at 8am, it's too early for this S%$#! Double arg.

Here is my angry face

That's about it, not a long list, I'm sure there's more, but I'll spare you all before you swear off reading this blog ever again.

Thanks for letting me vent,
Elke

Greatness comes in small doses

2011-01-02T09:36:00.000-08:00

Another year has passed, we move into the sci-fi sounding 2011-the future is here! Briefly, a Peruvian New Year is not complete, with yellow undergarments, the burning of old clothes (to start fresh), and fireworks-loud ones. I will mention, the countdown did not happen on time-things are usually late, "La Hora Peruana" strikes again. But what I really want to get to, since it is a New Year-the beginning of what will be a full 12 months in this country-follows.

Favorite things about Peru: The giving nature of the people
Peru, being a country experiencing much growth and still lacking many basic services in the rural areas is at times difficult to traverse in regards to transportation, daily tasks, work productiveness, but all this becomes tolerable thanks to the Peruvians themselves, the majority of whom, whether city or rural folks, will go to great lengths to invite you to events/food, converse, even a roof over your head, making the experience of living in this country a fulfilling and enriching experience. Without this level of hospitality and generosity I don't believe Peru would have the same attraction to tourists, volunteers, even industry in coming to this diverse and multi-layered country.
Next:The Mountains
Like the ups and downs that life provides, the mountains reflect this undulation in their peaks and valleys. There's an understanding created by the forces of wind, rock and water that we are small parts of a greater whole, of a landscape that can be both fierce and forgiving, it generates a respect for nature, community and self. While there may be inconsistencies-the deterioration of values due to outside pressures-a level of pride exists even in the youngest of generations that comes through in the way people share, work, and carry themselves. Above all I am learning to be patient with the life process, whether waiting for a meal or a combi; mountains are rarely in a hurry.
Next: The Food
There's a practice called mindful eating where you really take your time with food, taking small bites, chewing slowly, experiencing the flavors. While never having been to Asia or even a Buddhist retreat of any kind, I can see the Zen in the way people eat in Peru. Slowly, small bites, no rush, it is inspiring to an American who can't wait to finish chewing so I can stuff another spoonful in my mouth. Preparation of food is also slow and methodical, the easiest route is not always taken, sacrificing a longer process for results. In the mountains much of the cuisine is labor and time intensive, whether it is barley soup, guinea pig, or boiled potatoes with chili sauce, it is done right with care and consideration to tradition.

There is much more to discover in Peru, in my work and travel, in friends, but so far this offers a taste of the best this region has to offer. Come visit.

Elke

Stollen in the Andes

2010-12-26T09:08:00.000-08:00

Another holiday has come and gone. New Year's Eve will mark 6+ months in Peru, and the beginning of what will be a full calender year as a volunteer here in the Andes of Peru. Christmas was filled with hot chocolate, paneton (a fluffy sweet bread with candied fruit), and a lovely nacimiento, or nativity scene in the corner of my room, moss, ceramic animals, Christmas lights and baby Jesus all included.
I spent all of the 23rd preparing stollen, a German Christmas bread, the recipe being handed down from my grandmother to my father to me. Each year I would observe my papa preparing and baking away, sometimes 20 or more of these loaves choc full of rum soaked raisins, candied orange and lemon peel, almonds, and buttery goodness. To be honest I never had the fervor to partake in this productive madness, until now, thousands of miles away. Again, an epic food making process ensued, beginning with the making of the candied peel, buying a quarter liter of rum straight from the local tienda in a used water bottle (not friendly stuff) and getting three kilos of flour donated to me by my host mom. My neighbors agreed to allow me access to their adobe fire wood oven and their teen-age daughter was nice enough to help me chop enough almonds, raisins and orangsat for eight kilos of stollen. It was mixed, let to rise, and hoping that altitude and a rustic oven would work favorably, baked off at about 6pm, by 8pm we took out eight lovely stollen loaves, intact, baked through, and delicious. I was proud as a mother at her kid's graduation, nothing short of a Christmas miracle to be eating an old German family recipe in a rural mountain pueblo in Peru; in this instance I must say, "yay" to Globalization, not for leaving toxic residues of homogeneous culture, but for linking the dots between the past and present with the Cordillera Blanca and the heart of Turingia.
In the days leading up to the 24th, I felt waves of sadness, thinking of home, of the warmth of family, friends, and comfort foods. What I experienced these last few days was not the familiar string of events and people, but I must say in the end I felt that warmth and friendship while sharing hot chocolate from a communal bowl, being visited by curious, nativity scene loving kids, and watching a campo rendition of the birth of baby Jesus. Sitting in the town church, mothers, fathers and children watching Mary and Joseph, searching for shelter, a temporary home where they can safely bring to the world the light of their their new child, I felt I was ready to give this new place a name; home.

Results, fresh stollen and my neighbor's kids, Cintia y Javier

Rising

Another friendly visit from Sayda, my baby sis

CARPE DIEM

2010-12-04T08:59:00.001-08:00

It is time...time to take that step, the step into the unknown of life, of work, of play, what will result? We just completed our first in-service training where we learn how to supplement our experiences of living in country with a refresher in current issues, potential projects, and most importantly, how to implement them in a sustainable manner. Currently, I feel a breath of fresh air in my lungs, the new motivation to begin work in the community, knowing that there are folks willing and able to collaborate with me and guide me in taking that first step...but to re-cap, I would like to talk about the phenomenon that was THANKSGIVING.
Here were the day's events (we celebrated Saturday, the 27th):

Friday, November 26th, prep 18 kilos of potatoes, wash 12 kilos of sweet potatoes, chop onions, celery, carrots, for stuffing, thaw two 8 kilo turkeys
Saturday, November 27th begin with 5 Kilometer "Turkey Trot," from Anta to Jangas, those in attendance: 16 volunteers from various regions, 10 adults and, 16 kids from Jangas, prizes were awarded
Food preparation continues, 8 pies (apple, pumpkin, banana pudding), stuffing, mashed potatoes (made on wood fire), broccoli, glazed carrots, green beans, apple sauce, roasted sweet potatoes, gravy, and of course two magnificently roasted turkeys which spent 5 hours in a wood fired adobe oven, gloooorious!
Eating time, in attendance: 16 volunteers + over thirty friends and family in the community of Jangas, enjoyment, laughter, and a dance party to top it all off (no alcohol involved)

Here, we celebrated an American tradition in the best sense, sharing with other cultures, rejoicing in our friendships, and creating a meal that astounded not only ourselves but all those involved. There were some challenges, such as no running water, some missing ingredients, but at the moment of the event nothing was missing, the warmth generated by this exchange of food and friendship filled the gap of any missing cranberry or confection. The fact that this event was spawned by a group of twenty something gringos made it that much more special. We got the support we needed, it was a community event, a Peruvian stone soup if you will. Easily, could this group of young volunteers have partied amongst themselves, Peru, being merely a backdrop for an event we all know so well, but we took that step, out into the unknown, to bring together a group of people who otherwise may never share even a glance, to share a meal, a space, a laugh, a moment never forgotten.
So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I say "Thank You," to my fellow volunteers, the people of Peru, and those two Turkeys who gave their lives for an epic event.

Family

2010-10-31T10:20:00.000-07:00

The other day I was fortunate to speak to my parents and a close friends from the convenience of my room in Amashca. Technology allows those of us living abroad to connect to family and loved ones with ease and speed. However, technology can't do it all for us, and as I spoke with my parents that day I felt the distance between us. Speaking once every ten days can ease my mind with the sound of familiar voices, but it can't replace the consistent presence of the loving people who raised me. As many of us spread across the globe like seeds in the wind, I ask myself what consequences may result in regards to family, community and global society; will we become a world of people missing home?
This is not a new phenomena, but the context has changed, thanks to technology, and easy means of travel it gives the illusion that we are never "that far away," but our human biology, from senses to cells knows different, and they long for the comfort and security of home. I can't just stop by for a meal or a hello, and what is community if not that, people having access to people, not devices.
I appreciate the gift of technology, but I caution to romanticize it, preferring to see it as a tool, not an answer to a lonely moment. After all, take away the clothes, the cell, the computer, and we are just animals, wandering the planet, doing our best to survive, for ourselves, for our children, for the future.

Fourteen Thousand and Rising

2010-10-25T07:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I clambered up over rock and dirt to a beautiful lagoon, Churup, nestled between a glacier and several other peaks, this mountain lake sits at 4,500 meters, which according to my calculations brings us to about 14,763 ft. The air is thin up there, and our puny sea-level lungs were feeling it. Thus begins my training. I'm turning a new leaf. I am ready to become, as they say, "hard corps," as in Peace Corps. I have had the time to adjust to my surroundings, pick up on some of the nuances of life in the campo (rural community), make sure I'm taking care of my health. Now it's time to kick some butt (pardon my french). The hike to Churup was a perfect beginning. Up there, one is able to think of life as a whole, perspective grows to include the clouds, the wind, the grasses, the endless sky reflected in the lake bellow.
In this life, we do our best to be happy, but how much is in our hands? I ask this to discover what it is that brings joy to a moment. Is it a lack of worry, concern? Or is it the presence of something, a knowing that you are where you are meant to be, that a larger force is watching over you, through your joys and your sorrows?Perhaps it is both. We have the ability to ease our anxieties, and to melt our fears. It is also up to us to have faith.
My own personal training for the next two years isn't just about a physical prowess or responding to cat calls with a cold wit. It is about rising above the boggy insecurities that keep me locked down, unable to let go of a bump in the road, holding me back. It's about getting up in the morning with the confidedence one gets from a double shot of espresso, or a couple of beers, (whatever your preference) but without the substance, relying on my internal fire, fueling me in all my endeavors.

In sickness and in health (A word on the struggles of maintaining health in the life of a volunteer)

2010-10-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

There are so many factors affecting my health here that it is difficult sometimes to untangle the mess and find the culprit. Even more, it is rarely one thing, all is connected. Loneliness and stress affect the gut, fluctuating temperatures and dust can make one irritable, being stared at and gossiped about can bring about insecurity. Then again, there ARE bacteria and parasites that invade and cause upset both of the stomach variety as well as the emotional. So that’s why I’m here right now in my capital city, Huaraz, to discover or at least narrow down, what it may be.

Dueling with my stomach is no new endeavor for me, but I must say this feels more intense; my stomach and I are having a show down, who will draw first and fire the winning shot? Perhaps this dueling metaphor is inappropriate regarding an organ of the human body; perhaps I should opt to sit quietly with my gut and ask, ‘How are you?’ ‘What can I do for you today?’ ‘Are you missing you mom or was it that ceviche that’s making you rumble?’

I will learn, it is a process; please leave any comments of advice in the space provided.

-Elke

Some Photos

2010-10-16T16:48:00.000-07:00

My Kitchen

Corn

Cordillera Negra
Thanksgiving!

In front of my door

Inspiration

2010-10-11T12:32:00.001-07:00

I look for ways to be creative. In a place where resources are scarce, and the budget is slim, it’s key to look for new ways to make change happen. Take the students at the school; they are good kids, but there is a lack of discipline, responsibility and confidence that I have never seen before. I look at the school, I see peeling paint, classrooms with broken desks, atrocious bathrooms, and a staff of teachers that may or may not show up for class. They say the way you feel about yourself is a reflection of your environment. For these kids coming to school means something, but not the same as it does in our middle class institutions in the US. It is a place to be, more than a place to learn. These are my first impressions.
What can I conclude in regards to working with these children? I don’t want to give more of the same, forced curriculum (that lacks context), humiliation (both kids and teachers talk down to each other), and low expectations (graduation levels are probably at about 50%, from my calculations). I ask myself, what is new and fresh for kids growing up here, in the distant mountains of Peru?
I seek inspiration; I ask questions, I want to find a new path. The Peace Corps has given me some tools, manuals, etc., but the most important piece must be generated within me, my attitude and perspective in living in this community is the springboard upon which I’ll be able to get anything done. While there are some serious issues that impede learning here, there is also a handful of committed staff that show up and do their best with the little resources available; I admire this. I cannot do this alone. For now, I’ll keep going, step by step to the peaks that surround me to inspire my creativity, my heart and shed any fears that keep me from trying something new.

