October 25, 2006- Resurrected

Finally, after two music-less weeks, I have been reunited with my computer. Now, I am once again able to listen to Maroon 5 over and over and OVER again (while thinking of no one other than the gorgeous Jenn Edington, naturally), which is just about the only CD I burnt onto my computer before coming down here. For such a music lover, you would think that I would have burnt all of my cd´s onto the computer, but apparently I wasn’t envisioning how painful it would be to listen to the same 12 teeny bopper tunes for two years straight. Oh well, it is certainly better than nothing, and believe me, nothing was pretty unbearable. The tech at the computer place took a mighty long time to decipher what the heck happened to my laptop during the power outage, and then once he did figure it out, he told me that he needed to wipe out all of my files entirely, and replace my system with a Spanish system. He was, however, able to salvage my music files. He wasn´t however, able to ensure that all of my keyboard keys maintained their functions. This is real fun. For instance, right now I am going to press the question mark key for you __________. Wait a minute, that´s not a question mark. Where did that dirty rotten scoundrel hide my punctuation marks (insert your own question mark here). I guess I can´t complain too much though. He only charged me 7 American dollars for a job that probably would have cost me over 100 in the states. After declaring the price for his services, he shyly asked me, ¨Is that too much?¨ (Ah ha!!! There´s the question mark!) Anyway, sir, no…that is not too much.

And at last, I can inundate you all once again with the mundane details of my existence here in Jesus, Peru. Actually, things have picked up a bit since last I checked in. I have been spending many of my mornings traveling to caserios (surrounding villages) with my town´s doctor and nurses. They were going to vaccinate people for Rubeola because this month is free Rubeola shot month, and I was going to learn some of the 47 villages that Jesus is comprised of. This Rubeola shot is mandatory for people ages 2 to 39. I really didn´t know what I was getting myself into with this little project, to be honest. Evidently, many people in the countrysides of Peru are not very health-conscious, and are superstitious about the aftereffects of vaccines. This meant that we couldn’t just go to a centralized location in each caserio and expect people to flock to us for their free shots. This meant instead that we had to go door to door, and most times, since people chose to hide from us, this meant trespassing straight into their kitchens to catch them crouching behind whatever furniture piece was large enough to conceal them (I´m being serious, they had no shame). My counterpart actually ended up getting a little fussy with me because I refused to chase a 40 year old woman down the mountain for her shot. Are you kidding, Irma? What the heck am I supposed to do once I catch up to her? Tackle her to the ground and restrain her while you stab her with a syringe? Is this really how healthcare works in Peru? I thought I was asking that last question in my head, but apparently I said it out loud to my counterpart who responded, ¨Doctors don´t have to track people down for their shots in the states?¨ Uh, no, not exactly like this. Maybe with a friendly phone call, or reminder postcard in the mail, but no highspeed chases, that´s for sure. She was genuinely surprised by my response.

The best part of our caserio escapades was the transportation provided to us. Most times, if the caserio was closer than a three hour walk from us, we would hike. I won´t get into how tiresome it was for the six of us (arguably the least fit people in Latin America) to climb up the rugged mountains of Jesus in the fierce Peruvian sun. Other times, we were piled into an antique, out-of-service ambulance that was already piled full of powdered milk bags. And yes, in case you didn’t predict this, as I was laying on top of one powdered milk pile (pretending that I always travel like this, so my coworkers wouldn´t again jump to the conclusion that I am a spoiled American brat), my belt buckle popped one of the bags and left my entire bottom half coated in white powder. Just shake it off, Lindsay. Ha! Easier said than done, my friends. Easier said than done. This meant that everybody that we vaccinated got the story of how Lindsay had miraculously transformed into a sack of flour on the way to vaccinate them. Laughter ensued for all but one person involved, as usual.

Let´s see…what else has been going on here? My 4 year old host sister and I have really mastered the art of communication. While I was standing over the stove cooking myself a sweet potato last weekend, she came in and said in her most bratty voice that she wanted bichi or pichi or something crazy-sounding like that. Since I was in the kitchen, and I was cooking, I assumed that she was addressing me instead of her mom because whatever she wanted was a food product. Okay Victoria, let me find you some pichi, I said as I scoured our shelves. ¨NO!!!!!! Quiero pichi!!!!¨ Yes, you little brat, I understand. I´ll get you a biscuit or whatever the heck you are asking for, just give me a second to access my Spanish-English internal lexicon for crying out loud! This is when I gave her my nastiest sisterly look, only to witness a trickle of urine running down her leg. When her mom came in twenty seconds later, she kindly explained to me that since pichi or bichi meant ¨to urinate¨ in child´s terms, I probably wasn’t going to locate it in our cupboard. Well, now that we have established that, I think I am finally fluent!

I´ll leave you with this anecdote. Last night my host dad´s friend Leo was eating dinner with us. Leo is a distinguished looking man probably in his late 50´s who has actually done a great deal of traveling, and has even published two poetry books, both actions that are not very common in Jesus´ population. Leo and I spend the majority of our time together translating words in English and Japanese (he lived in Japan for four years), and I like him a great deal because he actually acknowledges that I exist. Last night I found out that he has two grown children, and two grandchildren as well. I thought that he had never been married, so this came as a surprise to me. Below, I have translated an excerpt from our conversation about his children.

Leo: ¨Yes, I actually have a son who lives in Chimbote.¨
Lindsay: ¨Oh, wow, what is his name?¨
Leo: ¨Well, it is an interesting story, because I had invented a boy´s name when my wife was pregnant, but we were told that we would have a girl, and I was very upset that we couldn’t use the unique name that I invented. But then, to our surprise, when the baby was born, it was a boy, and I COULD use my invented name!!¨
Lindsay: ¨Wow! So what is this name that you speak so highly of?¨
Leo (looking proud): M-I-K-A-L J-O-R-D-A-N
Lindsay: ¨Michael Jordan?¨
Leo: ¨Exactly. Doesn´t it have a nice ring to it?
Lindsay: ¨Sure, but that might be because it is the name of the world´s most famous basketball player. I don’t know, it´s just a thought.¨

I am serious when I tell you that this man thought that he had invented the name Michael Jordan, and I think I may have crushed his world yesterday, considering he has been living a lie for the last thirty years. That gave me a good chuckle.