Saturday, December 20, 2008

My last month

My last post took us up through mid-November. In the month since then, way too much has happened for me to tell you everything in detail. Here are a few things that could each have their own post.

*Cardinal Juan Luis Cipriani came to celebrate Mass in Tupac. (I really do want to do a whole post on this one so stay tuned.)

*Catherine came for a week and hung out with me so I wouldn't be lonely. We celebrated Thanksgiving with our friends and had the experience of seeing our turkey, alive and looking around in innocent confusion, get its feet tied up and get weighed on the scale before it was taken in the back and killed. We almost felt terrible enough to become vegetarians.

*I went to a fancy-dress wedding, in a truly awesome dress, and danced salsa and cumbia until 3 am. :)

*I finished preparing the kids in the school for their concert and managed to get the thing to actually happen! It was something that's never happened in that school before. There were two choirs, a primary and a secondary, and two groups of girls who sang things alone; the teachers and parents came and while the singing wasn't really in tune, everyone liked it. The vice-pincipal Gaby even made a little speech afterwards to thank me for all my work... for the first time I felt appreciated in that school!! The teachers gave me a gift, a very beautiful alpaca vest that is entirely too big and the wrong color. But still. :)

*Iris had a party with the youth group in the school, and I was there the whole day with them, eating delicious food cooked by Sra. Rosa the wife of the school guardian Reineri, dancing, singing, watching them play soccer outside.

*In between all these moments, I had long days of being alone in my house but not wanting to go to the school, being bored in the mornings when everybody else in the world is working like respectabe people do, feeling the frustration of still not being fully part of this culture or being able to live a "normal" life here... basically, I went in and out of a heavy, deadening depression. It's the feeling of being stuck doing something that has no possibilities for change, creativity, or letting your talents develop--a helplessness in the face of Peruvians' refusal to be put in order, their unreliability that makes me feel like I have no power to bring any sort of project to completion.

*The second-year Confirmation group here had their confirmation. I played guitar at the Mass and later in the day watched Happy Feet, that fabulous movie about a dancing penguin, and then went to Sheila's house with a group of friends from the choir to sing her Happy Birthday.

*With my own first-year Confirmation group, we tried to go to the Parque de la Reserva, which is apparently a huge fountains-and-lights exhibit in the center of Lima... but we spent so much time waiting for people to meet up that we got there late, and ended up coming back to eat hamburgers in Tupac. Typical Peruvian fun. :)

*I came to grips, searingly, with the fact that I don't think I have any talents. It was a very difficult moment brought on by a practice for tomorrow's Christmas concert in the church, which led to a discussion of hitting the notes correctly vs. singing from the heart with expression. The former I can do; the latter embarrasses and terrifies me. I've been reading a book about Aboriginal Australians who give themselves their own names based on talents they have, like Composer, Secret Keeper, Kin to Large Animals, etc; and the way they honor the talents of everyone in the tribe made me realize how little I believe in the value of my own creativity. All I've ever learned to do in my life is complete, really, really, REALLY WELL, the tasks that other people set for me. But something originally my own, that nobody asked for, just a spontaneous idea that I could wave around happily and go, Look! Look what I came up with!!! ... Why do you think the fantasy novel I wrote from age 11-16 is still sitting on my computer, instead of being read? Anyway. A very painful realization. But after a long discussion and a short break, I was later able to sing Silent Night a cappella, in my own rhythm, trying to just feel the music and be the instrument to transmit its message. And it felt good. A moment of new possibility.

*Of course some of the stress of the music was due to the fact that I'M LEAVING PERU IN ONE MONTH, without a definite plan of what job I'm going to enter into at home, knowing only that I feel called to talk about Life, real Life, divine Mystery, God; to live my life deeply, in abundance; to speak a word of hope to people trapped in their own perspectives on life, who haven't had the experience I have in Peru. I'm not going to be a nun. I don't have a career path and I wouldn't want one all set out for me and tied up neatly with a bow (see above!). I don't know in what way my heart will speak to me once I'm there, where I'll end up. All I know is that it is good to be in this Lima world in these days that I have remaining... and that really, "home" almost isn't "home" any more because the place I actually live is here!... and that it's going to break my heart to leave... and that I can't stay where I am. I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

*Miriam came back from the US, understands completely my "desert" experience of being in a foreign country, and listens to me talk. And it's almost Christmas.

*I worked with Dante, Alfredo, and the rest of the church choir to "compose" a Christmas song to be presented at tomorrow's concert: we took the melody of a popular cumbia that's all over the radio, whose refrain is "I hope you die," and changed the lyrics to make a song about the birth of Jesus. It's hilarious and fabulous. Then we rehearsed it and tried to organize everyone to actually be there on Sunday...!

*I finished in Fe y Alegría with one last little actuación, in which I snuck my kids into the program Peruvian style, at the last minute, because they'd forgotten to put them on there earlier; and even got them the honor of singing the National Anthem in front of everyone simply by asking the people in charge about ten minutes before the performance started. See? I'm learning. Also, Sara had a little party for me with the Adelante kids, gave me silver dove earrings, and we ate ice cream despite the fact that one of the girls told me I look like I'm pregnant. Peruvian honesty.

*Today I'm going to Chaclacayo to be Mallco's "godmother" for his kindergarden graduation, i.e. I rented him a little suit for his party. It'll be good to see Tony and the kids again.

.......

So you see there's really been quite a lot going on. I'd give you pictures and all, but the thing is, Peru has stopped being weird for me. (Well, that's definitely an overstatement...) let's just say that I no longer feel like a journalist here. Instead I've become a member of this parish, this choir, this school (although that's a difficult relationship, thank God it's over!!!), this community. So if you don't mind, there may be no more blog posts from here on out. I'm just going to live my life for the next few weeks. I'm planning to travel, so there will be pictures from Puno and Lake Titicaca at some point... really before you know it I'll be home and you can ask me anything you want, and I promise to talk until you stop me. Believe me, I couldn't put it all up here anyway even if I tried.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

November part I

I've discovered the secret to successful volunteer tutoring: Franklin the turtle. Franklin is a turtle about seven or eight years old whose adventures are chronicled in a series of books in the school library. At some point in September or October I realized that the students in Sara's Adelante class really don't learn much in the class, and would be much better served by individual reading time. I'll spare you my rant about how infuriatingly ineffective Sara is as a teacher, especially as a teacher of kids with behavioral problems who come from very dysfunctional homes... Let's just say that that feeling of frustrated helplessness that never truly goes away for me in Peru is currently due to feeling like I have to learn on the spot to manage a special-needs classroom, because if I don't stand up and make the kids pay attention, Sara does nothing and it's total chaos. (And I always said I didn't want to teach high school because I'd rather not deal with discipline; if you want to learn, come learn, and if not, fine with me, go do your thing elsewhere! is my thought on education.)

Anyway, everyone benefits much more if I take the kids one by one to the library and have them read about Franklin and then answer questions in their notebook. They like it, too, because they feel special with all the individual attention, and I try to be a broken record of positive encouragement, to counteract the negative things I suspect they hear about themselves at home and in school. The down side to that is that then they hang on my arms and hug me and whine for me to stay when I tell them I'm leaving for the day. And since they're not particularly cooperative when I'm with them, I resent the implication that I'm a bad person for not wanting to stay. (more later on this dynamic of, "Nooo, Katalina, don't go!! Stay here so we can keep taking what we want from you when it's convenient for us and then putting you aside the rest of the time!" ...It's not just the kids I feel that from.)

November was a busy month. Not in the sense that I woke up from Monday to Friday and felt happy thinking of the day ahead, but in the sense that many things happened to interrupt my boredom and loneliness.

Sissy Corr, the director of my volunteer program, came to visit me and my fellow volunteer Katie. This was awesome for many reasons: (1) I felt recognized and valued for my work. Sissy followed me around to my singing classes in the school and my Confirmation group in the parish and told me how great it was that I'm doing all this. She has the perspective to be able to say, Look what you've accomplished from nothing! She also took great pictures of my elementary-school singers and the high school youth group.

(2) I got to go on retreat. Katie came down from Tambogrande and the two of us went with Sissy and Sister Maria Laura, who directed the retreat, to a house outside Chosica (farther out beyond Dr. Tony's, getting up into the mountains a little and out from under the Lima cloud.) The retreat was an excellent experience, although the task--reflect on and try to understand the past two years of my life as an NDMV in Peru--was way too big for the three days we had; just getting started on the process was exhausting, and I would have preferred an extra two or three days to just sleep. Here's me and the fish pond in the pretty retreat center.

(3) I got to spend time with Katie. I always knew this year would be harder without Catherine, but I sometimes forget just how lonely I become for someone who shares my experience. Plus she's a cool chica. :)
So Sissy's visit was good. Plus talking with Sissy about the practical details of running a volunteer program, I realized the enormous amount that I've learned about what works and what doesn't, and I now have some ideas of things to share with the administration at Fe y Alegría to help out the next volunteer, whenever he or she comes along.









Thursday, December 4, 2008

an interesting Halloween, making money, and the Lord of Miracles

This is me with my friend Mary when we went out for Halloween. Halloween isn't really celebrated around here, except for a very few little kids I saw dressed up in some kind of lame costumes and walking around with their parents on the street. But people do go out dancing on the 31st of October, so Mary and I went to get a friend of hers, Carolina, whom I didn't know before, and the three of us headed for Miraflores.

Mary told me that last Halloween they went to a certain club and had a great time, because "you can dance by yourself, no problem, and the guys don't bother you." I wondered why that would be more true at this place than at another, but said, whatever, ok. (Then I was less happy when there was a cover charge of 15 soles. Carolina lives in a really nice house that reminded me of the US, and clearly has money; but when you're a volunteer, you start to think more like your friends, who would have felt very uncomfortable in that house and certainly would never pay S/.15 to dance when you can easily go to other clubs and dance for free. I was a little disgusted by the number of handbags Carolina had to choose from when we were getting ready to leave... more handbags than my friends have shirts, I'm sure.) Then when I got into the club, after a few minutes I noticed there were a lot of groups of all guys standing around dancing, and a lot of groups of all girls... and a lot of same-sex couples dancing... "Mary, is this a gay club??" "Yup!" says Mary, perfectly happy to be dancing without those annoying guys that sometimes won't leave you alone in discos. But I got bored after a while, because no one asked me to dance! The best entertainment of the night was a guy in a Zorro costume (it was Halloween after all) who introduced himself to everyone he saw as Don Diego de la Vega.

That Sunday was the annual Lord of Miracles procession. In the preceeding weeks I'd helped out a bit by taking letters to two schools in the area, letting them know that the image would be passing by their school, so that they could prepare an appropriate reception--decorations, flowers, their own image, etc.--and by giving out flyers along a certain section of the procession's route, to let the people know the same. On the day of the procession, I, with other people's help, made over 500 soles. Unfortunately none of it was for me!

My Confirmation group decided to do an "activity," i.e. sell food, at the church that day to make some money for their retreat at the end of their program. Juancho helped a lot, but Any, the other catechist, couldn't, so I was basically in charge of organizing the teenagers into preparing two GIANT pots of arroz con leche and mazamorra and selling it after church. We were quite the businesspeople! Juancho and I bought all the ingredients, the kids showed up one by one starting at about 5:30 am, and we started cooking, i.e. everybody arguing about how best to do it, almost burning themselves on the gas stove, running out to get more sugar and corn starch at the last minute, etc. It was fabulous.







After Mass we sold a total of 150 servings of arroz con leche (Peruvian rice pudding) and mazamorra (a jello-y liquid or liquidy jello dessert made from purple corn). But that was only about half of the enormous pots we'd made! So we agreed to come back in the afternoon and sell the rest, hopefully, when people came for the procession at 3 pm. After a much-needed lunch and rest in my house, it was back to the church. The kids were great vendors--they got trays and walked around with the procession selling as they went, and eventually got rid of all of it. Grand total: S/.200 of profit after paying ourselves back for the ingredients, etc. Each of the kids who helped will get almost 20 soles toward the cost of their retreat next year. (which I won't be around for!! :(


I didn't get to help carry the Lord of Miracles this year because I had a unique job during the procession. I was in charge of carrying the limosna box, asking people for donations. The money I collected was going to be used to pay the band, so it had to be quite a bit! At first I was a little nervous about asking people for money, especially these people, because from my perspective they don't have any. But my friends told me just to walk right up to the people watching and ask for "collaborations," and if they say no, they say no. And the vast majority didn't say no. Women selling snacks from little carts on street corners, a way that the poorer people in the neighborhood sometimes make their living, dug out 20 cents or 50 cents or a sol from somewhere to contribute to the Lord of Miracles. It really means a lot to them. I became a walking (or running!) broken record all afternoon and evening, from 3 pm to 9 pm when it finished back at the church: "Señores, a contribution for the Lord of Miracles? Thank you, how kind of you! Thank you very much, God bless!"
above: stopping to pray in front of the anda

left: a very touching moment between mother, son, and the Lord... actually these were two drunk people who wandered into the procession, but still...

right: at Sheila's house they prepared a reception for the Lord of Miracles. (these good neighbors were impeccably pious and not the least bit drunk.)

Unlike my friends here, very rarely in my life have I ever felt pressured to make a certain amount of money. But I learned during that whole day, first of mazamorra and then of limosna, that when your goal is to go out there and find a way, any way, to bring back X amount of soles, you get into a kind of money-making mentality where you lose whatever hesitations you felt about bothering people. Sure, they might get annoyed if you ask them for money, but someone else will be more annoyed at you later if there's no money to pay the band. Luckily I had my little friend Ivan to show me the ropes in terms of bringing in cash.
me and Ivan carrying the limosna box, way ahead of the procession


Ivan is an expert at selling the chocotejas his grandmother makes to bring in a little extra income for his family. Very shortly into the procession he took me under his wing, and for the next five hours he ran me up and down the streets, left, right, ahead of the image, behind it, to all the stores, all the houses, everything, saying, Katalina, over there! Katalina, ask them! This store here, Katalina! In a stunt that I'd like to think will be remembered for years, we even made the rounds of a soccer field surrounded by groups of men standing around drinking--the kind I always go out of my way to avoid if I'm walking alone, because of the whistles and harassment. What did I have to fear? I had a whole procession of churchgoers behind me, plus an official-looking vest and collection box and a twelve-year-old sidekick! (Ok, so one of the older ladies of the parish was also with us at that point, and she was great, she walked straight up to those who refused at first and demanded money like a mother scolding naughty kids. "If you have money to drink, how about giving some for GOD!!") But the way their mouths dropped open when this tall, blonde gringa came up and cheerfully asked for donations for the Lord of Miracles was fabulous. Those who didn't reach into their pockets immediately just stood there gaping until their buddies yelled at them to give the señorita a contribution! "Señorita--you're a vision! Una belleza!" proclaimed one or another. "Then why don't you contribute?" I replied, laughing. And wow, did they contribute! One after another, out comes five soles, ten soles, fifteen soles for the collection box! I think we took more cash off the borrachos than the whole rest of the pueblo contributed together.

By the end of the procession me and Ivan had over 300 soles in the box. All in all it was a very profitable day.