October 6th 2010

2010-10-11T12:23:00.000-07:00

It is amazing to think that I have been in Peru for four months now, over 6 weeks here in the Sierra. Slowly, the pieces of this mysterious puzzle are coming into focus, rearranging, and creating a picture I never could have imagined, only dreamed of. While I hope in the future to be writing more of my work and projects, for now I can truly see how my everyday interactions, activities and experiences are laying the groundwork for what I hope to be a successful service. I am getting to know people; the loneliness that sometimes sets in, if not addressed could be crippling in the long run I look forward to having friends here.
Although I have felt some guilt regarding my “work” or lack there of, I think I have been too hard on myself. These first months are a challenge. In this context “work” for me includes doing my laundry (by hand), taking a shower (in freezing water), trying to understand a conversation in Quechua, climbing a hill and stopping to chat with people working their fields or grazing their animals, making a meal, taking public transportation (anywhere), not to mention making contacts with my community counterparts, i.e. getting thrown into a classroom for an impromptu English lesson, attending a birth, you know, the usual (!).
Peace Corps asks that at the end of the first three months we write a community diagnostic which we will present to our supervisor as well as our communities. There are a plethora of criteria we are asked to cover, everything from religious organizations, to malnutrition levels, to holiday calendars. We are to use formal and non-formal means to collect our data. Completing the CD will be interesting and I think introduce me into the realm of “work” as far as Peace Corps goes. But I know now, that my CD or my projects won’t mean anything if my heart doesn’t feel for this community and its people. That will remain my focus now, until the end of August 2012, and beyond.

Idle hands make for good yoga

2010-09-30T10:19:00.000-07:00

There are times, when the hours seem to slip by slowly like a banana slug trying to cross a path, moving at an almost imperceptible pace. I do not think I have experienced boredom like this since childhood. These days, I have many more bags of tricks up my sleeve, but my surroundings dictate their feasibility. I find myself sometimes just standing there, dumbstruck, thinking, “now what?” And that’s just it; part of my job is to answer this question over and over; to make life happen. My basic needs, work, relationships, it’s up to me. I can stay in my room all day and no one will reprimand me, I won’t be fired, I am slowly learning to become skilled at a little thing called “time management.” At times this is daunting, when I am tired, I think, I can’t make it outside, it’s too much! But there are times when it is necessary to quiet the internal chatter and get out. The beauty is that in reality it takes so little just to engage in an experience. There are moments when simply opening my window creates something, climbing the hill to make a phone call or going to the store, never mind making a trip to the health post or school. Today I walked to the chacra (the fields) and sat on a grassy knoll, watching the clouds move and darken. This is when all that is there inside me is calm and clear, like a singing bowl going round and round. In this place I feel connected and joyful.

Hey! Want a potato?

2010-09-15T09:39:00.001-07:00

Whew! A lot happened today. In the last 3 days I think I have eaten about 25 potatoes, cuy (guinea pig) and plenty of barley soup with lamb as well. The final days of the fiesta proved to be mellow (for the most part), at least no fighting. I think it’s time to re-implement a work out plan, cause these potatoes are going straight to the gut. All of us women volunteers know the unfortunate reality, we gain weight, and the boys lose it. Here’s a run down of the nutrition regiment (to be read like a nutrition label, the largest quantities come first):
Potatoes, rice, tea with sugar, some pasta, a little carrot, tomato, peas, avas (lima beans) and chilli, the occasional pumpkin, peach or apple, a little milk here and there, today I saw cheese for the first time ever. We are lacking in protein, thus the guys lose muscle, and overcompensating in carbs, thus the women (at least the ones that don’t exercise enough) gain fat. But it doesn’t have to be this way! First of all, I see green all around me. There are fields everywhere, and garden potential is plenty. I have seen Swiss chard! It exists, as does cabbage, spinach, broccoli, tomatoes, eggplant, and much more. Peru is special because it can grow everything. The fruit stands are bursting with papaya, strawberry’s (this time of year), apple, kiwi, mandarins, oranges, banana, chirimoya (the best fruit after mango), more and more. Yes, some of it is expensive considering the lacking economy out in the rural areas, but that’s were the “bio-huertos” must make their presence. People here consume vegetables as if they were precious commodities, only a little at a time. Looking at some kids faces, I see sad and listless eyes, no vitamins, no protein; these kids aren’t growing to their fullest potential, in more ways than one.
Once a year comes the fiesta and everyone eats, but what about the other 51 weeks of the year? I’d like to put some energy into this. Me, I’m privileged here; I can go to the market, buy my veggies and be happy. But that’s not good enough. I want to grow them myself and share that process. I will learn from my fellow community members about planting, growing, harvesting, but I also hope to teach about what makes a healthy body. Here, the aging process is accelerated, a man of 55 can look about 70, and it’s all down hill from there. One step at a time, like peeling layers of an onion, each day I discover more about the needs and values of the people around me; slowly, the fuzzy edges are coming into focus and what is initially shocking is evolving into deeper understanding.

