the garden

   We enjoy Igor's dad's garden.  We can stick out heads out the window and smell the plants and see the different colors of leaves and flowers.  The song of little birds brightens our days.

The sound of war

   A humming sound is heard in the distance.  It increases to a deafening roar.  The windows rattle.  A few seconds later, the noise dies down and a war plane can be seen buzzing off to the south of our home and looping back around for another take.  I look out the window to see a plane that just took off leave a trail of air pollution behind it.
   We live near one of Peru's two airforce bases where fighter planes do test runs, and the country's first line of defense.  Normally, I'm unaware of the racket that they make, as I am working elsewhere, but a few days this week, I have been home during the later portion of the morning, when all the windows begin to rattle and the roar of the engines permeates the air.  But it's only a few minutes of my day.  What horrible noises people in war torn countries must endure, besides for all the other hardships they must face!

You are what you eat

It is said that you are what you eat.  Here in Peru, they say, "Life is in the food/eating" depending upon how you wish to translate the phrase.  Well, I'm not sure what that says about Igor, but here's what the fridge looks like when he stocks it:

(Not all can be seen or is worth mentioning but let's just say there are 24 eggs, 

18 bananas, 7 tomatoes, strawberry jelly, two litres of purple corn juice, 

several packets of algarrboina. 2.25 pounds of cheese, 3 carrots, 

some spinach, a litre of milk, 17 large purple olives and half a pound of shredded coconut.)  

This is what I found after he called to me from the kitchen, "I know you're not going to be happy with me, but I think it looks great!"  "What?" I asked myself.  Then I saw what he meant.  "If you eat all that, it's fine with me," I replied.  To which he responded, "Of course.  It isn't that much.  Besides life's in the food." 

Her Words

     Today, I got the kind of three paragraph essay that every ESL teacher would love to get from a student nearing the end of her first year of English studies.  A well-thought-out paper, with several sentences and where her voice really came through.  After reading a story about a beggar, this week and brainstorming about situations that lend themselves to that lifestyle or situation, I asked the students to use the remaining 40 minutes of class to write their opinion about  beggars in Chiclayo.  While some papers were disappointing, in fact so much so that I had to ask students three times to redo portions (just like little kids who rush through their assignments quickly just to go play at recess) and they still didn't do a very nice or thorough job, this paper was excellent.  Below is her paper with only a few minor spelling and punctuation corrections.  The rest I will leave as it was written:

     When you go walking in Chiclayo, you probably see a beggar in the street many times.  I don't think that the beggars are dangerous; not all the beggars.  Some people need mone, but I ask myself, "Why don't they get a job?"  Well, some beggars are old or sick, but others are young and strong.  Whatever.  Maybe someday the number of beggars will decrease and they won't sleep on the streets or die in poor conditions.
     I'm generous if I have money.  I feel sorry for these people, especially for the children and elderly people.  When I have money, I give money.  But if I have food, I give food.  I think that food is important and this way you can know the truth.  Some "beggars" don't take the food.  They want money, and that is not cool.
     I remember when I gave food to a child.  He was very small and thin.  His clothes were very dirty and torn.  He took the food, smiled and said, "Thanks."  To me, I mean the expression on his face, this was the truest thing.

What Igor said...

     It's been a rather relaxed day, as some of my English lessons were canceled as were two of Igor's 3 classes :)
     As we were going about cleaning up after lunch, Igor was washing the dishes and I was washing the table, counters and sweeping the floor, when I saw a pile of light brown powder on the floor next to our couch.  "What's this?" I called across the dining room and through the open doorway to Igor.        "What?" he asked peeking around the corner.
   "This!" I replied, pointing to small pile, with a sneaking suspicion that he had spilled a spoonful of barley powder, but then again, the powder was in an absurd place.  His eyes growing wider by the second, he came over to exam the pile with me and we determined that there must have been some sort of destructive wood-eating insect that got into the leg of the couch.  While I plotted ways to kill the critter, Igor returned to his dishes, vexed and grumbling against it.
     "What a horrible, ugly insect!" he exclaimed, while I muttered that we hadn't actually seen it and wondered how he could be certain that the vandal was an ugly insect.  Then he continued, "It is a nervous creature--eating and eating and eating."
     Then with the sound of water falling from the faucet, I poured some cleaning detergent into the hole finished sweeping and went to correct some papers.  

My Secret Collection

     If you've never lived in Peru, you probably can't imagine how valuable coins printed with the numbers 10 cents, 20 cents, 50 cents or a Nuevo Sol (which is about 35 cents of the US $) are.  A cough drop, band aid, a lime, or sheet of computer paper can be purchased for 10 cents.  20 cents can get you two tea bags, a good-sized handful of fresh basil or a carrot and fifty cents can buy four bread rolls (my breakfast + half of Igor's).  With a sol, I can take a Combi to the centre of Chiclayo to go to work.   
     Although I hate to admit it, it's more my nature to hoard things than to keep secrets, I find myself doing both of those things here.  I stash coins away in a secret place as they always seem to be in demand but in short supply.
     For instance, when taking public transportation or making a small purchase, if I only have a 10 or 20 soles bill to hand over, often times the cashier or money collector will not be able to give me change and will be horrified by my attempt to pay with such a large amount of money!  Forget using bills of 50 or 100 soles for nearly anything.  In order to minimize such stressful and sometimes embarrassing situations, I try to get change whenever possible and dole it out as little as possible.
     The other day, Igor only had a 20 soles bill and needed change, so asked me if I could spare a few coins.  I (inwardly a bit grudgingly) went to my secret stash to share and Igor appeared behind me.  With eyes wide open and much excitement, he said, "Wow!  You have a lot of coins."  We don't need to try to get change for some time.  We can use this all up first!"  I disagreed.  My stash dwindled but has found a new home.  It's impossible to live peacefully here and go about one's daily tasks without small (and exact) change.

