Visit to the Chachapoyas hospital

I meant to spend a relaxed afternoon in Chachapoyas running errands, seeing friends, and eating good food. But instead, I had an unfortunate change of plans when I learned that my host brother Lucho was in the hospital in Chachapoyas with his wife Bremilda and Marlleli, my god-daughter. The last time I saw Marlleli was yesterday when she had a cough but was otherwise running around. I hoped they were overreacting bringing her here but nonetheless, hopped in a taxi to go to the hospital.

When I got there, Lucho was waiting outside and walked me to the ER. He told me she has bronchitis and possible pneumonia. In the ER room I greeted a tear-filled Bremie and a sobbing Marlleli with her oxygen mask. It was so sad, poor baby. But she had all the color in her face and besides looking scared, she looked alright. When the nurse came in to change her to nasal canula, Bremie asked how long she’d need it. The nurse impatiently replied “your baby needs this or she will die.” I’m not kidding. Bremie asked again. She replied “Senora, we don’t know how long.” And left the room. We all know that cranky and tired nurses exist everywhere, and for the amount of time I’ve spent with nurses, I of course know and understand the impatience. But this case was different. This time I knew that the patient hadn’t finished primary school. This time I knew that this was only the second time she’s left Chocta. This time I really understood how scary it must be to in a big new place with a sick child and without answers. This time I realized how valuable a little compassion can be.

My second rant is when a doctor and his resident came in to listen to Marlleli’s lungs. They mutter to each other “nada” after listening, ask Bremie again why she came in, and said Marlleli needs to be hospitalized for the night. Then left. No answers, no reassurance. Bremie looks at me with huge swollen eyes and asks why they kept saying “nada.” From the perspective of a hardly educated, scared mom, you can imagine how that sounds without explanation. I told her it’s a good thing. The doctors should hear clear breaths without any other sound. If they heard any other sound it would mean something is wrong. The tension left her face. How many times did I do that when I was working with another nurse? Probably a lot. With how many patients did I care enough about to get to know their personal back-story? Not a lot.

I was recently reflecting with a friend on how slow it is going starting our projects. We felt like after almost 6 months (in June) we have nothing to show for ourselves except for some Spanish skills and a bit of personal growth. I may not have birthed a baby or established behavior change (yet) but I feel like in 6 quick months I have learned so much about myself, gained invaluable perspective, and will not come back the same.

Semana Santa!

Semana Santa translates to Holy Week and it’s made up of Holy Thursday (Jueves Santo), Good Friday (Viernes Santo), ending with Easter Sunday (Domingo Gloria). The Catholic customs here were so beautiful as they celebrated the real meaning of those days. It made me feel, as a Catholic, almost a bit ashamed about the strange customs I have for Easter. I was asked frequently if I celebrate the same way in “my land”. At first I explained my Easter customs. After strange, perplexed looks, I just stopped explaining and would just say “no, we don’t celebrate like this”. Here in Chocta, they truly recognized the pain and suffering of Jesus on Thursday and Friday. Did nothing (no work, cleaning, nada) on Saturday when Jesus was in the grave. And then rejoiced with dancing, drinking, and celebrations when he rose on Sunday. At home we paint eggs, and eat lots of chocolate from a magic bunny. Don’t get me wrong, that’s all good and fun, but as a Catholic, myself, it truly made me think.

Mashing chickpea beans

so much food!