Huaraz/Being Me

2010-09-10T10:09:00.000-07:00

I am currently in my capital city, getting some errands done, taking some time for myself and reflecting a bit on the last two and a half weeks. At this time, I've had time to get used to taking care of my basic needs. I have a small gas stove set up in my room so I can cook up yummy veggies and have a little more control over my eating schedule. I have fixed my bed (it was 10 centimeters too short for the mattress), and have bought a very comfortable and warm comforter, keeping me cozy. I have been visiting the local school, K-12, 240 students, my face is becoming more known, and I'm getting ready to start planning some small projects with the kids. My counterparts and the school and the health post are lovely people. The health post is a great resource, I feel welcome there, and it is another avenue where I can integrate into the community, especially with mothers. My first thoughts there are working on nutrition, perhaps organic gardening. But there is still the need to ask more of the community regarding what their interests are. Then it is up to me to find a creative way to start collaborating.
This week is party week in Amashca, which means 7 days of music, food, dancing, and lots of beer. Each town celebrates it's patron saint, in the case of Amashca, La Virgen de Natividad (also the name of the school)every year. The size of the town nearly doubles and bands are brought in from Huaraz and Lima to play the favorite Huayno music (Peruvian country) of the Sierra, eat, drink, and be merry. Unfortunately, for me being the new and only gringa in town, I felt the pressure was a bit too great to be hanging around in such an explosive environment...so while I'll be back in my community today, I am thinking maybe the first two days have given way to a more mellow crowd. We shall see.
I find it interesting that I feel some social pressure here in my community in a way I never have. While integrating is good, and I loved helping to cook and make bread in preparation for the festivities, I will have to learn to set my boundaries and say "no gracias" some of the time. It certainly is a balancing act.
It is important to have that time in your room for your activities like yoga or meditating, reading, etc...here is where one processes oneself within this new context, and one maintains integrity. We aren't just here to do projects, integrate and have an adventure, we are also here to be ourselves.

I'm Happy (most of the time)!

2010-09-04T08:34:00.000-07:00

A week of trial and error

2010-09-04T08:24:00.000-07:00

A week of trial and error, I’ve done my best to be open and keep going when I just don’t feel like it. There have been some cultural clashes. Little things, when I just feel so clueless; moments that make me uncomfortable because I just can’t do anything about what is happening, and it feels so strange. My body is doing alright, my stomach is becoming accustomed to the food, mostly potatoes and rice, but I’m beginning to cook for myself a little. Today is market day in the nearest city and I plan on taking advantage of this to get some fresh green veggies, I sure need those. I’ve been lonely. Each day I make a point to get out and explore, meet various people, have conversations. This occupies me for part of the time, and then I’m back in my room, with only myself and my wits to keep me company. My host family has been great, but the reality is that they work all day and come home after sun-down to prepare meals and eat. I spend time with them during mealtimes and we chat a bit. My role in the family is yet to be determined. I’m part child, part guest, part stranger; this will take some time to develop.
A major challenge at this point is trust. I know that some of the people I meet are trustworthy, genuine, and positive people. Some are not. But it is difficult to distinguish; in Peru people have a tendency to be very inviting and friendly in their initial encounters. They’ll give me some fruit to take with me or invite me into their homes, but this doesn’t always mean they are sincere. Some are being friendly only to “get some dirt” on you that they can tell their neighbors about. Unfortunately, this is something I’m waking up to. I’m an anomaly; there have been some foreigners in this district from the mines, cell-phone companies, and religious organizations, so it’s important that I explain who I am and why I am actually here. There was even a rumor going around that I was from a driving school here to teach people to drive! No sir, that’s not my purpose.
At any rate, my days are also filled with many moments of wonder and excitement. I climb the mountains slopes and look out towards Huascaran and Copa Grande and am reminded of why I am here, and how special a place this is. The challenges may never go away per se, but it’ll get easier. Staying in touch with my fellow volunteers and hearing news from home will help remind me that I am not alone here, that I have support; and eventually bonds will grow with the people of this community, helping me to call this place home.

