For Peru's Sake

Not that anyone wants more of this girl writing, but here are two articles that I have had published about time in Peru:

-South American Explorers Magazine: Little Hands -- Here is an account of volunteering with Peru's Challenge; it might be similar to earlier posts.

-Global Journalist: On the Beaten Path -- This story untangles the mix-ups that Machu Picchu puts on the table. It is a grand site all should see, but that idea and reality is tearing it down and shooting prices up to the points of the local Peruvians not being able to see the mighty haven of their ancestors.

Enjoy.

A Few Love Stories

In a few minutes, I shall head off to the beautiful Sacred Valley to celebrate (and photograph) the Peru's Challenge founders' (Jane and Selvy) wedding. Their story is one for the books, and it is much better to hear her tell the long version while he sums it up in three sentences; my admiration for their passions, dedication and just love for people in general -- all as a couple -- is swelling as we approach a day that has been in the making for going on eight years now. I don't know many couples whose single love story revolves around so many other love stories.

Jane came from Australia in 2002 to South America, eager to explore this side of the world before heading off to Europe. Peru was one more pinpoint on a map before she flew over the midland mountains and into Cuzco. Cuzco grabbed her and didn't let go. She decided to stay a bit longer. A bit longer turned into Jane not wanting to go to Europe immediately, but, before she left, her friend made Jane get an apartment, a job and Spanish lessons all before they parted, leaving Jane merrily on the cobblestone streets somewhere between cathedrals and alpacas. 

I think I long to feel that feeling, that surge of knowing, of a wind that seems to be sprinkled with magic and whispering "stay." With that, Jane taught English and learned Spanish, all in an apartment complex surrounding a courtyard. One day, over eggs and bacon, a man walked into her open door. "I thought, he's cute," she'll say. Enter Selvy Ugaz, a man from Lima who was working in Cuzco with impoverished children, especially those born with disabilities. He had bribed a taxi driver to take him to his apartment on a day of transportation strike, so needed to pay up, but he only had US Dollars, since he had just arrived from England and had no local currency, and could he maybe borrow some Soles? Of course. With that, he asked if he could take Jane out that night to show her around. "The rest is history," she says. 

There was (and is) love. And Jane went to work with Selvy, falling in love with him and the children who they helped every day. When Selvy asked Jane to take a boy home after school, she knocked on a door that was answered by an intoxicated aunt who was quick to take the boy and put him in an outhouse. "How could you make me do that," she asked Selvy. She loves Peru; there is more to it than the pretty mountain side and historic monuments, he wanted to show. That is love. 

And so Jane fell in love with the man, the children, the country and the idea that she and Selvy could make a pretty good team when it comes to serving. They pushed past obstacles concerning finances, language, government and red tape for 1 1/2 years to create Peru's Challenge, challenging and perfecting their love, all the while creating something new from it: an organization that allows them to keep loving, keep helping, keep providing, keep learning, keep growing. Maybe every couple should have to work on something like this, working with each other to serve, before they move on. It tests everything but probably gives back even more. 

They can both speak each other's language practically fluently, but that doesn't guarantee their conversation will stay in one language. She thinks he drives crazy, and he thinks she is too planned. He thinks she is funny and has gorgeous eyes, and she's simply nuts over his intelligence and passions. She might flip over a rut with the organization, and he is the one to make it right. And so on a beautiful April day in the Andes, Australians and Peruvians will celebrate this love, these accomplishments that have sprung from it and just the mere ability for us to be able to give so much love in so many different forms: a new classroom for 30 children, a hot meal for a family, a fight for government recognition, an open home for travelers, a kiss, a promise, a life shared. I see their love for each other and places in each other's lives, but have experienced what their relationship has shared with so many others, from impoverished communities to volunteers from around the world, and have therefore seen this unselfish love and am thankful for their presence in my life. 

Para la Mama, Con el Amor

Hi Mom;

I was having a think about moms today and missed you from so far away through admiring those mothers right here. That reminder of missing is everywhere: the bus, Pumamarca, the market, the streets. The eyes of the mothers here are on tired faces but still twinkle when they hold little hands and wipe little tears; in these glances and obvious sacrifices, I see my mom, too.

The mothers here work hard; they need to be able to provide for their children (and families are large) and care for them all day, but things like food and clothes are hard to come by, and childcare is mostly out of the question. So you often see mothers, in their top hats and worn sandals, carrying a box of empanadas or fruit cups on their fronts, and they have a colorful bundle on their backs. If you watch carefully, little hands and curious eyes peek from behind these blankets and grab at their mothers hair or whine for her attention. It's a heavy load to to put on one's back all day--up hills and past tourists not buying their products--but the mothers carry their babies; that is what mothers selflessly do.  

In Pumamarca, Peru's Challenge has helped the community set up a Mother's Workshop called Talleres (workshop). It's here because some mothers have 10-12 kids. It's here because some mothers are abused by their husbands. It's here because some mothers have taken to alcohol. It's here because otherwise mothers would be strewn strictly to the identity of their husband and his crops and her role to her children. It's here so mothers can feel community, independence and pride, too. 

At Talleres, women meet, have lessons on a craft and then sit together, talk and work diligently on beautiful products--scarves, sweaters, hats, blankets, etc. Peru's Challenge then has tour groups come through to peruse these colorful, handmade items and let visitors purchase at their own will. Please don't feel obligated to buy, we say. Just having you look and comment on their work gives them pride and encouragement. When there are purchases, part of the money goes into a kitty, part goes towards materials and part goes directly to the seller. This workshop gives women a chance to become friends and share about their lives and gain confidence and pride in their own work, a work they can feel appreciation for as opposed to the undying dependence of their children, unnoticed expectancy of work in the fields and sometimes inferior feeling to the men. Domestic violence and alcoholism still exist in the community, but it has greatly decreased with newfound communication and educational sessions on the issues. Mothers have a lot to worry about. 

 At the end of the year, the kitty money from Talleres is used for something that will makeyou smile, Mom. Each mother gets a Christmas hamper--usually 15-20 kg (35ish lbs.) with a fresh turkey so that she can give her family a Christmas dinner. Before, Christmas dinner didn't really happen. The past two years, there has even been money left over. In 2007, they decided to hike Machu Picchu, and they were the first in the community to do this important trek. 

This past December, the mothers decided the money should go toward a health campaign for pap smears and complete coverage for their children. They want to provide. And by being able to provide something for their children and families, they are providing confidence and pride for themselves. They deserve at least that. 

These sacrifices and the beyond-understanding love are things that go across international boundaries. I know you work and love hard too, Mom. It might not be in the fields or figuring out if we can eat today or literally putting us in colorful blankets on your back, but you still carry us. In the same way these mothers carefully, tightly wrap their children and hold them close, your words, support, sacrifices, sweat and love have nurtured us and held us close, made us colorful. I think the moms here would love you because you are electric and understand their sacrifices and know love. And I love you, too. 

xo, Lu

When We Dream Together - Please Vote

These are the little things that work. You see, all of our dreams, in one way or another, weave together. Today I got an email from Lucas, a person I have never met and who I don't know anything about. But here I am, writing about him and encouraging all to help him out because we have some similar interests, similar goals. His outlet for this is photography and mine is simply being here with Peru's Challenge. But we have an opportunity to work together towards a goal of learning about and perhaps helping the people who lives miles above us in the mountains. 

Lucas is chasing a dream of photographing the people of the mountains, those who are born with lungs to breathe in the altitude, those who work every day in fields and those who have vanishing communities. This interesting perspective and dream could come true if he wins the most votes for the Name Your Dream Assignment, a contest that gives the winner $50,000 to complete the dream assignment, like photographing those living in the mountains. Lucas wants to come to the Andes and see the communities we work in and document them. If he wins, he will donate some of the prize money to helping these communities. And that last part is a bit of my dream. I can guarantee you more opportunities and financial support make up the dream bubbles that float in and out of the huts and schools in places such as Pumamarca, bubbles that have too often been poked and popped. 