So what were these customs like? Let’s start with Thursday. My host brother, really my host family, was “majordomo” of the day. I’m not sure the exact translation, but it means they’re the ones who host the celebrations of the day. So starting a week earlier we began preparing. We had friends come over and help cook. One night at like 8pm a lady came over to make chicha (that sweet corn alcoholic beverage I mentioned before) and they stayed up all night taking turns sleeping and maintaining the fire to keep the drink boiling. I spent over an hour cranking a “molino” which is like a fine grater that turns whatever you want to grind, into a fine powder. You can use it to make corn tortillas and I really want to try to make peanut butter with it one day (stay tuned for how that turns out). In this case it was dried banana, which, with a little water and a TON of sugar would become masamora, a dark, yummy, sweet, liquid dessert. I guess it was the consistency of a thin pudding that you eat with a spoon. On the day of the event I was awoken by my nieces and nephews and a house full of people doing the final prepping and cleaning. It really felt like a holiday morning, which I wasn’t expecting as Christmas was so lame and uneventful. I got up and got dressed and was served a cup of chicha right away at 7am. From then on, the drinking did not stop until Sunday. (Luckily Chicha isn’t strong and I was at a comfortable buzz the whole weekend, never with a hangover). People were hanging out until 11ish when we went to church. After, we all came back to the house and had lunch. I think I explained the standard 5 plate meals of parties here, but as a refresher, the host serves 5 courses, way more than any mortal human could possibly consume (most people just eat the first), but that’s the way it is. Everyone goes home with their bags full of the plates they didn’t eat. Then we just hung out and drank chicha and traigo (much stronger, I didn’t indulge in that as much). I was relaxing in my room with some kiddos and without realizing it the sun had gone down and all of a sudden the house was packed with people! I’m talking every room, people sitting in the hallways, standing outside, it was crazy how many people came. We served a snack of ground up chickpea type beans mixed with garlic and salt with potatoes. Really tasty! Then the masamora, yum! Then at 10pm we went to church again. After the liturgy, we called it a night and I slept like a baby from all the socializing.

On our way up to the church

The altar for holy thursday

The altar for Friday and Saturday

Day 2: Friday. I woke up, once again to some family members and some more chicha. Followed by more church. The altar in the church was decorated in black with a black drape and dark purple flowers instead of the usual colorful array. After that, we hung out at my host brother’s house napping and watching Pasion de Cristo (The Passion of Christ) all day. Around 5 we went to church again. By that time I was feeling tired of sitting through liturgies. But actually the liturgy finished with a really beautiful ceremony. We sang beautiful, but sad sounding songs as we took the crucified Jesus off of the cross and put him in his coffin. Then we sat around for a while singing more sad songs to  “accompany the lord in his death.” Like a legit funeral. Then we called it a night.

Day 3: Saturday day was uneventful as we weren’t supposed to play, work, clean, dance, or anything because Jesus was dead. We did drink chicha though! I washed my poncho cause a dog had peed on it and I wanted to wear it that night and there was lots of strong sun so I knew it’d dry in time. I visited some friends. I bathed. I watched Elder, my host brother, make his sheep costume (he had a role to play later that night, keep reading!). We all napped a lot. Then at 11pm I was awoken from a nice sleep by Naidita, my 12 year old host niece. It was so cold out and I was so warm in beg plus I felt like I was coming down with something. But this was the night we’ve been waiting for! Jesus is going to rise from the dead! So I pulled myself out of bed and we walked to the church where a surprising amount of people showed up for a midnight service! I’d never seen the church more full! People I’d never seen in church before were there, I didn’t know there were this many Catholics here in Chocta! We started by standing out front of the doors. The majordomos of this day held candelabras and everyone else had our own lit candles. Then we sang as we walked into the church- it was really pretty! We sat in the dark lit by our candles through the liturgy. Then, near the end, a band started playing and the “animals” came in! So 5 or 6 guys from the community were chosen to portray animals: a bear, dear, sheep, etc. and a hunter. They danced into the church up to the altar as the hunter fought them. I’m not really sure why… That’s still as unclear as why we have an Easter bunny in the US.  But nonetheless, it was a hoot! Everyone was laughing. 

Then the animals left, we finished the liturgy, and went outside to see the animals putting on a performance of more dancing and fighting amongst themselves.  we all followed the dancing animals to the majordomo’s house. They danced some more and the band played outside. Then we all went inside to dance ourselves. The animals took off their costumes to reveal tipsy, sweaty men! The live band was really excellent and I had a great time dancing and getting sweaty myself! We called it a night well after 4 in the morning, knowing we all had to be at church at 9 that morning!