Apun Raju

2010-08-15T14:03:00.000-07:00

Huaraz, capital city of Ancash

Sorting peas in the campo

Chato Lindo, the family dog

El Huascaran, tallest mountain in the tropics

Me in the campo

View from the roof

My front door

There´s a little Quechua for you in the title, it means literally ¨big ice,¨ referring to the mountain, Huascaran that looms in the background of the horizon in Amashca, my home for the next two years. Here´s some writing I did during my four days visiting my new family and pueblo, a taste of the life that is to come:

My hands are dry here, it´s cold at night, the stars glitter, it is beautiful. My family is wonderful, they live very simply. My dad is smart and lively, my mom is kind and eminates sweetness. Saida, the four year old is a revolutionary, she has a strong character! Amascha is poor, everyone works hard, my family is busy morning till night, driving a colectivo, doing maintanance, cooking, cleaning, and working the fields. Out in the community, I hear Quechua-I don´t understand, but I do at the same time-I know when they are talking about me, they laugh a lot, I have to laugh also. At home, amongst family, it´s Quechua and Spanish.
I feel I can talk with the women, they think I´m an oddity, tall, light skinned, and what am I wearing? Most wear the traditional dress of pollera (heavy knee length skirt with tights), wool fadora, and yanques (tire made sandals). But I think they think I´m alright. The funny thing is that part of me feels I do belong, I almost shed tears coming up to the town of adobe and mountains, it was magic. But I won´t be able to do this without support, of my fellow volunteers (we are in this together) and family from home-I can see how isolating it can be, stuck between two mountain chains, with only fields and mountains and stars.

I´m really just skimming the surface so far, I hope to discover the depths of what life is like here, to the best of my ability, and to do good work. The health post, municipality, and school are receptive and open to me, the next three months will be ones of great discovery and poco a poco, I¨ll find my way.

Elke

P.S. It ain´t always gonna be easy.

Amashca

2010-08-07T13:29:00.001-07:00

Hola todos,
Tomorrow I head out to visit my future home for a few days, then it´s back to Yanacoto for a week to get ready, swear in and then we´re outta here. Man, it really feels good to be at this point. Training as they say, is long and arduous, at times strait up flabergasting with all the charlas and powerpoints and papelotes (flip charts), you just want to get going and put your knowledge to use. My site is a gem, I will be in the mountains of Ancash in the Cordillera Blanca in northern Peru. I´m relatively close to the highest mountain in the world´s tropics, Huascaran. My site is not as high of course, I think I´ll be at about 7,000 feet, but that´s a bit of a jump from Eugene and here in Chaclacayo. The community I´ll be living in is the district capital of a small area about 4,000 total habitants, in my town there are about 1,200. There is Quechua spoken in this area, but I´ll also be using my Spanish. From our group there are six of us going to this region, we are all Youth Development volunteers, it´s a good group.
I just finished checking out another Ancashian PCV´s blog, so if you want to check it out to get more info on Ancash it´s sophiedila.blogspot.com, she has just finished her two years of service and is going on to complete a third year as the PCVL (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader) in Ancash. We haven´t met yet, but she´s on the roster of super volunteers, so I can consider myself lucky to have her as a support.
Please check back in next week, I will certainly have more info regarding my site visit and my new family! I can´t wait to meet them.
Elke

