Today happens to perfectly highlight why Peru is nothing like North America. My host dad Oscar got a second job over the weekend. Now he's working at a security post on his day off as well as his regular gardener/laborer job for the owner of the Bank of Peru. When he explained it, I understood that working on his day off meant working during they day. Not so: He left Saturday at 6pm to work all night until 6am, when he came home for an hour and had breakfast before leaving for his other job at 7:30.
This is drastic enough on its own, but consider: for 12 hours of work he made just under $12. Yes, the economy here is different, but in buying power that's still only $35.
What motivates a person to work for a dollar an hour, on top of a 60-hour work week? In this case it's a very sick boy named Daniel, who turns four months today (happy 1/3 birthday!). Oscar and his family had talked about him being quite sick when we was born, and that he's been on and off ever since, but last night made me realize how serious his undiagnosed condition likely is. Beginning at 2am, Daniel would wake up every hour and start to cry. Now I've heard crying babies before, and I've heard Daniel cry when he's hungry or whatever else makes infants decide to wail. This is nothing like that: This is inconsolable howling, frantic and desperate and for such a small thing, unbelievably loud. I went to the bathroom 75 yards away and he was still easy to hear. I don't mind my interrupted sleep--well of course a part of me does--compared to what that baby is going through. The doctors have given him a few medicines and injections before, but nothing has worked. He's supposed to go into the hospital on Monday, but he probably should have been there a week ago based on last night. The last time Daniel was in the hospital, his two weeks of treatment cost Oscar's salary for the month. That means Oscar had to start loaning money and running up tabs at the bread store or for rice and oil. They live very near the minimum and save everything possible, mostly to pay for Daniel. One day when he's better, that savings is meant to be in order to improve the house or start a farm back in the Andes.
So when the police stopped by one day and offered Oscar a job, he took it.
I would happily give him $12 to not work 24 hours straight, but he'll never take it. If Americans have pride in not receiving money, Peruvians win the grand prize. Even with all these expenses, Oscar will try to buy an entire goat for us to eat, or bring a new mattress or buy several kilos of fruit or honey--all this is necessary for him as a host. When my dad left, Oscar apologized profusely for not being able to make him comfortable enough. We had an incident early on in which Oscar gave all his blankets to my dad so that he wouldn't be cold. We had bought two more blankets for him, but he didn't take them. Finally, we left both on the table all night long, through breakfast and cleanup and into the middle of the day. That night, Oscar finally called over--"Hey Matt? Are you going to use those blankets?" Win.
It's amazing that we needed to have that battle. It comes down to the Peruvian idea that a good host makes sure that his guest brings nothing and lacks nothing, contrasted with the American idea that a good guest brings everything so that the host isn't burdened. Oscar will work 75 hours a week for $50, giving us every possible comfort even if it means suffering himself. After being here a month, I'm more able to convince him that I don't actually need another blanket or a roasted goat or six pounds of grapes. In fact, he's asked me for help twice now.
What else? The Peruvian power supply is ungrounded, so I get a bit of 220V a few times a day when trying to unplug computer cables from a metal case or sometimes from my Macbook's aluminum enclosure. I've started to wear two or three layers even when it's 12C/55F - and I still have a killer cold. As far as the project activities are concerned, I couldn't ask for more at Villa Maria. We're doing 9 classes a week with elementary school kids (almost 200 kids), and our four classes at high school level are being combined and reorganized into two groups of beginner and advanced (about 30 kids). Soon we'll get some example work up for everyone to see--without seeing the class, it's hard to understand the triumph involved in getting four words typed, formatted, placed, and inserting a bit of clip art in the middle. At high school level, the kids have basic skills down already and we're jumping into Photoshop this week. Crazy? Possibly. But where else will they get to learn those skills? Graphic design and photo retouching is a well-paid job here for students of their age. The high schoolers have a standard Peruvian teacher for at least an hour a week, and we're adding onto that with some of the most interested, most advanced students.
In La Libertad, the situation is very different because it's a smaller school with a far less enthusiastic administration. We have the same system: an hour a week with each group, where there are four groups total. So we see about 40 kids per week out of La Libertad, which is 90% of their student population. La Libertad is exciting to me because of the community integration aspect, where as Villa Maria is in an area that makes it difficult to open to strangers. I love our parents in computer class, and we're advancing slowly but steadily. Word is also spreading that the gringos in fact DO speak Spanish so there's no need to be afraid of us. More people approach at random hours of the day asking about classes, which is difficult for us because the scheduled class has already moved on. We've done some 1-on-1 tutoring to catch some up, but it's Peru: promise to come at 5, show up tomorrow at 3pm and expect us to be there. We fall into the same trap, where we plan to arrive back home at noon and it ends up being 2:30. Everything just takes longer, even if you move quickly.
The first year here taught me a lot about this stuff, but I was inside a very closed institution so my perspective was altered slightly. Now we aren't under anyone else's limitations, but rather the full culture's set of quirks. I keep low expectations, not in a way that I don't try hard, but in a way that I celebrate every success, no matter how minor. Four kids in a class is four more that gain a new skill--even if it could have been 20.
How's Peru? Everything is going according to plan(s). We're definitely on Plan B or C, but I think of it as Plan A, part four.
No comments:
Post a Comment