Sunday, May 1, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
A sampling of Lima Events aka Sorry I'm behind!!
Why I'm Like an Old Man
4/25-29/11
Because I’m sore! So sore!! Getting up the stairs to my bedroom is such a struggle. (Whenever I hear that word now I hear Bradley’s voice in my mind saying “Struggles!”) Today is Friday, April 29th and I am sooo sore. On Wednesday I went to Escuela Pitbull with Rachel and learned some MMA submissions and takedowns with her from Hector Ibañez, aka the man with a bandage covering half of his face. I haven’t written for far too long, so let me write about this week in a bit of detail.
Monday, the 25th, I met with Jacqueline. I’d met with Sonia on Saturday and pondered my project on Sunday, deciding to basically rearrange my topic again and focus specifically on Uchuraccay, the killing of 8 journalists by comuneros in Ayacucho January 26th, 1983. After meeting with Ricardo Caro I had narrowed my topic down to four events, but I just couldn’t get interested in the other three. Uchuraccay really intrigued me because it’s so controversial (still! Lots of conspiracy theories) and first brought the terrorist violence into the national consciousness. She seemed to really support this idea and gave me some good ideas and advice. I finally feel on track! When I got home I typed up some ideas and to do lists, then called Gustavo Gorriti about a potential interview. Last week Jacqueline gave me his email and he’s responded on Friday that I should contact him at the beginning of the week. I’d expected to go about things leisurely and get myself organized, but when I called at noon, he responded very professionally and a bit brusquely that I should come to his office in San Borja at 1:30!! I flipped out. My stomache was doing flip-flops and I was literally so nervous that I shook, but I almost immediately flew out of the apartment, grabbed a very nice cab, and sat outside in the park next to the address and organized myself, compiling interview questions. I didn’t feel prepared at all. I called Jacqueline in a bit of a panic, but she didn’t answer. Oh well, I figured it out. At 1:30 I approached the guard (man, there are so many guards in Peru, and Latin America. I feel like it’s much more of a career path here than it is in the US), told him I had an appointment with Gustavo Gorriti, and waited in the waiting room.
Allow me to explain who Gustavo Gorriti is. He is a famous Peruvian journalist for Caretas, and he was in the town next door to Uchuraccay, Huaychao, literally the day that those 8 journalists were killed in 1983. He was publically attacked, along with the photographer Oscar Medrano and the writer who recently won the Nobel Prize and headed a commission to investigate Uchuraccay, Mario Vargas Llosa. He was attacked by the press, which thought that he was behind a cover up scandal to blame the comuneros. The media speculated that a special division of the armed forces called the Sinchis had dressed up as comuneros and, in fact, killed the reporters. All this speculation was later dismissed as untrue. All of the articles that I’d been reading about the event, and the book I’d referred to, were all written by Gustavo Gorriti. I was a bit starstruck and terrified all at the same time. He, however, was really helpful and very nice. He joked with me, asked me why I hadn’t brought an apple for my teacher (Jacqueline works for him and was in the room next door), told me he’d been to Santa Fe after I told him that I was from New Mexico, and asked me if I was a part of “The Tribe.” Yes, based on my last name he assumed I was Jewish, so I just went with it. For some reason he also wanted to know the name of my temple in New Mexico, so despite the fact that I do not actually have a temple, I just named Temple Albert. He’ll never know. I recorded a 26 minute interview, thanked him profusely, and then headed home feeling super proud of myself. The week was off to a good start!
Tuesday was a really excellent day. Actually, this whole week has been pretty great, but I’ll get to that in a little bit. On Tuesday I went to the archives of El Comercio, an old and conservative newspaper located in the center of Lima. I had to call ahead, get permission, and make an appointment to go there, but I finally made it! These archives are much more like what I had imagined Caretas would be like. A man, the director of the archives I suppose, set me up in glass walled room. He’d run back into a restricted area and fetch the articles I needed, then oversee me reading them. I was by no means alone in there! It was a bit distracting to have a chatty Peruvian lady sitting next to me, but I finally made some progress! I think I got what I need and finally was able to photocopy. Photocopies! Oy. Copies are generally 10-50 cents, with 50 being at the high end of the spectrum. El Comercio, however, wanted to charge me 2 soles and 62 cents!! That’s absurd. So I had to pick and choose what I wanted to copy, and I ended up with 14 pages. When I was ready to go the man, with his overly magnifying eyeglasses that made his eyes look a bit like Professor Trelawney’s (you know the reference), beckoned me into an empty side hallway so that I might pay him. I followed him and questioned him where I needed to go pay and he just told me, “Here, you pay me. Right here.” He gave me a break and only made me pay him 20 soles instead of 36, but it still felt really sketchy to hand over 20 soles to a strange man in a deserted hallway of this prestigious newspaper. So odd.
After that I made my way to the Defensoría del Pueblo to see if they might have archived copies of La República, another newspaper that I’m looking into for my paper. Oy, these archives are so disorganized. Caretas, El Comercio, and the Defensoría del Pueblo all just handed me disorganized folders with browned and torn pages spilling out. The more annoying thing is that these pages nearly never have the author or date on them, so I’m not even sure I can use them in my paper. School has taught me that you can never ever use sources that you cannot cite. Annoying! Especially because I found a perfect map to use for my eventual powerpoint presentation but I don’t even know what the source is. Stupid! El Comercio handed me a folder with articles, most of which weren’t even from El Comercio, and La Defensoría del Pueblo handed me a similar folder. La Defensoría del Pueblo didn’t have many articles from La República, but I did find 3-4 articles from January 30 and 31st, 1983. Useful dates! I bought some yummy plantain chips and sat outside snacking when a lady and her daughter came by offering candies. This is often what beggars in Lima and Cusco do. Rather than simply sit and beg for money, they buy a large bag of candies and up the price, offering a candy for 10 cents. She had the particularly yummy lemony candies, so I bought a handful. It’s not much help, but I feel guilty about how it’s become ok for me to ignore women like her on the street. I often don’t have change and they are so ubiquitous. I remember Jason in Nicaragua telling us not to give to people like this because our few cents don’t help them much, it just encourages them to keep begging rather than doing something with their lives. Begging, especially in places like Cusco and Iquitos, is more frequently done by small children because they get more sympathy, especially from tourists. Though those kids get money for their family, they miss out on the education they should be getting.
In the afternoon Rachel and I had quite the adventure trying to get to the IEP, Instituto de Estudios Peruanos, in Jesús María. I love that area! I wish that I’d gone earlier! Miraflores is super nice, but honestly it’s a little too swanky for my taste. Jesús María feels more like a real neighborhood, but still nice and colorful. Love it! The IEP is great too, and the first real library, research type area that has been really useful for me. Hooray! On the way back we actually took the correct bus, unlike earlier, and booked it to Pardo´s to eat Pollo a La Brasa. I was in serious need of grocery and both Rachel and I were STARVING by the time we got home. Most delicious ever.
Wednesday morning I organized myself and my notes, as well as the house. I cleaned everywhere and felt so much better afterward. I think I’m a bit of a neat freak. Then in the afternoon I headed over the IEP again and took more really useful notes from books and theses there. Hooray! Then I took the bus back from Avenida Brasil… only it was quite the right bus. I thought it would take about 30 minutes, but about an hour in I realized that the bus was no longer on Avenida del Ejército, but Angamos. I realized where I was, got off, walked two blocks to the metropolitano, got off at Benavides, and booked it home. Rachel wanted to leave for training at 5, but because of the bus mix up I didn’t even make it home until 4:50! Good thing I left the IEP early! I got dressed super quickly, then we headed out to find a cab to Breña. Breña, it should be noted, it not a good area. When we first went to Lima and Rachel went to the gym in Breña Sonia told her not too go, that it was too dangerous…. Obviously that didn’t happen because Rachel now goes there multiple times a week. Haha, Sonia’s warnings have often turned out to be overly cautious. Breña is pretty warn down and dirty, with tons of graffiti supporting Keiko. Keiko! No! Oh please no. When I got there Hector asked me if I like Ollanta or Keiko better… I responded neither, but I suppose Ollanta because I do not trust Keiko. I don’t think I would trust any Fujimori. Ollanta’s no good either, though. Escuela Pitbull, the gym, is tiny tiny tiny; maybe a bit bigger than my dorm room last semester. Teeny! I haven’t done really any exercise since getting to peru, so I was a bit worried. Neither have I ever done MMA. MMA is like wrestling, sort of. I’m not quite sure how to describe it. Rachel did an interview with two nine year old brothers, but first she had to get permission from their drug addict father. This is a different world…. I didn’t quite know what to do while I waited, but I chatted a wee bit with Hector, the owner of the gym, and his wife Livia. They seemed skeptical that I spoke Spanish, but Rachel responded that I was better at Spanish that this was…. I’m not sure that’s true, but I was just quiet because I felt nervous and uncomfortable, ok? When we first arrived two Brazilian fighter, a man and a woman who were both ripppppped, were taking photos and filming footage for a fight that they will have against two Peruvians in a couple days. After then the Peruvian opponents arrived and did the same. Then we began our class. It was Rachel, three or four Peruvian teenage boys, and me under the direction of Hector. Hector speaks quickly, but he is even harder to understand because he has a huge square bandage places directly over his mouth… Rachel explained most things to me in English, actually. Part of the warm-up included somersaults and backwards somersaults. I remember in gymnastics I could never to backwards somersaults, but I did them. Hooray! We learned various takedowns, which are like expert tackles, and submissions, which sort of involve getting the opponents limbs all tangled in an uncomfortable position that they cannot escape from. You get them there and hope to inflict pain basically until they tap out. It’s a bit like Uncle. I went against Rachel, but literally had no foundational knowledge. I think having done rugby I caught on fairly quickly, but I NOT prepared for the last part of practice in which Hector had Rachel and I “roll” in front of a circle of about 10 peruvian strangers. We were basically trying to get the other person down in a takedown or submission. Hardly fair since Rachel is really good at this and I literally had no idea what I was doing, but I actually did have a good time. Hector seemed impressed by the fact that I did Rugby too. Rugby is not a word that Peruvians can say. Neither is Claire actually, which is why I just say Clara. Easier for them. I felt uneasy in the middle of that ring with such an audience, but I did it and I think you need to learn to laugh about these things. As we were rolling they kept trying to say rugby over and over again, and in my mind at the time I thought they were just commenting and laughing at the fact that I do rugby. I get super defensive about that because I hate people assuming that I can’t do things, and that is most people’s reaction when they find out I play rugby. Yes I’m small, yes I’m bubbly, but don’t discount my ability please.
