When Someone Sits on you, You Know it is Time to Start Saying Goodbye

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting with a group of gringoes from Port Orange Presbyterian Church in Florida. We have been working together this past week building relationships with the congregation of Iglesia Presbiteriana Emanuel. When the minivan or "combi" had come to take us back down the hill to the center of Ayacucho, Sara signaled to us that it was time to start saying goodbye. I was sitting on a bench with Mama Gregoria and her four daughters. That is when Sebedina, a normally reserved and quiet Quechua woman jumped into my lap and said "You cannot go. I will not let you." Needless to say this unexpected display of devotion, and proof of the fruits of my year long laborial efforts at relationship building in Cuchipampa had paid off. Pf course mama Gregoria jumped in, not my lap, but held my shoulders down and said "When you leave who are we going laugh with (more like at hee hee!) and talk with? Don't go, you can't. You haven't even had lunch at my house yet." So this Friday I am having lunch at Mama Gregoria's house and on Thursday July 21st I am leaving Ayacucho. These next two weeks will be full of "Goodbyes for now" so I thought I would take some time to reflect on a few of the things that I have seen and done while here in Peru. For better or for worse.

1. Witnessed the thin places where Quechua (indigenous Peru) and Spanish culture intersect and meld, as well as intersect and bounce off one another.
Food, music, spirituality, dress, language, and simply ways of being.

2. Potatoes - anyway you slice them I have eaten my share this year because a plate is not a plate in Peru unless there is potatoes and white rice on them.
They are an Andean staple.

3. Having a typically reserved Quechua woman sit on me to keep me from leaving.

4. Pacha Manca - Andean BBQ. We made it in my backyard. Everything is buried in the earth with hot rocks and left to cook for two hours. Peel it back and eat with you hands. I was told it tastes better that way.

5. Walking alongside of the victims of the Internal Conflict that gripped Peru from 1980-2000. Many of whom are still looking for their loved ones or their remains, and a place to begin processing what happened. The majority of whom are Quechua speaking, and did not ask for the conflict in the first place. The Sendero Luminoso brought it, the military answered, and the indigenous mountain populations were caught in the middle. Like being caught between two fires.
Here's to Maria Concepcion, Mama Dio, Juanita, Paulina, Don Delfin, Isaac, Elvira, Salome, Rosalbina, Marlene, Flavia, Hilaria, Zenovia, and the rest.

6. Picking potatoes and making authentic Andean Queso with Mama Milchora (My host grandmother) in Remiapata. An Andean sleeping bag is actually a sheepskin rug.

7. Helping the families of Huarapite finally put their loved ones to rest. Walking alongside of them 27 years later as they witnessed the transferral of remains, carrying caskets on the procession from the rural chapel to the new graveyard of 19 graves. Holding Leonora as 27 years of waiting over whelmed her and her sister.

8. Being invited to preach, teach, and do just about what ever my creative heart and mind could think of at Iglesia Presbiteriana Emanuel in Cuchipampa, Ayacucho. Kudos to Pastor Juan S. Quispe for taking a risk (and I think having it become fruitful).
What a fantastic church and congregation. Friday Pastor Juan is going to teach me how to celebrate communion in Quechua.

9. Macchu Picchu during its 100th Anniversary year.Enough said.

10. Working alongside of - teaching and learning, with and from - the Paz y Esperanza Ayacucho Team. Honorato, Milagros, Yudy, Felimon, Marcelino, Omar, Neomi, Raul, Henry, and Yuele.
Not always a smooth and easy process, but rewarding nonetheless...for both sides I think.

11. Traveling with Sara Armstrong and Rusty Edmonson, mission co-workers, while in Huanta and Ayacucho.

12. The city buses of Ayacucho. Sube Sube, baja baja!!

13. Hiking Campanayo, twice.

So those are just some of the highlights. I think my blog kind of puts the rest in perspective. So let the countdown begin. This week is full of lunches, pacha mancas (my favorite!), a pijamada or sleep over with the Emanuel youth, a trip to Huamanquiquia for exhumations, and a trip down the mountain on the Antezana bus line.

