Improved Gossip

I went to talk to a friend about these rapes since I am still freaked out. She a lawyer and works in the municipality to offer free legal services to women and children, working mostly on domestic violence and child support. She told me that there have been two rapes locally in the last month, but only one by a mototaxi driver. That case did happen more or less as I was told that it happened. The legal stuff went somewhat better than I previously thought, she pressed charges and he was convicted and sent to jail. He was incarcerated for just a few weeks and is now back home driving his moto. The second rape was of a woman in her home by her drunken former partner. She didn't press charges.

In other lighter news, this week I’m off to Cañete, a town in the southern coast that was devastated by the earthquake. We’re working with CARE Peru on a project to construct latrines and promote hand washing.

The other novelty of late is rain. It is rainy season. It theoretically rains from late December until early April here, but last year in “rainy season” it rained 3 times for about 10 minutes each time. This year it has rained maybe 8 or 10 times and a couple of nights it was all night long. This is causing calamity. Rio Piura, usually a sad trickle looks like the Mississippi. The bridge over Rio Piura, the bridge that I cross to get into the city is shaking laterally and is about ready to crumble and there is a crowd of people gathered at each bank to watch the show. Hopefully that will stop soon while the bridge is still standing and I can still get to the city.

And finally, it was Rinconada's 43rd Anniversary on Tuesday. The fun part of the 43rd Anniversary Celebration was after the very long ceremony in which the recently, apparently incorrectly elected Señorita Rinconada Llicuar fainted due to heat stroke everyone in town hung out in the plaza, danced cumbia and drank chicha. In an unfortunate last minute turn of events I helped to judge the beauty pageant in which Srta. Rinconada was elected. The 3rd judge on the panel didn’t show up and when Martin asked I just couldn’t say no. I of course didn’t know which girl was “supposed” to win and really, how do you judge a beauty pageant anyway? Now there’s this group of snot-nosed twenty-somethings who are not speaking to me because the judges (i.e. I) picked the wrong girl. Oh how I hate beauty pageants. They’re really not good for us ladies. I mean I can’t lie. I wish that I didn’t like watching them, but I do. It’s the clothes or something? In this pageant 45 of the 50 possible points came from 3 categories: dress, spontaneity and grace, and general beauty. The other five possible points came from verbal answers to two questions about local culture and politics… Ug.

Trying to Travel Safe

In the last month there have been two rapes on the road into my town from the city. This is alarming for obvious reasons and because everyone knows who the rapists are and they are not in jail. In Peru the perpetrator cannot be held "without evidence" and it always takes longer to get physical evidence of a rape than it takes to charge the accused, so they walk around among us theoretically awaiting trial. Also, in order to get evidence that you have been raped in Peru you have to go to a particular clinic where a doctor examines you and fills out the right forms saying that you were raped. As I'm sure you can imagine, lots of women do not put themselves though this or cannot make it to the right clinic because it can be a challenge traveling to the city and then their rapists go free. In these two cases, the rapists are mototaxi drivers who work in between Rinconada, my town and La Union, the nearest market town that you have to pass though to get to the big city of Piura. These are guys who are from small towns in the area who everyone knows and who drive everyone's mothers, wives, daughters, and friends home at night so everyone is scared.

I do travel in the evenings between Piura and Rinconada, and many women from Rinconada do the same to get to and from work or university. I get home as late as 9 or 10 PM sometimes. I was talking to a friend who is a mototaxi driver and says that I should try to get back by 7 or 8 at the latest and that I should only ride with drivers who I know well. This makes good sense, but complicates getting home quite a bit as there are many, many drivers and everyone knows everyone else, but to be honest I'm still trying to remember names and who is related to whom. He and others also suggest that I travel with someone else but, this is hard too. Fortunately, my dear friend who just made it back to Peru from medical treatment in the US brought back pepper spray and gave me one. It seems smart to have even if rather alarming all the same.

In Peace Corps Training the cheeses down in Lima were against any kind of self-defense training and said that Peace Corps Washington holds the same position. Their argument was that they are afraid that we would get in to more danger by fighting back or being excessively aggressive after a training... so misguided at best. Anyway, I will be traveling earlier and probably spending more nights in Piura City so that when I have to do something in the evening I don’t have to travel back in the dark while I thank my lucky stars for the amazing self-defense and anti-violence training that I had in Brooklyn at The Center for Anti-Violence Education.

Prayers

Keld, my youngest brother just wrote to tell me that Tim Gaines, their friend from childhood overdosed last night and passed away. He was 27.

It is difficult to remain friends with someone with a serious drug problem. They just keep letting you down and often they end up alone in their world. I know that my brother Denzil tries to hide his sensitive and loyal heart behind the tattoos and ZZ Top beard, but I think he feels the loss in a deep way. I wish I could be there. It can feel so hopeless when someone you love is hurting themselves and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Please keep Tim, his family, and my brothers in your thoughts and prayers.

Telling a Donkey About Ears

Recently, I learned that the Englih language axiom, "the pot calling the kettle black" has a rough Spanish equivalent. It's, hablando a un burro sobre las orejas or, "telling a donkey about ears."

Con cariño.

Sex in the City on the Big Screen

My time in Peace Corps continues to surprise me. I spent last night, in the rural northern Peruvian desert, watching the cancelled HBO series Sex and the City, projected onto the blank white wall of my cement bunker house with a few volunteers who live fairly nearby. I have a minor, admittedly unhealthy obsession with the show and as this is not an uncommon problem among my peers, I'm not as ashamed of it as I probably should be. The difference here is that most of those other women just Netflix the thing. Peace Corps volunteers develop complicated networks of DVD lending to accomplish this feat and go to extremes with big screen viewing at a Mexican food and Valentine’s Day party.

Fortunately, the Municipality had a free heath care campaign yesterday as part of the town's anniversary celebration and I showed some educational videos about domestic violence with Peace Corps' projector. Since it was sitting in my living room waiting at ready for a similar demonstration on Monday afternoon I thought it couldn't hurt to take advantage of the situation. I think tonight I may choose a more family friendly video and invite the neighbours over; perhaps Mulan dubbed in Spanish. Fun times at Ella's Neighbourhood Theatre.

Rinconada Does Carnival in Pyrotechnics

These fishermen get together every year and make a plywood boat that they pull around the soccer field as it shoots fireworks and throws gifts into the crowd.





These folks are SERIOUS about fireworks.

Carnival in Cajamarca Pics!

Happy Valentine's Day! ¡Feliz Dia de la Amistad!


These guys were just hanging out in the plaza having a great time.


This is my new buddy Hilmer.


Before.


After.

Feliz Dia de la Amistad!

I don't know if it's blogger or if it's the fact that my internet connection works on a geological time frame, but photos from Carnival are still coming "soon" and I'm using "soon" in the Peruvian sense of the word. They are fabulous I assure you. Think good-looking men dressed in diapers, water balloons, and me covered from head to toe in pastel paint joyfully skipping though the streets of Cajamarca grinning ear to ear.

We had the last dance for Carnival in Rinconada Llicuar on Monday night. Armonia 10 was absolutely fabulous. In the world of Northern Peruvian Cumbia they are rivals to Agua Marina who played about a week ago now. Armonia 10 won the fun factor as they played some American rock songs and I was happy to oblige my fellow Rinconadans as they LOVE to learn new dances, especially when they involve the Gringa making a fool of herself by trying to teach the neighbor's grandpa how to dance hip-hop. Gramps is great and at 80 years old is digging up sweet potatoes in his field, but I'm still tired.

I'm spending my evenings watching Sex in the City DVDs on my laptop. Thanks to my friend and fellow Austinite Kate who OWNS the box set in all its pink plush glory. We're not talkin' pirated Lima crap, oh no, we're talkin' the McCoy. It's a nostalgic experience and makes me love and hate New York even more. A shout out to Las Ladies, only one of whom still calls The Big Apple home, but that PhD thesis researched at I-kid-you-not Paddles in Manhattan is going to be a blast to read in a year or two. D, don't move, please. We need someone in Manhattan so that we can celebrate New Year's properly. Sex in the City is making me miss New York so very much. I'm rolling all the possibilities of what I can do after Peace Corps around in my head and I am faced with my usual problem: the world is big and there are so many cool places to live and jobs to do. New York, DC, Austin, the Peruvian jungle? The novel recent addition, now that I'm about to turn 30 is that I want to settle down, marry and have some kids (or maybe a kid) at some point, not soon, but sometime. I know. It's so provincial, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want it. What would it be like to be an old lady in a rocking chair on a front porch without that? Who knows. Maybe I'll find out, but I hope not.

We are still doing English Classes in Summer Day Camp. I'm basically going though this CD of kids songs that I picked up at a teacher's supply store over Christmas in the States. My kids can now do a rousing version of "Are You Sleeping Brother John?" You would be impressed at their singing diction and we're working on translating the singing to speaking.

Other than that life has been pretty much about partying lately. Carnival is my new favorite holiday. I think Velaciones is now a close second. Oh but the other exciting good news is that the mayor's girlfriend moved into his house, so there's no more talk of me marrying the mayor. This has made meeting with me mayor easier and more fun.

Happy Valentine's Day! Much love to all. Forgive my spelling, as spell check seems to be working within the geological time frame.

Beauty by Tony Hoagland

Here's a poem that a friend sent me today. It's breathtaking.

Beauty

When the medication she was taking
caused tiny vessels in her face to break,
leaving faint but permanent blue stitches in her cheeks,
my sister said she knew she would
never be beautiful again.
After all those years
of watching her reflection in the mirror,
sucking in her stomach and standing straight,
she said it was a relief,
being done with beauty,

but I could see her pause inside that moment
as the knowledge spread across her face
with a fine distress, sucking
the peach out of her lips,
making her cute nose seem, for the first time,
a little knobby.

I'm probably the only one in the whole world
who actually remembers the year in high school
she perfected the art
of being a dumb blond,

spending recess on the breezeway by the physics lab,
tossing her hair and laughing that canary trill
that was her specialty,

while some football player named Johnny
with a pained expression in his eyes
wrapped his thick finger over and over again
in the bedspring of one of those pale curls.

Or how she spent the next decade of her life
auditioning a series of tall men
looking for just one with the kind of
attention span she could count on.

Then one day her time of prettiness was done,
and all those other beautiful women
in the magazines and on the streets
just kept on being beautiful
everywhere you looked,

walking in that kind of elegant, disinterested trance
in which you sense they always have one hand
touching the secret place
that keeps their beauty safe,
inhaling and exhaling the perfume of it.

It was spring. Season when the young
buttercups and daisies climb up on the
mulched bodies of their forebears
to wave their flags in the parade.

My sister just stood still for thirty seconds,
amazed about the way that things can go,
then shrugged and tossed her shaggy head
as if she was throwing something out,

something she had carried a long ways
but had no use for anymore,
now that it had no use for her.
That, too, was beautiful.

¡Viva Carnival!

I'm back from the Cajamarca Carnival festivities. On the way home I stopped off at the Inca Baths in Cajamarca to get the paint out of my ears in the mineral hot springs. Everyone ran around like crazy all weekend throwing water balloons and paint at one another. We hit the market and got our own supplies of water balloons and paint. I learned that for Cajamarquinos there's apparently nothing funnier than gringos dressed in polleras (traditional skirts) throwing paint. I was covered head to toe in some lovely pastels, but also something that smelled like sewer water, not ideal.

I got back to Piura on Monday morning, did some Peace Corps meetings, and then headed back to Rinconada where I have been partying ever since. There has been a Yunsa (where they cut down a tree with gifts like plastic buckets adorning the branches) and a town dance every day. Each Yunsa is crazier than the last. Last night's featured a playwood boat on wheels, about the size of a station wagon, made into a frame for the fireworks display and festooned with the same kinds of gifts as the Yunsa. First, the band played marinera and there was much dancing and chicha drinking. Then, they chopped down the tree and everyone went running to win loot. And finally, the big finish was a parade with the boat, crazy costumes and marinera down to the soccer field where they set off the fireworks on the boat and the band played faster and faster and faster until the dancing was really just everyone jumping up and down and yelling. It was a blast.

The town dances are all cumbia all the time, of course. Cumbia groups are called orchestras and they're bands of around 15 men in matching outfits. There are horn, drum and guitar players who perform synchronized dancing to their synthesizer beats while they sing and play. Last night The Caribeños played, the night before it was Agua Marina, and the night before that it was The Caribeños again. The next dance is Saturday. Ash Wednesday doesn't slow Carnival party much.

Photos to come when I'm at a computer that will load them in this lifetime.