New PyE Ayacucho Team Members

Last Friday, May 13th we indoctrinated some new team members into the PyE Ayacucho regional office, and to the specific work of the mental health team. Milagros and Yudy said ¨Hey Lisa! Come look at our new titeres. As I was walking back to the office I was thinking ¨What in the mother is a titere? When I turned the corner I got a load of our new teammates and found out what a titere is. A titere is a puppet and our new teammates are (Given their names by the folks in Loricocha and Cangari) ¿Como Tú? (Hamqina in Quechua) the bloodhound (see photo), Patricio the puppy, Omar and Suzanna the people puppets, Ollanta the Burro, and Keiko the pig. For your knowledge Ollanta and Keiko are the current presidential candiadates in a run off for June 5th. We used the new Titeres in our workshops with the GAMS and look forward to integrating them into our work with the niños and violence/abuse prevention.

The Good Samaritan Goes Quechua

Every other Friday, as you know, I travel to the campo or countryside of Cangari. It is a small farming pueblo just southwest (I think) of Huanta headed back toward Ayacucho. It is in the municipality of Iguaín. During the violent years this community was affected by the activities and unwanted presence of the Sendero Luminoso.
I really enjoy the folks who are a part of this group. Usually our GAMs or Grupos para Ayuda Mujeres are just that, all women. In Cangari, the group includes about 5 men. They only add to the group life and personality of the group.
Two weeks ago, as a part of the workshop, the folks in Cangari split up into three groups. They were asked to recreate the story of the Good Samaritan, after they picked it out of the bible based on the description of a real life situation of being in trouble and passers by will not help and are full of excuses by Milagros, my compañera. Most of the people in this group are Catholic so one of the ¨passing by characters in the story was changed to a sacerdote or priest, for effect.¨
I LOVE working with the people of Cangari, I may have mentioned it before. They are so funny and really get into our work, which is good for them. They take really good care of one another from week to week.
We divided up into 3 groups. One group was short a person so, I was victimized..I mean volunteered, and of course they made me the good samaratain because they said ¨You are an extrañjera or gringa, perfect!¨ It reminds me of having to play Goliath in the Guatemalan Christmas program 6 years ago because I was taller than everyone else.
The Cangari folks are ready for their close-up and their Oscar. They are great actors, with props and everything. They brought the story of the Buen Samaritano to life as only the indigenous Quechua speaking people of Cangari can, and they had a good time doing it. My compañeros and I almost died laughing at their realism, and acting ability. The people especially liked the part of attacking the person getting robbed. Then the vicitm lay on the ground, writhing around yelling ¨AUXILLIO! AUXILLIO!¨ Which means help! help! in Quechua. I almost had a personal accident just watching their presentations.

This group has been a delight to work with. So here´s to Salome, Delfin, Augusto, Elvira, Alejandra, Pedro Pablo, Saturina, and all the rest in Cangari who continue to unpack painful details and feelings with us, but more importantly one another as they walk the road of grief together.

A New Campaign for PyE Ayacucho

Last week the mental health team of Paz y Esperanza began a new campaign or project here in Ayacucho. It is much needed. We will be going to local elementary schools and working with the 1st-6th graders on parts of the body and working to prevent the violence and abuse of children.
The first school we will be working at is Virgen del Carmen in Pilacucho which is down further in the valley. The kids here go on to study at the secondary school known as San Ramon de Ayacucho.
Last week we worked with the 5th graders. They were pretty cool and glad that we came. We worked first on parts of the body and the fact that we, as human beings do not have a price, meaning we cannot be bought and sold, and that our bodies our ours, and unique. Next, the students in groups, made life size drawings of the body and labeled the parts by tracing one of their group mates. None of them want to label the private parts of the opposite sex. They kept pushing the marker back and forth saying ¨You do it, no you!¨
Some of them even meticuolusly labeled the internal organs even though we did not ask them too. After that, when Milagros was asking questions she asked ¨Is there a part of your body no one should ever touch?¨ One kid shouted out REALLY fast ¨Your intestine!¨ Milagros replied ¨A good response, but I was thinking more about on the outside of your body, which we studied today.¨
A good start to a much needed campaign. The work part of all this is coming up with age and developmentally approipriate activities. The kids are fun to be around and like the fact that we bring cheese sandwiches and papaya puree for a snack.

