Social Economy – In Lima, there’s always someone worse off than you!

Social Economy – In Lima, there’s always someone worse off than you!

My last blog post focused on being “rich” in The Conchucos Valley of the North-central Andes. However Perú’s coastal capital is an ENTIRELY different universe!  Our duties on contract with the Ministry of Education and SIL International from 1987 to 2002 required us to spend weeks if not months per year away from those wonderful highland communities. Many of our professional ex-pat colleagues detested this city: The smell, congestion, pollution, and well, smell. So did we until, forced to live there our last two years, we grew to appreciate, respect, and even enjoy it and its inhabitants. Nonetheless certain social economic skills were very necessary for this to happen. These are skills which apparently every urban Latin-American knows oh so well. So we had to play “catch-up.”

Anyone watch Seinfeld? George’s wallet is a typical gringo wallet, bulging out of the right side of his rump, giving him a clear 3-4 inches of height when he sits down (George is a short, dumpy guy, normally). Never try this in Lima: You won’t last 5 minutes. A small wallet only with the essentials is necessary, and tucked next to your heart with a windbreaker/sweater zipped up over it (of course women have more convenient methods up there!). Care for personal items while in the “big latin city” is news, not just for ex-pats or gringos! I have heard many a story of Quechuas coming down from the mountains, arriving in downtown Lima, only to be ripped off within minutes of climbing down from the bus or semi-farm truck! In Lima you need eyes and ears ALERT—that’s pratical social economics!

Beggars.  From 2000 to 2002 we spent in residence in Magdalena del Mar, Lima and we loved it. Everything there is within either walking distance or a short bus or cab ride away. But walking on the streets in Lima’s neighbourhoods, one quickly learns to deal with… beggars. There are all kinds and a compassionate heart quickly breaks with charity, or hardens into blanket refusal to give ANYTHING.

Some colleagues living in Lima would drive a lot, so they learned to carry a donation bag of dry goods to give some out at the next stoplight.  Whenever I planned a trip across town (by “micro,” bus or cab) I would purposely not be in a hurry. When asked for money I’d offer to buy them some food/snack/coffee at the next vending cart or stall (there were lots of these around). A ‘yes’ would tell me their sincerity and appreciation even before I gifted them! A ‘no’ required a quick mental note that I’d probably avoid this person in the future (most likely they are looking for money for drugs or alcohol). Now there were lots of young boys and girls asking for change, which is very endearing. Sometimes they were ‘put up to it’ much like in a Charles Dickens’ plot (Martin Chuzzlewits or Great Expectations), either by a relative or some abusive adult. However I found these kids would never turn down free food, which of course they thankfully consumed.

Transformation. The temptation is strong to follow the ex-pat edict: “suspect EVERYBODY!” Frankly I find this contradictory to the purpose for which I came, so I needed some counter-evidence” to the dictum. Case in point: Centro Victoria. This is a drug and alcohol rehab program in Lima, which came about from the importation of the Teen Challenge program in Texas. Many of these ex-druggies wearing the red tee-shirts with the ‘heart logo’ were at the stoplights all over Lima during our 15-year stay in Perú. The taxi drivers in Lima always provided interesting commentary on the social problems in their country. But generally I heard nothing but praise from many a taxi driver when questioned about Centro Victoria. “They helped my sister who ran into problems with drugs from her stupid boyfriend. They’re great!” (for example). So after we as a family personally visited their rehab location in a barrio joven (slum area in the outskirts of the city, we gladly began to provide what change we had when Centro Victoria individuals knocked on our car window or approached us on the corner.  

Living WISELY with an OPEN HEART. It has been good to see such bright spots of open-hearted humanity amid this very crowded city. Let me add that the neighbourhoods as well have a special cohesiveness which we learned about only when we ourselves became a part of one. Ours was a middle-income group of streets and families, ungated and with a single guard who only had a stick and a whistle. But the community watched out for one another and always expressed concern and empathy when problems arose. They would also celebrate with ‘gusto’ during holidays (see future blog!). Lima’s culture is international and mestizo (mixed Spaniard and Peruvian heritage), but always respectful and cordial. In Lima, to live as an island to oneself, blocking out others, simply invites suspicion and a cold shoulder. And maybe that’s universal.