At the end Rachel did another interview, and then Hector walked us to the street corner to get a taxi. Apparently he always does this with Rachel because Breña really isn’t a safe area.
Thursday – aka soreness attack! So sore! Going up and down the stairs in killer. I’m sore in my neck, my back, my thighs, my upper arms… Everywhere! I finally got a hold of La Republica on Wednesday morning and got an appointment to go to the archives on Thursday. Their archives are what I imagined archives would be, finally! Old and a bit disorganized, but spacious and studious. Loved it! They allowed me to take photos, which was a nice change from El Comercio… After that I went to Caretas for the last time to double check that I had what I needed and had some real awkward conversations with Miguel, then headed home. For some reason I decided to walk up the eight flights of stairs to our apartment…. Why I do not know, but it seriously contributed to future soreness. Stupid! I worked and read about the Royal Wedding, which was great I’m sure, and procrastinated a bit.
Today, Friday the 29th, I’m sitting in a Starbucks reviewing notes and starting to write. I chatted with Marina the other day as I was skyping with Norah, and she seemed shocked that SIT was basically asking us to write a thesis in one week in another language. Yes, Marina, thank you for stressing that, but I’m well aware. I’m avoiding thinking about all the stress that next week will undoubtedly hold. Oy vey! I’m sure my paper will not have the best writing or the best grammar, but the simple accomplishment of writing a 30-40 page research paper in Spanish will feel good. I’m not even sure how much the grade of this paper will count or if my grades will even count at Conn, but I’ll do the best I can. Rachel is ambitious and writing her paper twice; once in English, and once in Spanish so that she can give it to Escuela Pitbull as well as promoters in America. I think one paper is enough for me! I have at this moment written about 2 pages of my paper. Well, at least I got a little bit of progress before I started procrastinating by writing this blog. Sorry I got so far behind and I know that these long posts are hard to trudge through. I missed all of last week too… I’ll get to that eventually.
The Iquitos girls arrived in Lima yesterday and though I have not seen them yet, I’m excited to celebrate Leah’s birthday tonight with them! Hooray! I’m glad that we can lighten the mood after a tough couple of weeks both academically and socially. I leave Lima next Thursday the 5th, and then I leave Peru for good on Sunday, May 15th. Only a little more than two more weeks. I wonder how I will feel about leaving and what I will miss about Peru. Oh! Another accomplishment of the week: Julie, Nate and I definitely have a place to live over the summer! Hooray! I can’t wait, it’s going to be super fun to be reunited with them.
Oh, and I feel like an old man since I ache all over and move slowly like an old man, if that wasn’t clear enough.
Au revoir!
xoxo,
Claire
Monday, April 18, 2011
Lima pt. 5: Jacqueline Fowks
4-18-11
Today, for the first time, I met with my ISP advisor, Jacqueline Fowks. She is a spirited, young academic that works at the PUCP and corresponded with a local news channel to cover the recent elections. She kind of reminded me of Gretchen Heefner, actually. This last week I struggled on my own to proceed with my research, but ultimately felt like I lacked direction and guidance. I emailed Jacqueline most days and requested help from her, Sonia, and various other sources. The thing is that other people’s project deal directly with people. Other students can find their answers through experience or inquiry, while I’m attempting to answer my own questions through extensive reading in archives, talking to academics, and historical research. Therefore I’m much more alone in this project than any of my peers. I don’t even know if I’ll do any interviews at all.
Spending time languishing in the small, dusty archives really stressed me out, especially when I repeatedly failed to find even any mention of the internal conflict (with even fewer mentions of campesinos). Talking to Jacqueline today alleviated so many of my fears and it felt so encouraging to talk to an academic that supports this project. Although she can’t provide me with answers, she can provide with with avenues to find them myself. She critiqued a lot of what I’ve done, but cut down a lot of my work. For instance, I think that I will no longer even look into events occurring in Lima, with Grupo Colina, attacks against police or politicians, or anything occurring in the selva. Actually, I think I might cut out the entire decade of the 90s from my search because most reported events were terrorist attacks committed in urban areas like Miraflores.
My facebook status today is, “Recently I’ve felt that I’m recreating Bel Canto in my own life.” I don’t know how many of you have read Bel Canto, but it is a book written by Ann Patchett about an embassy that’s taken over by “unnamed quechua terrorists” and centers on the experience of an opera singer that is one of the hostages. I was forced to read the book in high school because my high school, that brought in amazing speakers fyi like Martha Nussbaum, brought Ann Patchett to speak to us for a Common Time. Ann Patchett, first of all, is very full of herself and hearing her talk made me dislike the book even more. It took my mom like two years to get through that book. Anyway, I enjoyed what that book taught me about singing and Opera, topics that I found applicable to my high school life. Currently I find myself again thinking about Bel Canto. At the time Ann Patchett said that she based the book on an article she’d found from the 90s about an embassy overtaken by terrorists. She did not name then, nor in the book, the country. The event that she, in fact, wrote about was the 1996 hostage situation in Peru that lasted for four months of the Japanese ambassador’s residence in Peru. Members of the MRTA, the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement, came to the residence during a large party being held and took everyone hostage. The let most women go within the first few days, but kept quite a few people hostage for four months. What the news fails to mention is that they took the place hostage because they demanded the release from prison of about a hundred MRTA members held in prison.
Fujimori’s dictatorial government organized Operación Chavín de Huantar in which they essentially dug tunnels to the residence, killed all of the MRTA members, and got the hostages out of there. One of the people actually at this party was Alejandro Toledo, which I find fascinating. Fujimori’s brother was also a hostage. There’s a video of Fujimori inspecting the residence the day after this operation and he just walks past the bodies of MRTA soldiers with disgust and no vestige of human sympathy as he ascends the stairs. It’s a fairly powerful scene. (Fujimori’s the one in prison for human rights violations and his daughter might be the next president of Peru. Shit. Several Peruvians have told me that their’s is a family of bandits and robbers hungry for power.)
You all probably don’t care about all this historical stuff, but Ann Patchett’s a crap writer, even if she picks interesting topics. She claimed to have thought of so many things on her own, but it’s obvious that she had to do extensive research not only about opera, but also about the events at the ambassador’s residence and the Peruvian political climate. Why did she leave the country unnamed? Why did she so obviously refer to Quechua speakers and politicians of Japanese heritage which OBVIOUSLY refers to Peru. I remember Ms. Bernard hated her for her flagrant misuse of Opera terminology. Oh I miss Bernard…
Anyways, our director Sonia is coming to Lima today as a stopover to go visit the girls in Iquitos. I’m glad that I have progress to show her and a clearer idea of where I might proceed from here. I feel much more organized and relieved about this entire project and I might actually create an end product that I find both interesting and important.
xoxo,
Claire
Lima pt. 4: Homesick
4-17-11
Today, Sunday the 17th, I gave myself a break from my ISP work and stress. I instead stressed about apartments for the summer and my CELS internship. I’m actually very worried that I won’t see my family over the summer and that the emotional toll of my internship might wear on me. I’ll work with victims of domestic violence and human trafficking. I’ve never met someone who’s gone through something like that! Am I unprepared for this? I had to fill out some CELS paperwork and write an essay for it and I just felt all this pressure weighing down on me. I talked to my mom and she made me feel much better. She and dad are leaving to visit Julie in Paris on Wednesday. I know I only have about a month left here, but at times it seems like an insurmountable amount of time. Lima is so Americanized in so many ways I don’t want to deal with another language, another culture, or another culture’s bureaucracy anymore. It’s so Americanized that it just makes me crave being in REAL America where I understand how things work and I don’t have to try so hard all the time. Eventually we figured out a lot of my dilemmas about summer and the apartment, but it was a stressful day nonetheless. I had to prepare to meet Jacqueline and Sonia too and I feel like I’ve not gotten nearly enough accomplished on this project. The stress never ends.
Xoxo,
Claire
Lima pt. 3: Archives & Yuyachkani
4/15-16/11
So Friday the 15th I again woke up early and prepared myself to go to Caretas. I cleaned up that house a bit and then I went on my way. On the bus I sat next to an old man who asked me for directions. He was from Lima! He thought I was Peruvian too. Limenans don’t immediately assume I’m American, unlike Cusquenans. It’s an odd feeling knowing I don’t stick out as much, but still strange. I told him that I had no idea; I’d only been in Lima for a week. I once again stopped in the Plaza to collect myself and my passport, only this time a random guy sat next to me and struck up a conversation. He was a strange one. He asked to borrow a pen and then asked if I knew English because he was studying for a Spanish exam. His name was Bruce Jotain, neither of which are Peruvian names. He explained that he chose the name Jotain because he wanted to have a last name of “something” in another language. First he chose Latin, “Alquid,” but then for some reason later on chose Finnish instead and came out with the name “Jotain.” Bizarre. It weirded me out a bit that he didn’t use his real name and so I asked him what his real name was, which he did not provide. This particular forward Peruvian man asked me for my email rather than my phone number, so I gave him my secondary email that I don’t check very often. Apparently he’s studying English and will be an elementary English teacher and he told me that he doesn’t want to live in Peru, but in Europe or the US. Interesting. He thought I was Colombian?
I then went to Caretas and picked up where I’d left off the day before. I researched for quite a long time, and then when we had to move for the janitors again I talked to Miguel about music and politics. He told me that he voted for Castaneda and he asked me to go to lunch again and Lauren had said that I shouldn’t pass it up, so I accepted. They were lacquering a cabinet so I spent most of the afternoon trying to read on the couch but suffering from a headache from all those chemicals and Miguel’s distractions. I did find some interesting articles though, so I’m glad that I felt like I’d progressed.