Ayacucho Coffee Roasting (I mean Toasting)

On Sunday evening my host dad Paco saw me staring at the empty coffee jar on the table. He asked me if I wanted to roast some beans and grind my own coffee so there would be some more. I asked how long it would take and did we have everything we needed. It was of ocurse Sunday evening and I had to work the next day. He replied ¨30 minutes, no more!¨ So I agreed and we set to work. All we needed was a wooden spoon, the coffee beans, a beat up metal pot, a gas stove, and a meal grinder (which was used yesterday to grind corn for humitas).
Now, I have been living in Ayacucho, Perù for around 9 months now and I can safely say that this valley colonial city is most certainly more famous for its corn and potatoes, rather than its coffee. Until I met Paco and went to their house I thought all Peruvian coffee came from the jungle. Well pretty much it does!! The thing is, geographically speaking, the departament of Ayacucho (kind of like our states) has a little smidgen of jungle on its eastern boarder where the Apurimac River is located. The rest is soaring Andes Mountains. The jungle area is known as the VRAE or Valle de Riò Apurimac. This is where Paco secures his unroasted coffee beans. He tells me they are of the escencia variety. I am not totally sure what that means. He said they are not quite as as well known as the cafè from the high jungle of Perù which is north of Ayacucho in Junìn.
A couple of things I learned from roasting my own coffee Sunday evening are these; your hands are still going to smell like coffee even after you wash them, face it. Next, is that we (in english) say roasting, but in spanish it is toasting, roasting is for meat. Then there is the ever wonderful asking of ¨Hey Paco! Are these frijoles de cafè ready yet?¨ Here in Perù, as Paco says, ¨Cafè es cafè, what is this frijole business?¨ as he chuckles. So Sunday evening, I guarded a small beat up metal pot on a stove and I stirred and moved those beans to my hearts content, and until I thought my arm would fall off. That is when they were done. ¨You have to keep them moving or they will burn. We want them to be the color of gold, which in the case of cafè is brown (not black),¨ Paco said. Then we sat across from one another at the table and removed the skins. This is no less tedious than herding cats, but we got the job done.
The next day for an after lunch conversation, I brewed up a pot of the good stuff. Paco came up the stairs and said ¨WOW! Lisa the aroma of our cafè is really strong, I smelled it as soon as I came in the house.¨ JACKPOT! The taste as we drank it and talked about culture, politics, and theology (all the things you should probably avoid) was incredible, and a sheer delight to consume. So heres to a cafè adventure in the land of corn and potatoes.

Dìa de la Madre

So !Felìz Dìa de la Madre¡ Yes this time honored tradition of loving up on Mom has made its way south. It has actually been here for quite a while. I am told that an American or someone who lived in America brought it down here. Some say that in passing, others seem purturbed by it, as they purchase flowers and other gifts fro their mom. So here is my thing for them ¨If you do not like it do not celebrate it, and quit calling it an American holiday, because it isn´t. No one forces you to observe it.¨ Oh wait, yes their own Peruvian culture forces them too. The streets once lined with bread and vegetable carts are now jammed with little carts hocking a myriad of red roses, trinkets and cakes too. Cakes, cards, roses, and a visit with mom seem to be the theme for the day. That visit to mom or with mom somewhere else seems to be accompanied by lunch.


I saw a cartoon in the paper today that showed a son giving his mom a handful of cooking utensils for Mother´s Day. It was accompanied by him saying here is your mother´s day gift so now you can ALWAYS cook my meals. The mother in the cartoon was not over joyed, but more like overwhelmed by her son´s gift. It sort of reiterates the truth of the machista culture here, and yes real people were buying cooking utensils for their mom´s like spoons and pots (not like it doesn´t happen in the United States either...a new blender or vaccum cleaner for mom. Who knows the difference, mom does.)


For Ayacuchanos whose mothers were no longer living, they took a bouquet of flowers to the graveyard. Paco, my host dad, did this for his mom Isabel. He said there were alot of folks there. Some were half lit, and others totally lit to replace their family members.


So I settled for a skype conversation with my mom from South Carolina. The little camera took me right into the room with her, all the way from the Andes Mountains.