What is rich? – Peru’s economy

According to Wikipedia, “Peru today is classified as upper middle income by the World Bank^[8] and is the 40th largest in the world by total GDP.^[9]Peru is one of the world's fastest-growing economies with a 2012 GDP growth rate of 6.3%.^[10] Poverty has decreased dramatically in the past decade, from nearly 60% in 2004 to 25.8% in 2012.

Before I begin to explain to you my personal journey into Peru’s social economy, please understand that the 60% figure of poverty would have been a gross understatement during our Andean experience in the 1990s. Fujishock was a set of extreme national economic measures which President Fujimori set into play during that time. The currency was not only in a continual tailspin compared with the US Dollar; the government actually reset the currency twice: From Soles to Intis then to Nuevo Soles de Oro. The impact and inflation was severe, very similar to that in pre-World War II Germany, where pictures were taken at that time of people pushing “wheelbarrows” of Deutschmarks to buy a few loaves of bread. Statistics in the mid-90s in Perú measured the inflation rate a 400%.... PER MONTH! This rivalled Brazil’s economic crisis at that time.

Meanwhile anyone like us, with access to relatively consistent monthly salaries, especially tied to US Dollars, were receiving 2.5 times more value for our money. Looking back on it, we were very well off for several years. Our rent in the mountains was “a bag of rice” per month (no utility bills because, well, there WEREN’T any… utilities, that is!).

So what does it mean to be rich? I’m a middle class suburb kid raised in a hard-working carpenter’s home, for which he paid $17,000 in 1966 [of course after my dad’s death last year, it sold for $640,000]. So I, like my cultural contemporaries, grew up comparing myself, always scurring my way up the social/educational ladder. “Well-off” was always described as the next guy who made more than I did: Owned a better house in a better neighbourhood, driving a better car to a better job. Image was important. But I claimed to be different, an iconoclast who wanted an altruistic way of impacting a nation for the better. Therefore I justified my cultural slant and disdain for anything corporate.

My time in Perú only convinced me further of the righteousness of my stand: I was a closet-liberal working with a religious non-profit organization, typically conservative politically and morally, and living in a culture shaken and shaped by extreme socio-political upheaval….  And the next shake was just over the hill.

Being a gringo (which generally refers to all light-skinned foreigners in Latin America, but specifically to US Caucasians), I was at the ‘top of the economic food chain’ and my face, to all Quechuas around me, was practically a billboard advertisement to that conservative political, high-economic agenda (I personally didn’t think so and had often done my best to argue and deny it). We chose to live on the backside of the Andes Mountains among a people who were at the bottom of that same chain.  Why? Why indeed. It took years before, not only my neighbours, but I myself discovered this purpose.

Now that you understand a bit about my ignorance and ineptitude to comprehend the overwhelming circumstances occurring around me, let’s turn to … those around me—those to whom I was assigned to help.

CONCHUCOS: I will always be grateful for those 15 years living in the Quechua village of Cajay. For one thing, I learned from them the value of GENEROSITY. “The widow’s mite” is an occurrence in Jesus’ life (cf., Luke 21 and Mark 12) where Jesus is dumbfounded that “even in her poverty she gave more than the rich man next to her.”  I have travelled from community to community on those rocky-muddy footpaths of Conchucos, often arriving after dark and often as not, received, with fear and great suspicion, but generously. I later realized that the greatest thing I could give in a relationship, is my need.

I also had to admit, that I WAS rich. If by rich I mean, “selectivity.” I always had a choice. “Contingency plans” were always required of us by our organization and rightly so.  But because we chose NOT to leave when the economy deteriorated, when roads were washing out, when terrorists or the military threatened the valley… my neighbours slowly began to look at us in a different way. I then made a life-changing discovery, which ultimately united my heart permanently to these people. It was the following: “I was rich, SPECIFICALLY because I experienced, accepted, and was protected by the relationships of these dear people… from community to community.” Unfortunately this didn’t hit me as hard as when I left that valley and returned to Canada. Oh the strains of reverse culture shock!

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Diversity: Quechua Cooking, Farming, and Food!

I frankly don't know where to begin here... nor how to end! It's one thing to travel as a tourist through the Andes. It's quite another to live there... for 15 years and dedicate oneself to emersing, identifying and adapting to the plethora of cultural mores, do's and don'ts involved. What a challenge, as well as an amazing privilege! It was no different when it came to food.

Did you know that there are "warm" foods and there are "cold" foods among the Quechuas? "Of course, Randy!" No, I don't mean heat or temperature, but rather foods which are classed togethepr and are more digestible when served together. For example, one does NOT eat corn with cheese. But asking "why?" is seldom useful. The typical answer is a shrug and "It's just our custom."

The picture I include is in honour of Alquilina, our comadre of Cajay and Reyna Aguirre's mother. In the beginning of our stay, after a few months of living in her family's home (previously reserved as a barn/food storage), Alquilina and her husband Erpidio, blessed us with allowing us INTO HER KITCHEN (see picture). This is a privilege only reserved for family. From that time forth we were considered by the community as the gringos of the Aguirre Jara Family.

Ah, the pungent smell of burning eucalyptus wood and the ardent warmth it brought us during long, cold rainy days. A Quechua farmhouse challenges the 5 senses of all foreigners who venture within its domain. I'm convinced that language and cultural adaptation requires a re-education of smell, sight, sound, touch and taste-- and sometimes ALL AT ONCE! My Peruvian-American-Canadian boys (Peruvian conceived, born, and bred) are permanently and (now!) gratefully affected by the Andean sensory delights of their first 14 years of life.

But to this day they draw the line at... SOUPS! They have had all kinds of foods in the mountains: Rabbit, lamb, beef, chicken, and LOOOTTTSSS of pork, and of course the delicacy—guinea pig— basking in a spicy peanut sauce with its eyes and claws emerging from the pool “just begging you to chomp down!”  However every morning soup was the unending order of the day, something which a North American typically never does, just having roused himself from slumber. But it's so practical! I mean, it's hot, a great way to spread out the meat you have left before shopping at the market on Sunday. And for sure all the ingredients are well-boiled, well, despite the fact that, at 3,000 metres high, water boils at a mere 70 Celsius (about 158 F), never higher, unless it's pressurized.

Now I did mention those critters served to us on a plate. Well, Quechuas are fastidious in the way they save, utilize, and guard their food; all during the year-round agrarian calendar. But for protection the fields and homes need rock and tapyal walls to keep away two and four-footed intruders. In Peru, a wall is like planting your flag, squatter’s rights if you will, saying, “Someone’s owns it; stay away.

North American real estate salesmen have the answer even when it comes the Quechua ideal—“Location, location, location!” In other words, if you have farms situated close to a river, corn and wheat are the crops of choice, in addition to the garden veggies, usually plotted close to the house (for protection and convenience). Higher up means rockier more arid soil and the need to irrigate. One staple has controlled the history of these fields: Potatoes. There are literally thousands of varieties of potatoes in the Andes: Spuds for frying and those meant for boiling and some even for fermenting into toqosh.

By and large these crops together formed the staples of Conchucos Valley from our experience. The “lupin flower and bean” (tawri) was also jealously guarded and the sweet-pea fragrance of those flowers attracted the famous “African bees” which select few bee-keepers diligently maintained in their white-boxed hives nearby.

So there was always a fire blazing and a pot steaming across those mountains. The saying was just as true for the Quechuas as it has been for farm communities globally: “A woman’s work is never done.” Always preparing, shopping for, or serving some meal, all-the-while spinning wool on their stick, oh, not to forget breast-feeding their youngest.

Meanwhile the men also worked… hard! Their small parcels of land were expropriated from the traditional landowners, parceled out and gifted to them during the Marxist military reform of the mid-1970s. So they assiduously worked every square inch of the land, for seed or hoof print. Working alongside in community minkas or invited by Alquilina’s family, was as much of a joy as it was intimidating to me, a former suburban Californian. One lunch hour, after barbechakuy (weeding) we 12 men sat down in front of a two-foot wide-mouthed black caldron of boiled potatoes, tins of tuna, avocados and ají amarillo. A middle-aged man then asked me, “Gringo, do you know how to eat potatoes?” Can you imagine? I grew up eating potatoes in California. Not rice or beans surely! So I said sarcastically, “Yeah, you chew them!” They thought I was funny until I stopped in the middle of lunch after eating ONLY 8 very large potatoes! “Ah, Gringo, you DON’T know how, do you!!” I then watched as this man finished off 24 potatoes!! They work hardy, eat hardy, drink immensely (the finest home brew being jorapa aswa or corn beer in a clay pot or aswana), while offering their efforts, family, and future to the spiritual powers that be. Coca-chewing (chaqchay-öra) was a daily farmfield ritual at the beginning as well as the end of the working day, many soliciting help and guidance from the powers of those mountains and their Maker.

Yes, a RE-EDUCATION indeed!

Alquilina making ASWA Corn Beer

A Dedicatory to Peruvian Friends -- OUTSTANDING QUALITIES!!

Another book we read to our kids while in Peru was Trent & Smalley's The Treasure Tree. It explains several personality types: Lion, Beaver, Otter, and Golden Retriever among others. We laughed lots when we read this because we could recognize these qualities in all of us and in our friends as well. Let me explain.

CELEBRATORY OTTER - This character loves to play and party every chance he/she gets to. My oldest son is the quint-essential otter, as am I!

HARD-WORKING BEAVER - Whether or not everyone is finished and all the jobs are officially done, the "beaver" still has "just one more task to do; just one more chore to complete," often past bedtime. My wife is always 'on task' 24-7, especially as she serves her family or clients in energy-healing.

GOLDEN RETRIEVER - This faithful character will defend you even when you're not around, and will never divulge any of your secrets... to the bitter end.

Right now I desire to express appreciation and to openly honour four of our Peruvian friends, whose pictures are included, and each of whom reflect ALL THREE OF THESE CHARACTERISTICS!

We were the padrinos for Reyna's and Lucho's wedding, as well as for the baptisms of their children, Flor, Linda Marleny, and Jairo (Jossmel Jairo). Always there when their family, extended family, and community needed them, this couple represented for us the future aspirations of their Quechua communities. I still remember her indefatigable energy in sponsoring the Pastorcillos dance troups in the Cajay District of Huari-- their songs and voices still ring in my ears!

Eduardo Mendoza Diaz and his brother Tobías worked with us intimately in the literacy projects and Quechua literature development we supervised. He was quickly put into demanding positions of teaching and leadership and he adapted and grew to be a leader at an early age. His brother Tobías has become an accomplished artist and figure illustrator and his work has been published in many of SIL's publications in Peru. Their giftedness, perseverence, energy, and maturation into adulthood were clearly inspiring to me and kept me going in the projects until their completion.

Finally, Leonel Alexander Menacho López. During times of long walks over mountain summits Prof. Leonel and I would support one another as friends-- He challenged me to 'leave behind' my dependency on my English speaking and cultural ways, to more completely embrace his mountain culture. I was the one "in need of a heart" and he gave it to me. I was in need of a friend and he opened himself, his home and his very life to me and my family. I was therefore so proud to recently see that he was honoured to travel throughout Europe, speaking on behalf of the Quechua people and culture.

Thank you to all of you!