At three we left and went to lunch. When Peruvians, and Spaniards actually, ask you out to something they take it upon themselves to pay for you. Therefore, he took me to…a grocery store. We sat and talked for a long time but god he asked me some silly things. “Have you ever been to a grocery store before? Have you ever tried juice? Have you ever tried watermelon? “ Yes, of course I have. I made it clear that I have a boyfriend, but I think I need to say it again cause he was flirting tooooo much for my taste.
That night we went out to Barranco and most of the discotecs were playing Huayno. They don’t even play huayno is cusco’s discotecs. What is this? Not danceable music at all. However, I did dance around sillily with these two girls. Damn, they had quite the arsenal of silly dance moves. We’d put our fingers on the top of someone’s head and they’d have to go to the middle of the circle and do some moves, then we’d do the same to the next person. We’d spin in circles; form a line, tons of silly stuff. I had fun dancing around with them and I was relieved to find out that they have to defend themselves from the advances of creepy men just as much as we do! Oh god, in the first bar we went to there was this creepy unibrow man, probably about 35, who went out to pick up girls with his uncle and his elderly dad. What? All three of them sort of pinned us at the bar and talked to us in English. He boasted about being a Cosco manager in California. Ok? We really didn’t want to talk to them.
On Saturday the 16th I woke up early once again and headed to the archives. I started out the day with lots of progress, but hit quite a few roadblocks as the day progressed. Miguel sitting so close to me in this space was distracting and taxing, because I can’t chat, I have to read and he wouldn’t allow me to do that. Oy, he gave me a book of poetry. Oh god, this is horrible. I procrastinated quite a bit. It’s interesting but not necessarily useful to me that the majority of articles I’ve read barely mention the Andean zone, nonetheless people who live their or suffer violence there. The articles in Caretas all focus on the economy, politicians, elections, attacks in Lima, etc… with maybe one sentence in every few issues about gente andina. It was interesting to read about the hostage situation at the Japanese ambassador’s residence, but I just kept thinking about Bel Canto. I have noticed that they never ever use the term indigena, and rarely use the term campesina. I think those are old fashioned terms and now they use comunero, poblador, or gente de las Alturas. That’s all well and good, but I don’t feel like I’m making progress! I gave up after a while (Miguel left early, thank god) and went home. I did, however, take some photos of articles that might be useful. I had a stressful hour after that man convinced me that they’d erase all of my photos, so I sort of just slipped out. See ya later Caretas.
That night we went to Yuyachkani again. Yuyachkani is the theater group that we did a workshop with the first time we came to Lima. Ukuku!! This performance was the play they were readying back then. Whoa! It was incredible. It was incredibly patriotic and emotional, but simultaneously highly critical of Peruvian official’s and what has occurred in recent years. It told a story, but without a plot. It was maybe the most innovative use of a black box theater that I’ve ever seen.
First you walked in and the space was set up like a museum. You walk around reading the walls and information they’d posted about the war with Chile in the late 19th century, on to Velasco, and the PCP-SL (Sendero Luminoso) and the corruption of Fujimori and Montesinos. In the center is a small, empty stage elevated above the crowd. All of a sudden you’re startling into realizing that the mannequins in front of those displays are, in fact, actors. They blasted the sound of trains passing and just as the sound stopped, the actors yelled the same words about memory simultaneously. They then made their way through the crowd to the stage and began the play. I’m not sure if I can fully describe this piece, but I found it really impactful. Is that a word? The stage broke apart into five pieces and could be wheeled around. So the story constantly changed, with actors in different costumes, in different parts of the space: elevated, at the same level as the crowd, or high above looking down from a large window. They hoisted up an enormous tattered Peruvian flag and the proceeding scenes all happened under its shadow. They danced, sang, yelled, played accordion, bared their chests, burned wood, poured water, threw paper into the air, blasted music, charged into the crowd making us scatter, wore clothing with words and forced us to come close and read, wore stilts and masks, etc. At times it almost felt like a circus, but a circus of political awareness and with the intention of a certain message. It was highly interactive and I loved that the audience was so much a part of the piece. You never knew from when direction they might come so you had to be alert and aware of yourself, prepared to spring out of your place. I cried at one point and I’m not sure I can even explain why. It was so incredibly patriotic and emotional, reflecting the suffering and history of Peru just as it reflects the disappointment with Peruvian politicians. At least as the limenan press ignores Andean people and their struggles, this theater company will NOT forget it and they do all they can to remind everyone.
xoxo,
Claire
Lima pt. 2: Caretas Archives
4/13-14/11
Sitting in the cramped corner of a tiny, dusty archive in a broken chair with a stack of papers as a desk, I realized something about myself: I have a mathematical mind without a head for numbers. I realized that the reason I like history is that there is a definitive answer. Sure, historians argue and disagree, but there is an overall understanding and set interpretation of events. That interpretation might be wrong entirely because history is, afterall, written by the victors, but at least there is something that seems like a set answer most of the time. Current events, on the other hand, drive me nuts. Everyone puts in their two cents and their own opinions creating a climate of confusion when all I want to know is what is going on. That’s what I always crave from the news, a clear answer. I’m realizing more and more how much the adult world lacks clear answers and how often you really need to figure it out for yourself and live with the mistakes you make. Not a world for perfectionists!
So, about those archives. Wednesday the 13th was a bit of a bust, but I went to the defensoría del pueblo and looked at archived copies of a newspaper called El Diario. I felt overwhelmed. I took the Metropolitano to the center for the first time with Lauren and figured out where to go to find Caretas. It is literally in the plaza de armas in the center across the way from the Palacio del Gobierno and the Cathedral.This topic is so huge. I freaked out several times that day and emailed Sonia and Jacqueline several times, and they did what they could to help me. I ended Wednesday night feeling very homesick and worried, despairing about my project, about how much I wanted to go home, and disappointed with myself.
Thursday the 14th: I woke up early, around 7:30, and prepared to go to the archives of Caretas for the first time. Everyone else in my house has made such progress meeting with people and going out into the city, but I haven’t felt like I’ve achieved any of that. Thursday was the first time that I felt I really went out there, into Lima, on my own and met people on my own. I took the crammed Metropolitano in the morning rush, walked a couple blocks from the Jiron de la Union stop by the Metro to the center, and stopped to rest at a bench in the plaza. I sat to collect my passport from my backpack and to arrange myself for this. I didn’t know what to expect! I went to the discreet front door (however discreet a gold door can be) and explained that I’m a student doing a research project. I requested to be let into the archives. The man at the front took my passport, then directed me to the second floor. I went up narrow, colorful stairs and found a secretary on the second floor. She told me that I needed to go up one more flight. So I turned around and went up one more set of ill-lit stairs. However, when I arrived on the small, quiet landing I did a full circle and found no archives. I also found no people. On the left I saw a small elevator with a red door, ahead a door that said only authorized people allowed, a small rickety couch and closed doors to my right. What to do what to do. I sat down and pondered, hoping someone would appear with a sign proclaiming, “ARCHIVES!”…but sadly that did not happen. I plucked up my courage and knocked on the door straight ahead.
A man with a pock-marked face answered me as I stuck me head through the door. I explained my project to him, and to my surprise he seemed to blink without recognition when I mentioned the armed internal conflict. “You mean terrorism?” her asked. She he had me sit back down on the rickety bench as he went to retrieve some files for me. I sat and waited quietly for a good half hour before he returned with a large stack of disorganized files about terrorism in the 80s and Uchuraccay. I sat on the couch reading for a while before they invited me to sit in the archives themselves. Well, sort of. There’s a large-ish table at the back, but they were holding a meeting, so I sat in the tiny room in the front within about a foot and a half of a young guy named Miguel. If you can imagine an old desk chair with the seating crumbling apart, that’s what I sat on. I repeatedly had to jump out of the way because I sat directly in front of two bookshelves and there was zero floor space for people to skirt around me. I also had to spring out of the way to let a janitor sweep, then mop the floor. Lima is a very dusty place and the archives are correspondingly dusty. Then again, I think archives are always dusty.
So about Miguel. Oy, he’s chatty and a journalism student. He wouldn’t leave me alone for a while, which I dearly wanted because my time in the archives is so limited. Peruvian men are so forward. Within minutes he had asked my first and last name, where I was from, my phone number, where I live in Lima, if I wanted to go to lunch, what I am doing in the archives… etc. I politely declined. I’ve discussed with Lauren before how, speaking in Spanish, we act far more politely than we maybe should at all times. Then again, I’m never polite to the people sticking tickets in your face in the plaza de armas in cusco. I hate those guys and I’d sooner yell at them, which I have actually done before. Even though I found Miguel distracting, it was nice to actually speak in Spanish, which I haven’t really been able to do since coming to Lima.
If I’d written this post days ago as I should have done, the tone would be very different. Today I feel calm, but at that point I felt incredibly frustrated and annoyed. The main reason for this was Peruvian institutions and their lack of CLEAR ANSWERS. One person would tell me that I could photocopy articles, another person would tell me that there was no photocopier, another would tell me it was free with a photocopier from another area, another would tell me that it cost 50 cents per page. I asked if the archives would be open next week during semana santa: One person told me, “of course! We’re the news, we never close,” another told me that they’d be open Monday but no other day, and another told me that they’d be open. I eventually found out that they will, in fact, be closed. Come on people! This is where you WORK! Why don’t you know these things? I asked if I could photograph articles instead of photocopying since I can’t spend that much money: Two people said of course, another told me that it was absolutely prohibited and that I’d have to pay anyways and that the people at the front door would take my camera and delete all of the pictures on it….. I just took discreet photos after that. This country lacks any clear answers! I can comply easily if only people tell me how I’m supposed to behave! Urgh. Very frustrating.
xoxo,
Claire
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
I forgot the best news
Here I am in Lima Town: The last week in Cusco and the beginning of Lima (plus ISP frustrations)
That’s a big chunk of time! Leave it to me to get exceedingly behind. It’s not like I haven’t been sitting on my computer either. Oy! Ok, so the last couple days in Cusco were not super interesting. We didn’t have class until Wednesday and I spent Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday finishing my diario del campo, writing my IRB, and finishing my ISP research proposal. Oy! It was a long process and, actually, not very rewarding to finish. Oh well. So I kept to myself a lot those days and felt a little ill on one of them, but pulled my act together in the end.
