Down and Out Down Here

I have just completed a true rite of passage for Peace Corps Volunteers, which is the inevitable period of drawn-out and dilapidating illness. Most, at least in Peru, deal with stomach issues for months without end. I have had my minor issues here and there (the word “minor” changes drastically between first-world and third-world countries), but I have fortunately avoided the diarrhea-fate of many of my friends thus far. Instead, I paid my dues in the form of a minor cold, which escalated to a flu and then bronchitis. If you knew me in the U.S., then you know that I am NEVER sick. On the incredibly rare occasion when it did occur once a decade or so, you also know that it would pass in a matter of days and I generally wanted to be left alone. I don’t like to be babied; I just like to sleep it off in peace and quiet… sort of like a dog will just disappear when it is ill and reappear a few days later as if nothing had happened. No muss, no fuss. I guess I expected things to be exactly the same for this little cold when it developed, but boy was I wrong, as I have been about so many things here in Peru. This episode went on for weeks, and I am just now coming out of the dark tunnel onto the other side. And although I was able to spend a few relaxing weeks in Lima by myself, my time in San Miguel was far from peaceful. I should have expected the outpouring of pestering, considering how darn nosy the people of my lovely town are known to be. What I call “nosy,” they consider being concerned about the general welfare of every individual. It is their duty then, to care for those in need, especially the only outsider living within their ranks. And judging by the fact that I did crazy things like drink cold water (the number one cause for disease and number two cause for death, just after “catching some bad air,” in San Miguel) and prance around town in just one pair of pants (not even fleece pants for the love of Pete!!), I was clearly not competent enough to handle myself, in sickness or in health. So Host-Mom took control of my get-well regimen at home, and I could barely make it out the front door before helpful advice came flying at me from every well-intentioned direction. The experience showed me just how superstitious the people of Peru remain, especially those in the rural Andean region where I live. Just as the Haitians created and still cling to Voodoo practices, superstitions arise and survive more prominently in regions that suffer from poverty and/or lack of proper medical care. Once I remembered this, I was able to take the advice in stride, without wanting to pull out too much of my hair. The poor and uneducated have to blame illness on something, and there has to be an equal cure available in some form. To illustrate, here are a few examples of beliefs that are still widely believed here in Peru:

As I’ve already mentioned, The Bad Air is a well-known and widely-feared cause for illness and even death in rural areas. The Bad Air can be caught any time and anyhow, and I have found that it is typically blamed for just about everything when people do not know the real cause or when the real cause is too scandalous to imagine. I’ve heard stories of a man who was hit by a car and when he died, it was blamed on catching the Bad Air just before being hit by a car.

The Evil Eye: This is a big one, and I know that many cultures around the world have something similar. The Evil Eye is transferred from another person, often unintentionally, who is jealous of you or dislikes you for an unmerited reason. You can go years with an evil upon you, and it brings you bad luck and possibly even illness. To diagnose, somebody (preferably a reputable shaman… naturally) will hold an uncooked egg an inch or two above you and move it along the entire perimeter of your body. It is then cracked in a glass, and if a round “eye” separates from the yoke and rises to the top of the glass, then you my friend have been given the Evil Eye. In that case, you must flush the egg down the toilet without looking at it. Just like that, problem solved! I actually had this little ritual performed on me last year during training, after accidentally volunteering myself to my language professor, who just so happens to moonlight in shamanism from time to time. I was told I did have it, and I flushed her down as told… but I’m seeking a second opinion once I find a shaman who is backed by the American Medical Association. As if this wasn’t weird enough, just guess how this custom is varied here in the mountains. That’s right, instead of an egg, they use a live cuy. Of course they do! I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

Two friends who live in on the coast relayed to me that there is a belief that any sickness can be cured by grabbing chunks of a person’s hair and yanking it as hard as possible until you hear a popping noise. This act is repeated all over the head, and my friends casually mentioned that their host families had performed this act on them several times. I think I’ll take the mountains and our hovering guinea pigs.

With all of these colorful diagnosis and treatment options, I was somewhat surprised by host family’s ultimate conclusion. They ran the numbers and determined that I was sick, simply enough, because I am too skinny. The cure for this dreaded disease was also a straightforward one: more potatoes. That, and I really really have to stop drinking cold water.

So, sorry for the lack of pictures in this blog. I did quite a bit of google-searching for a picture of a shaman or any one of these treatment options, but I came up empty. Guess Peru’s medical practices are not widely known. Well now the three of you know… lucky bunch!