Peru: DIVERSITY

That's for sure! The Ethnologue cites 107 different languages and cultures in Perú, a country of approx. 33 million, the population of California and the approx. size of the Canadian province of Alberta. But the diversity among its peoples and cultures is AMAZING! Approximately 14 active dialects of Quechua, most of whom live in the high alpine valleys of the Andes, itself with an approximate population of 8-10 million (roughly 25% Peru's population). 

If one travels across the country by plane, very little of this cultural diversity surfaces. By car? That's a different story, IF you visit Peru's back-country, whether coastal, mountain, or jungle. Since Pizarro's arrival these vastly distinct cultures have continued to survive: Whether hidden within their respective villages, or couched within the barrios jóvenes of the major cities. The languages and cultural traits continue to (not just survive but) flourish. 

While with SIL International in Perú, we were honoured to have worked with some amazing field linguists who were dedicated to preserving said cultures and languages. As a consequence, I attended seminars/workshops scattered across coast, mountain, and jungle regions. These trips were long yet very fulfilling, from all five empirical perspectives! Peruvians have a fiesta for everything and they KNOW how to celebrate in so many different ways! They also know how to grieve when death occurs and can honour others through both extremes.

Our family has had to experience all of these events: Good and bad. We have been indelibly affected by them. My 26 and 24 year old sons (Peruvian-American-Canadians) have NOW been able to express great appreciation for these experiences, many of which they remember in detail.

When you have friends, even family, who marry, and suffer through trauma unto death,... ALL of this tends to unite the participants, perhaps for life. Baptisms, school graduations, birthdays, hospital visits, marriage, and death... all of these diverse experiences DEMAND participation and response. This is why the Spanish word compasión is so much richer in meaning than just "compassion"-- One truly "bleeds heartfelt tears"-- whether of joy or suffering. These experiences have made us RICH!

Peruvian culture of Friendship

If I've learned and brought back anything of value from Perú, it is the value of friendships. I love how, even in government offices, "small talk" about your health and family is not really small talk, but rather just as vital as the 'real' purpose for dragging oneself into a bureaucratic office and waiting there for several hours. "Trámite" (application processes/paperwork) separates the "men from the boys" or rather, it challenges a foreigner's "mono-cultural" bias for how things 'ought' to be done (i.e., back home). Experienced international professionals learn to 'bend with the wind' rather than forcing their way through lines or 'cutting red-tape'. This works on many levels.

Living at 10,000 ft (3,000 mts) in the Andes was blissful and stressful at the same time. As foreigners on contract with the Peruvian Education Ministry (MOE) had certain expectations to attend meetings and update the many permits required. Of the approximately 500 foreign residents whom I've had contact with over our 16 year Peruvian adventure, I know of none who did not own or have continual access to a car-- even those who remained on the coast in Lima where you can choose from a variety of public transportation modes. Many agree that the greatest stress centred around driving, and most of them would put "commuting through Lima" as top on their stress list.

Typical of most Latin American cities, Lima's traffic officers have managed the road with a strong arm and a greater courage. It never ceased to amaze me how that single high-pitched whistle can command the largest semi-trucks to obey instantly. "The cop's on foot! What can he do if the perpetrator disobeys and just takes off?!" I never dared to find out, but I have had a few officers in my car.

One such incidence was confusing to me. I pulled over my light blue Toyota Hilux 4x4, upon his tweeting and motioning arm, and handed him: Registration, insurance, driver's license, passport, along with my MOE carnet (permission to be in the country), and waited. He returned informing me that he needed to impound the car as an illegal vehicle. Why? "Your registration doesn't show this red/black sports stripe painted along both sides. I have to take your car." He stopped talking and waited. A voice inside me said, "Never be in a hurry." So I agreed, "OK. Let's go to the station," I said as calmly as I could. He got in on the passenger's side and we started off.

About two blocks later he offered an alternative. "I know how 'you people' are always busy and in a hurry. I would gladly pay the fine for you if you like, and save you all the trouble." How thoughtful! I assured him that it was not a bother, that my desire was to obey the law and if the law required that we should go to the station, so be it. We then got into a conversation as to why I was in his country and even practised some Quechua phrases. His expression changed completely at this point. He smiled and seemed more relaxed. Two blocks later he asked me to drop him off at the next corner and bid me a good day.
¿Moraleja? (Moral of the story?). Even under extreme tension, people are watching what you will do. What are the options? Respect and relationship-building are the strongest skills I've learned while in Perú.

