Tuesday, March 29, 2011
El Mercado Santa Clara
The Mercado Santa Clara is one of the bigger markets in Ayacucho. It is located in between Jiron Grau and 28 de Julio, just down the street from my old house, and just down the hill and around the corner from my new home in Carmen Alto. I think the only bigger market in the Ayacucho Valley is the one that receives all ofthe fruits and vegetables that are imported. That is where all of the people who sell things, like fruit and vegetables, in Santa Clara go to buy in bulk. So, back to Santa Clara. The name comes from the Catholic Cathedral and monastery that is across the street. It is one of the 33 major ¨anitgua¨churches/cathedrals found in the city. There is one on the way to Carmen Alto that is from the 1530´s. I guess this does not include the plethora of evangelical churches in the area. Sort of Peru´s own Holy City (look out Charleston, SC!). I am told that on the morning of Easter Sunday, those 33 churches all begin ringing their bells at sunrise, following a 4 a.m. candlelight processional. Again, I digress, back to the market. Santa Clara is made up of several mercados smushed together. There is 12 de Abril, which is mainly domestic goods, clothing, and shoes, then there is mercado San Fransisco, becasue of its proximity to the Arc de Triumph (arco San Fransisco) and the Cathedral bearing the same name. San Fransisco is hooked onto the back of the Mercado Santa Clara. This where the meat market is. I think the live cows arrive in the morning becasue there is ¨evidence¨ that they were there (wink wink!). Usually I try to run through this part because it smells funky, and the sound of butcher blocks and humongo knives does not exactly entice me to chat it up with anyone here. I do want you to know that you can buy ALL parts of a chicken, sheep, cow, or pig rest assured. Some of my friends are still wanting me to try an Ayacuchano delicacy, Caldo de Cabeza or cow head (face too) soup. So far I have managed to avoid it, but not the ingredients staring you down in the meat market, as I sprint by. Sometimes someone gets in my and it slowss me down. AHHH!!! The meat market is sandwiched in by bread sales. Wua-wau´s, roscitos, Frances, and chapla. Little bags, big ones, you choose. The women sit with these big wooden crates, a plastic bag in one hand, and another bag covering the hand they grab their bread with (how hygenic!). BREAD IN AYACUCHO IS SO WONDERFUL AND UNIQUE!!! I think besides potatoes it is one of the gastronomical things that I will miss the most. Gastronomia here is what we call culinary. Beyond the bread and meat there are some stalls that sell artesinal items or handicrafts. Everything from hand woven blankets and mantas, to retablos (hand carved scenes that depict daily life), hats, skirts, scarves, spoons, you name it!! Finally, before you hit the street are the juice stalls. Stop in for a surtido, which is a mix of juices...my favorite is carrot, beet, alfalfa, and a smidgen of piña or apple for sweetness. AHHHH!!! There are wings off of Santa Clara, like to the left is shoe paradise. They all sell the same shoes at pretty much the same prices. I guess you just have to make friends with someone who is willing to negotiate. Something I have learned is that copyright laws do notseem to translate to Peru. I can buy shoes that look like Nikes, Puma or Adidas (but do not feel like them). Music and movies are another one. I can get a copy of the latest Hollywood blockbuster for $1, and no noone even gets up to get popcorn and a drink in the middle of it. Granted you take your chances with the copy you get. Along the backside of these markets, on Avenida 28 de Julio, toward the right end are the fruit and vegetable stalls. For yards, apples, oranges, bananas, lucma, maracuya, grapes OH MY!! This is where it is fun to check out all the different variety of potatoes. There will be something like 7 large 100 lb burlap bags in a stall and sittting in the middle of them is usually a little women who say ¨¿Que quieres mama?. The variety of Peruvian potato is fascinating. See other entries on that. The markets in Peru are usually organized by what they sell with all the shoes in one area, craft supplies in another, and meat in another, but every once in while you run across a stray DVD stall or find a juice booth mixed in. I love to go to the market and just walk around. The sites, sounds, and well yes even the smells are interesting.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Up, Up, and Over the Continental Divide
On Sunday March 14, 2011 on my way to La Oroya, Peru which is about 4 hours north and west of Lima (the capital), I crossed over the Continental Divide which sits at just under 16,000 feet. Can you feel the air getting thinner? It was quite cold up there, thus the jacket. A big temperature and alititude change from Lima, and even higher than Ayacucho, where I normally live. What a geographical fete!! This is my second time "crossing over," but my first time stopping. I also made the trip to La Oroya in November for the Day of the Child and to visit with the Cambialo kids for their presentations.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Accompaniament by Chewing - a Quechua Vuelario
A Vuelario is part of the funeral ritual here in Peru. It would be most like a visitation or a wake in the United States. Monday evening I, along with Karina, and Felimon (two of my coworkers at Paz y Esperanza in Ayacucho) attended the vuelario of Victoria, the grandmother of Raul, the driver and my compañero at Paz y Esperanza. The office divided itself up and some went to the house on Sunday to be with Raul and his family, others are going on Tuesday to the internment.
Felimon, Karina, and I brought a spray of flowers on behalf of the Office. So as we were in the taxi heading up into the hills of Ayacucho, I had to admit to being a little nervous. I am unfamiliar with funeral traditions in Peru, let alone a predominantly Quechua and Catholic family, so Felimon, and Karina (chuckling at me) helped me prepare. I am always intrigued by this distinct Andean cutlure. I look forward to being exposed to more of its nuances and traditions each day. There is never anytime like the present to learn, am I right?
