I always try to keep it positive, but sometimes there is only so much patience a person can have before feeling angry, frustrated, unwanted, unneeded, and utterly useless.
Scenario 1:
I’m sitting on a combi heading back to site after an amazing trip to the Amazon. I am reminiscing about the beauty of the jungle while contemplating the immensity of the white-capped mountains that stand before me. This country is amazing in its geographic diversity. I think to myself, “What a gem Peru is.” But the people don’t know it.
I watch the woman in the seat in front of me trying to open her window. When she can’t, she flags down the cobrador (the person in charge of collecting the fare). He takes from her a plastic bag filled with the remnants of her lunch on a styrofoam tray. I watch in horror as he chucks it out the window. There is no reaction from any passengers. This is normal for them. As the mountain gods loom down from above, I can only wonder if they are just as appalled as I am about the disrespect the people have for the environment.
Scenario 2:
Ahh, back in my community at last, where I feel I can make a real difference. Here, I feel I have some sort of authority to teach people not to litter, unlike the random combi passenger who would have looked at me like I had six heads if I had scolded her about throwing trash out the window.
I have returned from the jungle with a heinous flu, but I drag myself out of bed to look for a community member to bring to a Peace Corps workshop on Eco-Tourism and Reforestation. This is an all-inclusive trip to another department in Peru. Most people cannot afford to travel and have never left their region, so any opportunity to attend a paid-for event is jumped on in a heartbeat. I start off by seeking out the president of the tourist association that I work with. My town hosts thousands of tourists that come through every year to trek through the Cordillera Blanca region of the Andes Mountains. They hire the services of the association members as cooks, guides, and donkey drivers to carry their gear. The president of this association is also my community counterpart, the person that is supposed to show me around the community, tell me when important meetings are, and help coordinate meetings of my own. I find out that he has been fired as president for allowing an employee to work even though said employee was prohibited from working due to his stealing a donkey. Ahh yes, of course. One should never permit a donkey-stealer to work.
I am directed to the vice-president who is now acting as president. I track him down in his house after asking 15 people where he lives, then invite him to the conference. He says he cannot attend but will spread the word and find someone to go with me. Great! I give him a day then track him down again. He tells me he has found an associate, let’s call him Carlos, and I am happy because I know him to be a leader in the community and active in both the tourist association and the tree nursery. I begin my search for him, asking another 15 people where his house is. Carlos isn’t home, but his wife is. She knows nothing about the conference. Weird. Wouldn’t a husband tell his wife that he is leaving for a week? So I leave a note expressing the importance of finding me as soon as possible so I can purchase the bus tickets. At this point, the meeting is 4 days away. I walk away feeling relieved I have found a responsible community member to accompany me to the conference. As I approach my house, who do I bump into but Carlos himself? I tell him that I’m happy he will be attending the conference. He quickly tells me that he can’t. He has several meetings that he must attend. Seriously? Every meeting in this town either starts 4 hours late or never happens at all. Was this man really giving up a free trip for meetings that will probably never happen? Fine. I tell him to spread the word that I’m looking for someone to attend a free workshop.
The next day I begin my search again. I leave notes at people’s houses, I find them in their fields, and enlist the help of my counterpart’s son, let’s call him Mario, to explain in Quechua the importance of this workshop. This goes on for days, until the day before the conference I have no leads.
I was trying to stay in good spirits, knowing that something would work out. But it all came to a head when I inquired about WHY people didn’t want to come with me. Was it because I’m a woman? Do the people feel uncomfortable around me? Do they have other more pressing items to attend to? Can’t leave their families for a week? I asked Mario to translate what was being said in Quechua as people were declining my offer over and over again. I was feeling like my self-esteem was taking a beating. I couldn’t even pay anyone to come with me. Mario said the reason was because it was a “pérdida de tiempo” and “no gana nada.”
In other words, they believe that 1. It is a waste of time & 2. They are not going to gain anything. Wonderful. So the community that I’m living in, and supposed to be working with for two years, thinks my organization and me—being an extension of my organization—is a waste of time. Furthermore, the literal translation of “ganar” to gain There is no value in education here. I don’t know if it’s just my town, the sierra, or all of Peru. But the intensity at which it exists is frightening. refers not only to earning of income, but also means gaining of knowledge, experience, and training.
I ended up bringing Mario with me, who is active in the community tree nursery, and agreed to go with me a few hours before I had to leave for the conference. Although the conference turned out to be super-informative and pertinent to my work in the community, I can’t help but have a bitter taste in my mouth for the apathy of its citizens.
Scenario 3:
I ordered a table from my site-mate’s host father, who is a carpenter. Although I could have easily purchased a table from the market, I figured I would support the local community and give business to the family who my friend lives with. He charged me 50 soles, but I only had 20’s, so I gave him S/. 60 and told him to keep the 10 sol change. Maybe my friend would get a few more veggies in her diet, and I’d get my table done faster with a 10 sol tip. Additionally, I live in a very small room with limited space, so knowing that I could place a custom order for a smaller-than-usual-table made me sure of my decision. One month went by with no sign of the table being ready. The motor broke. Month two. There’s no wood. Month three, then four, then five, all with a plethora of excuses. Six months later, my table is done. I check it out and it is 15 centimeters wider than ordered. It will certainly not fit through my door and will take up half my room. Oh well, at least it’s done. He tells me he will send it down in a car tomorrow. Although we are having our regional meeting the next day, I tell him I will skip the meeting to wait for the table. [This was 2 days before the conference, and I was also still looking for someone to take with me.]
The next day comes and goes. I walk in the dark up to my friend’s site which is the only place for miles that has cell phone reception. [I left this part out of scenario 2—the whole crying and upset about the conference thing. So I was calling my boss to tell him I had no one to bring with me.] On my way back home, I see a taxi driver that knows me. I asked him to bring the table down. He said he was done for the night, but would bring it first thing in the morning. I’m sure everyone reading this can guess that that never happened.
I go to the conference and am not surprised that the table hasn’t arrived in my week-long absence. I see the taxi driver, and he is very apologetic about forgetting my table. He will bring it tomorrow. Sure. Tomorrow arrives and I am once again in my friend’s site. Her host dad says he tried to send it down in a car, but there have been no cars. Liar. I spend the afternoon running outside every time I hear a car go by. Five taxi drivers give me various reasons why they can’t drive the table 5 minutes to my house that is along the main route to anywhere. I am offering well above the normal fare to carry my table. Finally the sixth driver says he will bring it down if I find rope to tie it down. I find it hard to believe he doesn’t have rope. I have seen mattresses, bags of rice and produce, chickens, doors, and children tied to the roofs of taxis. Whatever. I ran inside to find a rope, tripping over a chicken tied to a stake. (I almost took that rope, but it was too short and skinny. Plus there was a chicken tied to it.) Within 30 seconds, I hear the car drive away. I run outside and stand there open-mouthed. Once again, I find myself in disbelief at the frustrations in my life, and am desperately searching for reasons why I am putting myself through this.
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