The pictures here would be beautiful, and the help of Lucas would be greatly appreciated. If you have a few seconds, please click here and vote for Lucas so we can all contribute to his dream and the dreams of so many others. It only take a few seconds and could just be a simple way you help today. 

That was a click here. Thank you and let me know of your dreams, too. 

The Road to Education

This might be a long one, but this dusty road to proper education is longer and too important to disregard.  

When Peru's Challenge first started out, Jane and Selvy wandered into the mountains to find a community, Picol, that had a school. This school had one classroom. Inside of this classroom were 12 children, running around and dirty, not being taught by a single teacher--a man who was drunk. 

This school, along with 600 others, had just been abandoned by the Department of Education because the schools were seen as poor and hopeless and unattended, and the Dept. doesn't have the funding or resources to waste. You see, in these mountains, there is an evil cycle. The Department leaves the school, and the parents in the community see no reason to send their kids to a school that isn't supported when the children could be working in the fields. Therefore barely any children show up to the school, and the Department of Education nods their heads and says, "see?"

Peru's Challenge addressed the community and, in a little under three years, had built six classrooms for 170 children and six teachers. Eventually, the organization came to Pumamarca, where there was also one classroom that had a ceiling about to fall in and no windows, door or floor. Jane and Selvy went to the Department, asking for their support and were quickly denied. You can't change the community of Pumamarca. You can't get 100 kids to go to school there. If we can, Jane and Selvy asked, will you support us? Laugh, chuckle, sure. 

At a community meeting, it was decided Peru's Challenge would pay 10 fathers to work on building the school. Also, Peru's Challenge would buy all of the materials from the community. On the first day of building, every person in the community showed up with willing hands and said, do not pay us for our labor, only for materials. They wanted their kids in a school. Within three weeks, there were two classrooms. Jane and Selvy knocked on doors with a banana as a gift, asking if the parents would send their children to school--where they would be looked after and fed. On the first day of school, 140 kids showed up with ready minds and an eager energy. The Department of Education now didn't have a choice. 

Today in Pumamarca, there are now seven classrooms- each brightly painted and decorated with art the students have made. 150 children, kindergarten through Grade 6, attend, each class with its own teacher. Peru's Challenge used to pay for four teachers' salaries, while the department covered the rest but now is only paying for two.  The children, who before were coming to school having had a cup of tea, now get a small breakfast, fresh fruit three times a week and a hot meal for lunch. There are two kitchens that mothers work in to make these meals; they bring food from their homes, use the vegetables from the school's multiple gardens and use eggs from the school's own chicken coop. Self-sustainability is key. 

I go up to these schools and see children in the classrooms perfecting the cursive G and taking turns with the jump ropes. They know English phrases and sit in desks where they get their own pencil and notebook. At PE, they would rather skip and play futbol than our silly relay races. They brush their teeth at the new sinks with filtered water and can excuse themselves to use a proper toilet. The teachers make them mind their manners and stand in line. It's school, just like what I would expect, except I wasn't surrounded by mountains and green when I jumped rope on a playground. And it breaks my heart because these kids love to go to summer school. And it breaks my heart to think of what school used to be like for them and still is like two communities over. That community is farther down the road, but definitely still in our sight, and children retaining a proper education makes it worth traveling down.

*Thank you, Jane, for help with this information.

(Pumamarca School)

The New Race: Traveler or Non (please check one)

At the beginning of each month, Peru's Challenge extends a welcome to 15-20 new faces from around the world and looks to them to build school classrooms, construct chimneys, plan lessons for 140 anxious children, grow gardens and liven up the sunny yellow house on the dirt road in Larapa. The past six days have been one big welcome party with people who, although I have never met in my life, are also in search of an adventure in a foreign part of the world, who have this little part of them that wants to change the life of a child. We aren't as unknown to each other as I thought. 

There is a lot to learn about Cuzco. There is also a lot to learn about each other. So Annie and I have been walking backwards, explaining when you can go inside of the Plaza's main cathedral and why its better to get meat from this grocer while we listen to stories of the occupations left behind, of the cities traveled right before Cuzco, of the kids who will be missing their mothers for this month. 