We arrived at the house of Raul´s aunt. A vuelario takes place in the living room of the house. There is no furniture. It has all been removed and replaced with chairs and benches. Then at the other end of the room is the coffin. It had 4 pillar lights around it, an angelic Jesus ceramic statue hanging above the coffin and Victoria´s signature gorra or hat that all the indigenous women wear was ontop of the coffin. When we walked in we gave the flowers to one of the young men and he placed it with the others around the coffin. Karina and Felimon told me that we will present the flowers, and then greet the family. I said ¨How will I know who they are, I only know Raul?¨ They told me that the family will be wearing all black. OK got it. We walked in and yup, there they were. The family was lining the walls around the coffin, in all black. The interesting thing was that all of Victoria´s daughters (Raul´s mom) were in a corner kind of piled up on rugs and blankets. The rest of the family was on benches or in chairs. After greeting the family individually we lit candles and placed them in the rack. Felimon gave corporate saludos or greetings on behalf of the organization and said that we would like to offer prayer. EVERYONE in the room stood up at once and men removed hats, and bowed their heads, some making the sign of the cross. Felimon and Karina had asked me if I would pray. I relunctanlty agreed, and was rather uncomfortable, but prayed nonetheless. Felimon followed my prayer up with a few Catholic rituals including the sinners prayer, a few hail Mary´s, and the Lord´s Prayer. I am glad he was there to do that becasue I did not know until we arrived that the family and Victoria were Catholic. SURPRISE!!! Not in bad way...
One of the things that I have noticed is that in Catholic Indigenous Quechua families their faith and indigenous roots are layered. This is different than in other cultures I have been in, like evangelical or protestant indigenous families where Christianity has usurped the place of all things indigenous. I think, and have heard that this is a part of what makes the Quechua culture unique say apart from some of the other nations colonized on behalf on the crown, which was followed by the cross. Here in Raul´s family, as well as in Cahtedrals around the country I have seen this layering effect. The indigenous Quechua features, rituals, practices, traditions, and beliefs do not disappear, but are layered and intermingled, as well as sometimes standing alone amongst Catholicism (the religion of the Spanish crown).
On Monday night two things stood out for me, to help illustrate this idea of layering for me. After we had prayed we ¨accompanied¨or sat with the family and others who had come to visit. When we sat down a woman came along with a big plastic bag of coca leaves and gave me a big handful. As I looked around the room I noticed a bulge in everyone´s cheek, and watching Karina and Felimon I remembered that you were to chew them. I had only had them brewed as a tea so far. The ancient Incas used coca leaves to fortify themselves. They chewed them for strength and endurance so they could work long hours. The QUechua people do the same today. You can buy the leaves in the market. Coca leaves are grown in the Andes Mountains and are used to combat altitude sickness. They also help regulate your blood pressure and blood sugar. Unfortunately, today the leaves are also ground up and mixed with other chemicals to make a paste that is used to produce cocaine. That makes Peru the 2nd largest producer of the raw materials (the coca leaves) used to create the drug further north.
As we sat and talked with some of the others gathered, Raul began walking around and offering people a little shot of a clear liquid out of a pisco bottle. It was served in a communal shot glass. So when in Peru...do as the Peruvians do! At first I thought it was pisco, but it was not as strong on first taste, and was sweeter. It was Caña Andino or guardiente which is like moonshine. Soon after another young man took Rual´s place and continued serving the liquid, and Raul sat with us. As I sat there chewing on my cheekful of coca leaves, and intermittently sipping shot glasses of Caña I wondered what it was for. Was this hospitality, was it custom, had the family not had time to go to the grocery store, and this was all that was on hand?
Tuesday morning one of my colleagues at Paz y Esperanza, Milagros, told me that the Quechua families serve the caña and coca leaves to the rest of the familyand the guests at a vuelario because they believe that the soul of the deceased person is present at the vuelario and grabs onto people who enter and can affect them. The caña and coca leaves are to fortify and protect them as they sit and accompany the family. So Monday we sat and talked, as well as drank and chewed to accompany our collegaue Raul and his family as they continued to walk a road of grief.
Felimon, Karina, and I brought a spray of flowers on behalf of the Office. So as we were in the taxi heading up into the hills of Ayacucho, I had to admit to being a little nervous. I am unfamiliar with funeral traditions in Peru, let alone a predominantly Quechua and Catholic family, so Felimon, and Karina (chuckling at me) helped me prepare. I am always intrigued by this distinct Andean cutlure. I look forward to being exposed to more of its nuances and traditions each day. There is never anytime like the present to learn, am I right?
