On the other side of the street

   In a country that doesn’t have the infrastructure or ideas that many Americans have in regards to care for the elderly or mentally unstable, it’s a common sight to come across loco men and women in the streets.  Living next to the Pan-American Highway heightens our opportunities for such occurrences, as does working in the city center. 

   There are those who fade into the background, that are seen occasionally, but don’t seem to attract everyone’s attention and then there are those who are not forgotten.  We see a man, who most people don’t notice, because he likes to sleep in the grass in the median of the highway right across from our house.  There is the “Crazy Sack Lady” who can often be found in the business district with her overgrown fingernails and toenails and plastic sacks on her head, piled next to her and protruding from her ragged clothing.  Finally, you must meet “Loco Chete,” a legend in Chiclayo.  On two different occasions, in an English class, when students were to describe other people, I asked them to describe him and everyone in the classes new him.  He is a non-aggressive, generally cheerful, alcoholic who is said to have lost his mind after seeing his father burned alive at the age of 12.  Loco Chete covers the entire city on foot, carrying a few bags, usually some beer and muttering, laughing or hollering nearly unintelligibly (at least for me) in a good natured way.  The people love him.  They give him a little bit of money, they offer him food, cut his hair for him and care for the man, lost in time but not in space.  He may not have any sense of who others are or where/what he should do at any particular time but he can tell a person about every district in the city and where he has been or is headed. 

   We get caught up in our own lives and know what’s going on in our own home and sometimes what is going on in our neighbors.  We see those on the other side of the street but often do not know their stories and then the further one goes from home, the more like a dream their lives seem.

Loco Chete across the highway from our house