A sunday morning
Trip Start
Sep 24, 2008
1
20
41
Trip End
Ongoing
Lima,
Peru
Monday, January 12, 2009
When I stepped onto the front porch late Sunday morning my day was planned. A run, the beach and topped off with a good book on the roof. I am here in Lima staying a month, playing the waiting game for a volunteer organization to have space open up. I didn't expect to finish my evening fighting to convince my host family not to kick me out of their home.
Miraflores is one of the more touristy sections of Lima. It has a mountain of trendy restaurants, a vibrant music scene mixed with all the designer labels you can ask for. Beyond the glamorous store fronts also lies a slum of drugs, corrupt police and dilapidated homes. In some parts you may see delicious cebicherias and high end salons, with indiscreet exchanges of money and cocaine on the same block. Needless to say the atmosphere is mixed.
My room for the moment is in a home-stay, rent with breakfast, lunch and dinner six days a week is less than $250 a month. The beach is a ten minute walk. Nancy and Lucho are beautiful people. The Christian values immediately make you feel well cared for under their roof. Although I don't share their exact sentiments on religion, conversation flows easily over coffee every morning. When they told me that that I shouldn't talk to their neighbors, I believed this was for my personal safety and took the warning with a grain of sand.
When stopping by the corner store for a beer, some water or everyday needs; soap, coffee, TP...I make a point of greeting everyone with a smile and hello. Billie, Juan and Wilson were familiar faces when I went to buy some eggs for a late breakfast. After a hello I was invited to share a beer and conversation with the men. Moments into speaking with my neighbors our talk revolved around the economy and politics; local and abroad. Nothing but optimistic things came from their mouths about our recent Presidential election. We agreed that he is the best choice to see a positive change in our economic crisis. The effects of our economy will definitely play a role in the future of global relationships, including Peru. At the moment however the men boasted of their country's success. Recent years have shown Peru in an economic boom (9% growth in 2007). For the time being Billie and Wilson can sit pretty watching their property value skyrocket in Miraflores.
A little while later we moved from our corner bench to their front porch half a block away. The box of twelve 22s needed a bit more company. The communal way in which we drank encourages a positive attitude towards tipping the cup while participating with an opinion. A cup comes with the box; no one holds a beer to be consumed solely by him. After drinking a short glass of Brahma, I was responsible to pour a glass for the man on my right, passing it with the wonderful word, ¨Salud¨. Conversation followed in the same fluid pattern. I found that statements were heard to their conclusion and responded to with consideration.
As the case was slowly drained of its liquid content, we were joined by more neighbors. Money was collected from all...roughly nine dollars for twelve tasty malt beverages. Soon another box was brought to the stoop to pass the lazy afternoon. The revolving door of people brought new ideas to our circle. About this time my favorite character of the crew joined us. Marcos walked up wearing a cardboard ¨Happy New Years¨ top hat. He was the jester of this group that grew up together on the same block. As the day progressed, in a combination of sweat and greetings to neighbors, his hat acted as a reflection of the man slowly becoming more and more tattered with drink and time. I liked him immediately, although more than half the time his jokes escaped my vocabulary. He lifted us to a new level, bringing more smiles as the beer settled in our stomachs. He also brought music to the forefront of our minds. Soon the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Bob Marley were dissected with our words. I am at home in this atmosphere. In a country where often times I don't have English opportunities for extended periods, my I pod has become a home away from home. Not too mention my current mixes feature much of the aforementioned artists. The acappella singing began with a kid singing ¨Smells like teen spirit¨. One of the young people that joined us associated my hometown...Seattle...with grunge rock of Nirvana. His knowledge of their catalogue was astonishing. I grew up with Kurt Cobain being played by my older siblings through my young childhood. It was almost embarrassing how much more of the lyrics the kid knew than I. When it came to my turn on the imaginary mic, I made up for my inability to sing Nirvana with the Eagles and Lynyrd Skynyrd. As we took turns around the circle the music turned local. For more than an hour the street became a venue to lift our voices. These men, growing up in a surf town had as much love for classic rock as I did, if not more.
Almost inevitably our talk found itself in the center of religion. When the Spanish brought Catholicism to the Americas it was adapted and accepted over the course of their developing years. Marcos, after listening to us rant about being good people, sinners obviously, offered a picture of purgatory that I love. His words, "I have good intentions...I am more or less a good person. You won't find me in church every Sunday, but I believe in a higher power. When I die and see my creator for the first time I'm going to smile at him. When he examines my heart I believe he will give me a key to my place in heaven. I don't know how long it will take me to find the door that my key fits, or how luxurious my place will be...but I will have one." (rough translation)
Police and security constantly patrolled and watched our group. I refused kindly when they offered me a sniff, a short explanation later of an ugly history at home involving more than one friend and rehab, they were more than respectful. The watchful eye of the police never had a reason to directly suspect me of partaking, aside from my association by location. At times during the afternoon two and tree people would head around the corner nearly in front of the police to get high. Their awareness and blunt respect of my position provided a credible hall pass into their world. On several occasions the police and street security passed by to check up on us, they were invited to the circle for a brief moment before returning to their patrol. This culture that lives between the beach and high class hotels is nearly reinforced by the law enforcement. There was no consequence for their blunt disregard for the rules. I wonder if there is a higher level of peace because of this lack of enforced authority regarding drug use. These are the people I was warned not to speak to by my host family.
This group of men grew up on the block that we sat. Their homes still house their mother's who occasionally need cared for. As the construction they see around them produces 20+ story condos and their neighborhood begins to house a more affluent, rich group of people, will they be pushed out? I have to say that I believe they will be moved aside. Four blocks away from their stoop one can see the beginning of a condominium project, with another, out of sight, up the street. After inquiring how long it takes to see fruition of these buildings, I was shocked. My assumption was nine months to a year; their response was five to six months. Walking around Miraflores I have found more than ten building projects. Foreign finance in addition to money driven locals looking for a nicer home with a view are driving the rapid transformation of this neighborhood. As new faces fill the streets, old habits of the barrio and its inhabitants will be more than likely smothered out. One cannot ignore the unsightly practice of drug-use by these men. This fact is ugly. Just as ugly is its cultural reinforcement. Another look reveals that mothers will be moved away from the beach to the inner-city where life is more affordable. Their kids will be injected into poorer schools; more thoroughly drug infused streets and undermined opportunity. When I look from the outside in, these realities seem inevitable. My afternoon with them, after meeting their kids, after a brief look into their life's window, makes me sad. These men are known in the neighborhood as the drug users by their peers. Their reputation has been earned with years. Yet, as individuals apart from this distinguishing characteristic, they are beautiful souls. They are beautiful souls who keep up on current events, who very openly love their families and the Rolling Stones. Beautiful souls who will more than likely sell out their block for the first pretty penny regardless of their vocal desire to stay. I made my exit when they spoke of their intentions for the evening, "I'm going to buy a huge bag of coke."
When I sat at the dinner table Sunday night, discussion began with a request for me to leave the home-stay. This came as an immediate sobering shock to my ears. My actions for the day were seen as an invitation of danger to their home. My perspective on the issue was that I had done nothing wrong. The police had found no fault in my actions throughout the afternoon. I had no intentions of bringing any trouble or persons past their doorstep. Granted I didn't have to spend the day drinking with the neighbors, but I thought it rude to refuse the afternoon offer. I think it's a bit over the top to not acknowledge the people you live in close proximity to. Guilty by association carries a much heavier burden here. Or so it seems that my hosts believe so. My living situation at the moment is not something I desire to lose; a bed, hot shower and food on the table for $230 a month is hard to come by. I pleaded, "We need to talk before I am asked to leave Nancy, please don't just kick me out." Dinner was served with a new perspective.
The conversation that developed spoke to various interactions close to my temporary home. Pressures that the couple spoke to me about involved their history in Miraflores. They had already once in their lives been pushed out of a home due to rising economic costs. As Miraflores grows, without money, opportunity shrinks for the working class. Moving about 20 blocks to their current location about twelve years ago placed them in a more dilapidated part of the tourist sector. Seeing their neighborhood grow in the way that is has also instigated them to hold a higher, admirable social/mental status. They believe that compromising their position by talking to their deviant neighbors would stigmatize them in eyes of others. Attached to these thoughts is a more dominant belief that inevitable buyout will come quicker with the association. "We cannot afford the danger that you will bring if you make friends with those men. When you walk down the street you may not talk to our neighbors." These were their words. The reality that I talk to everyone I can and jump at conversation opportunities meant nothing to them. My hosts' perspective was not up for compromise or discussion. Cement. When I tried to explain that I have no intentions of tainting their name or opportunities, not too mention the fact that I couldn't believe they associated relationships in this way, I was met with hard faces. After my second round of trying to refute their beliefs, I recognized their stance as being a solid one, which needed to be respected while I am under their roof.
The sentiments of both groups share many common threads regarding their desire to stay in their current location. Black listing effects are shared across cultures; stereotypes and prejudice escape the boundaries of countries. These systems that have been adopted are hard to change. Nancy and Lucho's opinion is solely based on the immoral actions of their neighbors. My exploration of the blocks that surround the house that I am living has enabled me to make friends on all of the corners. The people live in a spectrum of different opinions, but for the most part greet one another and pass with chit chat. Isolation is the choice that my hosts have made due to their religious background. My history involves years of time in church, it is hard for me to watch the people I live with scowl at their neighbors, Jesus would have been found amongst them. In the near future they will likely pay for this isolation. With an ill-united neighborhood, they will lose thousands of valuable dollars when corrupt contractors come knocking.
Conversation has returned to the topic of this day more than once in the house. I have not stopped saying high, or having brief conversations with the friendly faces of last Sunday. I can't say that I have shared a beer with them. Walking a thin line with Nancy watching and listening from her window is a balancing act that I can handle. Not too mention I slightly enjoy questioning the religious mask she puts on everyday. God never gives you more than you can handle Nancy. When he gave you this house as you believe and say he did, he gave you a larger portion. Each of the neighbors that you call criminals needs Jesus too. They are on your plate. So eat your vegetables.
Comments
holler brother
sounds interesting. i miss you brother, hope you keep it cool with Nancy,
holler brother
sounds interesting. i miss you brother, hope you keep it cool with Nancy,