We arrived at the house of Raul´s aunt. A vuelario takes place in the living room of the house. There is no furniture. It has all been removed and replaced with chairs and benches. Then at the other end of the room is the coffin. It had 4 pillar lights around it, an angelic Jesus ceramic statue hanging above the coffin and Victoria´s signature gorra or hat that all the indigenous women wear was ontop of the coffin. When we walked in we gave the flowers to one of the young men and he placed it with the others around the coffin. Karina and Felimon told me that we will present the flowers, and then greet the family. I said ¨How will I know who they are, I only know Raul?¨ They told me that the family will be wearing all black. OK got it. We walked in and yup, there they were. The family was lining the walls around the coffin, in all black. The interesting thing was that all of Victoria´s daughters (Raul´s mom) were in a corner kind of piled up on rugs and blankets. The rest of the family was on benches or in chairs. After greeting the family individually we lit candles and placed them in the rack. Felimon gave corporate saludos or greetings on behalf of the organization and said that we would like to offer prayer. EVERYONE in the room stood up at once and men removed hats, and bowed their heads, some making the sign of the cross. Felimon and Karina had asked me if I would pray. I relunctanlty agreed, and was rather uncomfortable, but prayed nonetheless. Felimon followed my prayer up with a few Catholic rituals including the sinners prayer, a few hail Mary´s, and the Lord´s Prayer. I am glad he was there to do that becasue I did not know until we arrived that the family and Victoria were Catholic. SURPRISE!!! Not in bad way...
One of the things that I have noticed is that in Catholic Indigenous Quechua families their faith and indigenous roots are layered. This is different than in other cultures I have been in, like evangelical or protestant indigenous families where Christianity has usurped the place of all things indigenous. I think, and have heard that this is a part of what makes the Quechua culture unique say apart from some of the other nations colonized on behalf on the crown, which was followed by the cross. Here in Raul´s family, as well as in Cahtedrals around the country I have seen this layering effect. The indigenous Quechua features, rituals, practices, traditions, and beliefs do not disappear, but are layered and intermingled, as well as sometimes standing alone amongst Catholicism (the religion of the Spanish crown).
On Monday night two things stood out for me, to help illustrate this idea of layering for me. After we had prayed we ¨accompanied¨or sat with the family and others who had come to visit. When we sat down a woman came along with a big plastic bag of coca leaves and gave me a big handful. As I looked around the room I noticed a bulge in everyone´s cheek, and watching Karina and Felimon I remembered that you were to chew them. I had only had them brewed as a tea so far. The ancient Incas used coca leaves to fortify themselves. They chewed them for strength and endurance so they could work long hours. The QUechua people do the same today. You can buy the leaves in the market. Coca leaves are grown in the Andes Mountains and are used to combat altitude sickness. They also help regulate your blood pressure and blood sugar. Unfortunately, today the leaves are also ground up and mixed with other chemicals to make a paste that is used to produce cocaine. That makes Peru the 2nd largest producer of the raw materials (the coca leaves) used to create the drug further north.
As we sat and talked with some of the others gathered, Raul began walking around and offering people a little shot of a clear liquid out of a pisco bottle. It was served in a communal shot glass. So when in Peru...do as the Peruvians do! At first I thought it was pisco, but it was not as strong on first taste, and was sweeter. It was Caña Andino or guardiente which is like moonshine. Soon after another young man took Rual´s place and continued serving the liquid, and Raul sat with us. As I sat there chewing on my cheekful of coca leaves, and intermittently sipping shot glasses of Caña I wondered what it was for. Was this hospitality, was it custom, had the family not had time to go to the grocery store, and this was all that was on hand?
Tuesday morning one of my colleagues at Paz y Esperanza, Milagros, told me that the Quechua families serve the caña and coca leaves to the rest of the familyand the guests at a vuelario because they believe that the soul of the deceased person is present at the vuelario and grabs onto people who enter and can affect them. The caña and coca leaves are to fortify and protect them as they sit and accompany the family. So Monday we sat and talked, as well as drank and chewed to accompany our collegaue Raul and his family as they continued to walk a road of grief.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Caught Between Two Fires - Workshops on The Bible and Gender
Over the past month I have done four workshops with the congregation (men, women, and youth) at la Iglesia Presbiteriana Emanuel. It is not the end, but only the begining of my work and their`s. At the request of the pastor and moderator of the Ayacucho Presbytery, Rev. Juan Quispe Flores, they were all on domestic violence and what the bible does or does not say. I knew I couldn`t cover everything so I tried to be direct and to the point. Let us not dance around anything. That is the exact opposite of Latino culture, communication, and frankly homeletical method, which is more like a cyclone that finally comes to and makes a point after mucho Blah, Blah, Blah. Pastor Juan and I talked and reflected a lot about domestic violence and scripture before doing the workshops. He said ¨One of the women in my congregation asked me why was the bible machista?¨ He told me he had trouble responding, and couldn`t help but chuckle at this women`s direct approach and line of questioning. I said ¨I love her already, who is it?¨ He wanted to begin equipping his congregants to combat domestic violence and abuse first in their own homes and church and then move out into the wider community, reaching out to their neighbors and saying ¨This isn´t right, and the church will no longer be silent on this issue. Women AND Men are children of God, made in God`s image.¨ He, and I wanted them to be aware that domestic violence is not just physical or ¨hitting¨someone. It is any combination of physical, emotional, sexual, and economic related (think money) threats of using or actions used to control, intimidate, or coerce another person with whom you have a relationship with. 
One of the things that we (really I so far in my department of 1.5 people) are doing with churches through Paz y Esperanza is trying to encourage ALL people to take a look at and maybe try reading the sacred texts that we all know, those we DO NOT know, and maybe the scriptures we THINK we know, but to read them through the eyes of gender. See Irene Foulkes article, Rereading the Scriptures through the Eyes of Gender. For instance try reading Psalm 55:12-14 through the eyes of a victim of domestic violence and abuse:
12 It is not enemies who taunt me— I could bear that; it is not adversaries who deal insolently with me— I could hide from them. 13 But it is you, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend, 14 with whom I kept pleasant company; we walked in the house of God with the throng.
or maybe try reading Ephesians 5:22-23through the eyes of a woman in a male dominated household or machista society:
22 Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which Christ is the Savior.
...and then read it again, but read the WHOLE of the text, Ephesians 5:21-33 and see if there is not a difference:21 Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ. 22 Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Savior. 24 Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands. 25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, 26 in order to make her holy by cleansing her with the washing of water by the word, 27 so as to present the church to himself in splendor, without a spot or wrinkle or anything of the kind—yes, so that she may be holy and without blemish. 28 In the same way, husbands should love their wives as they do their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 29 For no one ever hates his own body, but he nourishes and tenderly cares for it, just as Christ does for the church, 30 because we are members of his body. 31 "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." 32 This is a great mystery, and I am applying it to Christ and the church. 33 Each of you, however, should love his wife as himself, and a wife should respect her husband.
Do your eyes seem new? Oh my goodness I never looked at it that way before, you say! Is there anything coming to you like maybe mutuality instead of submission, like it does to me? I have found this to be one of the most dangerous, often misused, and chopped up texts in the bible. The church through the years has used(misused) it as a weapon and an edict to restore dangerous, controlling relationships that are manifestations of fear, power, and control, rather than mutuality, respect, tenderness, and love. Mutual duties are named. The relation of the wife to the husband (or two people) is like that of the church in Christ, a close, tender relation, in which there is no bondage, but freedom, because the service is that of the heart. (Two people)Husbands, love your wives. We have here not only the duty, but the measure of the duty. As Christ loved the church. Loved so well as to be willing to give all things, even life, for her welfare. The union of (two people)husband and wife were here described is ideally perfect. The tenderest love on one side, and loving obedience on the other.(1)
Clergy and lay people sent and are still sending women back to submissive and abusive relationships, instead of listening and supporting victims, helping them to reclaim their voice in a safe place. Forgiveness and reconciliation doesn`t mean sutpidity. It requires time apart, and honest change on the part of the aggressor. It means the victim not forgiving someone until they are sure that it will not put them back in the same unhealthy and dangerous situation. The church is not a courthouse of judgement, but a sanctuary. Try telling that to an ingrained machista and majority conservative society...that is what it is like to stand between two fires....the gospel of Jesus Christ on one side and a raging, testosterone filled, room of armchair theologians on the other.....biblical hermaneutic of suspicion and interpretation and machista...DISCUSS!! (Think SNL ¨Discuss¨ Lady here).Standing between two fires, that must be what it is like to be or have been a victim of domestic violence, turn to clergy or the church and have the thing you trusted most in the world, scripture, used as a weapon against you or to support the abusive nature of your relationship or marriage.
It is certainly what it feels like to stand infront of men and women who`s culture says or tells them: Men are the head of the house, the kings of the castle...that means they are in charge and that women will and must do whatever they say (and that is not mutual). That is the danger and risk of proof texting or taking little slivers or single lines of texts from the bible instead of more complete stories or passages.
Resource (1) The People`s New Testament
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Looking for the Trigo de Mi Pan
Yesterday was Valentine´s Day in the United States and I am sure that FTD, Brachman-Whitman candies, and Hallmark were rolling in the profits. Here in Peru it was also Valentine´s Day, but they call it Dia de Amor y Amistad (they mention it is honor of San Valentìn) so it is more than just love for that special someone you are enamored with, it is also for friendship, so many groups of friends gathered together to celebrate. Of course there were a couple of tiendas with over size bears that say ¨Te Amo and Yo Quiero¨, but in Ayacucho, Peru (in the Andes Mountains) atleast it was sort of low key on the pounder bags of red and white M&M´s and the life size Hershey´s Kisses. Oh! You can buy a dozen roses here in the market everyday (very inexpensively), not just February 14th.
At Paz Y Esperanza we began Monday´s as always, with our devotional and singing. We seemed to sing all of the Amor y Amistad songs from our chorario or hymnbook. Even a rousing version of Eres Tù. For those of you who have seen the movie Tommy Boy...when David Spade and Chris Farley are driving in the delapitated convertible, singing every song that comes on the radio to celebrate selling the brakepads...you know what I am talking about:
At Paz Y Esperanza we began Monday´s as always, with our devotional and singing. We seemed to sing all of the Amor y Amistad songs from our chorario or hymnbook. Even a rousing version of Eres Tù. For those of you who have seen the movie Tommy Boy...when David Spade and Chris Farley are driving in the delapitated convertible, singing every song that comes on the radio to celebrate selling the brakepads...you know what I am talking about:
Eres Tù
Como una promesa eres tù, eres tù, eres tù, como una mañana de verano;
como una sonrisa eres tù, eres tù asì, asì, eres tù.
Todo mi esperanza eres tù, eres tù, como lluvia fresca en mis manos; como fuerte brisa, eres tù, eres tù asì, asì, eres tù.
Eres tù, como el agua de mi fuente; eres tù, el fuego de mi hogar, eres tù, como el fuego de mi hoguera eres tù, el trigo de mi pan.
Todo mi poema eres tù, eres tù, como una guitarra en la noche; todo mi horizante eres tù, eres tù, asì, asì, eres tù.
So at Paz Y Esperanza we started Monday in our usual way and then had cake and chips in honor of the birthdays of our compañeros and amigos, Raùl and Honorato. Later, yesterday at the Sulca-Tucno House, Rosa had invited some of Sheridad`s friends over for the evening to play dinamicas and eat sopa de gallina and masamora. It was sort of fun. I learned some new dinamicas to play and also stumped them with the human knot, as it takes patience to figure out. It was a fun night though, because the lights went out and we played games for a little while in the dark. We also instituted the ¨Su silla se Quema¨ rule. If someone says that then everyone in the room must jump up and change places. AHHH!! Good times.
So I hope that you all went out and found or spent time with the ¨Trigo de su Pan¨ The Wheat of your Bread) or the one(s) that you love.
Friday, February 4, 2011
To Love Something you have to Know it First
I recently finished reading Tracy Kidder´s book of a few years ago called ¨Mountains Beyond Mountains.¨ Kidder follows the work of Dr. Paul Farmer. Farmer is a world renowned Infectious Diseases expert and medical anthropologist, especially in preventing and treating TB, malaria, and HIV/AIDS, and is the founder of PIH or Partners in Health. Kidder´s book, is the story of Farmer and his sometimes unconventional journey and work in the impoverished central plateau of Haiti (Cange) in addition to the world health system as he similtaneously, and I believe unintentionally ¨Changed the discourse about what is possible¨in medicine. Dr. Farmer is unconventional because he treats the whole person and their situation in hopes of preventing the enfermity from reoccuring. It is a combination of medicine, sociology, and social outreach. Farmer, in addition to medical school and residency, claims to have done an internship in house building and a practicum in ¨blah, blah, blah,¨(I think I might have done the same practicum!) along with countless hours of inflicting his hortitorture and reeducation of blan or non-Haitians (mainly white people) on what the real situation is. I have been thinking about some of the things that both Kidder, and Farmer via Kidder said in the book. Farmer makes no bones about it...there is an inherent link between poverty and the contraction and spread of illness and disease like TB and HIV/AIDS. He refers not just to circumstances in Haiti, but Farmer´s work also takes him to the northern slums of Lima, Peru (Carabayllo) and Tomsk, Russia and the Russian national prision system, rought with TB and multi-drug resistent TB.
So what sticks out for me is something that Dr. Farmer said to Kidder on one of their many ¨hikes¨in Haiti. He said (I think referring to his work and style of doing it) ¨In order to love something, you have to know it first.¨ In addition to his countless credentials and certifications, Farmer can add accompaniament and partnership to his resume. He may never get a plaque for the wall, but the patients he touches physically and emotionally just by taking the time to sit, sometimes in conditions that most people wouldn´t touch with a ten foot pole, and listen to the stories, hopes, and dreams often unrealized of those who seek medical treatment.
Farmer loves his work, and his work is anthropology, education, medicine, but most of all it is people. I think Farmer loves his work because he takes the time to get to know it...the it is the people...the patient that lays in the bed, the patient that sits in a hut on mat, and the patient who is brought by ¨donkey ambulance¨to his clinic in Cange clinging to life. Farmer takes the time to know their illnesses in order to treat them, but that is surface details. In treating the whole individual Farmer gets curious. He asks the questions that get to heart of the individual and communal causes of illness and injury.
In reflecting, I of course have to ask myself how or what does the work and vision of Dr. Paul Farmer have to do with me, my calling, and ministry. Farmer says ¨In order to love something you have to know it.¨ While I am nowhere near an expert in my field and passions like Dr. Farmer, I can say that I love and am more passionate about 3 things (among others) in ministry, mainly because of my experiences that have allowed me to get to know them. Those three things are mission, worship, and pastoral care. The beauty, atleast I think, is that even with all that I know and my experience in these areas there is always more to learn and to experience so that I can love them (mission, pastoral care, and worship) even more.
While sitting in here in Peru, I reflect on my current work with Paz Y Esperanza, and it leads me to also think about having lived and walked alongside campesinoes in Guatemala, as well as the men who came to lunch at the Wayside Christian Mission. Then there was serving as a chaplain in trauma centers in Louisville, KY and Winston-Salem, NC where I sat with individuals and families in the silence of death, and then there is working alongside of the neighbors of the church I interned at in Kentucky after the week long blackout of ´08. In most of these situations I have not been required to DO anything except BE there, and for some of the people that I accompanied that was all they needed.
I am reminded of how critical it is to sometimes carefully swim upstream like Dr. Farmer as situations require you took adapt norms to location and population. He did not ignore precedence and procedure he put it to the test in a variety of situations, and sometimes created his own, that others soon followed. Dr. Farmer took the time and extra minutes to better serve his patients, by ¨Being¨ with them inorder to determine what they really wanted and needed, before he tried to ¨DO¨anything for them. He did this in the technogically advanced Brigham Hospital in Boston, MA and in the Central Plain of Haiti, as well as the slums of Lima, Peru. The unconventional part was that when Farmer´s patient´s life was on the line he learned that he might have to ¨DO¨ something first and then he would go out into the far reaches of the Central Plain (on foot) to ¨BE¨with them and ¨KNOW¨their situation, becasue he loved his work and what he did. I look forward to the years ahead, God willing as they say here in Peru and in Guatemala, to drawing connections and building bridges between congragations and their ministries to my experiences in mission, work as a chaplain, and student minister in KY. I look forward to building on what I already know, love, and am passionate about; by getting curious, engaging in study, having new experiences, and being present.
So what sticks out for me is something that Dr. Farmer said to Kidder on one of their many ¨hikes¨in Haiti. He said (I think referring to his work and style of doing it) ¨In order to love something, you have to know it first.¨ In addition to his countless credentials and certifications, Farmer can add accompaniament and partnership to his resume. He may never get a plaque for the wall, but the patients he touches physically and emotionally just by taking the time to sit, sometimes in conditions that most people wouldn´t touch with a ten foot pole, and listen to the stories, hopes, and dreams often unrealized of those who seek medical treatment.
Farmer loves his work, and his work is anthropology, education, medicine, but most of all it is people. I think Farmer loves his work because he takes the time to get to know it...the it is the people...the patient that lays in the bed, the patient that sits in a hut on mat, and the patient who is brought by ¨donkey ambulance¨to his clinic in Cange clinging to life. Farmer takes the time to know their illnesses in order to treat them, but that is surface details. In treating the whole individual Farmer gets curious. He asks the questions that get to heart of the individual and communal causes of illness and injury.
In reflecting, I of course have to ask myself how or what does the work and vision of Dr. Paul Farmer have to do with me, my calling, and ministry. Farmer says ¨In order to love something you have to know it.¨ While I am nowhere near an expert in my field and passions like Dr. Farmer, I can say that I love and am more passionate about 3 things (among others) in ministry, mainly because of my experiences that have allowed me to get to know them. Those three things are mission, worship, and pastoral care. The beauty, atleast I think, is that even with all that I know and my experience in these areas there is always more to learn and to experience so that I can love them (mission, pastoral care, and worship) even more.
While sitting in here in Peru, I reflect on my current work with Paz Y Esperanza, and it leads me to also think about having lived and walked alongside campesinoes in Guatemala, as well as the men who came to lunch at the Wayside Christian Mission. Then there was serving as a chaplain in trauma centers in Louisville, KY and Winston-Salem, NC where I sat with individuals and families in the silence of death, and then there is working alongside of the neighbors of the church I interned at in Kentucky after the week long blackout of ´08. In most of these situations I have not been required to DO anything except BE there, and for some of the people that I accompanied that was all they needed.
I am reminded of how critical it is to sometimes carefully swim upstream like Dr. Farmer as situations require you took adapt norms to location and population. He did not ignore precedence and procedure he put it to the test in a variety of situations, and sometimes created his own, that others soon followed. Dr. Farmer took the time and extra minutes to better serve his patients, by ¨Being¨ with them inorder to determine what they really wanted and needed, before he tried to ¨DO¨anything for them. He did this in the technogically advanced Brigham Hospital in Boston, MA and in the Central Plain of Haiti, as well as the slums of Lima, Peru. The unconventional part was that when Farmer´s patient´s life was on the line he learned that he might have to ¨DO¨ something first and then he would go out into the far reaches of the Central Plain (on foot) to ¨BE¨with them and ¨KNOW¨their situation, becasue he loved his work and what he did. I look forward to the years ahead, God willing as they say here in Peru and in Guatemala, to drawing connections and building bridges between congragations and their ministries to my experiences in mission, work as a chaplain, and student minister in KY. I look forward to building on what I already know, love, and am passionate about; by getting curious, engaging in study, having new experiences, and being present.
That´s more Peruvian than Potato!
Potatoes have eyes you know...those little sprouts that grow out or those divits that make peeling them fun?!! If the eyes are windows to the soul, then perhaps potatoes and their eyes are windows to the souls and hearts of the Andean Mountains and her inhabitants.
For 8,000 years these little (and in some cases big) morsels have been delivering power packed nutrition to the people of the Andes Mountains, and to the rest of the world for 4 centuries, after the era of Spanish exploration. Potatoes are the world´s 4th largest food source behind rice, wheat, and corn. They are starchy and tuberous, but loaded with iron. This is especially useful in remote areas of the Andes Mountains and other higher elevations that lack access to other basic food stuffs. It is good for me because I dwell in a Peruvian household that is vegetarian, but eats meat, and vegetables are scarce. It is not a plate in Peru unless there is some form of potato on it. A snack I often enocunter is small red or blue/purple potatoes that have been boiled and Andean cheese which is sort of dense white and rubbery, with a tinge of saltiness. You take a potato in one hand peeling (one handed) with fingers and a chunk of cheese in the other and go after it, bite for bite.
So why potatoes in Peru and the rest of the world?
Well, following the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire (which potatoes help build and fortify), the Spanish introduced the potato to Europe in the second half of the 16th century. The staple was subsequently conveyed by European mariners to territories and ports throughout the world.(1) Was this one of the first examples of free trade? The potato was slow to be adopted by distrustful European farmers, but soon enough it became an important food staple and field crop that played a major role in the European 19th century population boom. However because of the lack of genetic varieties introduced to the world outside of South America, the crop was left succeptible to disease, like the 1845 late-blight, which lead to the destruction of Ireland´s potato crop, and eventually the Great Irish Famine (for you history buffs).
But back to Peru, and the Andes Mountains...
According to ancient legend, when the mythical founders of the Inca empire, Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo, emerged from the waters of Lake Titicaca, the first thing the god Wiracocha taught them was how to sow potatoes.(2)
Today, scientists have identified more than 4,000 potato varieties, many of which such as the yellow potato (papa amarilla or papa huayro) are only founded in Peru. In fact, Peruvian potatoes are held to be matchless in flavor and texture: their noble yet delicate shapes fit perfectly into the cultural background this tuber enjoys in Peru: the all-powerful Quechua culture revered the potato not just as a crucial foodstuff, but as an icon.
There is even a popular saying: "That's more Peruvian than potato"(2), a reference to the unmistakable stamp of Peruvian origin on the tuber. It is a compliment that does justice to this age-old fruit of the Andes.
Age-old fruit of the Andes, huh? Yes that is right. Six years ago I was sitting at a computer in south western Guatemala writing to you about the presence and importance of corn and ajon ajoli (sesame seed) to the diet and economy of the tiny finca, called Santa Fe, in which I lived and worked. Now it is potatoes, and the often remote rural Quechua communities nestled in both the hills and valleys of the Southern Andes Mountains that I visit with the interdisciplinary Paz y Esperanza Team. They are Putis, Putacca, Callquì, Huamanquiquia, Chuschi, Incaraquay, and many others. When we go to visit and/or lead a workshop or session designed to continue to help the indigenous people find ways to greive, and find hope and healing in the midst of slow justice for the years of political violence perpetrated by the Shinging Path (maoist, geurillas) and the military, we typically bring some sort of food item with us. That might be trout, chicken or vegetables to consume or it might also be seeds of nutrient rich plants like broccoli, spinach, beets, and carrots for the women to cultivate. In some cases like Incaraquay and Callquì we also took young live chickens and cuy or guinea pigs for them to raise, and breed.
Our workshops and visits usually involve a communal meal that the women prepare over log (or linea) fires in huge pots that you could swim in. As each member of the ¨community¨arrives they take off their hand woven manta or brightly colored cloth that is strapped to their back. For women with young babies or toddlers this is how they transport them, strapped to their back like an on going piggy back ride. The women who do not have children or their´s ar
e grown often use their manta like a knapsack or purse. In it they have a little stash of Soles (Peruvian coins) their DNI or ID card, a paper or two, someitmes a Bible if they own one, and from my experience potatoes. These potatoes are added to the communal table to be consumed by the crowd or integrated into the meal. It is what they have to offer. The potatoes are their life blood, and have been for thousands of years. High in the hills they till the land and cultivate the crops, guarding and processing seed for the next year´s planting to ensure that the species they grow will continue in purity, developing ways of irrigating crops where their is no potable water, and practicing crop rotation to preserve the land or mother earth that has been gifted to them.
So when one of these fascinating women opens up their manta it is like they are opening up their lives for me to see...just like in our groups, as time goes along, and trust is earned, I gain a deeper glimpse into the pain and victimization of political violence, the uncertainty of being caught between two forces (the Shining Path insurgency and the military counter-insurgency) meanwhile suffering from an oppressive poverty. I catch, only a glimpse, of what it is really like to run for the hills with only the clothes on your back and a child under each arm to escape the invading revolutionaries or the ¨black heads¨ as they called the ski masked government soldiers. Higher and higher into the hills they would climb, silencing the cries of children by covering them up at risk of suffocation, and surviving on uncooked beans and yes potatoes which were both portable and grew everywhere (both cultivated and wild) in the region of Ayacucho.
Potatoes are what the people of the Quechua communities we (Paz y Esperanza) go to visit and accompany, do. Potatoes are as much a part of who they are, as they are what they do. For some 8,000 years these people have cultivated a multitude of potatoes for their own use, as well as for trade or sale. Trading and selling is how they get the things like wheat, barley, and meat that they do not have. Just like the Quechua people and their colorful culture, so are the potatoes that they cultivate. From large and small to purple, red, and yellow with pink spots to lumpy, spiralled, and striped Peruvian variety potatoes come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes traveling in the Andes Mountains you can find more than 100 varieties of potatoes growing in a single valley. The varieties have unique names like ¨The miracle¨ and ¨the red shadow¨ and ¨like a deer´s white tongue¨ among others.
For 8,000 years potatoes have helped the Quechua and their predecesor Inca people survive drought and famine, war, disease, and invading forces. Packed with iron, they continue to fortify the mountain economies of the Andes, but the mantas have opened and given the rest of the world the gift of potatoes and a colorful culture that is meant to be enjoyed, not exploited or changed becasue someone else can do it better or faster.
A potato is a complex carborhydrate in the world of nutrition. The best of which for us is the sweet potato or camote as it is called here in Peru. Complex, that is a good word to describe Peruvian history and cutlure, the Quechua people and their ways of being, and most definitely potatoes, which are inextricably linked to Peru and her people. It is a complexity that is yes, more Peruvian than potato.
So why potatoes in Peru and the rest of the world?
Well, following the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire (which potatoes help build and fortify), the Spanish introduced the potato to Europe in the second half of the 16th century. The staple was subsequently conveyed by European mariners to territories and ports throughout the world.(1) Was this one of the first examples of free trade? The potato was slow to be adopted by distrustful European farmers, but soon enough it became an important food staple and field crop that played a major role in the European 19th century population boom. However because of the lack of genetic varieties introduced to the world outside of South America, the crop was left succeptible to disease, like the 1845 late-blight, which lead to the destruction of Ireland´s potato crop, and eventually the Great Irish Famine (for you history buffs).