There is an automatic bond when you throw 20 people from around the world into one house, each with the same goals of exploring Peru and wanting to see a change in our neighboring communities. Of these new friends, many have traveled. For some, this is their first adventure, but this time in Cuzco will be immediately followed by pinpoints practically covering South America. Mornings ago, we all shook hands and questioned as to each others' home countries (UK, Ireland, Canada, Australia, etc.) and, finding ourselves in this new part of the world together, greeted each other like kin. 

Just as people descending from the same small town or from an ancient-old religion, travelers do this. Each knows the other has the secrets to some destination they haven't yet unraveled, and it is hard to contain the curiosity of it all. You want to grab a map and share stories, get suggestions and find the one common place you both have been to. The conversation could go on for hours. You know the other will give you the best tips, relay treasures about the sparkling cities and looming peaks and little cafes by the the sea that are, at the moment, just a dream.  

I am thankful for these world travelers and the unspoken bond that sits in a room when we all sit down to decide what to teach Grade 1, go over issues in the community when a drunk man lay in the street on our way down the mountain or discuss the must-sees of (fill in any continent here). We have worked to make sure the new visitors don't get sick or lost, but they have reached out to us just as far. Anne, Francis and I walked half-way to town for the Sunday market where they encouraged me to buy all the flowers I wanted. Brugh has promised to use his recent marketing skills/contacts to aid me in my endless-seeming quests. Kristy has given me Spanish tips and teaching advice I quickly jotted down. Anne held my hand and talked of soothing things when I recently had to get blood taken, and Keith hugs me after inquiring about my health. Erin plays me Britney Spears on her ukulele, and Heather and Chelsea couldn't be better people to just talk to. It's only been a few days.

It isn't often you get to live with a group from around the world, all eager to write their own travel book. I am going to soak in this traveler bond; I want to hear about these people's experiences so I know where to go next. I'll store their travels in my head and relish the time we'll have similar ones, all about a place called Cuzco.     

An Andes Reenact-mint: Welcome to Pumamarca

On the way to the sky, there is a village. 

It is not easy to tell; there isn't a "Welcome, this many people live here" sign or a high-rise that boldly establishes the village as somewhere important. The houses are hidden behind neighboring valleys or thick green eucalyptus branches, but you know people live there because fields are neatly kept and women walk, carrying what looks like half of these fields on their backs. And you know it is a village because these people smile and welcome you to it, and that is all I need for anywhere to be established.

Welcome to Pumamarca. There are 200 families that live here, and each family has an average of six kids. It is quite common for three generations of the family to be under one roof. Also under this one roof are no other rooms, chairs, tables or beds. The family usually sleeps where they cook the food; that heat is necessary when it gets to -20 degrees C in those mountains that are too high to block winter winds. You just have to tolerate the cold as part of your surroundings; the windows aren't closed in and there isn't a door, so your home needs to mold into Mother Nature's arms--whether comforting and mild, soaked from a shower or stand-offish and bitter, biting cold. 

There is a family in Pumamarca with six kids, two parents and a grandmother, and they all sleep in one double bed using clothes as blankets. They don't have a chimney, so they breathe in that wood oven 24/7. 

Each of these families is in charge of 2-3 plots of land. Now, these plots are not owned by the family, but by the community, so they cannot be sold. Families sell their products in the market, earning S/ 10-15 (US$ 3-5) per week, but it costs to get to the market and back, so make S/ 2 disappear. 

In Pumamarca, you will not find a piece of machinery. Instead, you will find worn and weathered hands that are strong, defiant and don't know what a "day off" means. 

A few years ago, a person trying to win an election made electricity available here for a price most families wouldn't even make in a month. So we can stare at the wires, but we don't know what they do. Some families illegally connect, but those people who wanted to put light bulbs here quickly come and disconnect them. 

The water that doesn't run into houses for taps, showers, toilets, etc. has been tested. It is over 200 times the safe-drinking level, but it is what is available to drink. Everyone knows the human body needs water. 

There are a lot of stories here in Pumamarca, whistling in the cutting mountain wind and slicing the long blades of grass in the fields. Some are joyous and many are not, but right now in Pumamarca is a lot better than three years ago, a success story for another time. 

And right now in Pumamarca, school reopened for the soon-to-come fall, and there are children--more children in school than ever before-- waiting in new desks with new pencils, papers and hope. These are children whose stories aren't quite definite yet in whether they are going to shoot for the sky that literally seems within their grasp or stick to the ground where the water runs dirty. Their eyes look to combine ancient traditions of colors and hard work with literacy, art and feeling loved, and are hopefully looking up to where the birds soar; I have come here to help because I climb up the steepest heights to Pumamarca to see how close these kids are to the sky and a just-as-bright future. 

There is a village on the way to the sky. 

A Little Food/Water for Thought

Today I read about water and the lack of it.

C'mon, Lauren, you might say; you have water literally being thrown at your feet and in your face (see below). 

That's true. There's also at least two scruffy dogs for every 10 feet I walk here, but I don't have a cuddly puppy of my own yet. 

Peru's Challenge was looking into the organization charity:water, a group tackling the fact that 1 in 6 people on Earth do not have safe drinking water. The fact that 80% of all sickness and disease comes from this problem. That around 35,000 children under the age of 5 die each week because of poor sanitation and unsafe drinking water. 

Coldplay claims, "you could see your future inside a glass of water." And it's true; the integral part of our planet's future rests in water. I am trying to look at it glass-half-full style, but clean drinking water is a problem we in the States barely give a second thought to as we happily shower, clean, garden, chug, etc. all with the turn of a knob. 

Water makes our world go round. And just as Benjamin Franklin said, "when the well is dry, we know the worth of water." The water that comes from the taps here in Peru is not safe. We pay for and then carry huge tanks of purified water uphill every few days to quench our thirst. There are sinks in the house that are strictly forbidden to use, even if you think, I'll just boil it. We use that water to flush the toilets when the water goes off completely. We take water from the taps with filters on them to boil so that we can wash the dishes and cook--but still don't drink this. We boil water so we can scream and curse as we pour it over our fruits, vegetables and hands as it is still bubbling, because you can never be too sure. 

And the water does go off-- quite often, actually. I am not one to complain about the fact that a shower is literally impossible to take, but we often find ourselves sweaty with lots of dishes in the sink, awkward restroom conversations and laundry hanging on clotheslines, having skipped the whole water/washing part. 

But I am not complaining. A few miles directly up, there isn't safe water to drink, either. The people of Pumamarca make up some of those statistics charity:water so boldly claims. The water there has to be used for washing, cooking and drinking, and it is all the while where the animals stand and do other things. Disease is obviously a dreadful risk. The women and children there are responsible for walking to a clean water source--usually at least two miles away--and then carrying whatever they can manage back to their houses. Peru's Challenge wants to help, and the project proposal currently involves finding a safe source, building reservoirs and putting in pipes. If you have some extra money in your pocket, let us know.  

The author of The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, said, "Water has no taste, no color, no odor; it cannot be defined, art relished while ever mysterious. Not necessary to life, but rather life itself. It fills us with a gratification that exceeds the delight of the senses." I had never thought about water that way; water delights us in a way we don't even need our senses for, and I wish everyone could experience that daily. But I have been spoiled --and probably even bored-- by a glass of water. That is not how it is for the developing countries of our world. 

Maybe it is just because water tends to be somewhat of a chore here compared to when at home that I have been considering this grave issue; and by chore I mean just something that takes a bit longer than usual. Nothing like just drinking what is available and risking disease or walking for hours for a single, heavy bucket or watching your child suffer fatally from the only thing you can offer to quench his thirst. I got shots to protect myself against the thing our lives revolve around to come here because the thing our lives revolve around here could harm, ruin or take my life; that doesn't even make sense. 

I'll now go drink from our ritzy blue tank and take its clean contents into the bathroom to brush my teeth with. I'll raise a glass and hope the future inside looks clear.

An Andes Reenact-mint: Holy Smokes, A Chimney

The closest I've ever been to the Andes is when I stand drooling over an array of the crisply wrapped chocolate mints, shelved like books in the box they come in. I love those Andes.

That little mint candy was founded by Andrew Kanelos, hence Andes, p.s. But how did the little mountains come to coat the wrapper? Maybe it's the green. It has to be the green.

We are currently experiencing Peru's summer and rainy season. It's that wonderful mountain weather where the sun beats down hard (who knew we were so close to the equator and should don sunscreen every time we dress?) even as gray clouds roll ominously over spread-out Cuzco, like a blanket for the city's quick, scheduled afternoon nap. It pours, and the sun shines, and the world is green. 

The first day we were in Cuzco, Peru's Challenge had a scheduled house visit. (If you are unsure of what our organization is about, visit the website; it is inspiring.) This involves volunteers heading up to the village of Pumamarca to help out a local family; it could be anything from construction to agricultural/livestock assistance to intervening with a violence/alcoholic problem. On this day, a house needed a chimney. We climbed into a rickety van and took hair-pin turns up into the mountains until there was no road to drive on, and we could only reach the family by foot, so we got out of the van and jumped, like Mary Poppins, into the picturesque scenery we see surrounding us everyday. 

I do know I was out of breath, but I am not sure if it was the new altitude or view that was taking it out of me. We were in the Andes, in a village that has been alive since before Cuzco laid itself out below as an expanding city with seemingly unnecessary things like grocery stores or cinemas. You don't drive out here. You walk, and you carry whatever you need on your back--flowers, a lamb, a child. 

Up here, you work around the beauty that lies in the sloping hills and wildflowers. Tiny huts seem to stand there embarrassed, as if impeding on the more-triumphant nature's ground. Cows, donkeys, pigs, chickens, goats, cats and dogs run freely. The curves of the untouched hills seem to go on forever against the sky's backdrop; it's The Sound of Music's Maria's heaven, and it took a lot for me not to twirl through, looking for the brook that trips and falls. 

It is even more beautiful to pass those who live here in their colorful clothing, welcoming smiles and cheerful "buenas tardes." The women have a load on their backs, a goat on a string and children in a wheelbarrow. Groups of people stand in pits of more carrots than I've ever seen in one spot, using water and their feet to clean them all. As I walked by, a little girl came up to me, offering one of her orange prizes. I pretended to take a bite and said, "mmm,

 delicioso," and she laughed. They were still working two hours later when we walked back in the dark, the moon shining just enough to see orange.

The beauty that is here is that of a double-edged sword. The poverty competes with it for the most outstanding feature. The family of four receiving our visit today lives in one room with Earth as their floor and no lights or furniture. The yard behind their fence is pure mud and manure, but the two children had us as guests; they still wanted to play with us in it, so we rolled up our pant legs and headed in, following their smiling, dirty faces. 

When the rainy season hits or the cold nights start to set in upon the mountains, the families cannot have open doors or windows in their houses. However, they need fires to keep warm, cook, boil water, etc. In a closed house, the smoke fills the room and presents health problems and annoyances, especially for the young and elderly. The solution? A chimney. We cut some surrounding bamboo and wood, did some magic with hammers and nails to create a flat board of these materials, put this board into the mud wall of the house in front of where we had created a hole and then threw wet mud the father had dug from their yard at the wood/bamboo. This was sprinkled with water and spread out to dry. There, using the Earth I stepped on and the trees I swayed in between, a house has a chimney; a family can breathe a bit easier. The children, amidst chasing chickens, asked if we would take a picture with them, and the mother hugged and kissed each one of us, speaking in Quechuan, the local language. 

Her delight in our simple task lifted my spirits so that I didn't even notice we were treading through water or trekking up rocky passages in the dark as we walked back to the van, which all of a sudden looked so out of place. We climbed in, and some of the local boys ran after it, laughing and staying right at our wheels until our speed picked up, and their waves ushered us out of their hills and back into the town where those hills are once again just the picturesque scenery. 

I know I love these Andes, too, crisply wrapped in their green.  I hope we spend more time jumping into the painting rather than just admiring it.