Day 4:9am came far too soon. By then, the cold that I had felt coming on was full throttle! I took some meds and drank my Emergen-C packets and lots of water. I felt a groggy but okay as we headed over to the church to the sound of that same band playing. There we found Elder, (my host brother) who had not come home that night, still tipsy and hanging out with the other animals. I don’t think they had slept at all… At the end of the liturgy, we all walked out to and around the plaza following the dancing animals and the band. A ton of people had gathered in the plaza to watch. Then we hung out as the animals (followed by a mob of children) ran off to “rob the stores.” I thought I heard them wrong, but later found out the animals had, indeed, left to go steal fruits and veggies from around town to bring to the majordomo’s house! As we were sitting down for lunch, in ran the animals with their arms full of melons, cucumbers, celery, you name it! It was hilarious. Lunch was yummy, but of course way to much food with way too much chicha and traigo. They served the chicha in soup bowls and offered shots of traigo all throughout lunch. Therefore, as was desired, we were all ready and willing to dance by the time lunch was over. As they say, “A votar vergüenza!” literally, “To get rid of embarrassment!”. So we danced. And we laughed. And had a really really really good time. The band, as I said, was awesome and I really love dancing Huayno, Cumbia, and Marinera, which I had just learned the night before! But by 3 or 4 in the afternoon I was so done. With thelack of sleep, abundance of dancing and socializing, plus my body fighting a cold, it was no surprise that I laid down to sleep at 5pm and hardly budged until 8am the next morning.

Sorry for the excruciating long post. If you were able to get through it, thank you for your attention! I hope you enjoyed reading about these different customs as much as I enjoyed experiencing them!

A Trip to Lima after 3 months...

Wow it's been 3 months in Chocta!!! Someone said these first three months will drag on because it's the period of learning and observing before the work actually starts. They were wrong. These months flew by! And this past week I found myself again, back at the training center in Lima, back with the other health volunteers. We have this training to reflect on what we learned about our communities over the past 3 months and get ready for our next steps. 

It was a strange, great, fast week.

Strange to be back in a big city that honestly is like being back in the States. It felt like most people spoke English and there was plenty of Starbucks, traffic, and sushi. I ate so well, I’d forgotten the great and varied food Lima has to offer. Living with my old host family was strange but not as awkward as I’d expected. They were nice and it was cool to see how my Spanish improved in 3 months!

Great to be with the other volunteers, catch up on their lives, and hear their crazy stories. It’s never nice to hear about struggles of other people, but in this case it was good to hear that we are all facing similar difficulties in our perspective sites. It was also great to see the health program staff again. They’re really awesome people who I look up to a lot for their passion for this development work. And knowing they’re here for us for whatever we need is a huge comfort.

Fast went the week! Before I knew it I was back in the campo. My first culture shock back into reality when I came back to Amazonas was the combi ride. The driver sent me to the back of the bus to the last available seat that wasn’t even meant to be a seat. There was a tiny slit of space between two seats so the put a wooden stool there to squeeze passengers into every space possible! My butt definitely did not fit in that sliver of a space so I was sitting on one butt cheek, my other one pretty much on the man next to me, nice and cozy. Not to mention I’d forgotten that musty smell of campo folk. I was harumphing and puffing about how life sucks when the lady next to me takes off her shawl thingy and offers it to me to sit on so I’d have a more comfy seat! So yeah, I’m back to crowded smelly transportation, but I’m also back to incredibly friendly selfless people! 

I’ll take it :)

Día de la Mujer and a funeral

March 8^th was International Woman’s Day (Dia Internacional de la Mujer)! It’s one of those holidays that no one really celebrates in the states, and here even less. Hardly anyone here in Chocta had even heard of it and it took some convincing to get them to believe that it was really a thing. The women here are really amazing and work so hard, so I thought it’d be a great excuse to celebrate them! Hence came the first event I held here with Peace Corps!

The planning started a week before with the Health Post. I brought up the idea and they all really liked it. Great!, I thought, they’ll help me out! Not so much. In addition to always being busy with work, the older staff have families and are a little unmotivated. None the less, we came up with a schedule for the morning of March 8^th. Since it was the first time this town would be celebrating woman’s day, and I wouldn’t have much help from the Health Post, I figured I’d keep it short and simple. After a week of getting things ready by myself which consisted of chasing down with the guy who has the key to the “town hall” type room (also finding him the morning of, cause god forbid he’d remember to unlock the door for me), soliciting a projector from the elementary school, making and distributing invitations, buying decorations, and making posters, the day was here. And good thing we didn’t make it a whole day celebration, because an older man in town happened to die the day before and the funeral was in the afternoon. (more details to come).

Low and behold, the staff from the health post weren’t there an hour before to set up like we agreed. I gave them the benefit of the doubt as Peruvians aren’t as punctual or anal about being on time as we are in the States. (how many of you set your clocks 5 minutes ahead so you’ll be on time if not early!? Ya- it’s different here.) But when 10:30 rolled around, a half hour after the event should have started, I assumed they wouldn’t show up. So instead of having our parade at the end, I decided to start with the women who were there and walk to the homes of the health post workers! And that’s what we did. Walked up to their doors and called them out. Gotta do what you gotta do! After that, the morning went smooth with an educational session about women’s health and a raffle after brainstorming what we like most about being a woman.