Friday night, at the Paz Y Esperanza Office we held a little gathering for mothers and wives of the workers. My host mom was traveling and unable to atend. There was a pollo al la brasa supper, games like pin the hat on the mamà, three legged race, and a toilet paper relay, and a rose and card recognition. We also had a cake for Jhon´s (yes I spelled it right) birthday.


Sunday Paco, Franco, and I went to the Presbyterian Quechua service at church. Afterwards all were greeting one another with wishes of a happy mother´s day. The Quechua women refer to one another as mamà. So everyone they meet is in someway a mother. It is a term of respect and endearment. Besides gordita (my little fat person) they also call me mamá gringita )mama little white lady).


On Sunday afternoon we made it home and got ourselves ready to go to the house of Celia´s brother, Hernando. Her family, including her mother mamà Michilda were there. They had prepared a most succulent and delicious pacha manca. It is my favorite Peruvian dish.
It is where your cook the meat and potatoes in the ground in a pit with hot rocks and season it all with HUACATAY or black mint. 10 kinds of yumminess!! You give to the mother earth pacha mama and she gives back!!!

Perù, South America...no Nebraska, WHERE?!

Below is a link to the documentary released by PROMO PERÙ, the arm of the ministry of tourism that promotes Perù. A bunch of Peruvian ambassadors took everything Perù that they could, got on a bus and went to Peru, Nebraska...a.k.a. small town U.S.A. to share it with the folks. Inca Kola, Chicha Morada, pisco, Papa Huancaina, Llamas, dancing, singing, hats, mantas, pacha manca, and even a hairless Peruvian dog (hyperallergenic of course!). Check it out. It is funny, yet also heart warming as the timid Nebraskans get out side of their shells and experience a little bit of Perù.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1MxR2X4r1s&feature=autoshare
(If the link is not working, just paste into your browser window)

I like it, and yes, on first sip Inca Kola does taste like ¨bubble gum or chicle.¨

Meeting your Gastronomical Match

Last Friday, the Mental Health team from Paz y Esperanza and I went out to Cangari. It is one of the small pueblos that we visit every two weeks. I love going there. It is such a priveledge to be a part of the process of recovery, healing, and reconciliation with them. While there we meet with a group of women, and this one just happens to have some pretty fabulous and insightful male members too. They are all victims of the political violence in some form or another. We accompany and make space for them to share their feelings and learn how to take care of one another and maintain that group and safe space, long after we are gone.
Now at the end of each session we all share in a collaborative feast that the people have prepared. We bring part of the ingredients (usually the harder to find ones) and the people provide the rest.
A novel concept. I have always thoroughly enjoyed what they prepare, and they always give me so much and then when I finish they want to give me more. All of this after they call me their gordita or little fat person. I take it as a term of endearment because typically the person referring to me as their gordita is an equally short, equally round, and just as jovial as I am Peruvian woman.
So on this particular Friday I met my gastronomical or culinary match. I want to say again that I find it important to eat what is offered and put in front of you, especially in missional situations and relationship building, but also because these men and women are my friends. I would NEVER want to offend them, and I think they feel likewise. Mama Ricardina opened the pot that was the size of a small volkswagon and there it was...IN ALL THEIR GLORY...tripa or tripe. It was a dish called Cau-Cau. It has never been one of my favorites, butI ate it, and now here it was again. Cau-Cau is potatoes (of course), carrots, and peas served over white rice with a stock like sauce and some oregano. Then there is the meaty part. The TRIPE...in this case Cau-Cau´s favorite partner in the pot...SHEEP INTESTINE.
I want to remind you that the folks in Cangari ALWAYS give me this huge portion, like I do not get enough to eat. For some reason Friday night was no different and I got less potatoes and a heaping helping of Sheep intestine. Milagros looks at my bowl and loudly says ¨Hey you got alota tripe!¨I was sarcastically thinking ¨Gee Aren´t I the big winner.¨ I just was not having that I just won the culinary lottery feeling though. I think I am going to add this to my list of crosses to bear this year. I will call it the Cangari Tripe Incident. We reflected a little on Simon of Cyrene over Holy Week, so that is where that comes from. I mean I have eaten the tainted pork this year and drank the well water, and consumed numerous dishes that I just ate before I asked, but this ocassion is sticking around. Why is that? Perhaps you as a reader have some insight.
I was none too excited, but I ate all of the potatoes, carrots, peas, and rice. Then there was the tripa staring me down. Can´t you hear the deuling Gunsmoke music in the background? Doo Doo Doo. It was tumble weeds at 10 paces. I ate a few pieces, and I think the thought of what those little puppies used to contain did me in. My stomach gurgled. I couldn´t eat anymore. I began looking for the dog that hangs out under the chairs. Darn it! No where to be found...thanks for the loyalty, Rover. That is when I turned around with the bowl in my hand and Mamà Ricardina and Mamà Salome said ¨Don´t you like it?¨ I was like of course I li- (interrupted by Milagros) ¨She doesn´t like tripe!¨ Thanks alot I said through my teeth with a smile as I elbowed her and she chuckled. I felt so bad, as Mamà Ricardina took my plate from me.
I still think about that experience and reflect on it. I am hoping that by next Friday Mamà Ricardina will have found it in her heart to forgive me for not eating her tripe. It is not the way that I would have wanted things to be, but they turned out that way. I was sufficiently embarrassed, even if the ¨flappy gum¨ folks in my group were not. I think it is important to eat what is put in front of you. It is an offering that they make to you. They get excited when you eat it all and ask for seconds. For some of these folks, it is all they have. I have encountered some pretty unconventional things to eat here in Peru. Cow face soup, alpaca, tripe, pig skin and corn chowder called mondongo. I try them, and some I like others I try them, do not like them, and try to avoid. Cau-Cau is one of them. There is just something about TRIPE or sheep intestines that I just cannot get my mind or mouth around. I met my gastronomical or culinary match in the Cangari Tripe Incident.

