This is the Air I Breathe...

Those of you who have similar tastes in music to me or who actually click on the hyperlinks I put in here know that very often my titles or just random lines in my blog are quotes from songs that really speak to me. Those of you who know me well, then, should be confused and perhaps a little bit concerned to see that the title of this post is a quote from a cheesy contemporary Christian song by one of the MANY Christian pop divas (Let’s call her Rachel Nicole St. Knapp, shall we?) who, in my oh-so-humble opinion, all sound exactly the same. Have 3 months away from home really changed my tastes in music that much? Has the theological conservatism of the churches I’m working with gotten to me?

The answer, of course, is no, which will undoubtedly relieve some of you and disappoint others. I just thought the title would be an interesting and ironic segue into what I want to talk about. For the record, the song is called “Breathe” and is by Rebecca St. James. The first verse goes:

“This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your holy presence living in me.”

It goes on and on, and you know, it’s sweet, but musically rather boring and not at all lyrically profound. But what I want to share with you today is about the actual air I breathe. And while I certainly believe in the omnipresence of the Holy Spirit, this air is not “God’s holy presence living in me.”

The air that I, along with everyone else in Carabayllo and northern Comas, breathe smells like shit. I apologize for the language, but there’s really no other way to describe the foul odor that has permeated every bit of my being for the last several weeks. The smell comes from outside but since every Peruvian home has some sort of open air courtyard inside, it’s everywhere. I wake up with it in the morning and go to bed with it at night. I’ve gotten to the point where I sometimes have to walk with my shirt over my nose, looking like some bad imitation of a bank robber. It’s foul. It’s nauseating. Disgusting. There’s no other way to describe it. The air I breathe smells like shit.

I guess the next logical question is why does it smell this way? Well you see, there’s a nearby lake or some sort of body of water into which much of our district’s sewage is dumped. On hot summer days (which is at least 5 days a week, and yes, I live in the Southern Hemisphere, it’s summer here), the sewage-infused lake water evaporates, and the wind brings this delightful evaporated-sewage-water into the city. The beautiful mountains that I enjoy every day and through which we took our caminata in September trap this air, the sun gets hotter, the smell gets worse…you get the picture.

Living and working in one of the poorest sections of a big city is teaching me a lot about pollution and environmental abuse. Things that I never could have experienced in Richmond’s West End Suburbia, or the beautiful and idyllic campus of William and Mary, where it’s still 1693, just with wireless internet everywhere. The grass and trees I’ve always take for granted struggle to survive here. In their place are dust and trash. Often burning trash, which doesn’t really help with the smell.

I don’t say these things to paint a picture of Peru as a dirty, ecologically irresponsible country. On the contrary, I want to share with you the reality in which many people, myself now one of them, live, and ask each of you to reflect for a minute on your place in the big picture of environmental destruction. I know I’ve done my fair share of damage. It’s so easy for us to do in our comfortable Northern lives. Though we will soon enough, right now we don’t experience the direct impact of our actions. Sure, the summers are warmer, but we can fix that with just a little more AC. We hear about glaciers melting, the water supply diminishing, but our sinks still work, and when thirsty, it’s not hard to find a glass of cold water. Most places will give it to you for free!

Things are different in the barrios of Carabayllo and Comas. You see, people in Peru, as in many countries around the world, don’t have the “luxury” to sit around debate whether Global Warming “exists.” It’s a part of their daily reality. The days are hotter, the sun is brighter. Summer comes and winter ends, both a month earlier than they used to. It rains when it shouldn’t, but the expected rains don’t come. Glaciers in the Andes that are essential water sources for the mountain provinces like Huacavelica are disappearing faster than anyone imagined. Water towers here in Lima read “Water is Life, Be Careful with Every Drop.”

The shortage of water is what I personally notice the most. The water for our neighborhood is shut off nearly every night, and Eduardo explained to me that this has become necessary in recent years to ensure that the supply of clean water is able to last all summer. The water at the IEP Collique where I work with the Compassion Program, is shut off every day after about 2. Large buckets of water sit in the bathrooms for the afternoon kids to wash their hands and fill their toilet bowls. It’s all just expected at this point. Like Eduardo said, it’s the only way there will ever be enough water to last the summer.

We just finished a short environmental unit with the 9 to 12-year-olds at Collique. We talked with them about the environmental problems that Peruvians face in their daily lives. Global warming and the shortage of water, contaminated food and water, and the toxic wastes produced by mining companies like American-owned Doe Run in La Oroya (please click here to read Joe´s latest blog on the subject...also watch the video he has included) and watch the video, by the way), the list goes on. Then we did a unit with them on the good ol’ 3Rs: reduce, reuse, recycle. I was really struck by the way the teacher of the class explained reusing, once again on the theme of water. She challenged the kids to find less-traditional ways to reuse water in their households. Use the water you used to wash the rice to bathe. Then take that water and throw it on the floor before you sweep (floors lie somewhere on the spectrum between dirt and concrete, and it’s necessary to wet the floor before sweeping so you don’t generate a ton of dust). It was a truly humbling experience for me to hear these kids, most of whom live in one-room, dirt-floor houses without personal access to water, talking about resource preservation. Honestly, it made even my bi-weekly bucket showers here seem a little extravagant and luxurious. While the wealthy like myself take running-water showers daily and literally play with water as if it were a toy, the poorest people that I have met are bathing themselves in the bucket of water they used to wash the rice. The inconsistency bothers me, as I hope it does you.

Those of you who follow the liturgical calendar (or some, like Laura, who take it upon themselves to ENFORCE the liturgical calendar!) know that we are now in the season of Advent, preparing ourselves for the coming of Christmas and re-opening ourselves every year to the coming of the Kingdom of God to earth in the form of one of “the least of these.” I challenge you all, as I challenge myself this Christmas season, to ask yourselves if the coming of Christ has more to do with lights, trees, and nativity scenes, or with a pail of water, carefully and lovingly siphoned out so as to take only what is necessary and share faithfully with others.