I’m proud of my little celebration. A good amount of women showed up and really seemed to appreciate that we were celebrating them. And even though it was frustration without a lot of support from my health workers, I kept a good attitude and made it work. I got some good advice from a Peace Corps staff member: Instead of getting upset at the staff when they are lazy or lack gusto, lead by example. If I do what I do with enthusiasm, they’ll hopefully see the benefit and catch on.

Then came the funeral. Here, they spend 10 days mourning  the fallen. For the first couple days the family has an open casket in their home and everyone can come and sit with the family. Guests usually bring something and the family will serve food. On the 2^nd or 3^rd day they walk the casket to the church for a ceremony, and then walk it to the cemetery, not unlike the traditions at home. I didn’t know the man, but remember passing by him last week as he was sitting in a chair with lots of blankets out-front of his home.

On that Sunday, my host mom and I joined the precession right after the mass as they were walking to the cemetery. The crowd consisted of the casket, followed by weeping (loudly) family members, some people, a band (trumpet, drums playing a depressing tune), and some more people. It seemed like everyone from Chocta filled the street as we headed to the cemetery. After walking for about 10 minutes, we turned up a hill. There was a path, but with all the rain, it was muddy and safer to walk through the grassy field. It was kind of comical seeing the mass of people trudging up a grassy hill. I wish I had my camera. Then we got to the grave spot (a concrete box where they’d insert the casket). A few people said a few words and then the band started up again as the family pushed the casket into the concrete box. Then a guy sealed it up with more concrete, and some people left but most people hung around. Family members walked around with soda or traigo (a strong alcohol they serve- not sure exactly what it is) serving those who hung around. After about 20 minutes and it started raining, we headed back down the hill and to the family’s house. They had a mass cook-out to serve at least 150 people. There wasn’t space for everyone so people waited outside and you ate and left, no dilly dallying. The poor family members with their red swollen eyes were running around like crazy trying to get all the people served. I guess it’s a good distraction.

So that was my long day with my first successful event and my first funeral...

What exactly am I going to do here?

Real quick I wanted to clarify exactly the type of work I'm doing. I've have some questions recently and realized it isn't super clear.

I am working in Chocta, Peru with the Health Post there. Our main goals are the following:

1. We will work with a group of about 30 parents (likely mothers) with children under the age of three. We will be teaching them about nutrition, disease prevention, and early stimulation. We will do this through individual house visits as well as  group chats.

2. We will be forming a group of teen "peer educators" to teach them about good decision making for the future and sexual health. The hope is for them to go on to be leaders and role models to their peers and community.

In addition to these goals, Peace Corps has the goal of intercultural exchange. I will be sharing my customs from the States and learning the culture and customs of Chocta, Peru. This will allow me and the people I interact with to grow as human beings as well as promote friendship between the two countries.

Secondary projects: In addition to these projects, I have the freedom to do my own projects of whatever I feel would benefit my community. For example I could teach English (check!). I'm excited for the possibility of starting a garden club and planting more veggies in town. I can't wait do a World Map Project and paint a big mural of the world, later teaching geography and world culture. I'm planning on working with the dentist to promote and teach dental hygiene (thanks for the idea, Mom!).

So that's a more detailed description of exactly what I'll be doing here for 27 months. Stay posted for updates on my progress!

Papa Culture

(By now I hope you all know that papa means potato!)

I was invited by my host sister, Nelly, and her husband to help harvest potatoes from their chacra (small farm). How it works here in Chocta (one of the largest potato exporting towns) is everyone practically has their own papa chacras on their private plots of land. When it’s time to plant or harvest they solicit the help of friends and family. It’s a really cool concept of the community coming together to help whoever needs it. When the potatoes sell, the owner somehow keeps track of who helped for how many days and pays them accordingly. At the beginning of a harvest day, everyone walks to the chacra together, which could be close or really far. If it’s really far, the owner of the chacra will bring pots and food to make lunch for everyone. Its custom to cook chicken when planting and fish when harvesting. (don’t ask me why, I asked and they told me that’s just how it is).