Adios mi Pueblo Ayacucho!! (It is actually a song).

Paz y Esperanza Goes to Great Britain

On June 22 Paz y Esperanza went British by opening an office in London, England. This, the newest Paz y Esperanza office makes the international evangelical NGO that works to promote human rights, prevent and combat the abuse and marginalization of women and children as well as make public the atrocities of the internal armed conflict that took place in Peru from 1980-2000, many of which are still "unsolved".

The newest Paz y Esperanza Office is a covenant partnership signed by some 80 people who have worked in and are passionate about human rights, the history, culture, and dynamic people of Peru, Bolivia, and Ecuador. The inauguration of this newest international office of Paz y Esperanza was confirmed in Christ Church and Upton Chapel in London. Graham Gordon, the director of the board, said "Our promise and work will be to promote and bring awareness to the churches of Britain about the human rights situation in Peru, Boliva, and Ecuador."

Paz y Esperanza began in Lima, Peru in the 1980's by several lawyers working on human rights violations, but now has multiple regional offices in Peru, as well as international offices in Ecuador, Bolivia, and the United States (Minnesota).

Kawsaq - Quechua Shalom

Shalom is a state of peace...but wait it is much more than that. It is a state of peace when all things are right in your life; economically, relationally, yes shalom. In Quechua the word they use is Kawsaq (pronounced COW-SAKH). Kawsaq is also the name of the quarterly publication of Paz Y Esperanza here in Peru. The editor is Omar, my companero in communications.

Amigos de Volkswagon Peru

Yesterday Milagros and her husband Jose Carlos invited me to attend a "desfile de sapos" in Ayacucho. When I first arrived in Peru I would have said what in the world is a sapo? After having been in Peru for ten months I know that a SAPO is a frog or what the Peruvians call the Volkswagon Beetle (car). In Peru the Sapo is king. They are everywhere. My host family said because they are affordable. They said you can secure one for about 2,000 USD.

So Milagros and Jose Carlos have a beige sapo. I kept calling it the SAPO de ORO or the Gold one but Jose told me that when they got it, it was certified as "the Sapo Beige".

Sunday morning we all gathered at a local park with some others. They were actually a Sapo Club called the Amigos de Volkswagon Peru or the Friends of the Volkswagon, Peru. Pretty official with stickers and other paraphanalia and even little flags for their SAPOS. Oh! If you see a SAPO you are supposed to say SAPO! and lean over and pinch the person next to you. They couldn't get on board with the "punch buggie!!" So there were about 15 SAPOs in our parade and we made our rounds all over Ayacucho. Leading the pack was a 1968 model volkswagon, and we all followed doing a three toot horn salute...one calls and the others are to answer. I rode along with Roberto in his red SAPO. After the parade Milagros invited me, along with Sara and Kelsey (two other volunteers) to her house for lunch.

Cosecha de Papas in Remiapata

On Saturday morning, at 4 a.m. I met Celia´s (my host mom) brothers and sisters; Luz, Carlos, Irma, and Armando at the southern microbus terminal in Ayacucho. We were headed for the chakra or countryside also known as Remiapata. Celia and Paco were unable to travel with us because, well now we know, Isabel was going to make her triumphant appearance (birth) Saturday night. The road to Remiapata, which is south of Ayacucho, is a combination of paved, dirt, and rock roads. Many of these roads, especially the one directly in Remiapata, have been slightly washed out becasue of the rainy season, and never repaired. So for two and half hours we rode all crammed into a microbus to Remiapata. We traveled through some places I have been before; Condorcocha and Huarapite, and then approximately 2 Km beyond Huarapite is a little grove of trees overlooking a valley, and that is Remiapata. We got out of the bus and unloaded an unsightly amount of bags in front of the house, and then we waited. Mama Milchora peaked out and waved. It was sort of like the signal invite ¨Yes, welcome.¨ All around our feet pranced the dogs Paca, Pica Flor, and Wendy first barking like ¨Hey who are you? and then prancing with delight like ¨Welcome to our house!¨ ¨

I didn´t know this at first, but all the bags were a sort of ¨campo exchange¨ kind of like bartering. Mama Milchora, Celia´s mom, does not sell any of her potatoes, meat, or cheese. When the kids come from the city they bring things like pasta, sugar, rice, and fruit and they leave it with Mama Milchora in Remiapata. She in turn fills their bags to return to Ayacucho with potaotes, homemade Andean cheese, fresh milk, herbs, and meat of a cow or sheep. This is how the campo works. The honest trading to get what you do not have or need. It really sort of helps illustrate a form of partnership too; what can we do better together, than apart.

So when we arrived there were these fabulous smells coming from the rustic little kitchen house. I (of all things short) had to crouch down to get in the door. It is customary in the campo to have a hearty breakfast before going out to the chakra to harvest potatoes. Mama Milchora had prepared a breakfast of boiled fava beans and corn, hard boiled eggs, potatoes and fresh Andean cheese. Be sure not to fill up on all that, because those were breakfast appetizers. Next, was the hearty occa (like a cross between an apple and potato) soup and camomille tea made from the real flowers picked out back. I am not so sure how one is supposed to work after eating all that. I was tired and weighed down, the rest were raring to go. They kept saying ¨Eat up, Lisa.¨ Armando and Carlos headed out to the Chakra early, Irma and Luz headed to where the sheep were. Mama Milchora and I stayed at the house to milk cows and have her teach me how to make fresh Andean cheese (a.k.a fresh but unpasturized). Milchora had Sally and Brunsa the cows milked in no time flat, and brought the milk to the kitchen where she dumped in a little smidgen of her ¨cultures¨from a plastic pitcher hanging on the wall. She put the top back on the milk bucket and we waited. Milchora makes a molded cheese using woven straw straps and a bowl for the mold, as well as hand hewn patties of cheese. I ate more than my share of this cheese this weekend. It is fresh, salty-after its bath, and cold even though never refrigerated (Huh!?).

When Milchora and I had gathered some rations for lunch (i.e. the rest of the breakfast appetizers (favas, potatoes, and cheese) as well as some fruit and a liter of lemon lime soda we headed across the valley to the chakra or land where she cultivated potatoes. We were lead by the dogs and the cattle (remember Sally and Brunsa - they gotta eat). The cattle hung out on the outskirts of the potato field munching while we (the 6 of us) harvested the rest of the potatoes and occa that were still in the ground below the already harvested fava plants. The sun was horid and beat down all day. It was quite warm. That was just an inkling of the temps that were coming as the sun went down. We took a mid day break for a snack of favas, cheese, sprite, and potatoes. I sort of wanted to wash my hands, and while looking at them, Mama Milchora said ¨We do not wash our hands out here, we all came from the dust and that is how we will return!¨ How biblical. I was only slightly enthused, but hungry so I ate. When we had finished collecting all the potatoes and occa, we had to get the bags back across the valley without tractor or truck. I was hoping the cattle would help, but they were not interested. So 100 lb sacks were loaded on backs and away we went.

I went back to the house and Luz and Milchora set to work making a hearty soup of veggies and milk. NICE. It had already started to cool off, but that was only the begining. It gets frigid this time of year in the Andes, when the sun goes down. After supper we all sat around talking while seated on the log bench in the kitchen and realized it was time to get some sleep. Beds or Andean sleeping bags in Remiapata are sheep skins on the floor with multiple blankets on top, plus many layers of clothing. I was snug as a bug in a rug! It was soooo cold outside of my little sheep skin cacoon I had built. We all slept in one room, like a big Andean slumber party. Sheep skin rugs everywhere, and no bathroom...only nature.

Sunday morning I awoke to Armando, Luz, and Irma slaughtering a sheep the girls had brought back. EVERY part of that sheep would be put to use this day in Remiapata. Lunch/Brunch was going to be more potatoes but also caldo de cordero or sheep meat soup, sangracita(potatoes and blood and something else mixed and boiled), and chicharrone de tripe or fried sheep intestine. Not bad. Very conventional in the Andes. The skin and the legs of lamb were laid out in the sun. The legs would later find their way into each of our bags to take home. After the slaughter Armando poked his head in the kitchen and said¨Did you hear? Celia gave birth last night. It is a girl.¨ So we all passed the cell phone around the yard. I wasn´t in Ayacucho for Izzy´s arrival, but I was in the next place cooler...Remiapata.

So that is Remiapata. I know there is much more to this colorful landscape, but this is only my first trip. There are about 12 families that live there. There is a cemetery which is where Celia´s father is buried. He was one of the ¨disappeared¨from the internal conflict or violence of the 80s and 90s. He disappeared about 26years ago. His remains were found in communal grave two years ago. Luz, the youngest child at 27, told me that she was only one when he disappeared or was kidnapped. She never knew him or never had the chance to know him.

It was time for lunch, but it was also time to go. Armando had secured a ride for atleast two of us in a truck, the rest would end up waiting a few hours. So Mama Milchora put a lump of sheep meat from the soup in my hand and said ¨You gotta eat!¨So walking up the driveway I was gnawing on a sheep shank. We got to the truck and whatta you know? The driver was Wilber. I know Wilber, and he recognized me, from Paz y Esperanza. Wilber is the President of the Victims Association in Huarapite, whom we worked closely with to support them in the Sepillio Digno back in April. The truck was loaded with potaotes headed for Ayacucho, but there was room for two more and our stuff. So away we went. It only took us an hour and half to get home to Ayacucho. It took two and half to get to Remiapata. No comment.

Some Quechua Words

I have been living in a Quechua speaking region for almost 10 months now. I have mentioned this language and its people alot in my blog entries so I thought I would give you a little glimpse into this language. The Quechua speaking people are the indigenous people of Peru, and distant decendants of the Inca. First, I am NO WHERE fluent enough to carry on a full conversation, but I understand alot more than I speak.

1. Quechua is generally a spoken or an oral language. It is not usually written down. That makes it even more challenging because you have to pay close attention to pronunciation.
2. The mamás (what the women call one another) are endeared to me and so proud when I can remember what they taught me the week before.
3. There is NO ¨O¨ sound in Quechua. It is usually replaced by an ¨u or oo¨sound. Like Franco the little boy that lives in my house is actually Francu or Francucha, instead of Franco.
4. When there is not a Quechua word for something, generally the spanish is used. That happens alot in the church, both Catholic and Protestant because one was brought by Spain the other by North Americans and Dutch Missionaries, no Quechua there.
5. Quechua is regional. So even within Peru, there are probably three or more dialects and vocabularies. For instance Cusco versus Ayacucho.
Also Quechua culture is practiced and the language is spoken in Ecuador and Bolivia.

So a little Quechua taste....

pucca - red bathroom - Ispakuna Wasi (literally the house in which urinate)
cuchi- pig Imaynayam Kachkani- How are you?
Imaynaym - what? Sutimi Lisa - My name is Lisa
wasi - house cachipa - queso or cheese
wawa - baby yumpay - mucho or alot
Imaynaym Sutiki - What is your name?
warmi - woman warmi kuna - women suma warmi - good looking woman
qari - man qari kuna - men
pisiwanquanyachu - nadie me faltera or I shall not be in want (Psalm 23)
Dios Taytayllay - God, the Father
Hamwe - come here

What happens at a Paz Y Esperanza GAM session?