Art

We both like paintings--me probably more than Igor--and are pleased to have a brighter touch to our dining room.  I love the bright display of colors in traditional Peruvian artwork whether it be weaving, painting or embroidery.  Pictures often portray cultural relics and symbols as well as women in traditional garb working or harvesting in rural settings.  A local artist's handiwork it now proudly displayed in our home :)

Just a brief encounter

     For just over two hours, I was able to see some women I hadn’t seen for quite some time.  Through a lot of challenges and hard work on their part and on my friend Sarah’s and mine, they wormed their way right into my heart.

     Most Fridays I find myself in a plain, drab classroom teaching English with a number of students who look like they’d rather be anyplace else but there.  There’s always one or two that have that glimmer in their eyes, helping console me that I might now be wasting my efforts and time completely. 

     I was thrilled to have last Friday off, and jumped at the invitation by friends from Centro Esperanza to accompany them to a closing presentation in the impoverished, outer-lying city district of San Borja.  As I alit from the flimsy, yellow, Tico taxi, I was greeted with smiles, kisses and hugs.  Cheerful chatter filled the air as the women and I caught up on one another’s lives, as we rushed around trying to get the final touches taken care of like hanging a sheet over a window, carrying plastic stools to the right home, and taping paper with masking tape to the walk to make it white for a PowerPoint presentation.  The cord for the projector was missing from its bag, but people ran to their homes to look and about five minutes later, a young girl appeared with just the cable that we needed. 

     My heart swelled with pride as the women presented the project they’d been involved in over the past few months raising ducks and guinea pigs.  Both animals reproduce quickly and can be sold for a profit to restaurants or in the markets and can therefore increase a woman’s power and status in her household as she becomes a financial contributor.  Women, who had sat on rocks in the dirt with Sarah and me a year and a half ago, too shy and beaten down to share their say more than a simple greeting to one another or us, let alone give their opinions or venture to dream, stood with timid grins before an audience of about 40 people and gave their testimonies of their experiences raising small animals.  

     I six year old child slipped through the door.  “Are you Señorita Abril?” she asked me as she scooted onto my lap.  “I am,” I replied with a smile.  Her face reflected mine, she giggled and then snuggled up against me. 

     With the end of the presentation and speeches, came the traditional lunch and pictures galore.  Everyone wanted their picture taken and we happily obliged.  The women, having heard that I might go, thoughtfully prepared sandwiches for Sarah and me without meat.  How they even seemed to remember and think of the smallest details where resources are scarce and work is great, is beyond me, but I was touched.  

     As evening drew near, we kissed good-bye, stepped out into the dirt street, let the coastal wind chill our skin, and made our way through the village to a paved road where we went our separate ways boarding Combis and returning to our normal lives taking a little more of San Borja with us and leaving a little more of ourselves behind.  

At that moment, I should have left

     We were in the mall in Chiclayo for the evening, relaxing and contemplating which electric kettle, we wanted to invest in.  We made our purchase then passes by a store with exercise equipment.  Igor got sucked in and of course went along.  At ten minutes to eight, we were approached by an employee warning us that there would be an earthquake drill at eight o’clock. 

     “Let’s go,” I pleaded with Igor.  “Okay, just one moment,” he replied.  One moment, changed to several minutes and I continued to plead.  Then at 7:59, he decided that maybe I was right and we should leave, but it was too late.  We should have left when we were warned.  Just before we got to the stairs, we heard the alarm sound.  We went to the first floor and outdoors, where we were trapped inside the barred gates for the following 20 minutes with thousands of other people wishing the drill would end and we could just go home. 

     What did I learn?  1. Looking at weight machines on sale is a very hard place to drag Igor away from.    2. Don’t annoy security guards by taking selfies during the drill (that was a second-hand experience).    3.  Leave immediately when warned about an earthquake drill.    

Cricket

IgOR fiNAllY fOUnD hiS SoUL mATe: a PeRUviAn CriCKeT!

Hands

   With his hands held up before him in a display of innocence, the mayor of Chiclayo led his campaign for reelection this coming Sunday under the slogan, "These are hands of the people."  His political party is known as the Clean Hands Regional Movement.  And now, let the news begin...
   With just a few days until elections, the mayor (still uncaptured) and 27 people who were close to him in his political positions have been captured by the police and imprisoned.  The equivalent of more than 2 million dollars (in bills of Nuevos Soles) were encountered in his house, as well as much American money, while there simply wasn't money to pay the honest government employees.  Narcotrafficking, a big problem in this coastal city, is rumored to have funded his campaign.  He was the front runner, and his name will remain on the ballot.  We're left to wonder what will happen and who people will vote for on Sunday.
   So, there you have it: News From Chiclayo about officials with "Clean Hands."