CUY FOR ME: September 2009

Three weeks into site, and I’ve already broken my one and only rule. I told myself that I would not turn down any requests from people in my town for at least a month; I planned on being open to every new experience and opportunity, no holds bar. From my newly acquired familiarity with things, however, I now advise against this plan of attack. Trust me; it can get out of hand, especially in this town, where everybody wants a piece of the gringa. I have accepted appeals to sit on just about every committee formed by just about every organization in this town, from the “Municipality Council Town-Planning through the Year 2021 Committee,” to the “San Miguel Festival Planning Committee.” Although they can be rip-your-hair-out frustrating sometimes, I rather enjoy most meetings here. Once you understand the basics:

1. The meeting will begin 1 to 2 hours after the scheduled time. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

2. No matter how late the meeting begins, people will continue to enter for another hour. In the U.S., one would try to arrive without making a scene. Here, oh no. One must “saludar,” or greet, every person in the room with a hand-shake or a kiss. The Mayor himself is the worst culprit of this cultural-annoyance.

3. Cell phones will go off; people will answer them. It is not unusual for the person giving the meeting to do so as well.

4. Snacks are an absolute must. This is my favorite rule of the bunch, naturally. I have yet to attend a meeting, no matter how official or casual, where I did not receive a pack of crackers/cookies and a cup of Inca Kola (the beverage of choice here… I would equate it to adding 12 tablespoons of sugar to Mountain Dew. Delicious!).

I’m not really sure why I’m invited to participate in all of these meetings; I really haven’t added much to the conversations. I do my fair share of smiling and nodding in agreement, but other than that, it’s hard to add much when I still know nearly nothing about the town itself. When it comes down to it, I think my presence is their present… makes the meeting seem more important, heaven knows why.

Speaking of heaven, my presence was also summonsed by God himself (okay, okay not God… but the Catholic Church), to participate in Mass this week. Again, they are all fully aware that I am not Catholic, yet I had the specific privilege of reading the Apostle Paul’s letter to Timothy 3: 14-16 in front of the devout masses of San Miguel. Palabra de Dios… I was rather nervous about it, but I ran into a Nun at the hardware store the next day, and she complimented me on my excellent performance. I’m just racking up karma points left and right! Obviously, this was something I agreed to before officially severing ties with my rule.

The proverbial final straw, however, came when I was asked to be the “Queen” in the upcoming town festival. Being Peruvian in nationality, this festival is no small fry. It is two weeks of planned activities, including parades, ceremonies, bands, bull fights, etc. etc. etc. The Queen takes on a pageant-esque role, complete with crown, scepter and lots of makeup. She will also have to compete with Queens from all of the surrounding towns to be the Queen Bee, or something like that. It was here that I was forced to decline, as genteelly as possible, for the first time. Although following my rule lead to some memorable experiences, I’m happy to retire it. I still plan on accepting most invitations, but sometimes it’s nice to be the spectator, instead of the spectacle.

Now, instead of boring you all with more verse, I'll let my photo-journalism skills (ha!) do the talking for awhile, and show you a little bit of San Miguel, lately:

The car to/from Cajamarca... last time we piled 11 people in here and three sacks of cuyes

The parade from Friday... this is when I still thought I would be a spectator.

After I was pulled into the parade... I marched through town, snuggled up between the Middle-School class and the brass band.

Even better than the bullhorn car... a bullhorn wheelchair

That's my grandma in the center, watching me march in the parade.

Our newest editions to the family

Still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed... doesn't know what he's in for

Our cemetery in town is kinda creepy

Every deceased gets a mini-shrine... like I said... creepy!

My first class in hand-washing clothes... grandma was quite pleased with my progress

Success! Though the ducks had to look at my skivvies for two days

How San Miguel travels...

Market Day!

Gotta bring my pig to market...

And my cow ( however unwillingly)...

and my sheep.

My favorite part of Market Day: The Livestock Auction...

There are cows ALL over town...

even in the playground.

Lots of fruit being sold...

and the freshest chickens...

or perhaps these are the freshest chickens.

Phew. That’s all I can say about getting through the monstrous Week One of being alllllll byyyyy myyyyseeeellllllffffff. Truth be told, it was not quite as bad as I anticipated. I will admit, however, that I was a big fat chicken about leaving my friends in Cajamarca and heading off to San Miguel alone. Did I put it off until the last feasible moment? Bet your biscuit I did. To add insult to injury, I found out that my host family wasn’t even in town; they had gone to Lima for blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah (that’s approximately what I understood from my first phone conversation with my host mom, who speaks really, really quickly). So I wasn’t 100% sure what to expect upon arrival, but fortunately my host mom is the over-protective type and had arranged for babysitters to care for her gringita (little whitey, roughly translated). Her brother, sister-in-law and two nieces thus moved into the house with me for a few days. They were very kind, and Uncle Tio, as I call him, even carried my ridiculous amount of luggage up to my hay loft for me. Sorry for the hernia Uncle Tio! As I unpacked my things, the boom was dropped on me, so to speak. It finally hit me that I would be living here. In this room. In Peru. For two years. At first, I had nowhere that I have to be… ever. It might sound gleefully liberating to my fellow Americans, those of us who are used to complete and total structure, but it is actually quite frightening. These thoughts made me just want to curl up under my mound of llama-fur blankets and not come out for my first week. San Miguel, however, had a different idea in mind for me and my time. She and her people scooped me up and made me feel like just one of the townsfolk, except of course for the fact that the language barrier makes me really, really awkward. So here’s a recap of what I’ve done, what I’ve seen and what I’ve learned in these first days of Volunteer-living:

1. I made some friends. In this new circle of friends, I would consider my closest confidants to be a 19 year-old girl, Manuelita (though she’s very mature for her age) and a middle-aged ex-nun, Annita. Obviously I get different things out of each friendship, but they’re both lovely in their own right. Manuelita teaches me all the latest and greatest Peruvian tunes, and I go to Catholic Mass with Annita. Though she knows full well I’m not Catholic, Annita even scored me an invitation to the Priest’s Birthday party. I’m pretty sure you cannot get better than that in a Latin-American country.

2. My dirt floor has lost its initial rustic allure. The snag came in the form of my 3 year-old cousin popping a squat in my room before I could stop her. I realized immediately that there’s no real way to clean up dirt. If I pour water on the puddle, it just turns into mud. Not sure how to remedy that quite yet.

3. I have a latrine. Latrine, as I’ve come to learn, is just a fancy word to describe a hole dug into the earth. No light, no seat. Nada. This is also where I take my bucket-bath, which requires me to balance on a little piece of wood on top of the hole, while hunching over so that the entire town cannot watch the process (the wall comes up to mid-navel). Fun times. Supposedly we have a real bathroom, but it has been out of commission since I moved in. They say it will be fixed “very, very soon,” which in Peruvian time means, “maybe sometime possibly.”

4. I made some money at a cock-fight. The sport is incredibly popular here, and legal, in case you’re wondering, so I’m surprised this was my first time attending. There was a festival in a neighboring town, and I went with some of my new friends here (not the nun). Another Volunteer, Alex, lives in town nearby, so I met up with her as well, and we went to the cock-fight together. Her entire host family was there, and the kids had even taken off school to attend. The scene was straight out of a movie; it was all I could ask for and more. First of all, we were the only females in attendance. There was some serious testosterone flowing in that room, as drunk, passionate Peruvian men scrutinized each other’s cocks. People were arguing, money was changing hands and I wished I had five more pairs of eyes to take it all in. With the help of Alex’s host-dad, I placed a bet on a nice-looking cock and ended up doubling my money. I would’ve stayed all day, but a brawl broke out (as one would only expect), forcing us to high-tail it out of there. Guess some ballsy man insulted another man’s cock. Oh no you didn’t…

5. I’ve taught some classes. The Lactation Institute asked that I teach Computer and English classes, to which I agreed on all counts. This has somehow snowballed into a total of seven classes per week, at 2 hours a pop. Add in preparation time, and I have stayed incredibly busy. I enjoy the classes, though, so I plan on continuing. Some of the students have had computer experience, so we’re working on Microsoft Office systems, Word, Excel, Powerpoint, etc. Others, however, have never typed on a keyboard before. It is frustrating, to say the least, but rewarding at the same time. The English class is just plain hilarious. Their favorite activity thus far has been learning the lyrics to songs. This week was, “I Just Called to Say I Love You,” as we’ve been learning days of the week, months and seasons. It has taken some practice, but I think they would make ole Stevie proud.

6. I’ve played some sports. Football (soccer), namely. As if massacring their language wasn’t enough, I’m also doing a number on their beloved sport. I know that I’m pretty terrible at soccer, but it doesn’t help that everybody here is really, really good. I thought they were going to take my Peruvian Visa back after my first attempt, but people keep inviting me to play again and again. My only retribution has come in the form of basketball, which I have dominated in. Not that I’m overly talented at basketball either, but 95% of the people here have never played before. Just like English class, this is the only time when I don’t feel like the weird gringa. I’ve also been invited to join a women’s volleyball team. We played for a couple of hours the other day, until some men literally forced us off the court so they could play soccer. Priorities.

7. I have eaten lots and lots of cuy. This may be due to the fact that I showed somebody here the video of me killing one a few weeks back. Word travels quickly in this little town, I suppose, because I’m now getting offers left and right to eat cuy with people. On a similar note, one of the cuyes in my kitchen just had her litter; they’re the cutest creatures I’ve ever seen. One of the babies escaped the other day, and my family was horrified (can they really be surprised when the kitchen door is always open to the great outdoors, and the cuyes don’t live in cages??). Regardless, we spent an hour searching for the “crazy little cuy,” as they kept calling him. Yeah, he’s crazy alright. Crazy like a fox. I can just picture him hopping the first boat to North America, where he’ll live out a life of luxury in someone’s living room.

8. I refuse to turn down any invitation for the first month. Thus, I have been given three welcome parties, been coerced into making five impromptu speeches (Peruvians LOVE speeches, so long as one begins and ends the speech by thanking every single person in the room for their attention) and have eaten at least seven meals a day with various community members.

So after this whirlwind week of mine, I’m exhausted. And really, really full. Thank you San Miguel!

So, I know what you're all thinking... stop talking already, and show us some pictures. So here goes: