"You Can Hear the Whistle Blow 100 Miles..."

First of all, I apologize for going so long between posts! When I got online a few days ago, I was a little embarrassed to realize that I am the last of the Peru YAVs to post since arriving in my placement. (You should really check out their blogs on the left, by the way. They’ve written some really wonderful things that I would love to tell you about, though there’s no way to fit everything I want to say into these blog posts. Also they have functioning cameras, though I am going to try to steal a few pics for this post.) In all fairness, I don’t have internet at home and don’t really get the opportunity to use it at work since I’m not working in an office setting, but so much has happened, and I want to be able to share it with you all! So forgive my lateness, and for now, let’s just say my blog is operating on “la hora peruana” (Basically, absolutely nothing is ever anywhere near on time. I am living in Laura Wagstaff’s personal hell. :))

As of yesterday, I’ve been in Peru for a month. After 2 weeks of orientation with my wonderful fellow YAVs, I moved in with my “official” host family in a northern district of Lima, Carabayllo, and started work at the two churches I’m serving. Tuesday through Thursday I work at a church in Comas called the IEP Collique with their branch of Compassion International, and Friday through Sunday I work at the IEP Ingeniería teaching English and music and assisting with worship, Sunday school (which, consequently, is on Saturday), and other programmatic events of the church. In typical Presbyterian fashion, I’d like to share some of my initial impressions and experiences (WOWs and POWs, if you will) of my new life in Peru…

WOWs (aka Things I Like about my Experience Thus Far)

1.) The Challenge to Live Simply

One of the commitments that each YAV makes, even those not working in what the United States likes to call “Third World countries,” is to live as simply and sustainably as possible for the year. So far, this is a challenge that I’ve found enjoyable and fulfilling (except for limited access to internet, but for more on that, see the POW section). As I continue to read Jim Merkel’s book Radical Simplicity: Small Footprints on a Finite Earth, I am reminded that as an upper-middle class citizen of the United States, my personal carbon footprint/ecological impact on this earth is enormous! That said, I am enjoying living in what for me is a step back, though I am greatly aware that it is an unavoidable reality for the majority of Peruvians, which is an incredible injustice when you look at the way much of the Northern world lives. However, I think there is a great deal to be said for the humble and sustainable lifestyle that my host family lives, and our persecuted planet would benefit greatly if we in the United States could learn to live in a similar fashion. Things like eating locally grown food (“locally” is a relative term, since I live in Lima, but most of our food, bought at the local markets, is from the surrounding areas), using a clothesline instead of a dryer, not having heat or air-conditioning (now granted, it’s winter/spring now, I’ll let you know how I feel about the lack of air-conditioning come summer…), using public transportation, never throwing away food, etc. But my personal favorite is the Peruvian shower.

First of all, let me say that I’ve pretty much gotten into the routine of one shower a week. Those who knew me in college may not be too surprised by this, though you’re still probably all gagging. But really, friends, we don’t need to shower every day. We’re accustomed to it and like the way our hair looks afterwards, but our bodies don’t actually need it, and think of all the water that is used unnecessarily. I’m not advocating bad hygiene here, but it wouldn’t hurt if we gave ourselves a day or two.

When I do take my weekly or bi-weekly shower, it’s from a bucket. We have a functioning shower in our house, but the water is frigid, and after one go with the running water, I decided the bucket was a much better option. Yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable, yes, it’s cold, and yes, it’s a far cry from the gentle, warm, wake-you-up-in-the-morning showers I liked to enjoy at home, but after my shower, I feel like I’ve done something for the world (aside from rid myself of B.O….which is arguably doing something for the world in and of itself) in using so little water. So I challenge you all to give the Peruvian shower a try. Here’s what you do:

Get a big bucket (ours is 5 gallons, but really, 3 would do), and fill it half full with cold water. Then boil a big pot of cold water (very few people here have the hot water that we take for granted) and pour that into the bucket with the cold water. What you get is something between lukewarm and warm, but believe me, it’ll do. Now all you have to do is take a cup of some sort and use it to pour the water over yourself. Shampoo, soap, shaving, all the same, but you don’t have that constant stream of unnecessary running water. So friends, supporters, partners in ministry, this is my challenge to you. Give it a try and comment on this blog entry to let me know how it goes!

(For more on simple living and the things we take for granted, check out fellow Peru YAV Sarah Terpstra’s post on Invisible Luxuries. Though her simple lifestyle is more drastic than mine, I can identify with the majority of her examples, especially the toilet seats. Friends, toilet bowls are, in fact, very cold!)

2.) Serving “The Least of These”

I recognize that this may sound cliché and condescending, and I apologize. I certainly don’t mean for it to. It’s just that that’s the whole reason I’m here – to serve those in need, particularly those who often don’t have the basic necessities for life. I experience this most in my work with the kids from Compassion International in Collique. I don’t yet fully understand the realities that these children live with, but I’ll share with you some of what I know. Nearly all of them live in the Pueblos Jóvenes (shantytowns) of Comas in the foothills of the mountains. Most of the people in these communities have migrated from the mountains during the 20 years of Violence or times of economic difficulty. (See pictures below, but of course, as I still don’t have a camera, I have to give all credit to Joe and Alexandra, one of the long-term mission personnel working at the Red Uniendo Manos.)

What you see here doesn’t even begin to capture how these families live. Families with five or six children live in crudely-constructed, one-room homes with none of the “necessities” that we as Americans tend to assume (electricity, running water, heat). In one community that I visited, potable water is available once every three days, and even that can’t be counted on. The walkways are littered with trash and feces. Children usually stay home by themselves (both parents have to work to sustain the family), or work in the fields and shops alongside their parents. It is a cruel and unfair reality. And to top it all off, they’re hundreds of miles away from their extended families, which here in Peru are as important as our immediate families are to us in the US. It’s hard to be far from home…but I’ll get to that in a minute. For now, what I’m trying to say is that serving the children of these Pueblos Jóvenes alongside church-members from the same area just feels right.

Compassion International provides a holistic program of education and care, with everything from games and music to school-esque cognitive activities to spiritual development to public health education. One of the most meaningful parts of the day for me is serving the kids their warm drinks at lunch time. It makes me thing of Mark 9:41: “I tell you the truth, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his/her reward.” And as I hand my kids their drinks, I begin to feel that there could be no greater reward than knowing that they might be able to go home to a safe and healthy home with adequate food and water, free of the structural injustice that keeps them and their families living in poverty.

POWs (aka Things I’m Struggling With)

1.) Loneliness

This goes without saying, but it’s hard to be so far away from home. I always knew conceptually that this transition would be tough, but emotionally, I just had no idea what it would entail. There’s the language barrier, of course, which makes it hard to express my thoughts and feelings to friends, family, and coworkers, and the cultural differences that remind me constantly that I come from a very different walk of life than the people with whom I live and work. My feelings of loneliness are perpetuated by the fact that I have no internet access at home and only very occasionally at work, which makes me feel estranged and cut off from loved ones back home as well. It’s just not an easy transition.

During our two weeks of in-country orientation, Sarah shared the song 500 Miles with me. It’s a beautiful song that I turn to when I’m feeling lonely. I encourage you to listen to it, but know that neither this recording nor any other can sound as beautiful as Sarah singing it in perfect harmony with her family on her last Sunday at church before leaving for Peru. The words are simple, the music beautiful. I like this song because it doesn’t try to cheer me up or tell me everything’s going to be ok – it simply meets me where I am and offers itself to me.

As I try to feel at home in my new community, I find myself thinking of the words of one of my fellow YAVs, Anna. When I expressed to her one day my loneliness and worries about spending the entire day with extended family that I hadn’t yet met, she sent me this message: “Remember, you’ll be surrounded by people who love you without even knowing you, and that’s a very comforting love.” She was right – I spent that day and many others with people who have decided to love me before they knew who I was. This love is beautiful, profound, and theologically meaningful, but I haven’t yet learned to be comforted by it. In fact, I think it really scares me. It’s too powerful, too dangerous to touch – sometimes I don’t believe it even really exists. I want to be loved for me, because people know who I am and love the person they have come to know. It’s hard to accept unconditional love from a stranger. It’s uncomfortably humbling. But maybe, just maybe, if I keep trying to live into these words, it will slowly become humblingly comforting.

2.) Theological Conservatism

Those of you who know me know that I tend to be pretty liberal on all accounts, particularly in my theological interpretation. While I’ve known all along that the Protestant Church in Peru is more conservative, the idealistic liberation theologian in me continues to cling to this vision of a Latin American Church that is constantly proclaiming good news for the poor and the Year of Jubilee. This is not exactly my current reality. Socially, I’m pretty much on the same page as the churches I’m serving – they’re all about eradicating the root causes of poverty and working for environmental justice. But theologically, there’s a good deal of Biblical literalism and evangelical sentiment that I wasn’t expecting and to which I am not exactly sure how to gracefully and lovingly respond.

I particularly struggle with the evangelical component. The other day, I accompanied one of my fellow teachers from Collique on a visit to the home of one of the kids. The experience of being invited into this girl’s home and received so hospitably by her family was wonderful, and I was really appreciative to get a glimpse of her daily reality. But somehow, without me really knowing what was going on, it turned from a check-up on the health of the family to my fellow teacher instructing me to evangelize to a man in the neighborhood who “did not know Christ.” In front of this man, who was clearly very uncomfortable with the solicitations, she told me I needed to pray that he would “accept the Lord into his heart.” Fortunately it’s early enough in the year that I could play the bad-Spanish card and pretend I didn’t know what exactly was going on, but it was a really uncomfortable situation. I am willing to adapt and change in many ways to live into my Peruvian reality, but I can and will not participate in activities that I consider immoral. And in my book, insensitively forcing my own beliefs on another person is immoral and counterproductive to the mission of the Church (feel free to take issue with this, by the way). So I find myself facing the difficult question of how to remain true to myself and my own convictions while lovingly and respectfully partnering with my coworkers. I don’t have the answer yet. But I’ll let you know what I discover throughout the year.

To close, I’d like to once again share a passage from Scripture that’s been floating around in my head recently. My first couple days in Peru, I decided to do a personal study of the book of Acts, reading a little each night before I went to bed. I’ve been here a month, and the part I’m sharing with you is from Chapter 2, so you can see for yourself how faithfully I’ve kept to that! Anyway, the passage is from Acts 2:42-47:

“[The early Christians] devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he/she had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”

This and Acts 4:32-34 are often cited as the first references to Christian Socialism, and I really enjoy these passages. A community of people who live together in fellowship, sharing all things in common and renouncing private property sounds a lot to me like the Kingdom of God. (Stick with me, my friends of a more conservative persuasion. I promise this is not one of my economic tirades!)

However, these verses are not just about an economic and social policy among the early believers – they’re also about fellowship, a lifestyle of community. And I’m finding that sharing your life, your very self, can be harder than sharing your possessions. It’s scary. Sharing requires vulnerability. And vulnerability means that at one point or another, you’re going to get hurt. It’s much easier for me to share living space, cleaning responsibilities, books and movies, and my laptop with my host family and community in Peru than it is to share my personal time or my feelings of loneliness and fear. But true community requires both.

And in spite of it all, I think it’s worth it. This past weekend I learned a little bit about the value of vulnerability. After several really rough days, including a super-lonely birthday, I mustered up the courage to email Debbie, our site coordinator, and express to her the sadness I was feeling. She surprised me by showing up the very next morning at the church where I was working and just letting me talk for a couple hours after the service. And the most beautiful thing happened. (I hope this doesn’t embarrass you, Debbie, when you inevitably read this!) As I was talking about my loneliness and struggles with my new life in Peru, she started crying. Just because she loved me. Just because she wanted me to make it through the hard times and feel joyful again. Just because that’s what it means to be a part of a community.

The Indigo Girls said it right. We’re better off for all that we let in.