Thursday, January 18, 2007

Ok.....what a week...here it goes. three things, two bad and one good. I will go in chronological order.
1. BAD-Ok, I have a club in which we raise money to go on trips. It consists of little kids and teenagers. We do activities to raise money, like cooking food and selling it outside of the market at lunch time. Everyone participates. The governing body cooks, and the little kids sell the papas. The food we cook is a mashed potatoe dish with a salse....delicious and very popular. As I mentioned before, the treasurer stole the money and flew to Lima. This made me sad for many reasons. First of all, I feel like he took advantage of little kids, and like most human beings, it makes me sad when little kids are taken advantage of because it is the beginning of the stripping of their innocence. Second of all, I thought that he was my friend. Third of all it shows how desperate the economic situation is, that a good guy, like Burro, would succomb to this low. And lastly, I could shoot myself for trusting a guy named Burro.

2. GOOD- We went on our first trip to the Bosque de Polmac, it is a dry forest with ancient pyramids. It was so much fun. Everyone was climbing the pyramids and we contracted a pick up truck so we were traveling around in the back of a truck, all the kids together, laughing and running around. It is such a great memory.

3. How do I start? One day I was sitting outside on the sidewalk with the neighborhood guys, guys who are part of my field trip project and also my English classes. We were talking, and eating mangos, when this 8 year old kid came up and tried to hit them with a waterballoon, they grabbed him, stripped him of his pants and threw his pants in the tree. The kid was laughing along with the guys, I sat there shocked, and trying to decide what to do, I looked at him, he was laughing, but his eyes were full of embarrasment. All of a sudden a mother came and yelled at them all, and they gave the kid back his pants, and the situation was over. Later his parents came up to me and asked my why I did nothing to help. I have never been so shamed in my life. His parents told me that people on the street, always grab this kid and take his pants off, and sometimes hit him on his bottom, and touch him in places inapropriados. Later, I walked up to the kid and told him that I am sorry I did not help him, and I started crying. I think he feels bad for me, because he has been nice to me eversince. Ironic, right. Later I called a meeting for all the guys that were there when it happened. Of course the guy who did it was not there. I told them that what happened was wrong, and that I was not accusing them because I was there too, and did nothing to help, and that when his pants were stripped his dignity was stripped along with it. In the middle of the talk I started crying again. It was pretty embarrasing. I told them that the kid was really embarrased, and in fact did not even tell his parents. They had to hear from another source, and that when they got a chance I think that it would be really good if they could tell him that they are sorry.After the talk they said to me, Erin I agree with everything you are saying but the person who did it is not even here. I resonded nevertheless, we were there and we did nothing to help, and therefore are guilty as well. One good thing came of it. Hours later, a kid came up to me and said, Erin when can we go and tell him that we are sorry. I told him how about tomorrow at 8:oo. He said ok, I will tell the guys and we will go. I asked if he wanted me to go with him, and he said no, they were going to do it without me. I was happy with this answer. I think it shows a lot of responsability. And here we have it, a moment I will never forgive myself for and I will never repeat.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

A glimpse into my life.

The other night my two sisters and I were stretched out in the bed, my cousin standing looking over us. We were covered in our nightly layer of sweat, totally oblivious to or maybe even relaxed by the monotony of the continual chirping of the crickets, the blinding darkness stopping at the window and the abrazive lighting from within the house. Que semana, (what a week) I stated. My sister repeated, Que semana, observing my words, but not really listening. She was lost in her own thoughts. My cousin looked at us and laughed. each one of us had had exhaustingly eventful weeks, and were camped out in the bed recovering.

Rocio´s week: Last night we went to the park, the park is where the night life is. Everyone who is anyone is at the park at night. We were walking towards the house when a boy ran past and pegged her with a waterballoon. She stood there drenched,, humiliated, 13, and on the breaking point of tears. To make matters worse her boyfriend kept chiding her, saying that is was her fault for running, if she had stayed close to the Mollo and I, it never would have happened. Broken.

Mollo´s week: This week a boy confessed his feelings for her and kissed her. To make matters more complicated, she is completely in love with another, her boyfriend, who is passing summer vacations in Lima. This is a problem for anyone, but imagine being a 15 year old girl immersed in her first love and going through this.

Joanna´s week: I can´t post this on a blog

My week: read the next blog. I am not ready to write about it. I am still a little ovrewhelmed.

Monday, January 15, 2007

Ok, I have 5 minutes. I am going to briefly describe my week in the format of + and -´s.

+ My group of youth finally raised enough money to go on a day trip to the Sican pyramids
- The treasurer of my youth group stole all the money and went to Lima.
+ I really feel like I have developed good friendships with my sisters.
- My host mom, also a good friend, is angry that I am unwilling to act like a mother to my sisters, for instance, telling on them when they are hanging out with boys, and scolding my sister for being overweight, two things I refuse to do.
To be continued

Sunday, January 14, 2007





fotos: hiking
top left: Yubbith Top right: las chicas Bottom lfeft: Blanca Bottom right: Carman and her sister

I hate computers. This is the slowest process in the world. I will write and post pictures later.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

My new weakness: Bollywood

Monday, January 08, 2007

Next entry, I promise I will put pictures. A funny occurance today. I went to visit Jissinia, today, a friend of mine. The house that is attached to hers is where all the drunks hang out. Before I continue this story I need to explain certain customs of Peru. If you drink with drunks, especially if you are a woman, it is looked poorly apon, also if you refuse a drink it is looked poorly apon, especially if you are a foreigner trying to integrate into the community. As you can imagine this contradiction can create many awkrad situations. I know I spelled that word wrong but hitting the delete button really bothers me. I feel like I am regressing. Anyways. So, today I was heading over to my friends house when the drunks called me for a drink. I had to think fast. What do I do. Do I accept it and risk being associated with the drunks, do I say no and risk looking like a complete jerk. I chose to accept it. I went and was sitting with them celebrating a birthay when they were passing the bottle. (In Peru when people drink, everyone shares one glass and we pass the glass around with the bottle.) Anyways the bottle had passed to me three times before I realized how to get out of the situation. I said to the birthday man, Excuse me I need to go my friend is expecting me, we have to go over something for work. They said yeah, yeah, I said bye and left. I then went next door to my friends house and her aunt said that she was not there. The birthday party was staring at me, so I said, please let me in for at least 5 minutes. I explained that I had to enter because I told the party that I had to go because my friend was expecting me, therefore if I just knocked on the door and left it would be obvious that I was lying. She said, yeah, ok, and then we sat on the couch staring at each other for five minutes. I had to get out of there. I asked if she had a back door. She said yeah, and I left through the back door carefully so that nobody would see me. Then I ran to my house. The things I have to do, being a gringa and living in a small pueblo where everybody talks. Like the people here say "pueblo chico, infierno grande" Small town, big hell. That is all folks.

Hasta la vista baby,
Erin