But back to Peru, and the Andes Mountains...
According to ancient legend, when the mythical founders of the Inca empire, Manco Capac and Mama Ocllo, emerged from the waters of Lake Titicaca, the first thing the god Wiracocha taught them was how to sow potatoes.(2)
Today, scientists have identified more than 4,000 potato varieties, many of which such as the yellow potato (papa amarilla or papa huayro) are only founded in Peru. In fact, Peruvian potatoes are held to be matchless in flavor and texture: their noble yet delicate shapes fit perfectly into the cultural background this tuber enjoys in Peru: the all-powerful Quechua culture revered the potato not just as a crucial foodstuff, but as an icon.
There is even a popular saying: "That's more Peruvian than potato"(2), a reference to the unmistakable stamp of Peruvian origin on the tuber. It is a compliment that does justice to this age-old fruit of the Andes.
Age-old fruit of the Andes, huh? Yes that is right. Six years ago I was sitting at a computer in south western Guatemala writing to you about the presence and importance of corn and ajon ajoli (sesame seed) to the diet and economy of the tiny finca, called Santa Fe, in which I lived and worked. Now it is potatoes, and the often remote rural Quechua communities nestled in both the hills and valleys of the Southern Andes Mountains that I visit with the interdisciplinary Paz y Esperanza Team. They are Putis, Putacca, Callquì, Huamanquiquia, Chuschi, Incaraquay, and many others. When we go to visit and/or lead a workshop or session designed to continue to help the indigenous people find ways to greive, and find hope and healing in the midst of slow justice for the years of political violence perpetrated by the Shinging Path (maoist, geurillas) and the military, we typically bring some sort of food item with us. That might be trout, chicken or vegetables to consume or it might also be seeds of nutrient rich plants like broccoli, spinach, beets, and carrots for the women to cultivate. In some cases like Incaraquay and Callquì we also took young live chickens and cuy or guinea pigs for them to raise, and breed.
Our workshops and visits usually involve a communal meal that the women prepare over log (or linea) fires in huge pots that you could swim in. As each member of the ¨community¨arrives they take off their hand woven manta or brightly colored cloth that is strapped to their back. For women with young babies or toddlers this is how they transport them, strapped to their back like an on going piggy back ride. The women who do not have children or their´s ar
e grown often use their manta like a knapsack or purse. In it they have a little stash of Soles (Peruvian coins) their DNI or ID card, a paper or two, someitmes a Bible if they own one, and from my experience potatoes. These potatoes are added to the communal table to be consumed by the crowd or integrated into the meal. It is what they have to offer. The potatoes are their life blood, and have been for thousands of years. High in the hills they till the land and cultivate the crops, guarding and processing seed for the next year´s planting to ensure that the species they grow will continue in purity, developing ways of irrigating crops where their is no potable water, and practicing crop rotation to preserve the land or mother earth that has been gifted to them.So when one of these fascinating women opens up their manta it is like they are opening up their lives for me to see...just like in our groups, as time goes along, and trust is earned, I gain a deeper glimpse into the pain and victimization of political violence, the uncertainty of being caught between two forces (the Shining Path insurgency and the military counter-insurgency) meanwhile suffering from an oppressive poverty. I catch, only a glimpse, of what it is really like to run for the hills with only the clothes on your back and a child under each arm to escape the invading revolutionaries or the ¨black heads¨ as they called the ski masked government soldiers. Higher and higher into the hills they would climb, silencing the cries of children by covering them up at risk of suffocation, and surviving on uncooked beans and yes potatoes which were both portable and grew everywhere (both cultivated and wild) in the region of Ayacucho.
Potatoes are what the people of the Quechua communities we (Paz y Esperanza) go to visit and accompany, do. Potatoes are as much a part of who they are, as they are what they do. For some 8,000 years these people have cultivated a multitude of potatoes for their own use, as well as for trade or sale. Trading and selling is how they get the things like wheat, barley, and meat that they do not have. Just like the Quechua people and their colorful culture, so are the potatoes that they cultivate. From large and small to purple, red, and yellow with pink spots to lumpy, spiralled, and striped Peruvian variety potatoes come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes traveling in the Andes Mountains you can find more than 100 varieties of potatoes growing in a single valley. The varieties have unique names like ¨The miracle¨ and ¨the red shadow¨ and ¨like a deer´s white tongue¨ among others.
For 8,000 years potatoes have helped the Quechua and their predecesor Inca people survive drought and famine, war, disease, and invading forces. Packed with iron, they continue to fortify the mountain economies of the Andes, but the mantas have opened and given the rest of the world the gift of potatoes and a colorful culture that is meant to be enjoyed, not exploited or changed becasue someone else can do it better or faster.
A potato is a complex carborhydrate in the world of nutrition. The best of which for us is the sweet potato or camote as it is called here in Peru. Complex, that is a good word to describe Peruvian history and cutlure, the Quechua people and their ways of being, and most definitely potatoes, which are inextricably linked to Peru and her people. It is a complexity that is yes, more Peruvian than potato.
(1) Information gathered from wikipedia, potato
(2) Travel article - Peruvian Potato - Peru Food and Gastronomy
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