I hope you dance

I love dancing.  Now, I may or may not be a good dancer.  That's up to you to decide.  But regardless of my skill level, I love it.  Dancing unites people.  It brings generations together.  It ties the past to the present.  It liberates.  It brings smiles to faces.  It calms and relaxes.  It creates a glimmer of hope.  

I am reminded of the following quote from a song made famous by Lee Ann Womack:

"And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.  I hope you dance.  I hope you dance...

Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along.  

Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone."

This past month was a bit stressful.  Dancing made it better for me and I know it was a fun diversion from the normal routine for others as well.  When I get the chance, I like to go out dancing.  Salsa dancing is one of my favorities, but of course there is always music for other types too, like merengue, cumbia and regatón.  Sometimes  I just put on music in my apartment and dance in between my work.  Some say that's crazy, but I believe it's freeing.

As I mentioned in my last post, the youth group in Chosica del Norte had the oportunity to learn some breakdancing (and so did I).  I'm readily willing to admit that I'm not good at it, but I did enjoy it.  One Monday, I went to Monsefu (a nearby town) where I watched a little bit of a Marinera contest.  Marinera is a traditional dance typical to Northern, Peru.  Wearing traditional costumes and performing the dance, links children to their ancestral roots and customs.  The dance is lovely among all ages and is sometimes performed with horses as well.  Below is a photograph of a few children performing Marinera Norteña.

Finally, to leave you with a quote from Voltaire:

"Let us read, and let us dance;

these two amusments will never do any harm to the world."

I hope you dance.  Don't worry about the opinions of others.  

Just dance and be carefree for a short while.  

The month of workshops…

   I’ve done a poor job of blogging lately.  It has seemed as though I’ve had little time to do things for myself and I’ve been wondering what I could even say.  Reflecting upon this last month, I’ve drawn the conclusion that the main theme of the month was workshops.  Facilitating or co-facilitating three or more workshops each week, I feel like I have learned a lot; however, it was quite stressful.

   I planned and facilitated a pronunciation workshop for teachers at the university’s language center and two five-hour long workshops for foreign language university students on speaking skills and on teaching/language learning methodology.  While I enjoy languages and also enjoy teaching and learning from others, I felt overwhelmed and terribly stressed with a day including 10 hours of workshop + 1 hour for lunch.  What a day!  I am continuing to learn about this culture and how to manipulate situations so that I have more control and do not find myself in such stressful situations.  I will continue to do more of these types of activities in my remaining months at the university, but I hope to have more control over how they will play out.

   In addition to the work at the university, I've been working with Sarah, a Canadian friend, and other women from a local NGO, Centro Esperanza, doing workshops for a youth group and a women's group in Chosica del Norte and we are in the process of getting a women's group on it's feet in San Borja, another nearby underdeveloped district.  I love working with these various groups of people as I am constantly learning from them.
   The women in Chosica del Norte have been working with the themes of leadership and violence prevention.  Some are more withdrawn and some are very willing to share their stories with me.  Many of them have developed leadership skills through the program over the last few years and are continuing to grow.  Their go-getter attitudes and resilience inspire me.  A week ago, with the help of Centro Esperanza, a dialogue between local residents (parents as well as teenagers) and community authorities (such as women working for a women's treatment center, a psychologist, a police officer in charge of domestic violence cases and someone with a position similar to that of a mayor) was held.  Ideas were laid out in hopes of being able to improve lives in the community and reduce domestic violence.  I was extremely proud of several of the women from the group that I've been blessed to help with, who stood up with a microphone before the group and addressed the authorities.  For several of them, it was the first time in their lives speaking in front of others in such a setting.  A little bit of faith and trust in others can go a long way!
   The youth have learned about a variety of topics including leadership, happiness, their anscestors and how the past affects them today, and this last week got the chance to learn some breakdancing.  They were thrilled.  Breakdancing was fun for many of the 12-14 year-olds, but especially for some of the more mischievous/ornery boys.
   In San Borja, we are helping to organize a group of women who have worked in or are working in organic gardens which they use for a different purposes, such as providing nutritious meals for their families and selling vegetables and herbs as a source of income.  As we have just recently begun going, we do not have a set location nor do we yet know how many people are likely to arrive.  This last week, Sarah, Marcela and I (3 volunteers from Centro Esperanza) arrived in the community, but did not see any of the women.  We were forced to fall back on a tactic that I came to know well in Kenya of asking a child that happened along our path to lead us to his/her home to speak with the mother and then to take us to other women who work in the gardens.  In this way we gathered a small group and one of them offered to allow us to use her home.  Throughout the next 1.5 hours, nearly all of the women we had been expecting showed up at the home by some unknown form of communication.  It's something I'll probably never fully understand...the networks of communication in such communities.  While Sarah and I gathered information from the women about their pasts and helped them to get to know one another better, Marcela did a wonderful job of playing with their children outside so as to keep them from pestering their mothers.  Sounds of singing and laughing filtered into the adobe home along with rays of afternoon sun on the dirt floor.  Some of these women have had few opportunities to strengthen their skills in relationship to earning an income or being a leader, but a few of them left us surprised, like an older woman who has been able to fly to Lima 4 times as a part of her efforts of delivering food/milk to families in her community.
   I am learning a ton here in Peru and love the opportunities I have been blessed with to participate with Centro Esperanza in several projects demonstrating solidarity and learning mutually alongside other women.  Our semester break at the university has just begun and I look forward to doing a little bit of relaxing, taking a short trip and being able to involve myself more with Centro Esperanza for a few weeks before beginning the next semester.

 Youth Group in Chosica del Norte

¡Viva Perú!

   On this day 192 years ago, Peru was declared an independent nation by General José de San Martín.  Celebrations (mainly in the forms of parades and alcohol consumption) and military parades are taking place throughout the country.  

   This morning, I went to the pueblo joven of Chosica del Norte where I attended mass and then accompanied the youth group with which I help Sarah (my Canadian friend from Centro Esperanza) in a very short parade to be recognized by the community.  Upon leaving the church, we filed out into the dusty street where we stood for quite some time as several short speeches were given by local governmental officials.  I thought the children in traditional clothing were adorable and was proud of those who were representing Centro Esperanza’s groups hoping to bring change to their community through leadership and ending domestic violence.  Besides for the conversations around me, there was not much noise other than the breeze; no honking horns as in Chiclayo, just the hum of traffic on the nearby Pan-American Highway. 

   In Chosica del Norte, as in the Victoria and in my district of the city, Villa Real, Peruvian flags can be seen on nearly every building as it is mandatory by law.  If a flag is not displayed today and tomorrow, the home or business owners will be fined.   

   As a tribute to Peru's independence day, I’m posting some pictures from this day or “typical” Peruvian things as well as creating a list.

Cuy (guinea pig). Marinera.  Papa a la huancaina.  

Huayno.  Peruvian dog.   Inka Kola. 

Loud music.  Ceviche.  

"Youth Group: Agents of Change in Chosica del Norte"

"Promoting good treatment in families of Chosica del Norte"

A Sentiment Is ...

   This last week, I was in the pueblo joven of Chosica del Norte near Chiclayo helping with a youth group.  Our theme of the day was "Happiness."  For adolescents growing up with very few resources in a society becoming ever more capitalistic as Americanization and globalization take their toll on traditional values in many cultures, changing the dynamics of their societies and their lifestyles, it can be tough to think about what makes a person happy.  Through a variety of activities the young people (primarily between the ages of 12-14), were encouraged to think about happiness and what really brings them happiness.  Even though they are not from the upper class, are they happy?  Can money buy happiness? 

   At different stages in their development and maturity, some responded that nice clothes, a car, or a new pet are high on their list of priorities to make them happy.  On the other hand, there were youth who said that getting a good education, having good health, having a supportive family and becoming a professional were important to them. 

   In another exercise, the kids were given one of the following words: Happiness or Sadness.  They were asked to explain what it meant to them.  Many gave responses along the lines that happiness is a feeling you get when you are with your family or when you share, while sadness is a feeling a person has when someone says hurtful things to them.

   Describing an emotion is a rather difficult task.  It’s something so abstract, that it can only be described in relationship to visible or tangible things or events that have transpired.  That activity also led me to think about my own feelings and what they are to me.   

   Happiness is light and colorful, dancing, being with/talking with family and friends, lying on a bed late at night with my best friends talking and laughing so hard that my stomach hurts, accomplishing a goal.

   Sadness is hearing an 8-year old say she wishes she could read like me so she could work buy a pair of boots for herself and her mama, listening to a five-year old say she’s not pretty because she’s morena (has a dark complexion), being treated poorly for being a foreigner, knowing that a loved one is struggling/suffering and I can’t be there, missing my family and friends.

   Anger is strong, ugly, being hit on by the president of the university, witnessing injustices.

   Peace is lovely, relaxing, calming, breathing the fresh air in the countryside, having a moment of silence.

   Frustration is asking my students to do something and hearing them whine or seeing them do nothing, speaking English with someone who wants to and having them understand little of what I say, being told by a student that I don’t know how to speak English.

   Compassion is giving a few coins to a man struggling to scoot himself down the street, lending a hand to an elderly woman struggling to cross a street.

   Forgiveness is continuing to answer questions that I know the asker already knows the answer to even after I’ve been asked offensive questions or offended by his/her statements.

   Thankfulness is being reminded many many times each day just how blessed and fortunate I am.

   Confusion is seeing that my students are confused but refuse to tell me what they don’t understand, the numerous strikes that have shut the university down since I’ve come, responding to the question of what I’m going to do when my scholarship ends.

   Worry is losing my keys and hoping the landlady will be home to open the main door for me so that I can collect the duplicate that I had made and had hidden so I can enter my apartment.

   Relief is a big hug when I’m struggling with something, finishing a workshop that I had to plan and lead for over 10 hours (and having it go smoothly). 

   Joy is splitting ice cream with a friend, seeing that my students have learned something, hearing my students ask me if I can be their teacher again next semester, seeing friends.

My Weekend in Photos

What I Like About Peru

Although the world is so interesting and there are always new things to be learned, it can also be said that everywhere is the same.  In every place there are good people and bad people, comforts and discomforts, hardships and luxuries, social classes, hard workers and lazy people, and of course things to love and things to dislike.  Sometimes when I get tired of having taxi drivers stop in front of me hoping I’ll take a ride with them, tired of mopping my apartment at least once a day, tired of listening to the honking traffic, tired of cat calls, tired of total disorganization and inefficiencies, I have to take a step back and remind myself of the good things here.

What do I like about Peru?

I like its fresh fruits and vegetables.  I like dancing.  I like its culture: La hora loca, traditional clothing and artisan crafts.  I like aji and rocoto.  I like its bright colors and the way people often work together.

I like the beach and colonial architecture.

I like the friends I’ve made, the warm hearts of many, the social atmosphere, the laughter of children, the ways people of all ages can interact.

I like the beautiful outdoors, the sunsets, the waterfalls, the hikes, the coastline, the ruins, the mountains, the bodies of water, the donkeys, the creativity, the resilience, some of the history.

I like being me: eating ice cream, dancing, hiking, running along the beach, talking, swinging, smiling, laughing, serving others, speaking English, speaking Spanish, listening, observing.

Stories

Life is full of stories.  In some ways our lives themselves are stories.  I’ve been blessed to have come across many storytellers in my life.  Some are part of my family, others are friends are yet others are people whose paths have intersected with mine and when I look back, I see our different paths and remember their stories and think about my own.  Some people, like my friend Gathoni , whom I’ve been fortunate to visit on 2 continents, tell stories through pictures Life Through Gathoni's Lens.  Others tell stories through paintings, poetry, sculptures and dance.  And now, I, like many others will attempt to tell some stories through words.  It’s been quite some time since I have posted anything; now the time has come to sit down and write. 

                Sometimes, as I walk down the streets of Chiclayo, as I look out at the young faces in my classes, as I see the wrinkled and worn hands of those searching through the garbage for any remains of food they can consume or plastic that they sell for a few meager cents, and as I listen to children shrieking with delight, I find myself wondering about their stories; where they have been and where they are headed. 

                In the mornings, I often buy bread from a nearby bakery.  The baker sometime shares anecdotes about other foreigners that he has met with me, asking if I know them or have been to their countries.  He seems interested in the world around him, yet is a slave to the ovens baking bread from sunup to sundown for the rest of us to enjoy. 

                I met a student a few weeks ago who is struggling in his English classes.  Yet, it isn’t a surprise.  He only sleeps about 3 hours a day since he works as a security guard all night and goes to classes all day, just to be able to sleep in a tiny room with a roof over his head, so as to be able to study at the university.  I hope he is able to make it through and finish his studies.  Without a formal education, life can be extremely difficult, as employment opportunities are limited.  On the flip-side, I’ve met an industrial engineering student, studying at a private university.  He lives comfortably with his family and gets much of what he wants, is bright and speaks English fairly well, having learned much of it from watching American TV programs and sees the world as a simple place to live.  Where will these two end up?  Will their views change or simply be reinforced?

                Having gotten involved with a leadership program for women in a pueblo joven, I get to hear their stories.  I see women who love their children more than anything in the world sweeping them up in their arms and giving them a kiss when they’ve fallen down or just want some attention.  I listened through tears to a women suffering from cancer of the uterus, who has no home and lives with her blind husband in the streets, suffering and barely able to earn a living.

                A colleague from the university married a man from Switzerland this weekend.  I enjoyed dancing at the ceremony and observing the mixture of cultures, the swirls of colors and imagined where she will be in two months when she moves to his homeland. 

                Translating letters to Canadian donors, I get to be part of telling stories of joy.  A few people received beds through the donated funds and this is what they shared.  An older gentleman suffering from TB wrote, “Although I live in humble conditions and can do little because of the severity of my illness and its contagious nature, I am grateful beyond words for your kindness, for now I no longer must sleep in the dirt like an animal, but have the bed of a man.”  A teenage girl who’d been sharing a bed with her parents and younger brother wrote, “I am the luckiest girl in the world.  You have made me a princess.  To have my own bed and a blanket was a dream that I didn’t think would come true.  May you be blessed for blessing me.”

                There are so many people we see and never know their stories.  Running along the beach with my friend Igor a few weeks back, we looked back before the tide erased our footprints and saw ours crossing with those of others, people of all ages scattered across the beach like the grains of sand, each absorbed in their own worlds, each with stories told and stories untold.