We had our final meeting of everyone and on Thursday we did a Pago a La Tierra, a Andean religious ceremony where you give gifts to the land and ask for whatever it is that you ask for. We, communally, asked that we be safe on your independent months and that our investigations go well. More than anything I appreciated the Pago a La Tierra for reuniting our group together for one final afternoon together and for making us realize how much we’ve grown with one another. At the end Donaldo gave a really meaningful speech that made me cry. I don’t remember exactly how it went, but he said (in Spanish),
“Chicos, look around. Think back to when you walked onto that bus the first day. That day you were alone. You were in a new place and though you were all together, you were alone. You weren’t present in Urubamba; your minds and hearts were still with your homes, with your friends, and with your families. Now look around. You are together and you have all grown. You are here for one another and I’m proud of all of you. Look how far you’ve come.”
That doesn’t do him justice, but I really truly appreciated what he said. It was such a nice exit to be able to give everyone a hug, to sit together for what, three hours?, and just enjoy each others’ presence for nearly the last time. They passed around a bottle of pisco and a bottle of wine around the table. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it here before, but Peruvian wine is absolutely foul. It’s sweet and often BROWN rather than red. Ugh it’s terrible. Pisco is fine in a pisco sour, but a shot of pisco is foul as well. We had to dip our fingers in pisco and flick them, give pisco to the wind and to the two apus (Apu being, basically, a god that resides in/is a mountain) that we prayed to in this ceremony. We then had to drink a little bit (ugh!) and dump the drips onto the ground to give to Pachamama. The wine, which was Argentinian THANK GOD, was poured onto the ground directly to Pachamama and we drank a sip too. We also gave the traditional offering of three coca leaves for ayni, or reciprocity. They said that we could also give offerings for loved ones so I got one for Julie and for Sebas (poor little guy has a cold! I hoped that he would feel better. I miss that little one. I miss hearing “Lala” yelled at me in a baby voice every day.) Brynerin then brought out a guitar and sang songs, which we weren’t tooootally sure were appropriate. However, the main guy said that all music was appropriate so she sang songs that she herself penned about 1) Weed and food that she loves when she has the munchies, 2) Burning Man, and 3) How we are blessed. Very funny and unexpected! The first two were quite unexpected, for sure.
Oh! I didn’t mention the location! Ok, so at 3 pm on Thursday (4-7-11) we met at the SIT building with a Paqo, Donaldo, and the guy who gave us the conference on Andean Religiosity. We then walked towards the mountain and hiked up a HUGE hill until we reached a flat part, which turned out to have been an Incan temple. We even had to wade/jump across a pretty big stream to do it! It had an absolutely impeccable view of Cusco.
We sat in a circle, rubbed a strong smelling liquid between our hands and over our clothes to purify us, and gave the Paqo something one our person that we held dear to be included in the ceremony. Some of it was serious, but a lot of it was just goofing off or chatting with the people next to you and enjoying their company. I sat with Mateo on my left and Anna on my right. One by one we each went up to receive a blessing from the Paqo and after he’d assembled all of the offerings together to be burned, we went up one by one again and he rubbed the package all over our bodies to absorb our worries and fears.
That night I had my last dinner with my host family and I think Sebas could tell something was up because he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He made me draw with him, play on cars with him, and he even dragged me on an unexpected walk that my host mom quickly put an end too. I miss that little guy :(. I helped Bryn and Matt move Bryn out of her host family’s house, and then we went to Matt’s house to meet everyone. People didn’t arrive for a while so I made Matt give me a bunch of music. Eventually they came from dinner and after a while we sad goodbyes and went to Ukukus. So fun! I wanted to go home and pack, but they had live music and it was super fun to dance sillily with the girls to live versions of Twist and Shout and Hey Jude. That and Mana. Go figure, it’s peru!
My host family was super nice and had their driver guy (since they don’t know how to drive their own car) drive Kia and I to the airport. We checked in without any problems then after a bit of a wait got on our plane to Lima. I’m going to miss my host family! I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to Farina or my host dad (boo!) but I really do like them so much and I will miss having them in my life for the next month. I miss sebas too! Poor little guy is sick and he missed a bunch of days that week from his jardin.
We arrived in Lima on Friday afternoon and Rachel had coordinated a taxi to pick us up and drive us to Miraflores, which is a good hour away from the airport. However, Kia was on a later flight and she got delayed. We had to pay a little extra because of this, but it also gave us time to go eat lunch and yummm Pardo’s Chicken is delicious when you’re starving!
We then drove through the fog (after bidding the Iquitos girls goodbye. I love them!) to Miraflores and discovered that our apartment is an amazing place. Three stories! Only a block away from the grocery store! Miraflores! Five blocks from the ocean (If you count the cliff overlooking the ocean and highway as the “ocean”)! It’s amazing! Unfortunately, we arrived and Olivia found out that a security guy in Cusco’s airport had stolen half of her stipend money. Not a good way to start the trip! The landlord, a british man with a silly accent named Paul Gibbs( …he pronounces his Rs as if they were Ws. Try it – Instead of Road, it’s Woad, etc.), dealt with us very well and tried to help then showed us around, collected out rent, and went on his way. We laid down some ground rules, then went to Vivanda to get groceries. On the way there we ran into three Americans, one of which goes to Columbia with Kia. Small world! They are on the Butler PUCP program that I nearly went on so when I found that out I had a bit of an odd moment when I thought, “Whoooooaa, these are the people I would be friends with if I’d made the other choice.” I’m glad I didn’t make that choice. They don’t finish school until July! Plus, I like Cusco more than Lima. They said that Miraflores isn’t anywhere near PUCP and they have to take an hour combi ride to get to class. That sounds like a pain.
Later than afternoon we got an email from Sonia saying that Donaldo is leaving SIT for personal reasons. What?? He seemed sad on Thursday and that makes me especially glad that I gave him an extra hug goodbye before leaving Cusco. However, we are all skeptical that he left voluntarily. If any of us had to pick between Donaldo and Sonia, Donaldo would win hands down. We don’t know what happened and since I’m so far away, I find it unlikely that we’ll find out. I am, actually, inordinately upset about this. I hate not knowing what’s going on.
That night I chatted with Joanna and Madeleine and it was marvelous! It made me miss my friends from home (and home) so much!!! I can’t wait to see you guys! I had to pick housing last week and I am stuck in Lambdin again far from my friends. NOOOO Not happy about that. I wrote to the student housing people but didn’t get a very promising response. There’s a chunk of time in may when anyone can trade rooms… so hopefully I can solve the situation then.
The view of foggy Lima from my bedroom window. We're on the 8th story.
Saturday and Sunday? I don’t think I did much, to be honest. I hung around the apartment, tried to figure out which classes to take next semester, and tried to start some sort of research for my ISP here. On Sunday night Lauren and I made a pineapple carrot bake because Maggie Flesher stopped by on Monday and it was her 21st bday. Yummy cake! On Monday I made the creamcheese frosting and it was delicious, if I do say so myself. It’s really nice to be able to cook for myself here.
On Monday I tried to do research online and failed. I then thought I’d take public transit, the Metropolitano bus line, to the Public Library in San Borja. Also a big fail. I wish maps were more detailed/available. I have yet to find a good map and I need one! Good lord, I’m becoming my father. So after walking around San Borja for an hour getting lost and feeling scared and uncomfortable (People kept making the yucky kissy noises at me and I definitely wasn’t in a tourist/gringo friendly part of town) so I got back on the Metropolitano and went home. Maggie came by and we showed her the cake. She was impressed by our apartment….it is pretty great! I totally didn’t expect three floors. I felt really frustrated and depressed all day because I’m so annoyed with my struggles with myself and this project and how much this city intimidates me. Agh! So that night I decided that I’d make myself go to yoga with Olivia and Maggie. Olivia and Rachel have gone nearly every day. Let me tell you, I HATED that yoga class. We were on the second floor and could not hear or see the instructor, I don’t know the names for yoga poses in Spanish anyway, it was hot, and the fairly advanced guy up there with the three of us (me, Olivia, and a random guy) was just showing off and doing headstands and shit! Ugh, made me feel bad about myself and my yoga skills and I kept having to stand and peer over the balcony to see what the rest of the class was doing. I absolutely hated it. Not going back! It was also too much quiet time to let my mind wander, worry, and chastise me for not getting my project done. Booooooo.
When we got home I learned that the History Teacher that would be teaching my class on Postcolonial South Asia will not be at Conn for another year (she’s deferred her appointment in favor of a post-doctoral fellowship at Rutgers) so I had to figure out what classes to take instead! We went to dinner, came home and ate the yummy cake, bid farewell to Maggie (she took a flight to Ayacucho at around 4 AM!), and went to sleep.
I woke up this morning, Tuesday the 12th, at 6 am to register for classes. I’m sure I’ll change things around later, but as of right now I’m taking Stock’s History of the American West in the 20th Century, Downs’ Emancipation and Slavery in the Americas class, Spanish Cinema with Luis Gonzalez (hooray!), and French 101. We shall see about French….I wanted to take more film classes but they all required permission from the registrar.. I also wanted to take an Anthro class about Bollywood and Globalization…. I might work that in somehow later too… or Heefner’s Reagan Revolution class… oh man I don’t know. What about Vikings? Dear oh dear.
I ate breakfast and wished that Peruvians didn’t sell milk in bags so that the French press was open for coffee business instead of storing milk. I then researched online a bit and decided to go to the National Library in San Borja, the one I tried to go to on Monday. This time, however, I would take a cab! Rachel wanted to come too, and wow thank god. Today was another big fail, but I, thankfully, didn’t feel quite to awful about it. We got to the library, after paying 10 S./ for a taxi, only to learn that it’s closed to the public until june or july. So then we decided to take another taxi to Pueblo Libre and the PUCP, the Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Peru, to look at their libraries. After another 10 S./ we learned that their library is closed too and that we, as foreigners, have to gain special permission in order to access their libraries. Limeñans talk toooooooooo fast and I can’t understand what they say most of the time. Without a host family I speak much much less spanish. My advisor also prefers to email me in english, even though I email her in Spanish. So then we decided not to waste more soles and take a bus back to Miraflores. If we thought combis were hard to navégate in Cusco, which they are!!!, then they are near impossible in Lima. Both Rachel and I asked the Money collector guy on oe bus if he went to Miraflores, We asked him separately and each time he said yes! So, we got on. Only later when he collected our soles did he seem confused and tell us that the bus did not, in fact, g oto Miraflores. He was nice later though and alerted us when to get off the bus and pointed to the right bus. We ran from one bus to another and finally got on one leading home. I would not have liked to do all of this on my own! Especially since I read the article in Caretas yesterday about the taxi driver that raped and killed and australian tourist and beat up her boyfriend. If you read that, please don’t tell my mom. She would worry. But because of that news story I am far too scared of Lima and scared to go about on my own….which I need to be able to do for this Project.
