CUY FOR ME: Me and My Latrine

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: