A teacher’s career trajectory 7/25

Two things at the outset.

1. My dad recovered from bankruptcy, became a “dry-drunk” in 1952 and continued working hard until his retirement… never looking back. What a role-model!

2. “But I took the road less-traveled by, and that made all the difference” (Robert Frost)

At 30 yrs of age Linda and I left for work in Peru as Literacy Specialists among the Quechua indigenous dialect area of Conchucos Valley and worked there for 16 yrs. It was very gratifying to train govt. school teachers, community leaders and catechists, not only to read in Quechua but also to teach others to do so; then we left in 2002.

Within 3 years of leaving Peru we had separated from SIL International. So at 52 yrs of age I was unemployed in an otherwise arid job market. Luckily I was able to get my ESL credential and begin teaching Canada’s immigrants (“Temporary Foreign Workers” or TFWs), then 5 years later I was contracted to teach ESL at the University of Calgary where I worked for 5 years.

At the same time I had “side-jobs” as a baker for COBS bread as well as an IELTS Examiner, both online grading essays, and with SAIT and Global Village until 2018 when we then sold our 100 yr. old house in Calgary’s Hillhurst community and moved to Mexico.

The first 4 months in Nuevo Vallarta I subbed for a teacher on maternity leave at Harkness Academy as I knocked on doors of local companies (restaurants and hotels), offering my services to contract as an ESL instructor. Of the 70 companies I approached three of them were interested but wanted me to work 45 hrs/week for what amounted to about $7 USD/hr. Even in Mexico it’s hard to maintain a lifestyle on such meagre pay!

So I returned to teaching ESL online. One company had PLENTY of students to fill my schedule each week, so I was content to teach while working at home (for only about $14 USD/hr)! They provided all lesson plans and allowed for teacher flexibility in augmenting the curriculum. 

However with the onset of the recession and then COVID the student hours dwindled so much that I had to “fish” for 2-hour teaching spots with this same group, beginning at 6 am in order to teach through till 10 pm. This became untenable, so I sought out an online IELTS/TOEFL preparation group. They assigned me students (individuals or groups of up to 6 per classroom). I had no problem with the structure nor the rigor, but I DID have to provide very detailed lesson planning. With the help of my wife I was able to put these together, but the CEO continued to ask me to rewrite them. As a result I was doing approx. 5 hours of teacher prep. for every 1-2 hours in class, but I was only paid, of course, for the in-class time, which together amounted to about $8/hr USD of stressful labor. I had no choice but to resign. This “resignation” also spilled over into my retirement in Feb. 2024.

I must say I am so thankful for my years of service to each of these groups because I was able to serve and encourage individuals and make a difference in their lives (this, I've discovered is the proviso with all teachers working under "less desireable" working conditions). I’m reminded of the Spanish term, “mejicanada” which essentially means “slapping something together with the tools you have on hand.” Even though I have 2 Masters and am professionally trained, in some ways that’s what I see was happening in the groups I worked with. We did what we could and left the results to each individual to apply … or… NOT to apply. Even in Peru the teachers, community leaders, and individual students had each to decide what to do and how far to go with their own training.

Their destiny in in their own hands!

Considering Religious Groups, my spiritual birthday- May 23

 Today is what I call my Spiritual Birthday. Let me explain.

This day in 1969, I was hitch-hiking from my outside my house in San Jose, California on Camden Ave./Hillsdale Blvd., trying to get to Los Gatos, when a friend, Jim Bieber, picked me up and promised to drive me to Los Gatos.

“But first I need to pick up some friends.” After picking up the couple, further towards Camden and Hicks Rd. eventually driving in front of Good Samaritan Hospital when an unmarked cop car pulled us over. At the time I had a “lid” of marijuana so, afraid of being caught, I shoved it under the seat in front of me, then later denied it was mine when confronted by the officers. We all went downtown to Juvenile Hall (W. Hedding St. San Jose) and were booked for “possession of drugs” (the couple had some “harder stuff”).

I was high on acid at the time and the holding cell they put me in for interviewing had black/white polka-dotted acoustic tiles on the walls and ceiling. So I watched as they moved across the room. Suddenly I began to reflect on my life as a 15 yr. old and my lack of drive and direction. In February, just 3 months prior, I had a “religious encounter”. You see, I cried out to God (whoever that was) and asked him for help. So in that holding cell I realized God did what I refused to do-- He forced me at least to pause and “take account.”

I immediately bowed my knees and gave myself to this God who just stepped into my life. When I opened my eyes, I was “sober”-- the dots were NOT moving and I was shocked: “It worked! Someone is in this place with me and I need to find out more!”

The next 3 years of my high schooling was quite a struggle and a contrast: I stood up to my old drug-buddies, changed friendships and began working for my Dad in the summers, then at a Red Barn restaurant, and later at Daugherty’s Drug store as a delivery boy during the year. I got involved with a Christian club at school and spent hours with kids just like me who wanted to have some “good clean fun.” It was an awesome change for me!

This introduction into different religious groups in San Jose was indeed a learning experience. When I entered college at West Valley and San Jose State I fell in love with literature and languages (Latin and Greek), until Clyde Harvey from South Hills Church suggested, “Why not study a living language? There are thousands that don’t even have written literature!” I was surprised so enrolled in the Summer Institute of Linguistics courses at Seattle’s University of Washington. This eventually led me to marry and prepare to live and work in the Andes of Peru.

The next 16 years of service for SIL International in Peru as a Literacy Specialist (“alfabetizador”) provided me with ample opportunity to be exposed to a diversity of religious society. Peru is nominally Roman Catholic and has a vast system of cathedrals, churches, priests, nuns, and lay-workers/catechists across the country, which represent dozens of different Catholic orders and traditions. Additionally, Protestant and Evangelical churches abound and, over the years have been granted government permission and liberty to operate openly. I really had no clue the diversity and conflict involved between these groups until I set foot in those mountain communities.

Since our educational and linguistic work was under a Supreme Decree from the Peruvian Government, we needed to be “circumspect” in the way we related to those around us. There was NO WRITTEN AGENDA of proselytization as we served with SIL Peru, all of which helped us to “walk the thin line” between these groups.

My anthropological studies and further communication with the local folks in the community helped me to appreciate the culturally religious foci within these groups. So if I may, I’d like to describe (very generally) three varieties of religious groups I encountered, each of which spans across/intersects the religious groups.

#1. Liturgical groups. These groups have long been considered the “institutional churches” since the surrounding societies have traditionally accepted them as a vital part of the culture. The Roman Catholic Church clearly predominates this group in Peru, but there are other lesser groups as well (Anglicans, Lutherans, Episcopal, and some orthodox groups). Their focus is on the “form” and procession during their services, which can date back over a thousand years. Prayer, songs (cánticos) and worship strictly follow the structure with very little ad-lib/impromptu discussions in public. The “homily” is usually short (about 10-15 mins) and often centred around one or two Biblical passages read during the service. However central specifically in the more Christian liturgy is the Sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross; nonetheless the lives of other saints/holy people can also be emphasized and celebrated.

#2. Textual. These are what are called the “Real Bible-believers” among those who often adhere to the “letter, chapter & verse of the Bible. Obviously these groups came to Peru more recently (as much as over a century ago) as a result of the various European church reformations (i.e, from Martin Luther and John Calvin; then later with the Jacobites and the Puritans of the 1700s). The order of the service incorporates hymns and some prayers but is centred on the “preaching” or sermon which itself takes up most of the service and usually adheres to some Scriptural text or other as the main theme. “The Bible” is often the core of their adoration and focus, with Jesus often more peripheral and the traditional saints and holy people rejected as a part of their beliefs.

#3. Spiritual. These typically started out as small “separatist” Protestant groups (often from family or “house church congregations”). The leader becomes the self-proclaimed pastor/leader and his interpretation of what is a ‘godly walk’ or interpretation of holy words is what is generally considered the most logical and honored. These services can be more emotional, in so far as the inner search for peace with God and conversion goes. Some services can be “fiery” and almost ecstatic-- so much so that the adherents tend to return to seek that same fervency each time they meet together. A single verse of Scripture, and the leader’s interpretation of it, can be the focus of the whole service together with the prayers and singing to celebrate it. All outsider-visitors to these meetings are suspect and often required to give confession or conversion to continue attending.

Living for 16 years in Peru, I began to see the coastal/mountain connective tissue within many aspects of society (transportation, production of goods/services, and general modernization and technological advancements). The same holds, as well, for these religious groups, with their connection to related groups of theirs on the coast. Just as the Roman Catholic Church has their “obispados” and “dioceses” (bishoprics, diocese), so too the Baptists, Anglicans, Seventh Day Adventists, and the Alliance have their sister congregations and head offices. Even the more charismatic or “pentecostal” (separatist) congregations have their “sucursal” or sister groups. Each of these carry with them their own interpretation and uniquely cultural expressions of what it means to live a faithful and godly lifestyle.

So the question remains, 

"Can these disparate groups ever live in pease together?"

 Well after years of working in the Andes I once witnessed a local Catholic catechist greet an Evangelical “comunero” (neighbour) he had previously been in contention with, saying, “Because I have been reading the Bible in my language and see that this man has been reading it as well, we have renewed our estranged relationship and now I count him as a brother in God.”

Finally from a top-down perspective I can say that Lima hosts several “Ecumenical Conferences” where a committee exists representing a cross-section of these religious groups. In 1997, for example, we attended an Ecumenical Mass that was held to honor Peru’s Cardenal Juan Landázuri Rickets who had recently passed away. During the mass a Palestinian iman and a Jewish rabbi stood and in the name of this cardinal, publicly hugged each other as an expression of peace and fellowship!

Soo...

"Can these disparate groups ever live in peace together?"

Yes, it is possible!

Sincere Outsiders

 Trying to be “Sincere Outsiders”    May 9, 2025

This specific blog is a result of many drafts/attempts to express what has been a decades-long struggle between faith, ethics, and politics while living outside of North America.

There’s a general sense of gravity that is built into growing up into adulthood in the same town and even region of the world (for me specifically in Cambrian Park/San Jose, California). It’s demonstrated in a pre-disposed cultural perspective and comportment one carries. O’Henry novels talk about button-holing a “newbie country-bumpkin” on the streets of New York within seconds of recently landing from somewhere like Oklahoma: The look, the manner – the dress stood out, at least back then. Similarly “gringos” in the mountains of Peru stand out almost as clearly as, say, Mennonites in Mexico or Costa Rica (and God bless, by the way, the Mennonite Cheese of Mexico… yum!). This “plain-view” from the outside is almost as obvious as the Bruce Willis character in “Die Hard with a Vengeance” (1995) walking down the streets of Harlem butt-naked wearing only a sandwich board reading, “I hate N----rs!” We may THINK we are trying to blend in, but OH NO! Not only that but our presence unwittingly exudes a certain arrogance and, dare I say, class position, which especially sets-off the Andean farmer.

Spoiler: We can try to deny this (ie., that which is obvious to everyone else around us) or instead, try to relax and be ourselves within the rubrics of and mercy given, in that culture. This would require a trained stamina as well as an astute use of the Serrano culture and Spanish language mixed as well with many Quechua terms, in order to quickly put bystanders at ease. I must admit I got fairly good at this, but not as well as I had liked, since for several reasons and circumstances, I was never able to become fluent in that variety of Quechua, try as I might and for which I regret. At the outset, denying who you are is by NO means a good step forward!

One example was when we were buying fruits and vegetables in an open market. Our use of selected Quechua words we used to “spice up” our Spanish made the vendors laugh and thus gave us a discount on our purchase. One Limenian woman waiting behind us declared, “Hey! Why are the Gringo’s prices cheaper than mine?” The Quechua woman quickly responded, “Do you speak Quechua?…” [‘nuf said!]

I initially thought that if I could just “live among them” something would rub off. I was half-right: The more we lived in a village, raising our children and contributing in some way to the social and agricultural activities, the more our neighbours got used to us and relaxed around us. But it took time and many life experiences to accomplish this (16 years worth!).

This was also evident when we walked through the nearby communities. They got used to seeing us around and our kids playing with their kids, so several would invite us to come inside to their patio and have some juice and chat. Once you’re invited into a Quechua mother’s kitchen… you are family, not just a guest!

Quechuas are transactional in their relationships. Someone may be an aunt or uncle in their family, hence fully accepted. But what good are they? Do they help in planting or harvests? Can they barter with food or tools or pack animals? Can they tell good stories over a fire? Then they are useful. So then Quechuas can be a bit brazen with outsiders (outsiders by the way also include coastal Peruvians visiting the area). Some ask for money or food, or a ride in our truck or… all three! We struggled basically with how to decline their requests in as polite a way as possible until our landlords, Erpidio and Alquilina, actually became our godparents through fiestas and a few weddings. It was at this point that we finally “fit” into their social structure and were more accepted (well, sort of).

While finishing reading a Quechua story surrounded by farmers in village, a catechist spoke up: “It’s true what Randy says. Our children learn more quickly reading in our own language then later in Spanish. And many love the Bible stories in Quechua too. I also believe, although I’m a Catholic catechist, that many Evangelical neighbors reading these books like them too. I now consider these people as brothers and sisters.” [Note: He said that in public!].

There’s a saying that, I’m not sure if we heard it from others, but we certainly adopted it: The higher you were raised in the mountains, the lower you are in the Peruvian social hierarchy (totem-pole). This cuts across the board, for example within the several varieties of Protestant and Catholic religious communities. That is to say, a priest visiting from the coast can carry more social prestige than the priests who were born and bred in Conchucos Valley. The same was true of Baptist preachers visiting from Lima and preaching in the small house congregations in the district of Cajay. As well, teachers from the regional capital of Huaraz attracted more attention than those even in the provincial capital of Huari. So their self-image in the villages is obviously not that “high”.

This somewhat explains why many neighbors and friends continued to ask us, for the first few years at least, “Randy, why are you REALLY here?” Of course we were able to make them understand our motive and mission, but they never seemed to accept it. Up to this time they never gave real value to reading and writing in their own mother-tongue, so obviously THAT can’t be the reason (or so they thought).

Another thought some had was, “Well Randy and Linda are not really Catholic, even though they faithfully attend Mass every Sunday in Huari. So maybe they are secret-agent Evangelicals trying to convert us!”

But Linda and I had had lots of conversations, not only with the Bishop and many priests and nuns in the area, but also with several of the house Evangelical pastors who drilled us and tried themselves to convert us. Throughout the years this became our “tightrope walk” of faith between the many Quechua communities we visited. When there’s someone unknown around you, there’s fear. Then jealousy brews up, so, instead, we continued to engage with them making ourselves public and well-known rather than hide ourselves hence creating more suspicion.

Aside from some of the social-health and political issues which arose over our 16 years of living in Peru, this religious tightrope probably caused the greatest stress. We were always under some form of scrutiny, but luckily our “compadres” Alquilina and Erpidio, seemed to accept us for who we were. After all, we saw them for hours at a time every day… over 16 years and worked alongside one another. Their daughter, Reyna, and grandkids (Flor, Linda Marleny, and Jossmel Jairo) became our “aijados” (god-children) and were always welcomed at our house. Their family was indeed HOME for all four of us. And I DO NOT DOUBT that, were we to suddenly show up at their front door, they would welcome us with shouts, tears, and open arms.

But regardless of the stress, Linda and I were confident that what we were doing was worthwhile. So we stayed the course: forming a written literature in Quechua of folktales, song books and Bible stories; assisting Dan and Diane Hintz in the process of the New Testament translation, training Catholic catechists as well as coordinating in the training of government certified bilingual teachers to apply a fully bilingual curriculum in the schools that the provincial Education Ministry office had assigned to them. Many Quechua professionals were trained and thousands of booklets in Quechua were printed, published, and used in the small mountain districts and communities. It was a controversial program because it was for everyone of any faith or belief. It wasn’t imposed; it wasn’t in any way misleading nor disingenuous.

It was a gift freely given to every village teacher hence every village and school involved in the program. No strings attached!

When we left Peru in June of 2002, we were heart-broken for leaving “family”, but our conscience was clear and we were overjoyed that, through working with the school system and the many catechists in the area, approximately 130,000 Quechua children became literate and fully bilingual both in Quechua and Spanish.

 Easter 2025

 Lessons Learned from the Andes

First of all, to talk in a single blog about what we’ve learned over the 14 years of living in a Quechua community at 3,000 metres, seems ludicrous-- TOO MANY!

Who from? I want to give some kudos to those who spoke into our lives.

A few strong mentors helped us along the way as well as many friends who themselves encapsulated personal lessons. Al and Barb Shannon as well as John and Sheila Tuggy gave us continual orientation and guidance especially regarding the many cultural nuances in Peru’s coast, mountain, and jungle climes and especially in understanding the “ins-and-outs” of working with SIL as an organization.

Then in the mountains specifically, Profs. Leonel Alexander Menacho López and Gabriel (Don Gabïchu) Barreto Echiparra were our point-persons when it came to work through the various education ministry offices, while Don Gabïchu’s connections [“padrinazgo”] with the faraway Andean villages, granted us greater acceptance and, well, safety. Both men carried with them the same vision of service to their Quechua people, constantly reminding us why we were there and how far we had gone. I guess what I’m saying is, these people provided constant tutorials and encouragements (too many to number) that we cherish to this day.

More personally were the proteges we worked with, above all Eduardo and Tobías Mendoza Diaz. Their excitement about and dedication to the work in the communities especially Eduardo’s leadership in teaching using the various publications of short Quechua and biblical stories, as well as the Quechua songbooks, all seemed to make each day’s work that much more meaningful to me: It seemed I was having a positive impact on some people I had grown fond of and who they went on to become-- excellent teachers and mentors!

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Monseñor Dante Frasnelli Tarter, OSJ, then

Catholic Bishop of the Conchucos Valley, Región Chavín, who befriended us and always welcomed us both into his offices and home. His vision for a “single Christian faith” across the Andes paralleled our vision embedded in our program logo TAYTA DYOSPA WILLACUYNINGA LLAPANTSICPÄMI [“The Word of God is for everyone”]. He was the person who authorized our training of the dozens of Catholic lay-workers (catechists) throughout the many mountain towns, culminating in the overwhelmingly successful celebration, dedication and partial distribution of the New Testament in the particular variety of South Conchucos Quechua.

Finally SIL-Peru’s staff and many administrators dedicated themselves to “keeping us safe and working”. John and Billy Mishler in Lima, were especially helpful and always concerned.

Lesson #1. The primary lesson for me of those amazing 16 years:

Whatever you do, be consistent.

Consistent in activity and in one’s character.

Example: One Sunday after shopping in Huari’s market and attending Mass, Linda and I were requested to attend apparently an impromptu meeting with Bishop Dante along with about a dozen of his Quechua priests who had gathered in Huari that particular weekend from all over the valley. The bishop explained that as he was returning from his 8 hour drive from Huaraz, he saw a couple of gringos gathering some people together in a nearby town. “I got out of my car, called them over and asked what they were doing.”

“Just reading the Bible with these people” one answered.

Bishop: “You’re not just reading to them, gentleman. You are stirring them up. You wish to start another congregation; another church. Doesn’t the Bible say that there’s only one church? You are being divisive and separatist.” They were dumbfounded and really couldn’t respond.

Then in the meeting in front of all those priests the Bishop turned to Linda and I and said, “But Randy, you don’t do that. You claim the Bible is for everyone and you are here to stand along side us. Thank you for doing that!”

What would have happened if we had somehow changed our methods and not kept our word? Chaos!

Lesson #2. Be mindful; have perspective: Walk a mile in their shoes.

The saying "walk a mile in another man's shoes" originates from the Cherokee Native Americans, who would say, "Don't judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes (moccasins)". This proverb emphasizes the importance of understanding someone's perspective and situation before passing judgment. Harper Lee's novel To Kill a Mockingbird popularized a similar sentiment: "You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb around in his skin and walk around in it".

From the first day we arrived in Peru (July, 1986) we saw a different world from what either of us grew up in. We saw crime, poverty, corruption, and disease up close. It shook us. It’s no wonder that 80% of development workers return home to stay after the first 4 years of service.

Once, after a church service, we were walking down Arequipa Ave. in Lima and saw someone grab something from the neck of a fellow SIL worker and run off. It was a necklace her mother had gifted her. I reacted and ran after him through kiosk stalls until he turned back and bumped right up against me and I held out my hand, “Dámelo” and he spat the necklace out of his mouth. I looked it him angrily then saw a desperation in him, more than fear. I let him go. Many afterwards said what I did was wrong; that I should have shaken him up and called a cop or perhaps preached at him. I was just happy that my colleague recovered her necklace and was unharmed. Could I ever become so desperate as to steal? I wondered.

The “situation-ethic” of how to handle poverty in Peru haunted us every day. We developed what have become natural responses we use to this day. If someone, for example, asks for money, I ask why. If they say “For food” or “I’m hungry,” then I take the time to go with them to buy something nutritious (but not expensive). Also, Linda and I still carry cans of tuna in our car so that, when someone at a stoplight walks among the cars and asks for a handout, we have a full meal (and cheap!) to offer them. At least it’s something.

Lesson #3: Stay humble.

Our years actually living in a Quechua community and participating in their activities and festivals has given us many life lessons. Our very manner of communication had begun to change, perhaps softening the way we say something and perhaps with less pride, even arrogance.

This was confirmed when we were in Fort George Baptist Church in Prince George, BC Canada sharing in a small Sunday evening group, mostly of Canadian First Nations men and women (Babine Carrier and others). We were talking about working with Quechuas, struggling with them, yet seeing meagre results. Two or three first nations men were standing in the back, with their arms crossed in front of their chests. But as I explained the struggles and the wins, they slowly lowered their arms and began to nod their heads. You see, it wasn’t so much what I said as “how” I said it. They identified the pain of our experience.

These lessons and mentors have served us well as we navigated both re-integration into Calgary and then retirement into Mexico. May we remain consistent, mindful, and humble.  

 Raising a family and working in the Andes - April 14, 2025

8 yr old Greg threshing wheat with horses and a mule

Caveat: I’m no expert, just an experienced “old-squirt” (ha!)

Seriously, I’m proud of both my sons. My older son Greg, specifically has had to play catch-up becoming a father to his wife’s now 10 year-old Mati, and then with his second son, Leo, who’s 3 years old. Wow! Linda and I had 7 years of marriage under our belts before our kids arrived: Enough time to really get to know one another (so glad we did that since we grew up in vastly different cultures between Northern California and north-central British Columbia, Canada). Honestly the way Linda took to becoming a mother was soooo satisfying to me: I had no idea this would happen!

Giving birth in a natural-birthing clinic in Lima was one thing! Then there was caring for infants, then toddlers while living in a rustic Quechua village with mud walls and floors! With continual improvements on our home with the help our “compadre” Erpidio, we had a decent latrine out back, cement floors, and cement and stucco (plastered) walls both inside and out onto our front patio, all within a 2-year period. It seemed for the first few years like all we were doing was cleaning, eating and caring for the kids. But THAT’s what attracted our neighbors to us: Our dedication to “stick to it” and remain in the village for as long as we did.

Our kids grew-up surrounded by other kids, lots of aunties, uncles and PLENTY of farm animals (pigs, goats, chickens, cows, horses, donkeys, dogs, cats… and guinea pigs! For them every day was entertaining and an adventure. Some friends thought that raising kids surrounded by Spanish, Quechua and English would hamper them in their educational development: NOT! They loved it and played games with it as well. Sometimes Linda and I’d speak to each other either in Quechua or Spanish pretending to hide a secret conversation from them. That just made them all-the-more anxious to pick up all three languages! Ha! So as far as safety and security was concern we really were in the best place possible. Why? Because it was our Quechua godparents then, by extension, the whole of Cajay that accepted us there.

And there were culture clashes for sure! One day an old Quechua farmer knock on our old wooden front door.

“Gringo-Anchi,” he said (Anchi is a diminuative form of Andres, the name I used in Peru).

“Wanna buy my donkey?” I declined and he further persisted, so I thought I’d have a bit of fun.

“I don’t eat donkey and can’t use it in my home.”

Shocked, he responded. “Whaaa?? You don’t eat donkey! You can’t eat my donkey!!” And to stomped off. About an hour later my compadre Erpidio knocked and asked, “Did you say to that old man you wanted to eat his donkey??!!”

I explained what happened and thought that might be a way to discourage him from persisting in trying to sell it to me. Erpidio busted out laughing. “That’s great! Now the whole town thinks you eat donkey ‘cuz he’s telling everybody!”

Oh there were other problems: Sickness, rain, landslides and a few Shining Path incursions into the valley. One required us to leave the valley and live for two years in our SIL group compound in nearby Huaraz, 8 hours’ drive over the summit to the west). When Linda was 8 months pregnant with Greg we almost didn’t make it out of the valley due to a landslide. We tried to cross a stretch, counselled by a foreman of the road crew at the landslide site, and our Toyota 4x4 Hilux sunck in the mud to bottom of the doors! It wasn’t until the nearby tractor pulled us out onto the far side of the road (going to the coast) that we were able to continue: Whew!

This lifestyle provided a great built-in rural education for our kids. Schooling was anther matter. We brought grade school curricula with us from Canada/USA and worked with them a few hours a day. Sometimes we had an itinerant teacher, Bonnie (from Jackson Hole, Wyoming), who spent several months with us working with the kids every day. She was a professional biologist who at one time worked at Ecuador’s famous Galapagos Island, so she brought with her her infectious wonder of nature and the kids really took to her. This was one more way SIL supported us and we were thankful for her being there!

Conchucos Valley is home to Caritas, Catholic Relief offices, as well as the regional bishop of the area who was ensconced in Huari, the provincial capital. In every district town in the province there was a chapel where the local priest would come and visit with the locally assigned catechists. As a result there were many religious events as well as national holidays celebrated in our community of Cajay which we regularly participated in. And every day the village primary school sang Peru’s national anthem so our kids became quite familiar with both the words in Spanish and the tune (BTW, since they were born in Peru to this day our sons also have Peruvian passports!).

Many festivities took place during the year with decorative costumes (Huari Dansa, Pallas, Yuriwas dance groups, for example). But our favorite was “Pastorcillo,” which was celebrated on 3 Kings day or Epiphany (Dia de los Reyes, Jan. 6). It was a festivity involving all the villages throughout the province where children were chosen to represent and enact a traditional morality play with children as the dancers, singers and actors. [Note: you can watch this musical play from the nearby town in Sihuas, Ancash. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zCxGOWOuh8]. This was the most delightful (and sober!) festival during the year and our kids loved it!

All inhabitants in the village of Cajay were farmers. Some also had specialty trades such as carpentry, blacksmithing, cobbling, the milling of wheat and corn, and even the making and oven firing of adobe roof tiles. So Cajay’s agrarian cycle was full throughout the year: Corn, wheat, and potato planting, irrigating, weeding and harvesting. We too took part in each of these as we were invited by our “compadres” and neighbours. The kids were not required to pitch in, but they did anyway in their own way: Looking after stray farm animals, threshing and winnowing wheat, and of course eating the famous PACHAMANKA --pit-roasted beef, pork, and chicken along with potatoes, corn, and oca. Yum!

In summary, years later I have asked both my boys to look back on those times. When they do, I get bright smiles and… “Aaaahhhh!”

‘Nuf said!

200 years of social and cultural change in a decade!

 

200 years of social and cultural change in a decade!

Remember the span of 16 years where we lived in the Peruvian North-central Highlands (1986-2002)?

Well the 90s was a decade of incredible change in Peru and we were smack-dab in the middle of it!

The country’s infrastructure was in great need of improvement (health, education, roadwork, etc.). Meanwhile the infrastructure of SIL-Peru in many ways kept us going. They sent us “encomiendas” of mail by the regional bus routes arriving at the provincial capital of Huari. They also provided group housing in Lima, Huaraz and in the jungle (Pucallpa) while we were there for government documentation and for linguistic planning sessions. This is where our boys were exposed to the rarified air of American kids and culture. Being from California I felt more-or-less comfortable in this group, whereas Linda (Canadian) and our German and Swiss co-workers learned to adjust to some pretty significant cultural differences. Nonetheless this climate was consistent and sustainable especially for the American families living there. They provided children’s American style education, play areas and interaction in English. These islands of English-speaking culture and the relationships afforded us assistance when we were in Lima and Huaraz.

But Peru’s society and economy went through tremendous upheaval in the 90s, much of this due to the various economic crises (including “Fuji-shock” instigated by the then President Alberto Fujimori), continual diseases (cholera, typhoid, malaria, etc.) as well as the rise-and-fall of two terrorist groups: Shining Path and MRTA (Movimiento Revolucionario Tupac Amaru). While Peru’s military increased their public face, especially in the major cities via sporadic checkpoints across the country, weekly terrorist incursions (bridge/building explosions) caused greater stress, blackouts and need for increased security. Needless to say, travel across municipal and national highways were riskier. “Toques de queda” (curfews) were becoming a consistent pattern, in Lima especially. There were also the staged blackouts by Peru’s national power companies as a chessboard strategy to avoid transformer damage from terrorist attack (ie., to keep the terrorists guessing).

Actually Shining Path terrorists had begun using car bombs in the mid-80s. While we were in Lima on 17 July 1992 a bomb exploded on Av. Arequipa in Miraflores (Lima’s financial and tourist district) 18 people died and windows were shattered in skyscrapers for blocks. Auto and pedestrian traffic was locked down for several days. Over the next decade these terrorist activities increased in frequency and spread nationally dividing the country socially and economically. Hearing these explosions while close to the explosion site and seeing the glass and debris everywhere was unnerving!

Upper-middle class communities in Lima and other major cities maintained their lifestyle and jobs with increased security while the middle and lower classes struggled with a crippled public transportation system and daily military inspections. The country quickly tumbled into a recession and an increase in petty crime. Both Lima’s pharmacies and bread stores required armed guards for protection. The sad joke was “Si no estás en la coca estás en la cola” If you aren’t in to coca (drugs) you are in the line ups. At one time Lima actually had a shortage of insulin in the drugstores!

Cholera, endemic particularly in the shellfish off Peru’s coast, broke out across Peru’s major coastal cities (Piura, Trujillo, Chimbote, Lima) requiring a stronger filtration of potable water and improved standards in the canning of seafood. Some tuna cans from Peru arrived on the East seaboard of the USA infested with cholera. Money had been allocated for improved water treatment along the coast but it disappeared and the untreated water spread the endemic infections into an epidemic. At the same time Peru for the first time became an IMPORTER of sugar from Brazil. Prior to this period, Peru had always been a net food EXPORTER.

At one time the inflation rose to 2,000 %… per month!

All that being said, improvements in the national infrastrcture DID begin to occur mid-90s. Fujimori’s crew of engineers initiated a complete renewal of Peru’s Pan-American coastal Highway and then extended concrete paving work up into the Highlands into cities like Trujillo, Huaraz, and Arequipa. More freight and better bus lines arrived into the hinterlands, in both the mountains and the jungle. New international supermarkets like the Chilean “E. Wong” stores entered the major cities transforming daily shopping and challenging the national companies like the “Todos” supermarkets. The quality and variety of goods and produce was a whole new world for the Peruvian consumer and even the faraway mountain and jungle cities and towns reaped the benefits over long distances with more accessible shipping.

The mid-90s was remarkable transformation in Peru’s highland communities:

Previously our village of Cajay had no electricity. Instead we, along with everyone else, used a deep cell 12-volt car battery for light and basic radios. It required carting the battery each week to Huari for recharging where a diesel generator was powering that provincial town of 4,000 inhabitants. Peru’s electrical grid in the mid-90s finally installed a 14,000 volt power poll /transformer just outside our wall. It fell against our house the first year due to heavy rains and improper installation, but still it arrived! Fortunately the wires didn’t touch our roof and we were able to evacuate in the torrential rain to the safety of our neighbours’ house, until they could cross the valley and turn the power off at the power plant. Local community-based radio and TV stations sprouted up all over the valley!

Then the Peruvian government contracted the Spanish company Telefonica, S.A. to install cell-towers across the country (coast, mountains, and even jungle). This was huge: No longer was it necessary to install telephone polls and lines across the rugged mountains (an expensive venture for small towns!). Instead cellphone towers provided for the first time affordable communications! Where one year my phone call from Huari, our Conchucos Valley provincial capital, to San Jose, California cost me $9 USD per minute-- the next year a cellphone call was free! Wow!

In the mid-’90s, via municipal elections and public outcry, government projects in many parts of the highland worked to install a system of running water plumbed from house-to-house, as well as a public sewer system for decent sanitation. This transformed kitchens as every house now had a spigot and water inside the courtyard. This allowed us the use of on-demand propane hot water! Slowly the communities abandoned the crude latrines for water-plumbed toilets often installed in the old outhouse.

Cajay transformed from an 18^th century agrarian society to a modern, electrified, running water, and cellphone connected community in 10 years. What a ROLLER COASTER ride that decade was!

survival ---> REALLY LIVING!

 

Survival

Surviving: "live beyond, live longer than," from super "over, beyond" (see super-) + Latin vivere "to live").

Another word for this is “overcome, overcomer” as in “living through trauma”

So what’s so traumatic about 16 years at 11,000 ft (3,000 mts) and a hard 12 hour ride from Peru’s capital city of Lima? Generally it’s one adjustment or accommodation after another until, sooner or later, you hit your max. and you can’t take it! Often in the beginning this was a daily struggle. But that’s too generic. For each person it’s different, of course.

My wife had to adjust to the level of cleanliness wherever we went and learn to just let go. For example, one night we stayed in San Marcos in the Conchucos Valley, Ancash Dept., Chavin Region in North-central Peru. It was late and we weren’t acquainted with the road ahead so we decided to overnight. The bed was a hammock, really, and the stuffing was hard and old. But what triggered her was the smell of kerosene everywhere. We discovered they had literally mopped the floor with it and found out that it was the only thing they found to keep cockroaches, bedbugs, fleas and mice out of the rooms! So you accommodate to the smell and slippery floor: You put up with it to avoid the critters and then move on!

In 1987 we finally had negotiated with the Family Aguirre Jara in the town of Cajay to rent the use of their rammed-earth walled family house next door to their own home. It was two rooms on the main floor with a patio and garden (the other two rooms upstairs had piles of corn or straw or potatoes in them). So these were mud walls and floors with a ceiling of wood branches and straw under the rustic home-fired adobe tiles which were heavy and brittle. The monthly rent was a 50 lb. sack of rice-- that’s it!

We had borrowed a Toyota Hilux (4 cylinder, 4x4) from the SIL group (while securing funding and paperwork for our own similar truck); this was was parked outside along the public foot path for anyone to touch, climb on or peer into. Oh! That’s what the kids’ job was-- The parents would say, “Go down to where the gringos are staying and listen to what they’re saying, then report back.” So we had to accommodate to very little privacy for most of our time in the mountains from 1987 to 2002. And our alarm clock at 5 AM everyday? Hee-HAW! The donkey just up the hill sounding like a rusty ol’ waterpump! And he/she kept going it seemed like forever!

Sickness was always around us and boiling water at 11,000 feet never got hot enough to kill bacteria or protozoa, so we had to hand-pump our drinking water through a Katadyne filter which took about an hour for 2-3 litres. At that time you couldn’t just go buy pure water in a bottle. The nearest water source was from a nearby stream just up the hill. Erpidio, the husband of Alquilina, our landlady, helped us dig a latrine just on the north wall of our house. Eventually we got a gravity system Katadyne that supplied a couple of gallons in a few hours so much better. After 16 years our lives grew more comfortable, due to our sensibilities as well as improved access to technology.

But electricity for the first 10 years? You’re outta luck! A year or two later we brought up portable solar chargers for our various battery-powered devices such as CB radio, tape recorder, flashlights, etc. We used a portable propane stove or cooked using eucalyptus kindling and straw as fire-starter.

Complain much, Randy? Yeah, sorry. This was the emotional and physical struggle we went through, and then some. And, there were many positive things that kept us going. Two things immediately come to mind: the stark beauty of the landscape and the privilege to be married to such a lovely and hearty Tomboy of a girl who could suck it up and keep on going! Was I lucky or what!

It’s one thing to go up there single or even married without children. But to then have children and RETURN there? Are you nuts? Ha! That did cross our minds plenty of times. Both Greg (1988) and Tim (1990) were born through a midwife clinic in Surquillo down on the coast in Lima. Now let me say that the community of Cajay at first reluctantly and cautiously accepted us into their village of 400 families. The men felt I could stay in the village centre during the day while they were all out in the fields. Why not? “He has no children at his age, so he must be gay!” they would say! Then we would return after the births of our children and expanded our rent arrangement to include the whole house for the kids. Everything changed in the minds of the community, so much so that some dared to ask,

“Why would you bring your children here? Why risk it? You must have nice homes back in Canada, right? WHY??”

Slowly they began to actually believe why we were there and… suddenly we became THEIR GRINGOS (I actually heard a few of them boast of this when we were in the nearby provincial capital of Huari). We slowly won their trust. And our boys were safer there than anywhere else they could have lived. Everyone looked after them so that these kids (after learning Spanish and a few phrases in Quchua) had tonnes of “uncles” and “aunties” to talk to. We all helped out in the wheat, corn, and potato planting and harvesting-- what an amazing agricultural cycle they lived in!

Of course there was sickness and infections, lots of rain and landslides and very little government infrastructure nor health workers available. One time Linda awakened at 2am to drive down the hill to a farmhouse to help in a birth only to discover that the mother had been for 2 months carrying the dead fetus in her womb! Another time there was a local bullfight and a drunk and macho farmer tried to take on the bull only afterward to be carried with his friends to our house with a gored stomach blood dripping on the ground in our front patio. Then there was the drunk trying to cut the branches of a eucalyptus tree… 60 ft high, then falling only to BOUNCE when he hit the ground, then proclaim, “Alcohol saved me!” (Whaat??)

The food was yet another accommodation, but for us it became a joy to learn their cooking habits and recipes. Peruvian dishes are world famous and Quechuas have even more unique flavours. And when a Quechua family invites you INTO THEIR KITCHEN to sit by the fire and watch the children and guinea pigs scurrying and squealing, you know you are now PART OF THE FAMILY! I still remember this now with tears in my eyes. Later on our landlords and their family officially became our godchildren with all the camaraderie and responsibility that attends!

Yes, this survival lifestyle started as a one huge learning curve in the same way one enters the actual Conchucos Valley: driving up, up, up the sumit of 14,000 ft. then through a 1 km long tunnel to what we call MIDDLE EARTH.

Looking back on it ALL 4 of us today say: No regrets whatsoever! We still miss the adventure and the relationships.