Conquering Campanayo - Uphill, Mas Ayacito.

So there are two nondescript terms that people use here. One is ayacito, which means over there a little ways, and the other is un ratito or a little while. Basically it is used when someone has no idea excatly how far or how much longer they will need. We do the same thing. I was trying to think if we have them in english and yes we do. Un ratito is like saying "one moment please." One moment usually turns into or actually means 5 minutes to half an hour, just like ratito in spanish can be anywhere from one minute to an hour. Ayacito is a little bit further, over there. It is used like "Over yonder" in the southern United States. In other words "Just keep going, and you will get there when you do." OKAY, I got it.

Gregoria, Me, Pastor Juan

Me, and Caleb (Pastor Juan's 2 yr Old)

Saturday morning Pastor Juan, from Iglesia Emanuel, asked me if I wanted to go with the youth on a hike up to Campanayo. I was like "Where is that?" He responded "Mas Ayacito, arriba," and he pointed up. I thought, sure why not, I do not get to spend that much time with them, and this is a chance to do something with the youth outside of the church building.

We struck out. Little did I know, until 3/4 of the way up, that this was Juan's first time up too.

(In a way I am glad he did not tell me)

So we started out at a brisk pace. We were on a trail. Then we hit the incline. No more trail. Just loose, dry rock, that got steeper the higher we went. We stopped for periodic breaks. Then there were shady parts where we met up with clumps of trees. Along the way we criss crossed the canals that bring the water down the mountain to Ayacucho. OH YES DID I MENTION WE WERE NO LONGER HIKING AT THIS POINT. It was more like mountain climbing without ropes.

We stopped in the shade to rest and everyone kept asking so where is it? He said "mas Ayacito" and motioned his head upward. "See the eucalyptus trees, that's it." So how long will it take us to get up there? (I mean there was no logner a trail) "Oh, un ratito, nada mas!"

HAHAHAHA!!

We finally made it to the eucalyptus trees. We had a picnic lunch. A brief reflection that Pastor Juan and I lead on creation, the environment, and accompaniament. Then we turned around and came back down. Juan said "Yes, on the way down we can take the road." Road! There was a road the whole time. "Yes, a road, with microbuses that go to and from Campanayo all day." A road with cars, who needs those when you have just conquered Campanayo by scaling the side of a mountain. On the way down Juan kept asking me if I would remember this. I replied "How could one who is from the FLAT South Carolina coast ever forget climbing the side of a mountain." So to the youth from Iglesia Emanuel in Ayacucho, and especially my climbing buddies Juan Carlos, Gregoria, and Pastor Juan. Gracias, por un Sabado bueno!

Ayacucho from the top of Campanayo