So all year I have been accompanying the Mental Health Team from the regional office of Paz y Esperanza to the rural communities in the countryside around Ayacucho. While there we work with groups of women (and sometimes men) who have been affected in someway by the violence and internal armed conflict. Many people have asked me what we do in those groups. They are meant to provide a safe space for the affected people to learn about links in physical and mental health, support one anotherand walk in solidarity, process grief and feelings, as well as build a support network that will continue after we leave.
I thought I would give you all a glimpse into what one of these sessions looks like. First is location. In Loricocha we have been meeting at Mamá Rosalinda´s house, and in Cangari they have a community building up near the Catholic Church. Next is language. Most of the people victimized by both the Sendero Luminoso (The Shining Path) and the Military´s counter insurgency where Quechua speaking people, therefore most of the people in our groups are Quechua speaking. Some of them speak both Quechua and Castellano or Spanish. Bye the way the spanish spoken in Peru is not Castillian Spanish, but they call it Castellano for giggles. The team utilizes Quechua though because for most of our groups this is their native tongue.
So this is what the fourth of eight sessions looks like. First there is a welcome and check-in to share feelings and what they have been doing and what has been happening in the community done by Milagros or Yudy as we gather in a circle. Then there is some sort of dynamica or icebreaker. Perúvians love a good icebreaker. The Cangari folks love to dance around.
Next, while in the circle, Yudy, Milagros or I will talk about negative feelings and that sometimes we have these. That negative feelings, like sadness, resentment, furiosity, and anger are part of our being human. We then open up the circle for the women and men to share some of their negative feelings and if they want to (usually they do) when they have felt these. The sharing is usually followed by some exploratory reflection.
Next, we bring out the newest PyE Team members, the titteres or puppets,and let the people give them names. There is Suzanna and Omar the people puppets, and Patricio and Como tú the Puppy Puppets. Yudy, Milagros, and I then put on a socio-drama for the group using the puppets. The basic theme is Omar and Suzanna (the people puppets) are fighting. Patrick the puppy wants to separate them, make them stop. He asks other puppets he meets along the way for help with this difficult situation, but everyone is too busy. ¨I need to eat, I am too skinny, their fight is not my problem anyway!¨ There are alot of Good Samaratain tie ins here to the previous session. Omar and Susanna´s fight grows so outrageous and physical that they fall into a fire that an older person is cooking on in the kitchen and the house goes up in flames, Omar, Susanna, and the older person parish. Patricio the Puppy explains, the next day, to his puppet friends that he asked for help, that he carried water back and forth all night to put out the flames. It is at this point that all the puppets want to help, and offer food, and their hands to help with the accompaniament and burial. Patricio closes out his narration by explaining ¨The mourners saw that we all suffer for not being supportive in difficult moments we all have to live at some point.¨
Then Milagros leads a group reflection. There is a reflection and exploration process after just about each component of the worshops or sessions. This makes things more than fun and games, but a place to begin processing feelings and memories. A place to start in moving from being a victim to a survivor of atrocities and events that happened 27 years ago. Some of the questions that guide this reflection of the puppet socio-drama are ¨What happened in the story?, Where did solidarity and support exist in this story?, and How can you help en a case of pain, suffering like what happened in this story?
The focus is confronting difficult situations, expressing feelings, and gauging solidarity and support within the group. This is important because we have 8 sessions together and then the group is to continue meeting on their own, utilizing the support and care skills they already had and the ones we explored together. The PyE Mental Health team does bi-annual follow-up visits with these groups.
To close out the session we engage in a group ritual. Each member writes down or illustrates their negative feelings or things they have holding inside on a small card. Then outside a small fire is lit, and as they leave they place their card on the fire as a symbolic way of expressing but also relieving some of their negative feelings, symbolizing leaving these feelings, and starting a new stage of life. Milagros, Yudy, and I accompany this ritual with words of hope, about mood, and to lift self esteem, but also about the feeling to work through this stage and leave it behind, inorder to begin a new one.