So I spent the afternoon freaking out and trying to figure out how I might spend my time fruitfully. I watched the documentary on youtube that my advisor told me to watch, La Cantuta en la Boca del Diablo, and tried to figure out my life and relax.
So there it is, a very long-winded update of my life. Lima is an interesting and scary place for me and I feel very homesick here, but I hope that it gets better. My roommates are great at least!
ps - Oh my gosh, how could I forget?? On Saturday Olivia and I went to the Museo de la Nacion again to look at the photo exhibit on the Internal Armed Conflict, and then sunday was the presidential election. Lauren went with a couple people form her community to go vote with them and experience it. Very Cool. Unfortunately the frontrunners are Humala and Keiko. In a month there will be another election to choose between those two. I'd hoped for PPK, as had my whole host family. I wonder who will win outright and what they will change in this country.
xoxo,
Claire
Monday, April 4, 2011
El Último Fin de Semana en Cusco
4-2/3-11
This is my last weekend here before ISP! I can’t believe it and I feel bittersweet. I’m worried about Lima because it’s really big and fairly dangerous. Even if I’m perfectly safe it still takes me a while to get myself accustomed to a new place and I don’t have THAT much time there. I am excited though because many of the Iquitos crew are coming to visit towards the end of April. That’ll be something to look forward to!
Last night a couple of us decided to get up early and go to the Tupac Amaru market to buy presents for friends and family. I got a couple things, but I can’t tell what to buy people! I keep searching for rings to buy for myself and failing. They’re either too small or too expensive! I wonder if I’m going to return to the US and try to haggle with people. I already know that I’m going to be shocked by US prices. Here a 5 soles taxi ride is ridiculously expensive, but I remember taking a taxi in Boston last summer that cost me 30 dollars. That was ridiculous and I was pissed about it. PS – 5 soles is a little less than two dollars. We then went to the artisanal market where I continued my search for a ring. We ran into Donaldo and his family at the market and oh my gosh! I’d never met his daughters before but they are the most adorable little girls!! One is six and the other is three, but when I asked her how old she was she responded, “four.” Her mom had to pipe up and say, “No, she’s actually three.” So cute!
I came home for lunch and then in the afternoon I tried to catch up on my diario del campo. I’m reeeeeeally far behind. Good thing I have this blog because I can reference it and remember what in the world I’ve been doing. If not, the diario would be much more scant and vague.
I went out last night and danced and had a great time, so I figured I would go out again. It is, afterall, our last weekend all together in Cusco before ISP! We all went to Jake’s apartment for ISP and had ourselves a house party, something that we’re all more familiar and comfortable with than discotecas. Today was Amy’s birthday (we all ate cake yesterday after FSS! I love that SIT celebrates birthdays.) so we had to show her a good time. I don’t remember much else…
This morning I woke up at Tyler’s house, very confused, to the sound of my phone ringing. She and Kia had made the executive decision that I should sleep there since we got back really late. My host mom, however, was not in on this decision and was very worried about me. There were various miscommunications since I answered the phone half-asleep, but I finally cleared it up and went home to apologize. I felt especially bad since she’s such a nice lady and I hadn’t meant to deceive her! I felt really embarrassed, but she greeted me with no anger or anything. She just wanted to make sure that I was ok and that I’d eaten. Oh Peruvians! I showered then ate breakfast…then about ten minutes later I ate lunch. Most people would turn that into one meal, but Peruvians hate skipping meals. They’re so worried about people getting enough to eat! We had to hurry because we were going to go to another Cienciano game at one. I left with Papa Angel and Iris, struggled to find a cab, and then met Tio Alfredo outside of the stadium. Before we left Iris mentioned in passing that I should probably bring my rain jacket. Whoa was she right!!! It rained the entire second half and even though I wore my rain jacket I still got soaked! Everyone did! It rained harder than it did during the Yunsa! The rainy season is ending supposedly and it really hasn’t rained nearly as often as before, but the rain in making last ditch monsoon efforts. It poured last night and then today was ridiculous too! The game was between Cienciano (Initials are CC, which confuses me every time…) and Union Comercio. Cienciano was winning the whole game but it ended in a tie. By that time no one cared anymore because we were all soaked! I’d wanted to buy a jersey after the game, but all the vendors had fled from the rain. Some other time I guess.
We came home soaking wet and after changing we ate another small lunch, then about an hour later we had dinner. Haha Peruvians. Dinner here, however, generally consists of Tea/Coffee and some small dessert. Today it was Jello. I tried to write a little more of my diario (I’m still far behind), and then I went to play with Sebas. He calls me Lala because he can’t say Clarita, and that has turned into a new name for me in the house: Lalita. I actually really like the name. Sebas has starting hitting a lot more and we think he’s learning it from other kids at kindergarten. Today, however, he didn’t hit me at all. He did give me lots of hugs! I love little kids. The presidential debate was on at seven and so I attempted to watch it but Sebas kept dragging me all over the place. He was so cute in his ninja pajamas, tuxedo shiny shoes from his baptism, and a huge baseball cap. I wish I’d taken a photo! I had fun playing with him, but I did want to watch! The debate was between the top five candidates: Keiko Fujimori, Luis Castañeda, Ollanta Humala, Alejandro Toledo, and Pedro Pablo Kryczynski (PPK). On Thursday Papa Angel explained to me that he doesn’t trust Humala because he is a military man and he once ran for president before. For that election he basically followed the doctrine of near dictators Hugo Chavez and Castro. Papa Angel thinks that if Humala won then he’d turn into a dictator and obviously we don’t want that! It’s also suspicious because for this election Humala changed a lot of his political stances. Which one are the people supposed to trust in? Castaneda is super conservative and has a creepy smile. On the plane the other day Kia was reading a book about gay people in Peru and now she really hates Castaneda. Apparently when he was mayor of Lima he did some really terrible things. Keiko is the daughter of the only president in world history to resign by fax. Toledo used to be president and I don’t think that he should be reelected. That leaves PPK. Farina told me that she will vote for PPK and from what I heard in the debate, I would vote for him too. I hope that whoever wins manages to do more good than harm.
xoxo,
Claire
Trabajo
3-31-11 & 4-1-11
I just wrote a sentence and then realized that it was in Spanish instead of English…whoops. Imagine how I’d be if I lived in Peru longer! I keep getting really far behind on this blog. Ugh. The reason is that I have lots of other work to do and so I often spend lots of time on my computer writing or researching, instead of doing fun things that I can write about later.
Thursday the 31th: I was convinced that we got Wednesday and Thursday free from class because the directors wanted a weekend since ours was taken up with adventures in the Amazon. However, they weren’t so much of a break for us because our final paper for the conferences was due on Friday. Therefore my Thursday was not toooo exciting. I spent nearly the whole day in a café trying to write my paper (about the Internal War). I’ve been emailing back and forth with the woman I submitted my cover letter and resume to. There was a miscommunication and despite the fact that I’ve told her I’m in Peru, she asked me to come in for an interview. I suggested skype etc.. but she never really responded. I had a little bit of a breakdown about it today because I feel so frustrated about these miscommunications and I feel as if she much be extremely tired of dealing with me. As of now that is the only internship I’ve applied to because I REALLY wanted it and because her response at first was so positive. Now I’m not so sure and that makes me worried. I suppose I should go back to searching. I really enjoyed the early afternoon because I was feeling super stressed about all these things and assignments and trying to pick classes but I took a break to go to El Molino with Rachel. Sometimes doing something completely different is what I need to get perspective and relax. We bought some USBs (apparently I left mine in the US), some sunglasses (mine broke), and some movies (of course). Rachel made me feel a lot better and I appreciated it.
Friday the 1st: We had our next to last FSS today and we talked about how to put together our project proposals. I hope that I do this proposal well….SIT has a habit of not really explaining things and assuming that we understand. We completed a sample proposal in small groups (SIT loves wasting times by splitting people into small groups to discuss when we often don’t know what it is we’re supposed to discuss). We turned our papers in and received our grades from the Spanish exam, and then we were free for the rest of the day. After lunch we got a group together and played soccer. I never wear the right shoes! I played in moccasins and had big blisters by the end of the game. The pain was worth it though! We won! My team was composed of Chris, Lucia, Jake, and me. The opposing team was Casey, Justin, Sammie, Rebecca, and Lauren. The smaller team won! I usually think I’m terrible at soccer, but for some reason this game went really well and I had an excellent time. I got home to lunch a littler late because of it and everyone remarked that I was super flushed. I hope that we play again! It felt like a more even match without Donaldo playing, although he always passes the ball instead of scoring all the time, which he most definitely could. I forget if it was Thursday or Friday that they came, but the grandparents are visiting again! Tia Luciana, Tia Lucha (I just figured out that Lucha is the nickname, or apodo, for Luisa. That’s why Luis Castañeda’s posters all say Lucho!) Oh, and I can’t forget Papa Angel (my favorite!). I was afraid I’d never see them again. Yesterday my host mom did the nicest thing; it really warmed my heart. When I came home for lunch I discovered the grandparents sitting at the lunch table and while I greeted them Tia Lucha remarked that I had gained weight. Inevitably it is true, but I don’t think I’m fat! At night I was in my room pretending to work and my host mom knocked on the door. She apologized for her mother and explained that they are old and they don’t understand. I already knew this (my grandma is the same way), but the fact that she went so far out of her way to make sure I was okay and to apologize really meant a lot to me. The simple gesture was just so kind and it made me realize how much I appreciate and love my host family. Sitting at the dinner table tonight I felt truly like a part of the family. I don’t feel uncomfortable around them anymore and I’m just so lucky to have landed in this wonderful family. When we didn’t have class everyday I really started to realize how much I’m going to miss everyone. We have a really great group and I love my host family and though I’m going to Lima with some good friends, I will really miss everyone. After ISP we’re only together for a week presenting our projects, and then the program ends. Who will I never see again once the program ends?
