Sunday, 16 November 2014

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.

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