Finally, the session is closed out with each member checking in about how they are feeling. Then each member comes forward and makes a knot on the quipu signifying their attendance at this session. A quipu is an ancient Incan counting tool...a length of rope and various knots were used as a means of counting things like crops. It is much like a rope abicus.
Then we all share a communal meal that both the people and the PyE Team has brought elements of.

Visiting Florinda´s House

As a part of my week traveling with the San Gabriel Team I was pared up with Andrea and Betsy, who will be helping to train the local ¨Teachers¨who will then train the rest of the people utilizing the water from the water system. It sort of reminds me of the each one teach one method.
In order to get a better grasp on what they did and did not need to teach Andrea and Betsy, along with the local pastors, arranged a couple of home visits so they could see how the local people utilize water in their homes and where it comes from (as in a well, a spring, city water, etc.). It was really cool to be a part of this.
I wanted to comment on our visit in Huanta to Mama Florinda´s house. It is a bit of a ride from the center of town where the church is. Galmiel took us in his mototaxi. Mama Florinda lives on her parents land. She was an only child. It is a grove of avacado, granadia, and nispero trees set back off a dirt road, behind a sort of rickety wire gate. As you ¨shimmy¨up the incline and pass the gate BOOM you are met by trees bearing avacadoes as far as you can see.
Florinda´s daughter was there and met us halfway in. Apparently we caught them by surprise (darn it!) Florinda was off to the side by the water spicket washing and combing her hair. They were not so sure about letting us in because they didn´t have anything to offer us to eat. Everywhere you go in Perú people want to offer you something to eat or drink, how hospitable. Pastor Eber reassured them that we had just eaten and food was unessecary. So we passed on. Later, a bag of Granadias was brought out. They have a semi hard shell, about baseball size. You crack it open and under the pulp (like an orange) are these seeds covered with an amazing GOO. I would consider GOO in this case to be a technical term. You eat the wonderful GOO and seeds together. YUM..SLURP!
So we were probably there for about thirty minutes when the tension started to ease. It just happened. Florinda talked about their water coming from a sping up the mountain. Collectively they treat it with clorox. It arrives to the crops once a month through a system of canals on a roatoing basis, and through pipes up to an outdoor faucet all the time. That is the family´s communal fuacet. They collect water their for cooking, wash and bathe, as well as brush their teeth and wash clothing there as well. This is over to the sideyard, about 30 yards from the house, right next to the Cuy (guinea pig) dormitory.
Up at the house is where Florinda had set out some chairs and we sat and talked. While we were inside the house one of us, it may have been me, asked about the young man whose picture hung on the wall in prominence. Florinda´s daughter hung her head and said that is my brother, her only son. ¨He died 2 weeks ago in an accident.¨ Apparently, the young man had been traveling in a car back home. It was foggy, and the road was obscured. They got out to see what the visibility was, and apparently a large boulder fell ontop of him crushing him. That has left his mom Florinda, and her daughter to tend the land and provide. They are still greiving as well.
There were moments of greatness in this visit to see first hand the way that the people use water, and to just be present with Florinda and her daughter who is in her 30´s. Florinda´s daughter, a single woman, has just adopted a beautiful little girl who was abandoned and had no food or place to go. This family does not have a whole lot to work with themselves, but their door was open to those who had even less. Florinda sent us back to Cristo Rey church with a bag of granadina´s to share with the group.
At church the next day some women during the time of tithes and offerings knelt at the front and placed bags of fruits and vegetables as their offering. Mama Florinda was one of them.
The next day, while eating dinner, Pastor Eber told us that Florinda was SO proud to have had us visit her home. He said she glowed as she told her neighbors and tapped her chest saying ¨Yes, my new friends came to visit MY house.¨ Pastor Eber felt that our visit and the church accompanying her during this time of grieving over son continues to help a woman who has only been a Christian for a month or so to feel loved, supported, and vauled as a human being. I couldn´t agree more