In the afternoon I had a meeting with Donaldo and Sonia to talk about my ISP. They didn’t provide that much help because most of what I need to do now is make contacts and I think my idea is fairly clear. Sonia did, however, give me the email of someone who would be a good tutor. Apparently this woman wrote a book about the media during the internal war and right now she is reporting the elections of a news channel called N. I wrote to Jaime Urrutia a couple of days ago asking him to be my advisor. He hasn’t responded yet, so perhaps this new woman would be better. Also, she lives in Lima (unlike Urrutia) so I would be able to meet with her in person.
That night we had another dinner party at Rebecca’s house. This time we made quesadillas!
xoxo,
Claire
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Before and After the Adventure aka Iquitos
On Friday the 25th I ate a relaxed breakfast, then met up with a number of girls who live in Santa Ursula to catch a taxi to the airport together. I met Donaldo’s wife (who is super small and cute) and she has a nose piercing too! We chatted about that for a little while. We flew first to Lima, then had a long layover in the airport until our flight left for Iquitos. The directors met a girl from last semester’s group who was visiting her Peruvian boyfriend over Spring Break. We wandered around and wasted time, then got on our flight to Iquitos. We arrived at night and thank goodness for that! It was so very hot and humid, even at night! I’m glad I’m not doing my ISP there because I cannot handle humidity at all. Ugh! We retrieved our bags, then headed off to our hotel. After we checked in the directors left us to our own devices. We headed out into the city center to look for dinner and eventually ended up at a restaurant called The Yellow Rose of Texas. So bizarre, but Tyler later told me that she got delicious banana pancakes there so it wasn’t all bad. Some people went out, but I was in a bit of a bad mood and walked around then came home.
Saturday the 26th we had breakfast then departed to do a workshop with a local organization called La Restringa that does art and dance with your street kids, trying to keep them away from the street and get them interested in more beneficial things. It was a really interesting workshop and they showed us some of the capoeira that they do there. One guy really rocked his bellbottoms and did capoeira at the same time. We all then participated in various art projects and dances, then left for lunch. We ate at a delicious menu place called Fusion, then we returned to rest and prepare for our busy afternoon of two conferences. Honestly I didn’t pay any attention to them, but Leah and I did manage to list nearly every country in the world. That’s something of an accomplishment, right? We’ve taken too many Sporcle quizzes. I had a fun dinner with Anna, Leah, Tyler and co, and then we walked around to see the town. Apparently it was dead last night because Iquiteños don’t go out on Fridays, but the main plaza was super busy on Saturday night. We found a nightclub called Noa Noa that was closed, but these girls are living in Iquitos for ISP so it’s more like we scoped out what they should do when they return. After that we ate some yummy churros filled with dulce de leche from a street vendor, and came back home. I came to talk to Mateo, Casey, Luz, etc.. and they were super funny and convinced me to come back out. We got to Noa Noa just as it was opening, but Mateo and I made the wise decision to turn right back around. We had to wake up at 4:30 to go to the Amazon the next day, we didn’t want to mess anything up for ourselves.
Sunday the 27th you already know all about!
On Monday the 28th we were supposed to have a conference in the morning and an assignment to go on the street and interview people in the afternoon. Luckily they cancelled the class in the morning. I would have missed it cause I didn’t even wake up until 11! We got ourselves together and went to go eat lunch at another delicious menu place, and then came back to nap in the nice air-conditioning of the hotel. First, however, we went to a market right next to the water and tried to find some presents for friends and family back home. Iquitos isn’t actually on the Amazon, but damn is it hot! We returned, exhausted, and I hunkered down in my bed for a couple hours. Bryn and I ended up watching a show about mummies (very informative). Then in the afternoon we had a conference with the community leader from the day before, Alfonso Flores, and he explained his politics and he apologized for the day before. He was a very charismatic speaker and he said some really impactful things. After the conference we got our things together and loaded a bus headed to the airport. I rifled around my bag and accidentally cut my finger on my razor. We arrived at the airport and after a while we finally left Iquitos and headed towards Lima.
We spent the night in Lima (at our favorite El Tambo!) and then early in the morning we boarded another bus back to the airport to fly back to Cusco. There was SOOOOOO much fog in Lima. Apparently it’s called “garua,” and I think my whole ISP month is going to be awashed in fog. Urgh, I hope not. Our flight in the morning was delayed owing to the fog, but around 1 we finally returned home to Cusco, where my family was at home waiting for me. So nice to return! Cusco’s climate is incredible after the heat of the Amazon. In the afternoon Iris called me in a panic and told me to contact my parents and tell them that I’m just fine. (Some people had put their facebook statuses as something along the lines of “Held Hostage in the Amazon!”) I started looking at courses for Fall Semester and I tried to find apartments in Lima. I didn’t make too much of a contribution, but I think that we finally have a definitive place to stay for ISP month. Thank goodness!
Today, Wednesday the 30th, we weren’t supposed to have any class. However, because so many parents freaked out and called Sonia, we met at 9 AM to tell each boat’s story and to discuss the experience. I recorded it all! I think it will be something I cherish. After that I went to a café to work on my paper that’s due Friday, but I ended up writing the behemoth of a story that you presumably just read. This afternoon I will relax and work. It’s so nice to be back here, it really did feel like coming back home. …. Tonight we went out to dinner and ate delicious pizza and our taxi driver home was the best ever! He played Shaggy for us the whole ride home.
Xoxo,
Claire
Amazon Adventure Photos
The Amazonian Adventure
3/25/11—3/29/11
Hello once again! I generally try to keep this blog in diary form by telling my experience in experience nearly every day. I try to keep it going chronologically so that I can recall things as they happen and I can organize my thoughts and memories in time and space. This particular story, however, deserves it’s own special space. It took me about half an hour to recount it over the phone, so we shall see how long this ends up being. I hope that I add enough color and imagery to help the story along. Well here goes; a non-storyteller tells quite the story.
On the morning of the 27th I woke up at 4:40 am to get ready and eat breakfast before embarking on our journey into the rainforest. Our bus was supposed to leave at 5:30, but we were delayed because a group of kids had decided to go out and party the night before. Most of them got their act together and though they’d just slept for half an hour, they made it to breakfast and they made it to the bus on time. Two students, however, did not. One of them was my roommate and I woke her up two separate times. The first was when I left for breakfast and she bolted out of bed crying, “God Damn it!” and the second was when I returned after breakfast to get my bag. I opened the door to find her fully dressed and asleep, only this time in MY bed. She’s a difficult roommate but even so I woke her up and told her that breakfast was nearly over so she should probably get down there. I collected my bag and left for the bus because I’d done my part; I’m not her mother and it’s not my responsibility to run her life. Lauren, our other roommate, told me that after I left she woke up the so far unnamed girl once again, then left herself. We all then sat on the bus for about 40 minutes while the directors fretted over where the two missing kids were. One comes onto the bus in slippers with a pillow in hand! Maggie Hutchison asked him if he was bringing anything else, like say…..maybe water? I believe his response was, “Huh? No.” Oh dear. My roommate takes her time at breakfast, then boards the bus, only to have the directors pull her right off again. As they talked to her and Mr. Slippers and Pillow, they smell alcohol on their breath. This is the first time we’ve been to this community and we don’t want to offend their hospitality by dragging along drunk people, so the directors tell those two that they are not allowed to come. The day had barely begun, but there were already drama and rumors swirling around.
We finally left our hotel in Iquitos (the capital of Loreto, a region in northern inland Peru …aka the Amazon!) and drove for two hours until we arrived at a port on the Río Marañón, a river that feeds directly into the Amazon River. We then proceeded to wait there for an hour. I’m not exactly sure why, but all our directors left us at the port to go look for something (I suspect they went to go buy water for us. Honestly I was too tired to care at all). Finally, around 9 am we organized ourselves into three separate boats and took off upstream towards the indigenous community we had intended to visit, called 2 de Mayo. On our schedule they listed the bus ride as two hours and the boat ride as another two hours. Boy did they get that wrong! The community expected us to arrive at 10 am, but we didn’t dock on their shores until 1:30 pm. We were three and a half hours late! I’ve always imagined the rainforest as a chaotic place. I imagine it full of plant life and wildlife bursting from the seams, full of the noise of squawking tropical birds. I imagine the air thick and syrupy, smelling green (if you can imagine the smell and taste of a color). I imagine it twelve stories high and impassable to anyone who might walk through. I imagine the river’s current moving fast enough to drown anyone who tries to swim in it and I imagine the chaos and difficulty of traveling and living in such a place. While my experience of the rainforest doesn’t quite match up with this imagined image, my encounter with the difficulty of traveling might perhaps outweigh that image. For one, the supposed two hour boat ride ended up taking over 4 ½ hours. Our motor repeatedly broke down as we rode against the current. The boat swerved between large floating logs and I’m sure that the motor got stuck in various plant life multiple times. I remember at one point we pulled over to the bank and to anchor the boat the captain tied a rope to a hand full of tall grass. I remember remarking that that particular move didn’t appear too effective.
Remember now that our group was spread out between three smallish boats. Our boat had Ursula, Casey, Matt, Rachel, Maggie F, Rebecca, Julia, Lauren, Amy, and Me. Casey, having only slept for half an hour that night, spent nearly the entire ride asleep and I took some photo gems of him passed out. We had to prepare interview questions for when we reached the community, so I passed my time chatting, watching the landscape pass us by, and wracking my brain for interview questions. It seemed like everyone was just asking about the environment! I ended up asking them how they would define Strength. For example, is strength individual or is it derived from a group? Is one gender stronger than the other? How do you define strength; Is it emotional or purely physical? I talked to a guy named Luis and he gave me some unexpected answers, but I’m getting ahead of myself! Back to the story.
