La Mansion

One of the projects that CIESCU is involved in is in a part of Arequipa called 'La Mansion'. La Mansion is a pueblo joven that, if the gateway welcoming people to the district is to be belived, was founded in 1996.

Like many pueblo jovens it looks very much like a building site with half constructed houses and building materials along the side of the road. Many of the people construct additions to their houses as and when they have the money so it is very common to see shafts of metal sticking up out of walls for when the home gets the next level of investment. Only a handful of homes that I saw had a completed second floor.

Many pueblo jovens and rural area's have high levels of malnutrition and paracites and anemia is common. CIESCU's project in La Masion is centred around bringing nutritional meals to school children of primary/elementary age. The idea is to use local grown ingrediants as far as possible and to have volunteers from the children's parents and families help prepare the meals under the guidence of a qualified nutritionist.

The project hasn't quite got off the ground yet however. The director of the school apparently doesn't think it's his responsability to be concerned with the childrens nutrition, only their education and has refused to allow the project to take place on the site of the school.

On Sunday I went with Jose to try and find another place where we could provide school dinners. A few of the houses had garages or large yards and we had a look at but I wasn't convinced they would be large enough to fit 100 studentshave space to cook the food.

We kept asking around and finally ended up knocking on the door of a lady who took us to a newly build house just around the corner. no one had moved in yet and there were no appliences in the kitchen, but the space was large and looked promising.

I'll be returning to La Mansion some time in the next week and hope to have more details then. But so far it's looking promising.

Pueblo Joven

Not all translating is as straight forward as I'd like. There are many words and phrases that, when translated literally, lead you down the wrong path or don't make any sense at all. Pueblo Joven is one of these.

"Pueblo" often means a "town", "village" or "settlement", although it can mean "people" in general, and "Joven" generally means "young". Initially I was led to translate it as "young people" or, because of the context as "young town". Much of these young towns suffered from poor conditions and nutrition and eventually I found out that another translation for Pueblo Joven in English is "shanty town".

When we talk about shanty towns in English we think of those areas on the edge of large cities where the poorest people from the countryside eek out an existence of poverty and hunger. However the Spanish, or Peruvian term "young settlement" carries different connotations.

The people who live in the Pueblo Jovens arn't necessarily trapped between hardship and margalization, they're just living in area's that haven’t yet matured and reached their potential. This, I believe is an important crux of Development.

I've visited a few shantytown and one in Lima struck a chord that I still remember. I was seventeen when I visited El Chancheria, the pigsty, and its only now, nearly ten years later that I begin to appreciate what I saw.

The first thing I saw when I stepped out of the car was a dog, lying dead on the dune, it's eyes burrowed out by insects and left to rot. The road was in a valley between two steep dunes, the sand wet and damp despite the fact there had been no rain there for many years. The houses that clung to the hillside were made of posts and tarpaulin, the floors the same inside the abode as outside, moist earth.

We visited a few of the houses. At the time I was with a Christian Organisation that was running several projects in the area to help the people become more self sufficent. One was a duck project, where the people were given two ducks, one male, one female. The ducks laid eggs for the peoples breakfast and, when they had chicks, these were then eaten or passed on to other families.

This micro development slowly allowed families to find other means of raising money and feeding themselves then selling sweets on the streets of Lima. There were other projects to, but sadly I don't remember them all.

The other thing that struck me was that although there were no lights or concert floors here at the expanding edge of Lima, several hundred meters up the road the houses had both, as well as more developed walls and rooms. The people still lived in what we in the comfortable rich West would term poverty, but the town was less young, more mature.

There are of course other important factors, and it is not as simple as saying that if we give enough ducks to poor people they will develop to some semblance or a shadow of our own lifestyles however I think that the idea of Pueblo Jovens is much more useful to dialogues of aid and development then simple concepts of shantytowns.

First Week

I've just finished my first week of in Arequipa and am still alive, so yay! Most of the work has been focused around translating various things into English, a report on malnutrition, some aricles from the local newspaper and some of the pages from CIESCU's website.