There and back again #2

Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings Trilogy has had special meaning for us as a family of four: Linda, Randy, Greg, and Tim. We read this and Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia most nights before bed, looking out from the balcony of the tapyal styled adobe-roofed, two-storey house we rented from 1987 until 2002 for a sack of rice a month. Mud floors, mud walls, but to this day our boys STILL call this hovel their home, at 10,000 ft in the hamlet of Cajay.

And it was Tolkien's image of Middle Earth with which we compared this high alpine valley of corn, wheat and potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes. After our first drive through the 1 km. long tunnel into Conchucos Valley, we realized we had entered a different culture; a different plane of existence-- Chuqui-Quechua !

And it seemed a justifiable hideaway from the world below. The national panic and poverty at that time was at a critical stage. President Fujimori had implemented his famous "Fuji-Shock" measures while the Shining Path guerrillas had just set off a series of coche-bombas (car bombs) in the Miraflores financial sector of Peru's capital of Lima, leaving all high-rises with their windows shattered and strewn on the streets below. Certainly we asked ourselves, "What have we gotten ourselves into?" Still we were determined for we had a quest: To render that dialect of Quechua into print and turn as many as possible into readers in their own tongue: A thing unheard of at that time and considered a "useless" venture. 

When we first set foot and began living in the village of Cajay, many villagers wondered why. No, rather they began to speculate. For each night we would search our short-wave radio for news from anywhere around the world. Hence if one day we listened Radio Havana, our neighbours considered us Cuban. The next night it was Russian, but they then stopped when we tuned into Radio Beijing! Many also assumed I was homosexual: I was old enough to have children, but our sons hadn't arrived yet! That was soon rectified however and the men HAD then to get me away from the village during the day, while they were in the fields (no telling what I might do while they were away!).

We were enigmas. We had no skills which were typically valued by the culture. We couldn't farm, or raise animals, or cook Quechua food. We couldn't even speak Quechua, but we wanted to teach literacy! What a waste! Rather than able to provide a service to anyone, it was WE who were in need of them! We began to realize that this was the greatest gift of all-- our need-- for it made us into requisite learners and listeners. It also made us vulnerable and those closest to us knew this very well.

The ABYSS of the Past

Purpose of this Blog:

In two words: “Lessons learned”

From 1986 to 2002 my wife, Linda, and I worked on contract with SIL International and the Peruvian Ministry of Education. Our non-profit task was to foment literacy projects using Quechua in print, both in the communities and schools within the Conchucos Valley, Región Chavín /Ancash, Perú. During this time our two boys, Greg and Tim were born and reared on these arid, high alpine farmfield hillsides between 10-12,000 feet in elevation.

The experiences, crises, sicknesses, and trauma we experienced left indelible impressions on our characters, both positive and negative. I blame no one for what transpired, although I shall probably continue wondering and carrying unanswered questions with me. Program success was remarkable: 130 public Quechua school teachers and 200 catechists were empowered as literacy leaders resulting in over 130,000 young men and women becoming literate, both in Quechua and in Spanish. Finally, before returning to Canada in 2002, a translation of the New Testament was published and distributed to interfaith community leaders.

I begin this blog 13 years later, after much “water under the bridge.” Why so much time was needed to distance myself in order to reflect? I simply cannot answer. Career reassessment and financial hardship over the last decade forced us to seek other paths in order to survive in Calgary, a city of great upheaval largely due to inflation and international oil-and- gas speculations. Previously we were “lifers”—wholly committed to international literacy-development and translation. I still yearn for this past and frankly wish to be purged from it—too much politics manipulating well-intentioned support groups and individuals.  Still, stories need to be told/ lessons learned. Here we go!