Living Waters for the World Coming to a Maynay and Cristo Rey Near You

I spent the last week of May traveling with a team of Americans from San Gabriel Presbytery (California). It was 6 pastors and 3 lay people. They are representing the NGO Living Waters for the World and I am happy to say have signed covenants with both Cristo Rey Presbyterian Church in Huanta and the nearby community of Maynay to work together to install water purification systems and do the approriate hygiene and water use education, again TOGETHER being the key word.
It is sort of exciting. I know that the people of both communities are excited.
So Cyndie, Rob, Roger, Sam, Betsy, Andrea, and Wendy arrived in Ayacucho on Thursday morning along with the ever fabulous Rusty and Sara (PCUSA mission coworkers) who have built relationships in the Ayacucho region already and help to guide groups and teams coming to the area as well. Relationship facilitators, among other things, that is what they are.
Rusty made a comment, and helped me again put into words the way that Presbyterians do mission...yes, we do it in partnership, yes we work to not create dependency, but to empower the individuals and communities to identify and harness their resources and be self sustaining. ¨What can we do better together, than we can do apart,¨ Rusty said. It has given me something to chew and reflect on.
The folks from San Gabriel invited me along to do some basic translating and accompany them because I too have built relationships in the Ayacucho area with the people of Cristo Rey, Maynay, Emanuel-Cuchipampa, and especially the Synod leaders Agripino and Juan Quispe. We did a little of the tourist thing, a little historical absorbtion at the Museum of Memory, and a little shopping at an alabaster workshop, and the ceramics barrio of Quinua. Then it was down to business. Water talk over trout and potato dinners, fraternization and relationship building with laughter over pork chunks and chuno. A week that started out with a lot of trepidation and agnst on the part of the travelers from San Gabriel who REALLY want to see a system installed, and with similar pressure from back home, slowly disipated into the realization that this trip was neccessary for multiple reasons: 1) to build trust and confidence in the midst of relationship 2) as much as could be done via email was, but there is something to a face to face meeting 3) allowing the team members to know the people, and the people of Cristo Rey and Maynay to know the team BEFORE installing pipes and doing education together, which is weighty stuff.
There was time for serious nuts and bolts discussion, much needed reflection and debreifing at night among the group of travelers, but also a lot of jokes and laughter and getting to know one another (Peruvians and Americans) amongst meals, worship services, and even volleyball games with the pastor playing in his dress clothes and another Peruvian dude serving backwards. All of which was a priviledge to witness.

Ollanta Humala, Peru's New Presidente Elect

Yesterday Peruvians, in Peru, but also all over the world via their embassies went to the polls for a "segunda vuelta" or a run off for the Presidency. Who would it be? Ollanta Humala, holding fast to the campo and his father's Ayacuchano roots, but living and hailing from Lima or Keiko Fujimori, the daughter of one of the most corrupt-human rights abusing Presidents (Alberto) in recent past. Back in April the field was narrowed down to these two. Lately, Keiko seemed to be saying I will continue all of the social programs (giveaways to the campo to appease them) that my father began. Paving roads, giving uniforms and shoes to school children, constructing houses, but nothing to change their situation. Nice huh? Too bad the elder Fujimori used them to disguise his embezellment and human rights abuses. I am not just blowing smoke, Alberto Fujimori sits in jail serving sentences for human rights violations and corruption. Keiko says, if elected, she will not use her Presidential power to pardon and release her father and his croanies like Montesinoes. Funny the country is split on who loves and who hates the man as well as his daugher. Fujimoistas they call themselves. That trickled right down to his Harvard educated daughter, Keiko.
Ollanta Humala, a more leftist candidate, whom the Peruvian news media is skeptical of. They say we have never had a leftist President before. So we will wait and see....he is a former military man, and has some big money backing his campaign from Hugo Chavez and as of late Brasil who he seems to be loving up on. Ollanta wants to return Peru to Peru, by slowing down the invasion of foreign investors and businesses coming into and exploiting Peru, its people, and natural resources (especially mineral wealth). That has Chile in a bit of a raugh, because heck alot of Peru is Chilean. He speaks of freedom of expression and democracy (I thought they already had that, maybe not I can give some examples). Some say his wife is even more educated and might make an even better candidate than he.
Nonetheless yesterday at the polls, and it was a close one, Ollanta Humala was elected the next President of Peru. He will take office on July 28th which is Independence Day and will govern for the next 5 years.
Alot of people are waiting to see what will happen and what will be done during Ollanta's Administration, but the Fujimoristas are not going away...their are a lot of them hanging out in Congress.