It's hard work, especially when you've been doing it for five hours already, but I'm happy with it. I didn't come here for a holliday and so I expected it to be tough at times. I'm glad that I can contribute in some way.

I know that sooner or later we'll go out and visit some of the pueblos and projects and that that will be more or an adventure, but to be honest I'm a little worried that I'll be just along for the ride which isn't the reason I came here. So for now I am glad that I can help out by translating.

I've actually surprised myself with how well I've taken to it and I seem to be getting the hang of it (or at least better at finding websites that do most of the work for you). It's also helping me get a greater understanding of some of the issues facing people here (I know know that low levels of albumin are a clear sign of malnutrition) and its also very good for the language.

My Spanish is coming along slowly I think, although the idea of being fluent or or understanding clearly what people say seems like a very forign idea still. I can still barely get my head around the idea of ever being fluent, but ask me again in six months time and then we'll see...

Pachacutec, Arequipa

The journey from Lima took fifteen hours. After half watching the Italian Job in Spanish my body finally relented and allowed my consciousness to sink into a sleep for a solid five or six hours. My seat on the bus which had initially seemed relatively comfortable slowly began to rebel and conspired against me to allow no further rest past five in the morning.

By now a milky dawn was beginning to descend and allowed me to look out at the window and take stock of surrounding landscape. I had anticipated a view of mountains, but the visa that appeared out of the window was an eerie landscape, flat and desolate covered in moonlike sand and dust. It was only when I caught sight of something grey rising and shimmering on the horizon that I realised that this was no mountain plateau but that I was actually still at sea level.

The road had followed the coast as far as I could tell and passed compound like settlements that seemed to have been built on the sand. Presently the road began to rise and soon enough the pressure in my ears informed me that we were now raising in altitude.

At around nine in the morning, some fifty or so hours after setting off the bus pulled into Arequipa where I was more than relieved to find myself finally meeting Jose, the director of the organisation I was to be working with.

It would have been nice if this had marked the end of my exertions for the time being however it seemed Jose had different plans. After taking me to one of his homes and introducing me to his son, daughter and ex-wife I had barely time to take my bags to the room before Jose was taking me off in his car to show me the office.

I had visited Arequipa once before, some ten years ago, and at that time had not realised quite how large the city was. It took us about thirty minutes to drive across part of the city to where CIESCU’s main office was. Here also was Jose’s second house and family who I was able to meet. I had some lunch here and then Jose took me off again to show me some projects.

My this point I wasn’t particularly together and although I tried my best to focus on what was being said I wasn’t sure how much I followed. As the afternoon drew on we finally left the project we were visiting and went back to the office. I managed to get a brief nap here and at six had some food with Jose’s second family.

It was now getting dark and I was informed that Jose was too tired to drive me back to the place where I’d left my gear and toiletries and I was offered the spare bed adjoining the office for the night. With no other choice apparent I accented and after using the internet for a little while in a vain attempt not to go to bed too early I finally retired at about 8pm local time, closer to 1am according to my body clock. Sixty –five hours or so after I had last been able to get some proper sleep.

Out of my Depth

There can have been few occasions previously in my life where I have been so completely and utterly out of my own depth.

I do not know, nor might I ever discover what precisely went wrong with my pre-arranged meet with Jose. It had all seemed so simple; get met at the airport, driven to a hostel, and then the next day ride across with Jose in his car to Arequipa. What could go wrong?

The last time I managed to speak to Jose on the phone, a conversation part-broken English and shattered-Spanish, he was already in Arequipa and truth be told I am not sure he was even in Lima the last couple of days.

From our last conversation, and the use of a friendly intermediary, I gathered that Jose had wanted me to take a taxi from the airport to a Hostel and there he would meet me the next morning.

As this conversation took place at 2am I decided against taking an unfamiliar vehicle across the strange city and opted instead to take what sleep I could on the floor of the airport where access to internet and coffee were in limitless supply.

