Pobrecitos!

Poor Chile, poor Haiti ... we should be grateful if we have not suffered directly, and think powerfully good thoughts for those who have lost loved ones already this year. Pachamama ain't happy.

Human Nature and Desperate Measures?

Today was sort of funny, if you like to laugh at nice people who don't deserve it, such as myself. I woke up on a mission: I need specific types of families for my dissertation research. These families need to have at least one child between the ages of 7 and 12 years, and at this point, I'll take 6 with an upcoming birthday, or 13.  They can be neither rich, nor poor, as I abide by John Ehrenreich's definition of middle classness as something that one isn't.  

While people from the U.S. rapidly assert their middle classness (probably due to tax law), Peruvians do not self-identify with the label. I am observing that this is because they are either proud or ashamed of their fiscal status and don't really see a liminal position between rich and poor. It's not that a middle class doesn't exist. 

Most scholars agree with Aramburu's 1989 criteria for determining Peruvian classness, though I sort of can tell when I enter their homes whether they are too poor to participate. Or too rich. It's pretty obvious. I define classness by occupational type, neighborhood, and other social factors, too (have they traveled? do they hire professional help in their homes?), not just income. It's hard to quantify, though I could, with the help of the department of Peruvian statistics, but I trust my own instincts, and you should too.

Also my study is pretty broad when it comes to class, as it is an analog to the families that the team of scholars, of which I am a part has analyzed for 10 years now. 

www.celf.ucla.edu

 

Said simpler: class is a broadly defined topic and that's ok. 

But what is important is the kid thing, and that mom and dad both have to work "full time" in Lima. "Full time" appears to be a different construct here than in the U.S. too. This is a good thing, since I can take more families here than I would be able to there. I am erring on the side of inclusion versus exclusion. 

That is partially because I am desperate. Scared. Families cancel, don't want to participate in the first place, or love the idea but refuse to set a firm date. I am going nutso here. I assumed a human nature that I guess doesn't exist: I thought people love to talk about themselves. I think it's an American thing. Gulp! Overgeneralize much? Peruvians do, if they are proud of their homes. If, on the other hand, they are ashamed of their poverty, they do not love to talk about themselves, nor their homes. I must be sensitive, so I keep the camera rolling, as we say in LaLaLand, even if they ARE too poor. 

What these families want is compensation. Which is cool. The Institutional Review Board allows for some compensation for the families' time. That's cool, because people here work six days a week. And THAT, friends, is human nature. We are mostly greedy people.

I am a hunter now. I am going to museums, restaurants, grocery stores, banks, schools, churches ... I am shier than you might think, too. I am asking all ladies if they have kids. They're obviously at work, so that's a no-brainer. Human nature? Ladies love to talk about their kids. Most men, too. 

Today my mission took me to my neighborhood archaeological site, Huaca Huallamarca, to talk to museum administrators who might know what the hell anthropology doctoral students go through (I already have friends at the Catholic University and they are super helpful). 

I ended up swooped into a tour. I have taken said tour three times now. I had no hat, I was bored until we got to the hairless doggies and the plants (Horrible, I know. But I can recite that tour).

Huaca Huallana

  When Peruvian Hairless Dogs are about three, they get a yellow mohawk

Nonetheless, after the tour, the lovely museum administrator, Nancy Prieto, took some time to talk with me. She schooled me a little. She told me about Peruvian families' unwillingness to spend time with me. She told me that if I'd tapped my network here, which I have, I'd have to pay for data. Secretly, I knew this, though my 9 families have complied willingly and graciously and I still have naive hope that the 11 I need are mysteriously hiding out somewhere in Wongs or another grocery store or restaurant right under my nose. Nonetheless, Nancy is on my side and she is on the quest, with me, helping like all of Lima. Damn. I'm so lucky.

State of the Nation State

Rich versus poor Lima: Stark Contrast

I find it difficult to understand, much less explain, Peruvian history. In the 20th Century alone, many changes affected the country's current growth spurt.

You might say that Peru is post-pubescent, but that her pre-pubescent youth lasted a particularly long time. Maybe she started her adolescence very late due to malnutrition.

In 1948, the year Israel was created, a military coup instilled President Odria. He lasted a long time as president, and in 1956 allowed free elections, which strikes me as interesting, since he could have rendered himself obsolete.

Twelve years later, General Juan Velasco Alvarado seized power via another military coup, and this brought the nation somewhere between capitalism and socialism (where it still sort of stands today). The Velasco regime sought to eliminate class struggle by eliminating elite patterns of land use and nationalizing public service companies. Family farming became the renewed focus of food production, reverting some parts of Peru back to pre-conquest times. Still, the regime promoted and encouraged Peruvian-borne industry. Let's call this Peru's real growth spurt. Peru bought her own mines (especially copper) but microeconomics and macroeconomics became seriously out of balance, because this new concept was too foreign and the general public didn't really know how to manage all this change. It was a methodological failure, but an ideological breakthrough.

A new military regime overthrew Velasco on my birthday in 1975. General Francisco Morales Bermúda came into power. Remember, this was a time of worldwide petroleum crisis, not unlike the one we're "coming out of" today. Four years later Morales instilled a new constitution, and was reelected. Friends tell me that Morales was the butt of much public mockery, but this was only possible due to the fact that he allowed freedom of press.

At the time, the APRI party did well too, and the current president, Alan Garcia, now in his second term (reelected after a break) is APRIsta. In 1992, Japanese-Peruvian President Fujimori won the election an soon dissolved the Peruvian Congress.

Corruption ran rampant throughout the nation, though Fujimori did end the Maoist Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), a revolutionary terrorist movement that killed or displaced a total of about 220,000 innocent Peruvian civilians. SL was active from about 1960-1992, but most powerful from 1980-1990. There are still teeny strongholds in certain parts of Peru. The general opinion of Fujimori is that while he embezzled millions of dollars from a struggling nation and was actually extradited to Japan, he improved the infrastructure of Peru enough to almost be reelected this last cycle. His daughter, with little political experience, will run for president this next electoral cycle.

Now I'm no expert, and this synopsis is completely incomplete and likely somewhat erroneous, but it seems to me that Peru, like most of Latin America, is affected by revolutions, coups, and instability in general. The difference is, Peru is ABSOLUTELY THRIVING, even in this world economy, with exports of metals and rubber and fish to India and China.

What. The. Hell? Absolutely all the wealth is concentrated in Lima, particularly in this neighborhood of Lima, and the discrepancies between rich and poor are so very vast that I cannot adequately convey the life experience of my neighbor and the people 25 kilometers away, who must burn their trash, because there is no one to take it away, and nowhere to take it.

I just don't think it's sustainable. It's a soap big bubble. And the bigger the bubble, the thinner the walls, no? But what a time to document the story.

"How's Peru?"

Peru is, to say the least, unpredictable. When you want to do something in Peru, you must have alternate plans. And a seat belt. And a bevy of saints.

I like Francis of Assisi, and the patron saint (female) depicted on this freaky amulet I carry with me everywhere. I've toted the thing with me everywhere since 2003, when an wizened old lady pressed it into my hands in the highland Andean town of Carhuaz.

The female saint is depicted on an old syringe vial, sealed with lead, full of preserved jungle slugs and other unidentifiable gross things, no kidding. Everyone in Carhuaz knows who she is: she is the Andean patron (matron? I'm not Catholic) saint of prostitutes. If you saw it, you'd carry it with you too. And if you know me pretty well, you'd know that I freaked the hell out in 2007, when I noticed the vial and made some connections.

I digress. But I'm looking at the vial now.

My friend L., who is home in the EE.UU. now (los Estados Unidos, the United States), found out about Lima and Peru in general the hard way. When she first arrived, there was a land strike: transportation workers refused their duties, in typical Peruvian style, because their crapola pay doesn't adequately compensate their dangerous work. This prevented her from going to Machu Pichhu immediately, which was her life's goal (one, anyway), but that was a good thing, because had she gone on schedule, she would have had to been evacuated. Mudslides and other horrendous flooding-related phenomena forced hundreds of tourists off the mountain, and it's still closed.

L revamped her schedule but was terribly disappointed to reallocate her savings to do stuff she didn't enjoy. She was bummed out the whole trip, maybe barring our trip to the Amazon (what a time THAT was!), and had to stay with me in Lima a LOT. I had to work; that's why I'm here. She was stuck going to museums, most of which were closed.

Lima's growing really fast. I mean, REALLY fast. The Guardian says it grew 6.8 percent in December 2009, depending on how you measure. (If you look on the bottom of this page, you'll see that I installed a scroll bar of Google news for L.A. and Lima. You just have to watch it for a sec.) I, like you, am not a big fan of stats, but Lima is growing fast.

To wit: I've been going back and forth to this country since 2000, I think, for a field school. I always had to pass through Lima for some length of time. Lima was graced with her first Starbucks in 2003, I think. I'm sorta pulling this out of memory, but I bet I'm about right. Now, in my swanky 'hood alone, there are three that I can walk to. I can actually connect to one's internet connection, though I only get one bar. We have McDonalds, Dior, Abercrombie. Chili's and TGIF, in constant competition, have valet parking (which never ceases to crack me up).

One of the only Indian families in Lima are Patel people (the father married a Peruvian lady he met on an airplane, I think, and I apologize for the wording if it's not exactly right). They started a really nice restaurant named Mantra. So we have good other foods too. In fact, Lima's food is HOT now. They call it Andean-nouveau, and it's rather healthy, with quinoa, kiwicha, and other super high-protein grains, along with causa, tacu tacu, loma saltado, and my favorite, ceviche. You can Google these, but I'm putting a recipe up for ceviche, Lia-style.

My big question right now involves ethnic stratification, both perceived, and spatial. While I'm pretty well versed in the history of Limeño slavery (essentially), I can't figure out how the Japanese population (significant) and the Chinese population (allegedly small, but judging by the number of chifas, which are Chinese restaurants, and the ChinaTown, it's not), fit in to modern society. Also I can't find their neighborhoods. I'd love to interview them for my study. I guess I'll ... GO TO A CHIFA! Ding! 

Now I want to refer you to my friend Diego's website, which is at diegoarbulu.wordpress.com. The guy is freaking talented. He's studying to become an international delegate (I think - something very impressive, representing Peru), and he's only 25 (one month shy of 26). He's helped me a lot, but the test is so rigorous that he's run out of time. He's cramming-with-a-capital-C. But check it out. You'll like it.

Chau for now.

Amazon Princess Warrior

This Amazon Princess Warrior is currently a sad one. She deleted her photos from her camera before she copied them over to her computer. Yep. She must rely on her friend L., with whom she traveled to the Amazon Jungle this week, and the photos on L's trusty digital Canon. When L. returns from the center of Lima today, we will upload photos, and I (switching verb tenses now) will share with you some lovely shots of the pink dolphins (Yes! Freshwater dolphins! They did tricks for us!) and the baby anaconda, the strange fruit, the bungalow, our cool guide May, and the city of Iquitos itself.

Our lodge was about 200 kilometers from Iquitos, a 1.5-hour car ride and a 1.5-hour boat ride away. We drove down this road:

http://www.cresc.ac.uk/peru/roads/iquitosnata.html

and we launched the boat from Nauta, this trippy little river city that kind of haunts me. I really hope that's not an omen. I hate when I get the haunts from a place, or a person, and it means it's going to follow me around like a fly-bitten dog for like 10 years, and then I'm going to end up living with it or in it or what have you, and feel like I'm in prison. Just a glimmer of a horrible future ... but I digress. Again.

Nauta

We peed in Nauta before the long boat ride. They charged un sol (about 33 cents) for the privilege, and in their tiny dank bathroom, a cricket fell on my head while I was in mid-pee. It scared the piss out of me.

In the jungle, L. got more mosquito bites than anyone I have ever seen, while I got away with a couple horsefly bites (they call them cowflies there) and a mild parasitic infection (I think). Regardless, I feel slightly better now, but I'm taking a really strong anti-everything pill for 5 days, and I can't have my beloved wine for 6 days in total. Yogurt is the new wine anyway.

As an aside, I do love that we can get antibiotics, et cetera, in Peru and other countries without having to see a doctor first. There comes a point in our lives when we know a yeast infection from a non-yeast infection (not that I have a yeast infection - I don't - it's an example), and you know which damned pill you need.

However, I'm not so keen on the drug tourism. Ayahuasca is the hip hallucinogen to which new-agers (young and aging both) trek for "visions" and "healing" with the guidance of a shaman. I believe the shaman is real and maybe even wants to help people heal themselves via age-old wisdom and plant knowledge. But I also think it's tacky, to say the least, for gringos to rush the jungle with their clumsy too-big sandals on, and om their heads away after drinking a tea they don't understand, with people they don't understand, eroticizing and exoticizing a place they'll never get. How else to say it: it's not cool to go to a place and hang out with people just to do the cool new drug. It's their heritage. They'll feed it to you. They'll help you do it, they'll show you their way. They have good hearts, and they know their plant can help you with your demons. But you're not really going there for that, are you? You're going because you want to feel like you're getting away with doing mushrooms or acid, because it's legal here. You want a story to tell your friends. You did ayahuasca in the jungle with a shaman. It's a good story. But it's lame. Because it's sacred to them. And you're just using them.

One of the best parts of the trip, aside from the dolphins, butterflies, rain and parrot sounds, monkeys, and bright stars at night in formations unavailable in the Northern Hemisphere, was to be away from electricity for so long. That is why we saw Mars, Pleiades, and other constellations I hadn't seen since I lived in Huaraz.

Pleiades

We were unplugged for a total of 4 days and 3 nights. A lot of my friends believe I'm "addicted" to the Internet, but I'm not. It's just that I get about 70 non-junk emails each day, about 1/3 of which need a response. If I don't answer quickly, they really do accumulate fast. That causes me stress. I digress.

The jungle was pretty damned amazing. Worth every penny and every parasite. Our tour was, I guess, pretty similar to all the other tours, but I really liked our guide and the general vibe of the place. Here's the link for when you go:

http://www.fuentedelamazonas.com/S_Programs_1.htm

Iquitos. Rocks. But. It's. So. Freaking. Humid. That. I. Could. Never. Ever. Live. There. The thing that stands out most is that there are no cars. Well, maybe one car per 100 motos (motorcycles, mopeds, and motorized rickshaws). It's super cool, considering how much it rains there. I made friends (me?) and went to one of the coolest bars EVER:

www.camiri.pe

and it has rooms to rent (brilliant?).

I apologize that this blog reads something like a travelogue, but I just can't muster the strength to be political/editorial/sexy/witty/whathaveyou, but I'm doing my best! Be well. In the interim, I shall kill the wormies.

La Casa de Panchita and a Brief Discussion about Semantics

Last night I learned to make ceviche and it was a really wonderful experience. I thank Lia (23) and Liz (32) for traveling to my home to teach me the art, and I will pass the skills on to those of you who would like to learn to "cook" what is arguably Peru's most famous dish. Usually Peruvians don't eat ceviche at night, and Lia and Liz were "devirginized" (we kept joking), for it really is totally nontraditional to eat the spicy marinated raw fish so late, but it was the only time they could come together. We went out afterward to some really fun clubs.

I am honored to have had the experience I had today, though I had to rise uncomfortably early to do so. I observed a wonderful, wonderful training session at La Casa de Panchita today. 

Here is the organization's web site:

http://www.gruporedes.org/contenido.php?menu=2&idioma=I

And here is the mission statement/history I clipped from the Internet:

La Casa de Panchita (LCP) is a meeting place for domestic workers of all ages. They can visit whenever they want and stay as long as they want to. LCP is open every Sunday and from Monday to Thursday from 10am to 7pm. LCP promotes the strengthening of the domestic workers' self-esteem, the realization of their rights and the fulfillment of their responsibilities. It promotes their empowerment and fuels their independence to help them make good decisions in all aspects of their life.

Most activities are free of charge: we offer tutoring in schoolwork, access to our library, English classes, employment and placement in domestic services, legal advise in labor problems and in formalities to obtain personal documents, consultation in sexual and reproductive health, guidance in emotional problems, workshops (self-esteem, duties and rights, dance, dynamic theatres, manual work, cooking and etc), karaoke, movies, cultural and recreational outings and, in some cases, contact with family members in rural areas.

We charge a small fee for computing classes, excursion transportation and lunch. Domestic workers are encouraged to support each other, to make friends, help each other in their homework, and teach each other to use public transport and inform each other about the resources Lima has to offer.

I won't relay to you all my field notes, but suffice it to say that the facility trains domestic workers to stand up for their derechos, and not just what their derechos ARE (Artículo 10 of the Peruvian constitution describes workers' rights), but also the self esteem to stand up for them. 

Today, as a participant observing and learning from six domestic employees (students at the C de P) and two Casa de Panchita experts/teachers, I did silent meditation, danced and otherwise moved as a way to facilitate name-memory,and ball-throwing to maintain attention (it was particlarly fun when we added an additional ball!). That is how the three-hour workshop started out.

THEN the ladies role-played their rights, using common real-life examples (dueños who won't grant seguros or vacations, for example, or who ask for foot massages), and THEN we went over what to do if the employee made a mistake (such as if she burned a silk shirt with an iron or was babysitting when a kid fell and hit her head). 

Finally, I observed as they paired up and held silent eye contact for a full minute. I don't think I could do that. The goal was to help improve self-esteem. Most of these ladies had been taught that they were so worthless that they couldn't hold eye contact with anyone, even their peers, for more than a second or two. I watched this, and their posture, and their vocalizations, change, over the course of a couple hours.

It is so cool to watch women and people in general remember their power. I don't like the term "empower," because it seems to imply that WE are "granting" them the power that they didn't already have, that we outsiders are superhuman, "First" Worlders while they are mere short brown Third Worlders. I don't find these to be unimportant semantics and I never have. Words creep in to our hearts and souls; they, with objects, bodies, and spaces, are the way we construct our realities.

"Doing" Cultural Anthropology, Round 2

I feel like crying. The point of cultural anthropology is to better understand other cultures, right? I mean, howsoever we define "other cultures." Well, getting Limeños to participate in my study is freaking hard. They are from another culture, one that does not like to participate in other people's doctoral dissertations, nor sign ethical waivers.

I feel like crying. Did I mention that? Sure could use some suggestions. Contacts. Whatnot.

Roommate S says I should hand out fliers. I think that might be a nice idea, but it appears that a meaningful face-to-face interaction and eye contact improves my meager chances at success. Hell, then again, it might work.

Acclimated friend C says to hang a nice flier in public places. Pues ... another nice idea, but ... would a Peruvian respond to it? I guess it worked for my predecessors in the UCLA study. Sort of. They were working with inherently exhibitionist Angelenos who enjoy being on stage, or putting other people on stage. (Joni Mitchell said it best of her free Angeleno man in Paris who was indeed free until he returned to his job "stoking the starmaker machinery behind the popular song." That free man was David Geffen, by the way - THANKS, DNA.) Anyway, Angelenos dig that shit: publicity. Limeños don't.

In order to seduce them, I have ... spent time at grocery stores, asking women how to cook strange squashes. Then I segue into my project pitch, which I believe is eloquent. 

I have ... gone to design/furniture stores, museums, toy stores, anywhere "middle class" people with kids hang out and/or buy stuff for the interiors of their homes.

Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat. 

I say that this is very important work that will eventually turn into a book.

People seem intrigued. 

They say they will participate and then they don't return my calls. 

My new tactic: make them sign up for a time that I am available, with their address, so that I can appear at their house. 

I never wanted to go into sales. It is not my calling. I have known this for years, since I had my first (and last) retail position at a pet store, during which I "accidentally" set free several cockatiels into the non-conducive environment of my hometown.

            Prescott, AZ

I don't regret it. I like birds.

Aver, urban anthropology presents challenges of its own, for sure. People never smile in Lima, except the (male) security guards in front of (extremely pricey) restaurants and stores. They say, "buenos tardes" or "día," as the case may be, and I think they think norteamericanos are nice, which they are, compared to rich Limeños, and I apologize for the stereotype, but goddamn it's true. 

I get jealous sometimes of my peers working in small villages where residents are curious and eventually approach THEM, instead of me feeling like a damned cookie-selling Girl Scout (another painful flashback).

I'd rather just put up pictures of the Gloria cows. 

 

There are only 80 Gloria cows. I know, because I asked the man on the right as he was putting it up in Miraflores, and he said this was the 80th and final one.