So Thursday morning the whole familyCommercial- to sell to the big potato companies (depending of the class of papa, each sac sells for about 50 soles, or 16 bucks), regulation- to bring home with us and sell to people in Chocta, and chancho- the tiny ones that go to the pigs to eat. When we got to the chacra, I was ask to help Nelly start cooking lunch instead of digging up potatoes because everyone said I would hurt my nails… I got really annoyed at them for that. Sometimes I get sick of being the outsider who no one thinks can do anything. I told them about my 15 hour hike to Half Dome in Yosemite and they hardly believed me. I just have to work a little harder at earning respect because of some stereotypes some people have developed. So after lunch, which included fresh potatoes straight from the dirt, I got into line with all the people and showed them I could dig up papas as good as anyone! I have to admit that my fingernails were quite sore for a few days from dirt and potato getting wedged under them.  However, I do feel like I gained a lot of respect that day. Even from people we walked past on the way home. They saw the gringa all muddy and sweaty from a day of their everyday work and I became accepted officially into the community, officially a Choctonian!

hiked out to Nelly and Jeramias’ chacra to harvest. The way it worked was a couple strong young men (in this case my 21 year old host brother and cousin) plow up the rows of potato plants. This usually exposes some, but then a row of people line up to dig up the rest and put them into piles. Later we go back to gather those piles into big sacs. There are three categories of papa.

This was an awesome experience and a gained a lot more than sore fingers, 20 soles, and a bit of respect. I also gained perspective. The potatoes that we eat in the United States come from farms like this. The majority of this world work hard labor jobs everyday. I never really thought about that or realized how much work goes into a sac a potatoes. Who would’ve figured I’d learn so much about the potato growing culture. I can never be grateful enough for this experience to open my eyes to different cultures that I would have never even thought about. And not only do I now get to know about them, I get to live them for two years. Pretty darn cool, man.

These are the papas I got to take home after a day of work, all cleaned and laying out to dry! Aren't they pretty? delicious too!

Vacaciones Utiles (Summer School)

Peace Corps recommends that volunteers teach a class during summer school for a couple reasons. It helps us get to know the people in the community, it helps with learning Spanish, and it gives us something to do during these sometimes slow first months. Because I didn’t feel my vocabulary was sufficient for teaching really anything other than English, an English class it was. So here I am, jumping into facilitating a class, which I’ve never done alone before, and in a foreign language no less!

It’s been a relatively good experience so far! This week I completed my third week. I’m teaching elementary school kids Monday and Tuesday mornings and high school age kids in the afternoons on those days. I take role every day and so far I’ve had a great turnout: in both age groups combined, I’ve had a total of 46 students come. Some have come to every class, others just once or twice. It’s been fun but I have to say choosing healthcare was a good choice; I don’t think I could be a teacher. I have so much respect and admiration for teachers especially at the elementary level. Kids are tough. I do understand that it’s even tougher because of my Spanish level. I can’t image I’m very intimidating when I’m reprimanding them with broken Spanish and a gringa accent. I did send a few students out of class for being disruptive and one has yet to come back, I feel kinda bad… oh well.

But despite the challenges it’s been pretty fun and rewarding. The kids are quick learners, I’m very impressed with their retention. I've been doing a lot of interactive activities instead of straight lectures, so that helps with the attention span issues. And some of those guys will just warm your heart with their questions or when they rush to show me the notes they took in their notebooks or when I get to class early and there’s already a big group of students waiting by the door. One day when I was walking back home after class, I saw a little girl showing her dad her notebook and he put his arm around her giving her a little squeeze. So cute! And yesterday they wrote “Mi maestra Mis Alexis” with chalk on the sidewalk in front of the school and decorated it with flowers for me. Those little moments make it really fun.

It’s also been really beneficial for my integration into the community. Lots of people on the street now ask me how the classes are going or if I’m on my way to my classes, etc. I still have parents asking me if their son or daughter can come. I just say yeah of course bring them Monday! The most student’s I’ve had was 25 and that was a lot for me. Hopefully it doesn’t get too much bigger! I had a meeting the other day with a group of mothers and my PC Coordinator. He asked if they knew why I was here and a few shouted out “to teach English!” So I gotta work on that a bit and make sure people know I’m there for more than that! Once my work with the Health Center takes off, I’m sure everyone will catch on that I’m here to promote and educate about healthy living as well J