Tuesday is the Day

2010-07-31T10:32:00.000-07:00

To Begin: some photos from my Field Based Training in the lovely province of Cajamarca

Me with baby cow in Cajabamba K-6 school in La Grama, Cajamarca

Kids at an all boys school in Cauday, near Cajabamba

Some lovely bed covers on display draw a large crowd (also thanks to the salesman with a bullhorn) on market day in La Grama

Lovely family in the chacra (field)

Me with the mountains in the distance!

Cajamarca City

More market vendors, the famous clay pots and kettles made by hand

Another volunteer helping organize a massive game of redlight, greenlight

Peru is beautiful

Who wants a soda!?

The countdown is on until we all discover where we will be placed for the next two years, Tuesday is the day. We have had three interviews in which we had the opportunity to express any preferences, etc. regarding our time in Peru. The likelihood I´m going to the mountains is high, I have agreed to be placed in a Quechua speaking region. However, no one knows exactly what community they will be placed in until they give us our asignments. Peace Corps loves ambiguity and intrigue.

Appart from this semi-anxiety and excitement producing period of training, things are going smoothly. This last week Peru celebrated their Independence from Spain with the ¨Fiesta´s Patrias,¨ this invlolved us making a Pachamanca feast at the training center, I was honored with the role of ¨madrina¨ or Godmother of this event. I described a bit of this previously...Pachamanca is a pit oven cooked meal of goodness, filled with potatoes, yams, fava beans, chicken, and other meats. You need blazing hot rocks and then you cover it all up and two + hours later it´s all uncovered and devoured with aji (chilli sauce). As the madrina I was asked to thank the tierra madre Pachamama (mother earth) for all the food we were lucky to have on that day.

The rest of the day we explored more of what is the ¨Cosmovision Andina¨or the Andean beliefs and worldvision. We learned about medicinal plants and some shamanic rituals as well as the sincronistic religious beliefs crossing both Catholisism and indigenous beliefs. This topic is endless and I can´t wait to discover more.

Cajamarca likes Cuy

2010-07-22T12:17:00.000-07:00

Hola Amigos! I am here in the beautiful town of Cajabamba on my one week of ¨Field Based Training,¨ we are in the department of Cajamarca up in the mountains about 16 hours northeast from Lima. So far we have visited the departmental capital which has amazing ice cream and more, as well as three current volunteers sites, ranging frm small town to very small town. What marks the Sierra culture is the presence of cows, cuy (Guinnea Pig), and large hats. The air is crisp and clean, like in Oregon, but I must say, for Winter, this is paradise, fresh mornings with warm midday sun, beautiful sunsets surrounded by mountains, and cool nights.
During FBT I have been pushed, we have prepared ¨charlas¨ or short lessons in four schools with kids of different ages, mostly high school. Here, we are given an hour, sometimes more to plan activities drawing from what we´ve learned the last 5 weeks. We use dynamic activities to get a point accross, touching on topics such as healthy relationships, learning English and leadership skills. We have toured schools, municipal buildings, health posts and had several delicious meals. Yes, I finally tried The Cuy, prepared in front of our eyes, poor little things, they really are cute, but surprisingly tasty when cooked right.
There are about 15 of us in our group including 4 trainers, and we are getting to know each other better, having to work in teams, share rooms and make sure no one is suffering too bad from the bicicleta (diarrhea). Needless to say the Peace Corps experience does away with many inhibitions, you have to put yourself out there in your work (imagine being greeted with applause as you enter a classroom), and be honest with your fellow trainees, cause they are your new support system. I am beginning to feel some changes, and it´s good.
See you back in Lima in a few days!
Elke

YD FTB APCD PCVC!

2010-07-12T17:26:00.000-07:00

As you can see, the Peace Corps likes their acronyms, here, in the title I give a small sampling...more on that later. To give some insight to my day to day this Monday was somewhat typical of a ¨training center day.¨ Usually this means we have presentations as a whole group (all 53 of us). These have covered topics from security to genereal health, i.e. nutrition, alcohol consumption, security on site and away from our sites (when most robberies and assaults occur), maintaining safe relationships both with Peruvians and other volunteers, and strategies for staying healthy. The driving home message is !cuidate mucho! meaning, take care, lots of care, but have fun too, they are not mutually exclusive!
In our language training we learn about all the wonders and intrigues of Peru, there are many. Last week we took a trip to the national museum in Lima, there we saw amazing artifacts spanning the last 8.000 years, the Moche, Chabin, and Inca cultures created jewelry, breast plates and pottery that is absolutely astounding.
Everyday, I am impressed by the culture that surrounds this country, sometimes it is right there in a museum, but often it is in the daily life of going to a market, asking directions, or being greeted by a kid in your community. Today I say thanks to Peru!

Photos

2010-07-10T09:48:00.001-07:00

Here are some photos of my life here, one is the view from my window, the town of Chosica (the nearest city), and a wonderful hike that you can do right from Yanacoto where I live.

Poco a Poco

2010-07-05T17:18:00.001-07:00

So I appologize to all for the lacking blog posts, I do have so many new and interesting things to tell! My access to internet has felt limited however, less so due to convenience, although this is an issue, but due to time. We are BUSY. As PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) we do a ¨double shift¨ of language/culture learning, Tech. training as wither Youth Development Facilitators (me) or small business, then take the ever precarious ¨combi´s¨ back to our communities (mine is Yanacoto) to live the Peruvian life with our host families. This is going very well, I am learning lots of Jerga (=slang) that is useful in daily life.
A quick and entertaining annectode will come from my first weekend here...I went to my first party here in the comunidad (it was a man´s 50th b-day), there was a large horseshoe shaped circle of chairs with about 45 people around an ¨orchestra¨ playing Huayno (the traditional music of the Sierra, aka mountains), they play a very similar tune over and over, but it´s nice, with sax and horns and percussion, etc. Then they pass the beer, one glass per 15 people or so, you fill about an inch, pass the bottle to the next person, down it shake the glass on the floor in one swoop, then pass the glass. This goes on all night! These are large bottles by the way. Thenthey bring out the Pachamanca, a fire pit prepared meal of fava beans, tamale, sweet potato, reg.potato, and meat, this keepsyou fit to ¨pass the glass¨ all night long.

Yanacoto

2010-06-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

I am here in my new home for what will be two and a half months of training. I am living with a very nice woman who is excited to cook all the favorites of Peru. My training group consists of 53 other volunteers of which 30 are ¨youth development volunteers¨ just like me. It is an interesting and dynamic group, people from all parts of the country coming here for an adventure, a work experience, and plenty of human connection. It´s quite something and so far, the Peace Corps has proven to be making many efforts for us all to have a meaningful and safe experience here in Peru. Tomorrow begins our first day of training, the facility is beatiful and located outside of Lima in Choclocayo, a small residential community. Bueno, I leave you all until next time, estoy cansada!

Bye bye:)

It's Official

2010-05-17T12:12:00.000-07:00

Today I made my reservations to leave for Peru. First, my mom and I will go to Washington DC for a few days, we leave June 5th from Portland. On June 10th, I'll have a one day orientation in Arlington, Virginia, and on the 11th I will fly with my group to Lima for training. As a west coaster who always preferred leaving the country to seeing it, going to the nation's capital will be a first. My feelings are that it will be eye opening and bring awareness to what exactly I'm representing when I say "soy gringa."

In Preperation

2010-05-10T18:19:00.001-07:00

From my vantage point here at my family home there is not much I can say about what may lie in Peru. I know that I will be a "Youth Development Facilitator" serving on a project somewhere in Peru, and working with young people. I am ready, well almost. This is, as a friend recently said, "what my whole life has been leading up to." Overall, I am excited and optimistic, yet I feel a sense of duty to cover all my bases before departure. I've been minimizing my expectations, being careful to weed through some lingering hesitations and doubts, and being present in my reality. I'm still here and this is a special time of repose when life has granted me time and the freedom to be. So thank you to that, and here goes.

Elke