Our boat broke down lots of times, but none of us ever really felt that worried. I’m really proud of everyone and how they handled this day. It would have failed spectacularly if we’d had bad attitudes. For example, we passed one of our boats an saw all five of the kids onboard just sitting on the prow and sunbathing. Their motor had died and there was nothing else to do but wait for another boat to come retrieve them. Our own boat couldn’t take on anymore weight, so we left them there and continued on our way. We’d come across them once before on the river and every encounter was nice because we’d get really close and chat with them. Sonia would even pass over a bag of plantain chips for us to snack on. So far in the day we were having a nice, chill time. Our only complaint was that the boat ride was so very long!
At 1:30 pm my boat finally arrived at our community, 2 de Mayo. We were unsure if this was the right place, but the entire village was waiting for us at the banks and we were swarmed by small children as we disembarked the boat. I didn’t want to get off the boat because I felt super overwhelmed by all the people waiting for us! We were embarrassed about being over three hours late, but we were also bewildered by the fact that we were the first to arrive. We left the boat and spent a fair amount of time awkwardly surrounded by people, feeling to overcome and shy to talk to them and that the same time feeling so much pressure to reach out. This is when we began to question Ursula, the director with us, where the others were. She had no idea, but suggested that we do our homework, aka conduct some interviews. I talked to Luis, and he told me that he thought strength was physical, but that women are the strongest gender. I have to go back and listen to that interview, but he spoke so quietly that I doubt I’ll be able to hear anything. Oh! We were greeted by the whole community (I remember one particularly smiley woman), but not really by many men. The children came upon us first, then the women, but the men stood a far way back. It was intimidating having them stare at us, but the weirder sensation was being greeted by an obviously drunk man in a blue vest. He talked to us, but he slurred his words so much that I couldn’t understand a single thing he said. He tried to hug me, then proceeded to hit me in the boob. I couldn’t tell if it was accidental at the time so I let it be, but it was very odd. The sunbathing boat arrived around 2:30 and we felt such relief! However, the third boat was still missing. When Sonia arrived on this boat we asked her what we should do if we had to go to the bathroom, where should we go? Her response was very unhelpful: a mixture of “I don’t know,” and “I think they go into the river and go to the bathroom there then let the water wash it away.” Neither of those responses left us with an answer. Rachel and I approached one woman, intending to ask, but then quickly found out that she was a midwife from a different community who came to the community in order to meet us gringos. We talked to her for a bit about childrearing, health, and the practices of childbirth there, all the while thinking of how to escape the conversation and find a bathroom! Rachel, smart one that she is, turned to one of the little girls, a beautiful ten-year-old by the name of Ruksara. Ruksara led us to the bathroom behind her house, a house on stilts to withstand floods, and showed us a very mosquito-ridden latrine. Oh boy. I’d essentially coated myself in Deet insect repellant, but not enough!
The boys had started a soccer game with the community’s boys, so the girls in turn wanted to have a soccer game just for girls. I played for a bit, but I do not handle humidity well and I literally had sweat pouring down my face. They’d advised us to wear long sleeves, pants, and tennis shoes to protect our skin from mosquitoes as much as possible. Iquitos did just have a problem with Dengue and there is no vaccine for it, so I opted to be careful and follow their precautions. That led to one very hot Claire! I sat next to a toddler who had been left alone on the sidelines by her older sister who wanted to play the game (and rocked at it!), but as soon as I sat down she started crying! I think so many new people scared her. Sorry baby! I didn’t mean to make you cry. At this point it was about 4, the scheduled time for us to leave the community and head back to Iquitos, but the last boat had still never arrived. We had not eaten because we’d brought food and school supplies to share with the community, but they were all on the lost boat. We felt terrible because we were supposed to offer half of the lunch, but we’d arrived completely empty-handed. We had absolutely nothing to give them, putting us in an awkward position. All this time we are having fun, but getting more and more worried about the lost boat. From our own experience we presume that their boat broke down, but why have they STILL not arrived?
Around this time the rumor started stirring between us that the third boat had been stopped by some sort of Amazon Police and they were not allowed to pass and not allowed to come to the community. Up to this point we hadn’t worried about their physical safety, but hearing that news we began to speculate. We kept our cool, but we really wanted to know what was going on. Not knowing is almost worse that hearing bad news because your mind will run away with you. At that point the community leader reveals that a nearby community that doesn’t get along with him had taken the other boat. They would not let the students pass until they spoke to our director, Sonia, and to him. By now it was about 5:30 or 6 and huge dark clouds were creeping towards us and beginning to dominate the sky. Despite this, he and Sonia took off in a canoe downstream to go investigate the situation. We’ve never seen Sonia smoke before, but she must have been so stressed out by the situation that she had to drag a couple times before leaving us and heading out to negotiate. Oh, I forgot to add that two boatloads of students were on the shore at that time, but we only had one boat. The second boat had left several hours earlier to try and locate the missing boat. That’s how we learned about the tiff with the other community. So as Sonia left us we were essentially stranded in the community hours upstream from the nearest large port.
We were empty-handed, but eventually so much time had passed that Ursula begged some women to give us some of the food that they’d been saving for the party that they’d expected but that never occurred. We sheltered from the thunderstorm in an open air platform that had a leaky tin roof. I’m fairly afraid of thunderstorms, but this one was especially scary because you could see the enormous clouds coming for miles and miles and you could see the sky turn to gray and the river churn. I kept thinking about the time we went camping when I was little and we set up our tent and went to bed. During that night fierce winds started up, the rain poured down, and huge cracks of thunder terrified us in our flimsy tent. My memory of it (granted I was probably about five) was that our tent nearly blew away with my family inside. So, back to the Amazon. Despite the rain, we sheltered under the tin roof and ate some of the most delicious fish I’ve ever tasted, along with yummy yummy mango and yucca, a starchy tuber that’s fairly comparable to potato. We huddle in a circle divvying up the food equally among us, all the while being surrounded and stared at by the entire community. After a while the rain passed and we were left once again with tranquil waters. However, the sky in the distance would illuminate every once and a while with faraway lightning strikes.
We waited and waited, but no one returned and the sun quickly set, leaving us stranded in a tiny community 5 hours away from the nearest port (and apparently a full week by canoe!!!), without our director, food to provide for ourselves, a sufficient supply of clean water, and most of all without any information about the well-being of the third boat and no way to contact them. I became increasingly frightened about the prospect of going on the water at night. Looking back I might find this idea not so petrifying, but to depart on the water at full dark without knowing about our missing students, not trusting out boat captain, and spending hours on the river in the middle of the rainforest with no way to help ourselves if something went wrong struck me as the most alarming thing we could do. Ursula felt the same way and we grouped ourselves together and confirmed that none of us wanted to go on the water at night. Ursula asked the community if there might be a place where we, essentially as refugees, might sleep. They led us to the kindergarten, the jardín, gave Ursula the key, and we prepared to spend the night cramped together sleeping on wood floors being bitten by mosquitoes and worrying about our group. We thought we were about to retire for the night, but our adventure was not about to end. It would not end for hours to come.
Around 6:45 one of our boats returned, but it was empty and our fleeting happiness disappeared, only to be replaced with more worry. The boat people told us that we had to leave right away, but luckily Ursula was skeptical. She demanded to speak to Sonia before we went everywhere. The boat people told us that the third boat had already returned to Nauta, the original port, but how did we know that was true? Why would our group have left us there and gone all the way back? Also, how could they be there already? It’s a really long boatride! We grouped together next to the shore and tried to discuss among ourselves and tried to calm ourselves down, when in reality we only made ourselves more worried. What made this worse was that a number of men in the community started to drink. Mr. Blue Vest from earlier in the day and another guy approached us girls, essentially the only men who had talked to us women the whole day, and started to touch us. They tried to hug us and tried to convince us that we shouldn’t spend the night at the school, but rather at their houses. They tried to tell us to go inside away from the shore, and that the place to go was with them. As you can imagine, we did not like this at all. While this was happening Julia was giggling incessantly because she was swarmed by at least 25 little kids that were all poking her and tickling her. There was no escape! Ruksara kept tickling me too, but I escaped. I’ve got flying limbs when I’m tickled! I probably would have fought my way through that swarm of children! One of the leaders of the community advised us to get away from the shore and the drunkards and go inland where we’d be safer. Ruksara took me by the hand and led me, along with the whole group, to the telephone on the island where Ursula was awaiting a call from Sonia. Keep in mind that this was supposed to be a day trip so none of us had flashlights! We were stumbling around in the dark and in the mud. Ruksara even slipped on a toad and yelled, “Sapo!!” About twenty minutes later Sonia called and informed us that she was with the third boat at a nearby community called Bagaza, about ten minutes away, and that we had to leave. Leave now. I could hear the entire conversation on the phone and I knew, before anyone else realized, that we had to get on the water at night. We weren’t going to spend the night in 2 de Mayo after all. All my fears materialized and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t want to freak out because there was no choice in the matter, but I was so scared that I nearly had a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe and I had tears streaming down my face but everyone did all they could to comfort me, hugging me and telling me I’d be alright.
The boat people informed us that whoever had come on each boat had to return with the same boat according to their policy. Ursula, however, opted to go with the other boat that was missing Sonia at this point and had no one to oversee them. I felt even more scared because what would happen to us if our boats were separated? Ursula, however, carefully counted time and again that we had every single student and every single person that needed to return (more difficult to do in full dark!), and then told the two random people who’d come with us that they needed to accompany our boat. The random people were a man and woman from a local NGO (the one that organized our trip in the first place) and once Ursula assigned them with us I felt a tad better. So we said our goodbyes and left the community, apologizing for the failings of the day, and set off. Ursula requested that the boats move very slowly and stay within sight of each other. Good thing too because the engine on our boat died and the other boat tied itself to us and pulled us along. It was a little nice because then I could talk to the kids on the other boat.
