Missing...everything.

I know this blog entry is LONG time coming and to those of you who were waiting, pardon the delay. The main reason for the procrastination is that by writing this, my final mini-reportaje, I'm sealing off an amazing chapter of my life, a chapter that is too short and contains too many word to recount. I'm back in the United States now; I came home shortly before the Navidad holiday bringing home the maximum amount of souvenirs allowed by the law of common reason and a few accidental coca leaves in my pocket. The main purpose of this letter-ette is to give thanks to everyone who daily makes possible the idea of a mutually beneficial existence of both tourism and indigenous culture in Southern Peru: the people of Santa Rosa (especially the parents who lend their children), the staff of All Ways Travel, my friend Laura Kurland, my housemate Liliana Pichoasamin, and, above all, Señor Victor Pauca and his daughter Eliana. I hope to be back soon.

I probably won't check this blog too much now outside of moments of yearning melancholy but if you have any questions, comments, or stories leave them here and I'll be sure to respond.

Adventures whizzing by...

Well, folks, there it went, flying by: my last trip to Amantaní. Did you see it coming? No? Me neither. There is just a little over a week until I leave Perú and, unfortunately, I had to say goodbye to Santa Rosa, its people, and a bunch of beautiful children I've come to consider my own in some way.

This is not, however, the point in the story when things get resolved and everybody lives happily ever after. This is actually where the plot thickens. The people of Santa Rosa, the children who lack access to quality teachers and co-curricular activities, continue to need your support. The Cultural Exchange Tour of All Ways Travel will continue to offer the opportunity to give back to the country so many tourists yearn to truly experience.

This blog won't end either. Tomorrow, there will be a training exercise with all of the guides and most of the staff of All Ways in an effort to keep improving the adventure on both sides, that of the local and that of the tourist. With continued work, continued effort, and continuing visitors the children of Santa Rosa will achieve great success. Until tomorrow...

¡El Día de Acción de Gracias!

Reportaje número 9, el 25-26 de noviembre

Warning: This will be a shorter report than others for the simple fact that this trip was shorter than others. Because the Thanksgiving holiday of the United States took place this past Thursday, I chose to return to Puno on Wednesday in order to prepare. This week we played plenty of games and spent plenty of time with our four guests. We had a mixed group with two friends travelling from Malta, a grade school teacher from Canada, and a student from Colombia. Together, we split the children into two groups to focus on different activities. The chief reason for splitting them up was age. Out of the 14 children who came to Tuesday's lessons, 5 were middle school aged and 9 were in the first grades of primary school (or younger!). So, Luis Ángel, Milagros, Beatriz and all of the rest of the younger children spent time with me working on hand eye coordination and Spanish skills. We identified colors while connecting the dots of drawings. I think the hardest part of the whole exercise was the fact that none of our kids had never connected dots; it took some time to explain the concept, but, after the fact, went swimmingly. The older children, with Tara and Luis, learned to conjugate simple verbs in English, followed by some tips on learning languages in general. I think it was particularly useful for the children to connect with Luis who, as a student, learned English as a second language. It really helped them to see that it is in their grasp, something they can't get from me because English is my mother tongue. Overall, that was the journey. Now, I hope everyone reading had an excellent Thanksgiving. Best of tidings and thank you for your continued support.

Drawing our lives

Reportaje número 8, el 18-20 de noviembre


I know that most of these reportajes have been filled with tales of joy and learning, so it is with a mind towards change that I write this report. Not to say, however, that this trip to Amantaní hasn't been fulfilling, fun, or worthwhile because, as I've said before, every time I travel to the island I feel like a greater part of the community. This time was no different: I finally got to play soccer with the community's team (no easy feat at 4000 meters above sea level), have a mini-conversation in Quechua (no easy feat in an agglutinative language with a sinfin--”endless”--number of suffixes), and eat mashed tarwi (an easy feat, actually: it tastes a little like tempeh). I though, though, that maybe, to veer from the course of sunshine and daisies a little bit that I would enumerate several of the challenges of teaching in Santa Rosa.
First of all, a lot of the teaching turns into, or is only successful in the company of , a little bit of community organizing. I mean to say that, without talking to parents, encouraging children to come, making sure every activity is both fun and informative at the same time, and overall making the work effective on a both micro and macro scale in a way that parents and community members can take note of becomes as much work as the actual lesson planning and teaching. Without a doubt, much of that is also true for teachers in a traditional school setting, however there are a few differences as well. For one, my pupils aren't required to show up, let alone stay or participate. There is no truancy officer waiting to take them back to the library, nor is there an evaluation system whose consequences they must fear. Because of that, I must keep them interested and engaged 24/7. Secondly, the children come to me after a full day of school already. They come out of desire, but they are already tired from their daily lessons. Thirdly, many of the teaching methods that you and I are accustomed to and that I utilize in the classroom are completely new to these children. In a Peruvian school, the pedagogical method relies on discipline, respect, and rote learning. I've only known these students for two and a half months; they've been learning in the Peruvian style for 3, 4, or 5 years already. It's ingrained. (I do want to make clear that I'm not judging nor criticizing the pedagogy of the school system here, just noting the difference and its effects on my 'classroom'). All in all, those seemingly minute differences form and shape the way this project continues.
Enough of those challenges for now, though. On Monday of this week, three tourists participated in the Cultural Tour of Amantaní and brought A LOT of support and excitement to the library. We didn't have as many children as usual because of school vacations and end-of-year filed trips, probably only 7 or 8 showed up. With that handful, though, we were able to do a lot of fun things. We played a spelling game that involves a little bit of dodgeball and a little bit of Ultimate Frisbee; we read the story of El Astuto Carnerito; and we had a lot of fun drawing and reading during free time. On Tuesday, using the excitement the kids have to draw, we had a competition. The contest went as follows:

-We broke up into three groups of three
-The scene to be drawn would be one of everyday life in Santa Rosa
-Everything had to be colored in and labeled in both Spanish and Quechua
-The drawings had to be completed in thirty minutes

The tension in the room was palpable, not to sound corny. Everybody was having a great time writing and drawing. There were shouts of, “How do you say ____ in Quechua/Spanish,” and “I need that marker,” for the whole thirty minutes. No one was ready to ed when we did but, even so, the drawings turned out amazing. As a group, we went over and repeated every word on the pieces of over-sized construction paper. Afterwards, we used the drawings and the colors they contained to learn the different colors in English.

Challenges aside, these kids deserve all of the work put into this project.

Abriéndose los ojos

Reportaje número 7, el 7-8 de noviembre



My most recent trip to Amantaní was a special one for a couple of reasons. Foremost among those is that I was accompanied by one of my best friends, my mom. Together, we spent two weeks exploring Peru. It was an excellent experience; not only did I get to see a lot more of the country where I've spent the last two and half months, but I was also able to observe the parts I'm more familiar with, Puno and Amantaní, through the eyes of a tourist.
Before Thursday, November 6th, I'd tried to give my whole family an understanding of life on Amantaní and what my work there meant. As much time as I spent explaining and “anecdote-ing”, I truly believe that you can't understand this place until you experience it for yourself. You must see the strength of an 80-year old woman carrying a 40-kilo sack of rice on her back up a rocky path, observe a 5-year old girl learning how to knit to watch traditions being (re)born, try to speak Quechua to appreciate the bilingualism of nearly every local.
My mom's time on Amantaní was extremely eye-opening. Eye-opening in a traditional sense and a more literal one. You see, as part of her work as an optician she distributes and gifts glasses to disenfranchised or impoverished demographics within and outside of the United States. We both thought it would be a great idea for her to bring old frames and lenses on our trip because, as far as ocular health is concerned, the Puno region is quite lacking. Especially on Amantaní, most people go their whole lives without an eye exam, without wearing UV protective lenses, or getting treatment for cataracts or glaucoma. Many of the residents, in fact, lose the ability to read normal-sized text by the age of 45 or 50 and, in my non-professional opinion, I think that many of the literacy problems could be improved with a simple pair of reading glasses. I know that there are children who come to the library who can't read because they just can't see the letters on the page.
That said, the gift of glasses is an impactful one. After the afternoon session I spent reading and playing one of our favorite spelling games with the kids, my mom and I went from house to house in the community of Santa Rosa giving, fitting, and adjusting reading glasses. My favorite moment of all was at the house of the governor and his wife. Both are in their fifties and, while the husband made it to the second grade of elementary school, the wife had never had any formal schooling. Now, a week later, Josefina tells me that her kids are teaching her how to read now that, for the first time in her life, she can see the pages clearly.
Everything on this overnight trip turned out better than hoped. We had over 15 kids and several moms at the library. There was real and true cultural exchange between my family and my hosts. And, best of all, there are at least 25 people in Santa Rosa who can carry out their daily lives with calirty...and without headaches.

Ollantay

Reportaje numero 6, 27-29 de octubre



I know you’re all asking yourselves. Same story? Again? Benito goes to the island, has great fun with the children, loves life and comes back to Puno counting down the days until his return? Not! Okay, maybe. But, I promise that this blog entry has all the elements of a great story. Stormy weather, treacherous situations, and a happy family—what else could you ask for?

Once upon a time (as in, Monday the 27th of October 2008), there set out a boat from Puno, the folklore capital of Peru (http://www.punoinfo.com/). This boat was racked by powerful waves and drops of water larger than the tips of your index finger. When the character in question, Benito, arrived to the island everything had improved. Besides the fact that he had to walk 1.5 hours across the top of the mountain to reach the beautiful and secluded village of Santa Rosa, the sun had come out, he felt alive and excited to teach, and much hope for this week's lessons. When Benito taught that afternoon, more than a dozen children came to the library. There were big children, little children, and some children's moms.


Perhaps the fact that children's moms are coming to utilize the library has me has me more excited than any other recent developments. I mean, if mothers are coming to observe and participate, it means that they're learning how to make the project a sustainable one for their community. On top of that, most of the mothers who are coming to watch their children on top are also attending the adult language skills class. We read together, played a new name game, and found a bunch of pictures we could color. If it weren't for the moms, the best part of this Monday was the excitement with which the kids ran to the library after school let out.

On Tuesday morning, I went on a cleaning spree. You see, one of the library's windows was broken and birds have been getting in to the space and defecating. Not to be deterred a little dirt, I don't want the library patrons, either the kids, their families, or tourists see an unclean face as the project's. So, I went to work scrubbing windows and tables, sweeping shelves and floors until everything shined. (I know I promised a treacherous situation along with stormy weather and a happy family and picking up broken glass outside of the building definitely qualifies as the treacherous situation). That afternoon, when the kids arrived following school, we went together up to the top of the community building to read a traditional Quechua story: Ollantay. Ollantay tells of the love story of Inca Pachacutec's daughter with a young warrior, the ensuing problems, and the happy ending. The kids loved it. After Ollantay, we played a modified version of "Duck, Duck, Goose," in which we switched up the animal in place of the "Goose" and if caught had to spell out the animal in Quechua and in Spanish. I think it is of the utmost importance that the children of Santa Rosa seize the gift they've been given of being born into a bilingual community and be proud of their heritage--that includes stories like Ollantay and the Quechua language.











My time on the island always flies in a whirlwind of smiling children and great food. Now, I know I promised an edge-of-your-seat thriller and I really meant Ollantay, but...I'll just say that Tuesday night I got to rock my host's 9-month old child to sleep while singing lullabies to knock out the noise of the giant hail on our corrugated metal roof. How's that for stormy weather and a happy family?

"Please, don't give the children money."

Reportaje número 5, 20-22 de Octubre

Let me begin by explaining the title of this week’s entry. I travelled out to the islands on lancha shared between All Ways Travel and Cusi. On my trip, as the guide explained local life on Amantani, pointing at the ever-handy map of the lake and teaching a few phrases of Quechua, he said—three different time in three different languages—“Please, don’t give the children money.” If you've ever traveled to Peru or any third-world country, you understand the sheer poverty and amount of children begging or selling on the streets. He explained, the majority of money given directly to children in used to purchase candy or soft drinks, products which only promote the development of cavities and unhealthy eating habits. Furthermore, children on Amantani often skip school or leave early in order to ask for money or sell small knick-knacks. I think that was perhaps the best piece of advice that the tour guide could have given to his group. It’s sometimes hard to imagine, as a tourist visiting a place for one, two or three days, the long term impact of tourism. But, if you do the math: an average tour group is about 15 people. If 1/3^rd of the group, or just 5 people, give just 3 nuevos soles each, or approximately 1 U.S. dollar, to a community’s set of children and that community sees 1 group each week, or 52 groups of 15 tourists (which is a relatively low estimate of tourism frequency for most of Amantani’s communities), the total given—to the children alone—is 780 nuevos soles or 260 U.S. dollars. Imagine, that is not too much less than the average annual wage of a campesino in Peru. Sorry for that little mathematical word problem, I was very impressed and glad to hear a tour guide give information that helps all parties involved in this situation: tourists, native parents and their children. There are alternatives, gifts that can truly help the children of Amantani. These include books, pencils, or even fruit. The main message here is that we should all be conscious of our impact on the world, whether we’re at home or travelling.

Now, to the real report. This week, I was alone on the library front during my stay. Don’t be disheartened though, on Thursday we had a group of 15 (!) participants on the Cultural Exchange Tour. About a dozen children attended the main learning session on Monday and another 4 or 5 came after during our free time to utilize the library’s resources. Honestly, I’m just as a happy if they come after the session because, for me, it signifies that the community has grabbed on to the library as a center of learning and not just to me or to my teaching. When I was teaching/playing with the kids though, we did a lot of review: body parts in English, different words we had picked up from stories, some drawing techniques for the younger children who need to improve hand/eye coordination. Afterwards, we read a story together, the “La Vendedora de Fosforos” (The Match Salesgirl). A note about the stories that we read: I generally pick a selection of three stories for our group reading that I know are going to be understood by every child, regardless of age or reading proficiency, then we always, always, always vote on the one we most want to read. As for the reading, the majority is done by the children themselves while I and several children who can’t are still earning to read in Spanish or who are too shy to read to the group act out the story. In this way, I hope to improve their comprehension of the story and teach them of the various ways to interpret stories. On top of the stress on democratic selection of stories, every day at the library I try to stress good manners and picking up after ourselves. If you’ve ever been to Peru, you’d understand the importance on the latter. It’s not uncommon to watch even the residents of Amantani fling trash into Lake Titicaca.

On Tuesday, we had an entirely free day. The kids had a blast! It’s not that they don’t enjoy the times we sing and dance and learn together; it’s more that they have finally started to feel a sense of ownership towards the library and the books in it, and I wanted to give them a chance to explore and realize how much fun it could be on its own. The reading, drawing, practicing English, and laughing that went on on Tuesday made it a very memorable day. Moreover, Tuesday morning, 7 adults of the community, including the Justice of the Peace and Santa Rosa’s governor came to the morning English lesson. We went over basic phrases to use with tourists to make everyone feel comfortable and the pronunciation of the English alphabet. With time, I really think the community of Santa Rosa will flourish because of their own desire to learn and understand the world that is, with or without their permission, encroaching upon their traditional way of life.

Not just Santa Rosa, either. I forgot to mention that on Monday, 5 residents of Villa Orinojon visited to observe my lesson and the library space, in order to prepare for the construction of their own library!

P.S. I also forgot to mention that, now that I’ve become much more a part of the community and I’m not treated like a tourist I’ve been eating A LOT more. Maybe I should back up a little. When visiting Amantnai, the foods served at meals are traditional or, at the very least, common and everyday to the residents. The only difference between what residents and tourists eat lies in quantity. For breakfast, for example, most tourists are served a few pancakes and a piece of bread with coffee or tea. This past Tuesday morning, I ate the usual two pancakes followed by a large bowl fo potato and onion soup that was then followed by an even larger bowl of sopa de quinoa molido (ground quinoa soup). If you’ve ever had quinoa, a very traditional grain on the Altiplano, you know that it is extremely filling. It has more than its fair share of protein, vitamins, and minerals along a complete set of nine amino acids. When lunch time came, I was still stuffed.

Not full. Stuffed.