Conversaciones Muy Importantes

Today was a day I have to write about. It’s days like this I know what an opportunity of a lifetime the Peace Corps is.

My day started around 10am – slept in because the week has been hectic and I needed to catch my breath. Funny how campo life can be crazy and hectic for me yet so tranquilo and slow for everyone else. I think this experience is what you make it entirely and I have chosen to be busy as a bee, because I have realized I need to be a busy body or I do not feel accomplished, slash I’ve also always had an abnormal amount of energy. Well, after receiving a surprise phone call from a good friend (who doesn’t have cell service in her site – so when she calls, it’s like Christmas) I got going in the right state of mind to the river to tan for a bit and read. I love the walk to the river. It’s a tropical paradise here in Tumbes. Everything’s green and flourishing. There’s life everywhere…birds singing, walking between huge banana and mango trees, all sorts of fruits in site, yellow, green, shades of red, dirt on my bare toes – that’s right, getting a little muddy - feeling the Earth pulling me into its overwhelming palm and closing in. All the señores of Oidor working and greeting me as I pass by on the dirt path between what looks like a forest and me trying to search where the voice came from, telling me to be careful and of course, offering me the occasional mango, “Señorita Gioconda, que tal? Cuidado! El rio ha crecido! Ven! Quieres algunos mangitos?” Rainy season’s created a monster of a river – its power is truly respected by these men. Peruvian culture lives off the land and its bountiful waters and I’m loving learning to take care of the Earth like they do. The sun makes my forehead drip sweat, there’s not a cloud in sight, humidity’s an awesome 80%. I’m getting closer to the river, passing by more señores, more fruit, more donkey’s and cows. I hear it roaring. I see it and I’m thirsty. I set a towel down, strip to my bathing suit and soak in that sun, play my music. I lay there, read, listen to everything around me – the birds chirping, the wind swaying through the trees, the river’s current skipping rocks, churning onwards to Ecuador. It’s 12pm. Around 1:30pm I walk back home – can’t stay out in the sun here for too long or I’ll come back home a gringa pancake. You always run into people and have to stop and talk here, ask how the family’s doing, put in a little health plug then go on your merry way. Today I ran into Señora Uva and her 6 year old daughter, Nicole, with Brian, 11 years old, and she has these huge coconut trees. We’re sitting and talking and she asks if I want one. DUH! (My host mom wasn’t around that day for lunch so I was planning on picking food in the chacra/farm anyways, ha!) Señora Uva says we have to find someone to climb the tree to lower the coco’s. I joke and say after my two years here, I need to learn how to climb coconut trees. I also admit that this will be my lunch because I can’t cook for shit. Peruvian’s think its hysterical I can’t cook – as if it’s impossible I’ve lived this long without cooking…I tell them I can cook a mean cereal. They pity me and give me food. I have a great system going here, ha! We finally find a señor up for the coco challenge though! I’m thanking him a million miles per hour. I’m so excited to drink that fresh coco water! He goes climbing the tree with me doing the sign of the cross on the side hoping he doesn’t fall. One, two, three, four, FIVE coco’s later, we’re laughing from the excitement of trying to catch the falling coco’s, everyone running all over the place, hoping nobody gets konked in the head. The man takes a machete to the coco’s and we’re all sipping our coco water, refreshed, and laughing about God knows what. I realize that it’s almost 3pm, and I have to do encuestas with Yuvicsa, a health promoter here. I run to my house to find Yuvicsa waiting for me on the hammock and I down the rest of my coco water, man handle three mangos and bring an apple for the walk over to the homes we’ll be an doing an encuesta at – great lunch. Typical American girl. First stop – a lively señora I end up playing cards with. Second stop – a quite señora with four kids that share a bed with her. There are no walls in her home of mud and sticks and her pigs are entering her home. She’s what Peace Corps would call “high risk” for health problems; this is why I’m here - to work with her specifically. I love finding these mom’s – makes me feel like I can actually do some good. Last stop for the day, because it’s getting late, 5pm – señora Sandra, 24 years old with a 7 year old, Daniel, and Aime, 2 years old, and a baby on the way. She’s vomiting in front of me from pregnancy sickness. I’m telling her I can come another time but she insists I continue asking questions. She tells me she appreciates my work and wants to help me however she can. She opens up to me – that her first son is from another man that beat her, she was only 16 when she had Daniel and didn’t take good care of him…responsibility is something she lacked at that age, and she wishes she had been a better mother, but now with Aime, she’s learned how to be a mother and she’s trying her hardest to raise her kids right. She asks me why I came to Peru and I open up too – medical school is super competitive to get into in the United States, I need to gain special experience and I have always loved doing community service, so why not make the ultimate sacrifice for my passion for service? She tells me I will be a great doctor and can see I struggle with the getting in part. She reminds me I just need to keep working hard and God will take care of me if medicine is really for me. Again, lost track of time, and Yuvicsa reminds me she has to cook dinner, so we give hugs and kisses to señora Sandra, say thank you for your time, and we’re off to Yuvicsa’s house. While Yuvicsa cooks, Maoli, her 9 year old daughter, and I go up behind their house up this hill where there’s a cross and look out spot. We can see all of Oidor, the chacras, the river, the cars going up and down the road. Maoli’s telling me stories about hiking around the hills around Oidor – apparently some of the hills are haunted. I am warned, and then dinner is served. Thank God ‘cause I was getting scared there! We eat outside, swatting flies every two minutes, but their dinner table has the best view of the river and the hills around us. There’s a breeze that’s ever-so refreshing. It’s me, Maoli, Yuvicsa, and Yuvicsa’s very, very, EXTREMELY old parents. Yuvicsa takes care of them so well. One day I know I’ll have to take care of my mom. Latin Americans don’t believe in putting old people in “homes” unless you mean putting them in your own damn home!  Ha! It starts to rain and I say I’d better get home because the rain brings a lot of mud and since Yuvicsa’s house is on a hill, getting down without slipping will be impossible after 20 minutes of rain! As I walk through the streets at night in the rain, I smell the Earth and breathe deeply, saying hi to the kids that yell my name as I walk along back home. I stop by at Yasmani, 12 years old, his brother, Wilson, 8 years old, and their baby sister, Clarita’s, house. They are such good brothers to Clarita. They taught her how to wave to people and she even says hello to me in English. They show off all the things they teach Clarita. My host mom calls me around 7:30pm worried about where I am and I hurry back on home to a big hug from her. I really love Mariana, my host mom. She’s 29 years old so she’s more like a “prima” to me (cousin) but she looks out for me like a mother would. She’s very sweet and really goes out of her way to make me feel comfortable. We sit outside on the patio a while in the cool air jokingly thanking Jesus the hot sun’s finally gone down and I braid her hair while she puts the baby to sleep. We just relax but it’s really more than that. All of this is more than that. We’re all getting closer. We’re becoming more and more a part of each other’s family, and that is an amazing feat.