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

Animal Crackers in my Soup...Lions and Tigers Loop de Loop

When I was kid my mom, brother, and I would sing that song when eating animal crackers. That was what the commerical said. "Animal Crackers in my Soup! Lions and Tigers Loop de Loop!" Then we would bite them off in little pieces.

So how glorious was it to walk into the little tienda next to my house and see animal crackers sitting on the shelf. The tienda is owned by the father of my host dad. His name is Ricardo. So that makes him sort of my "Abueltio." I always go in and call out Papa Quispe!! and he scurries in from the back and rares back and says "gringita," and we shake hands and chat it up. Papa Quispe has had this tienda for more than 30 years. It has a little bit of everything; sugar, flour, fresh bread, aji no moto, cloves, soda, etc.

The best part though...animal crackers, and the brand name makes it even better...FAUNA. Yep! That is right FAUNA. Just like Flora is flowers and FAUNA is animals. These animal crackers are not circus animals though, they are pigs, and owls, chickens and rabbits.

"Animal Crackers in my tienda! Pigs and chickens on whom I dependa!" Hee Hee...FAUNA!!!

Who Needs Eggs, When You've Got Bull!s TORO, TORO!!

So right smack in the midst of Semana Santa and all its splendor in Ayacucho is the Sabado de Gloria or Saturday of Glory. This is a day of "Letting your emotion loose". I was told by my host family. It began at 10 a.m. and lasted well into the night.

The morning began in the plaza, which was begining to fill, in anticipation. There was a parade of Peruvian high stepping Paseo Horses. Then a few passes by a boisterous band and women and men dressed in their traditional Huamangina wear.

(This is my friend Eli or Elizabeth. She sells Muyuchi or the Andean Ice Cream)

At 10 a.m. began the annual JALA TORO or the pulling/running of the bulls in Ayacucho. The bulls are smaller than in Pamplona, Spain and not as Bravo or aggressive. They tie a rope to a bull, and they pull, saying JALA! JALA! which means to pull. It agitates the animal and then it begins to run all the way down the 28 de Julio and into the square. The people scream and take off running. Some are in front, some behind, and some right beside. The throng of screaming runners is lead by a group of Peruvian high stepping Paseo horses. There is a brass band with a drum, remember we are in Ayacucho of course. They go up the street playing DU du DU du DU du du! and then they come back down the 28 de Julio DU du DU du du du! That means the bull is coming. It gets the people all excited. They do this with about 4 or 5 bulls and waves of people. People run in groups or as individuals, and then do cheers and make human pyramids in triumph after they reach the plaza.
There is supposed to be no drinking in the "historic center" during Holy Week out of respect for the processionals and religious rituals, but I think that was waved this past Saturday JALA! JALA! Cops were walking among the people and they weren't saying anything to the people drinking, only the individuals selling the beer out of backpacks.
No I didn't run down the 28 de Julio, I know 2 people who did though!! I did run around the plaza though with them afterward. JALA! JALA! Again the plaza was filled to the gills, and party went on into the night. At night men and women dressed in their regular clothes, but also traditional Huamangina clothes, danced around in circles, and yes (de acuerdo) of course I joined them.