What was supposed to be a ten-minute boat ride turned into over an hour and a half boat ride. The reason was that our boat people didn’t know the area and they were circling over and over again, missing the community every time. I fell asleep repeatedly (so uncomfortable!) so I had not idea how to measure time or how long we’d been on the boat. We finally arrived! It was such a relief to finally see the other group with my own eyes. The whole day I just kept thinking, “Poor Donaldo! He had to deal with us at Calca, and now he has to be in charge of this whole ordeal with the lost boat!” Chris, on the other boat, told us that when we arrived we had to whisper because they would hear that we spoke English and not let us leave, so we were all whispering when really all that we wanted to do was shout and talk to the third boat, to hear their story and make sure that they were okay. Casey asked why we were whispering and when we told him why he quickly dismissed that reason as bullshit. He hopped up and yelled at the other boat, asking if everything was ok. They were fine! We waited there for quite a while without knowing what was happening, but finally Donaldo joined us on our tiny boat and I felt such relief! I wanted to give him a big hug! He, in his usual sunny manner, greated us and calmed our fears. We asked him to tell us his story, and so he began. The story progressed with many sound effects in usual Donaldo fashion, but once he finished Rachel and I turned to each other and remarked, “Well, that day wasn’t nearly so bad. Maybe our day was worse!” The truth is that every boat had it’s own story to tell and while some people exaggerate and dramaticize (ahem, Chris), everyone learned from the experience and I think every single one of us benefitted.
The story doesn’t end here! So, even though we’d been on the boat for hours, we essentially still had the entire journey back to Nauta ahead of us still. We departed, trying to keep the boats together, but inevitably some (most) had motor troubles. I slept intermittently throughout the journey back, but I remember being startled awake at one point by a flashlight in my face. The boat had broken down and one of the boat hands needed me to move my legs up so that he could pass to go talk to the captain. We stopped to get gas, but spent quite a while docked there because they had to wake up the owner of the gas station. I imagine that this night was the worst night ever for everyone who worked on the boat. We complained, but really we just sat on the boat for hours and hours. The boat hands had to deal with navigation, avoiding logs in the water, and attempting to fix the motor over and over again. Donaldo is so silly, I was glad to have him there. He kept calling my name (Clarita) in a silly voice and I’d had to respond by saying his name in the same silly voice. At one point he stuck his foot in my face… he’s so silly! But he kept our spirits up. I went back to sleep and slept most of the way, but towards the end I woke up and asked Rachel what time it was. Rachel was fairly delirious at this point and talking to Donaldo, but she stopped to tell me that it was 2 am. I drowsily counted on my fingers one by one until I came to the realization that we’d been on that boat for seven hours. We left 2 de Mayo just around 7, and there we were, on the river at 2 am still without an end in sight. At that point I became quite delirious myself! She told me that when I was asleep the boat had broken down several times and that they’d crashed into some pretty big waves. This boat was loaded with weight and really close to the water’s edge. She, in her state, imagined us capsizing and imagined how ineffective our life vests would be in the middle of the dark river. I’m glad that I slept through that portion of the journey! She deliriously questioned Donaldo why it was taking SO LONG to get back and he tried to calm her and the other kids who were awake. He told them that it was dark, that we had to go super slow to avoid obstacles, and that it was all right, that we’d get home. Still, seven hours! That was after spending over four hours on the boat earlier in the day!
Around 2:30 am we finally arrived in Nauta and I was sooo very pleased to step onto dry land. My boat was the last to arrive and I finally had an opportunity to talk to people from the third boat. I hugged Kia and asked her if she was really taken captive. She, in her well-reasoned way, said that people will exaggerate the situation, but yes, in a way they were held against their will. They weren’t allowed to leave and at times it really was scary. We loaded ourselves onto the bus back to Iquitos, only to have THAT engine malfunction. Really just about everything that could go wrong DID go wrong. Finally the bus started and we began our two hour trip back to Iquitos. I wasn’t too tired since I’d slept so much on the boat, so I had a delirious conversation with Julia and overheard Leah recounting her story. The funniest parts were about the “Golden Shoes!” and Sonia saying on the boat ride back that she didn’t care if she had to wake up the someone, but that when she got back she was gonna order like 15 chickens (Pollo a la Brasa) and down that food! I don’t think Sonia had the opportunity to eat all day. We arrived at our hotel in Iquitos and I headed straight up to my room on the fifth floor. I had to bang on my door to get Bryn to wake up and open it, then I walked inside to find Jake passed out in my bed. At that point I sort of just pleaded with him to get out so that I could go to sleep. He quickly obliged and went to his own room. Bryn asked us what the day had been like and where we’d been. I asked her if we could tell her in the morning, then proceeded to finally go to bed. Before I totally fell asleep I hopped out of bed to check my watch. The time displayed was 4:35 am. That means that I’d started this adventure nearly exactly 24 hours ago. What a long day.
That is the end of my own experience, but what happened to the third boat?
Eventually Donaldo’s boat had it’s own engine troubles. I thought they were ahead of us the whole time, but in actuality they rode far far behind us. Their engine stopped and the boat hands couldn’t seem to fix it, but then after waiting and waiting it miraculously started. They chugged along the river for a ways, but then the boat broke down again. This time they’d run out of gas. Evidently they anchored because some of the girls had to go to the bathroom, and without saying a word all of the boat hands took off running into the forest. They, light-hearted as they are, shrugged it off and assumed that they’d left to go look for gas. They took the opportunity to go swimming in the river (the people on my island went swimming with the children too). Tyler thought she felt a leech on her, so they all quickly leapt out of the water, but not before they sighted a pink dolphin. How cool! Their boat had all of the food meant for the community, so they sort of just relaxed and ate some avocados and carrots. Then, as Leah told it, a canoe approached with filled with a couple “HOT” young Peruvian men. Those girls assumed that the boat hands had sent this canoe to help them and they cheered! They greeted them with smiles, giving them the candy we’d brought for 2 de Mayo. Donaldo had them all sing “Que Bonita Sale la Luna Llaullina” and Allina (so funny!) started to chant “Best Day Ever!” over and over again. Another canoe filled with about fifteen more young Peruvian men came along and the two canoes latched onto their boat and towed them to their community. I think at this point the girls realized that something wasn’t all right. Allina said that she asked one of the men in the canoe which community they were taking them to, but he refused to tell her which. Then she got suspicious. It became clear that they weren’t welcome when they arrived at the community (Bagaza) and they were met by angry people yelling at them.
I’m not exactly sure about the details of their experience, but evidently they were put on the second floor of a house and forbidden to leave. Maggie said that she had to pee but they wouldn’t let her leave! They demanded to speak with the leader o 2 de Mayo, so they sent people out to retrieve him and negotiate. This is the point when Sonia and the leader (Alfonso Flores) left 2 de Mayo without telling us anything that was happening. They had to leave right away and they didn’t have time to explain to us what was happening. Keep in mind that Sonia had trouble the whole day because various leaders visiting from nearby communities refused to acknowledge her position of power seeing as she was female. The Amazon, and the Andes, is still quite machista. She came to Bagaza and explained that we were students, not tourists, and that we had no interest in oil prospecting or taking advantage of them. We were only here to learn. The community of Bagaza felt terrible and treated their “hostages” better, apologizing profusely for the misunderstanding. Sonia sent the other boat back to 2 de Mayo to retrieve us, and when we didn’t come she called Ursula on the island’s phone. I had no idea until that moment that we even had a phone with which to communicate. So we set off and the rest of the story you know.
So, what was the miscommunication? Why did this all happen to us? Did we cause trouble for these communities, or did they cause trouble for us? What really happened? We got together in Cusco this morning to clarify the real story and I can explain it a bit better now.
This particular lake connected to the river, they called it a bahía, has had to deal with repeated oil spills from oil companies over the last forty years. Apparently just in 2011 there were 26 oil spills in the river. The river, for these communities, is their lifeline, their livelihood. If the river is poisoned, then so is the fish and so are the people who consume that fish. So within the last few years the communities joined together to try and fight these oil companies. They live in remote places without much communication, so the preventative measures they can take is to stop and gringos to try to go up the river. They thought we were tourists. Evidently Alfonso had notified all of the communities in the area about our trip, but he’d forgotten to tell Bagaza. The communities have reason to mistrust their leaders because the leaders are often bribed by oil companies and the pollution continues. Even if we weren’t oil prospectors, we might still be tourists. If that was the case, then Bagaza was upset with Alfonso for profiting from tourism and leaving them out of the loop and violating their agreement to not allow oil people nor tourists pass. Alfonso tried to convince them that they had to make alliances with people in the West who might help them, and that is why he let a group of American students pass by. Once all this was explained the situation cleared up. Some people will say that this was a hostage situation and that they were kidnapped, but I think that at the core it was merely a miscommunication between communities doing their best to protect their land, to protect their lives. Sonia told us today that lead has been found in the water and in the fish that they consume, so these communities basically have no choice but to continue eating fish containing lead and drinking contaminated water. As she stated it, they are slowly dying. No wonder they fiercely guard the area! I wasn’t harmed, actually the only person who was injured was McClain who had her wrist hanging outside of the boat in the dark when the boat slammed into another boat. She went to the doctor yesterday and luckily her wrist isn’t broken, the bone is just bruised. My community treated us incredibly well and Bagaza was extremely apologetic for the whole thing. In a way this experience is the whole reason why we came to Peru. Globalization isn’t just the expansion of culture around the world, but it is also the consequences of a global economy that demands natural resources. The oil company that spills oil in the Río Marañón is an Argentinian company called Pluspetrol. The BP oil spill isn’t the only fuck up that oil companies make.
All in all we are safe and sound in Cusco once more, only we’ve all grown as people. I’m proud of everyone for keeping their calm throughout the day and for treating each other with such respect and care. Yesterday we had to call our parents to tell them that we were all safe because some parents were calling Sonia in a frenzy. I recounted the story to my parents and my dad told me to write it down (actually he first told me that I should write it into a movie script ha) and my mom responded, “Holy Shit! I didn’t hear about any of that!” This morning when we went over the whole story I happened to have my voice recorder and I recorded the whole conversation. Hopefully it will load onto blogger. To finish off this long story, I want to apologize for any weird grammatical things that you spot. It would appear that I’ve forgotten how to write proper English.
So there it is: The Amazonian Adventure.
xoxo,
Claire