Language acquisition is kind of like that episode of “Seinfeld” where Kramer begins dating the low-talker. Jerry finds himself conversing with her at one point and, unable to understand anything she says, he agrees without knowing to wearing a Puffy Shirt on The Today Show. This happens all the time. I find myself conversing with someone from the campo or an elected official of some sorts and then, nodding my head and saying “si…si” at everything because I want to be accepted, I end up being passed another cup of homemade booze, or dancing with someone in the town square, or giving a speech to 300 people while my heart beats through my chest loud enough so that everyone can hear it. I’ve yet to master the delicate balance in faking my way through a conversation properly, but it’s an absolutely necessary survival skill here.
This last week I was in Huanchaco, La Libertad. It’s a small hippie/surfing/fishing village on the coast with a tranquilo vibe and great waves. All of Peru 8 gathered here for a few days for Reconnect, which was a 2-day seminar after our first 3 months to share experiences, see what everyone else is doing and to recharge before heading back to the cold rainy sierra. I originally thought it was going to be frustrating to see how people had managed to bring water and electricity to their communities, how productive everyone was and how swimmingly things were going.
It wasn’t so.
Snippets of stories shared: Host families rummaging through trash and finding volunteers’ used birth control products, fainting in 100+ degrees in a latrine, why sleeping naked with arms raised over heads is the best method for giving off body heat when it’s 110 degrees with no breeze, crazy uncles who drink kerosene for medicine and end up in the hospital, killing chickens as a wonderful surprise on Christmas day, bugs that pee toxic urine on skin and cause severe infections, hospitalizations for a solid week, people who have helped to give birth, 18-hour parties, having to sing an ad-libbed song about the neighborhood in front of hundreds of neighborhood occupants, mental breakdowns, Girardia, diarrhea and mentally breaking down because of the diarrhea caused by Girardia.
In some morose fashion, we all found solace in the fact that while there have been many success among us, the crazy stories help bring a sense of solidarity. It was tough to compare sites because things are so different. For example, “hot” is not something I get anymore. In the sierra, we have varying states of “cold” and “wet.” This didn’t gel well with the volunteers living in the desert who have to get their water via donkey and cart.
Had some interesting “firsts” as well. The most notable was my first real bacterial infection, somehow obtained while touring the adobe city of Chan-Chan. When coming back from the heat, I retreated to the hotel room shivering and feverish and our doctor came along, patted my head and gave me some Ciproflaxin to solve the problem. Ciproflaxin is arguably the best all-purpose antibiotic ever invented. It comes through with the veracity of an atom bomb wiping out all bacteria, good and bad, in the body and leaves the user feeling peppy and ready for round #2. The second first was surfing. I was shocked when I wasn’t absolutely amazing at it and was humbled by my hubris in heading out to Big Water to find 6’ Pacific waves violently crashing over my head while I whimpered for my mother to come get me.
I did, indeed return back to the mountains feeling refreshed and ready for the next 21 months. The ocean has a recharging vibe for me, possibly because my community is surrounded by mountains capping out at 12,000 feet and it often feels claustrophobic.
Brian has recently been busy. I have been attending meetings out the ol’ wazoo in the municipality, both schools and the health post. It’s been exhausting presenting myself constantly to the people and trying to sell the Peace Corps, but it’s also been a nice change because in the last three months nobody has been here. We hard-core sierra people who have been plugging away in our mountain village during the rainy season have been in bed by 7:30pm because there has been nobody around.
The first round was the primary school. Obstetrician Nancy and had prepared a formal presentation for the teachers with a work plan for gardens and a juvenile health promoters group. I even wore a tie. I was nervous. In response to this well-crafted presentation to the scholastic community, several professors burst out laughing at my garbled Spanish. This wasn’t cool. I understand that my particular version of weird Cajamarquian campo accent isn’t up to par but I felt that there could have been better forms of constructive criticism. So later that night, I set fire to their houses.
The next meeting was in the municipality to Vaso de Leche (Cup of Milk). Vaso de Leche is a government-run program at the national level in Perú. They are responsible for literally handing out either a glass of milk and/or subsidized powdered nutritional formula to the most deserving people. There were probably at least 250-300 people at this meeting to introduce the fantastic new baby formula and give a brief presentation on how to mix it up properly. As per La Hora Peruana, the meeting started an hour late so when I came in the middle of it and hung out in the back with the rest of the sombreros, where I was nice and safe. Not so. At the very end I heard “Brian…..Brian, where is Brian?” and I found myself pushing Peruvians out of the way while I made my way up to the front and turned to face Sorochuco in its entirety.
While in front of the crowd, I longed for the days when I was scared to be speaking in front of people. That level of fear would have been a step down from the abject terror I felt to be up in front of so many campo representatives and coca leaves. But strangely enough it went quite well. My heart pounding through my chest, I delivered a not-too-bad speech about the Peace Corps and told people to stop me in the street and say “hi,” which I thought was a nice touch. Cue polite applause and feelings of relief.
We adjourned to the market to watch the demonstration of powder making taking place. Upon my arrival, at least 30 people from local caserillos approached me, sat me down and we made plans for the future. They told me of their issues in their specific communities and I quickly realized that the problems extended way beyond my range of work here. Lack of electricity and water systems were recurring themes, as well as the chronic malnutrition and hygiene issues. What made me feel like I made the right decision was how polite and nice everyone was and how all were anxious to make “appointments” with me to come and give charlas in their communities and sit down with their town councilmen and whatnot. There was also the contingent who pulled me aside and asked me to help them get into the US illegally. I said I’d get back to them.
Ready for round #2. Stay tuned for more life-changing experiences.
|  | 
|