I took a taxi round about 6:30 and made it to the Hostel an hour later. I asked to wait for my friend in the lobby but when Jose hadn’t appeared by 8:30 I decided to give him a call.

I’m not sure where everything went wrong, and I am prepared to accept that perhaps I should have confirmed plans at an earlier time, but when things are done through two or three intermediaries this can be a little difficult.

Jose, as already mentioned, was in Arequipa and given the cities distance from Lima I can only assume he was also there last night, so I am not sure what was meant to happen at 8 in the morning. Perhaps that was when I was meant to ring him?

Again through the kindness of strangers and mine and Jose’s less then perfect foreign language skills I understood the plan to be to get a ticket and to take a night bus to Arequipa in the evening.

I say “I understood the plan to be” to allow some flexibility for, already I have understood the plan to be that I would be met at the airport, and understood the plan to be that I would be picked up at the hostel. So you will forgive my reservations.

Despite these tribulations I am feeling good. I managed to sneak about four hours broken sleep in my room and these small snatches seem to sustain me. However I am sure that when I am in a suitable location I will crash and probably sleep for about four or five days.

I’m writing this from my room now, having just had some food in a nearby café, and waiting for 5pm when one of the guys from the hotel will take me to catch my bus. He has already been a great help, taking me to buy the ticket, exchange money (at a rate far superior to the airport exchange rate) and taken me to the café where I have just eaten. I am very fortunate that I have come into contact with the right people as I would certainly not be taking things so lightly if I had to rely on my own limited means.

However as I said I am in good spirits, nothing has gone terribly wrong yet and the bus (providing I catch the right one) will bring me into Arequipa tomorrow morning. What can go wrong from here?

First Blog From Peru!

I write this, my first blog from Peru, sitting in a Starbucks in the airport. My watch, now that I have changed it to local time, tells me that is its 1:45am, however my body, which I have not been able to so serrundipitiously placate, tells me that it is 7:45, 24 hours since I woke from a comfortable bed in Chester.

So far my trip has been eventful to say the least. I had origonally plannd to sort my self out with a taxi and a bus to make my way to Arequipa, but was fortnate to be offered a collect from the airport and a drive to a hostel and then to Arequipa the next day. In the back of my mind though I was always thinking "This is Peru. Nothing will be that simple."

Having traversed customs and collected my luggage with suprising expedience I emerged into the arrival lounge prepared to look for the board "Adam. CIESCU" that would indicate my contact. However no such board was present. I went back and checked four times over the next hour so I would know.

Rummaging through my papers I found Jose's number and finally managed to contact him around 12:30, over an hour after we had arranged to meet. My Spanish is not that great, especially when stressed, and Jose didn't appear to speak much English. From the few words I was able to glean I belive his reason for not meeting me was that he "didn't have time" and he suggested taking a taxi, although to where I was not even sure. (My first thought was that he meant he was busy, but after talking with my mum some hours later she suggest the more likely explination that my arrival time had not been passed on to him successfully and so he did not know what time to expect me.)

Having no experience of translating aural Peruvian place names to paper I promptly hung up on Jose declairing that "I have an idea." It took me a further twenty minutes to find somone who was able to ring Jose on my behalf and get more details. Fortunatly the airport is 24 hours so that fact that it was by now 1am was no great hinderence past the ordinary.

Jose was able to give my new found friend, who worked at the telephone cabina in thairport, the directions and he was then able to write them down on a peice of paper which, or so I am told, should be understood by a taxi driver. The address, all things being well, will take me to a hostel where I will be able to grab a few hours sleep before Jose picks me up, or doesn't -we shall see-, in the morning.

Part of me wonders if I should stay in the familiar confines of the airpor for another 6 hours and then make my way across in the morning. It would certainly be easier. Hmm that plan is now growing on me. As much as I like the idea of the adventure of traversing the city under the cloak of darkness I think a I would prefer it better after the break of dawn. If I could garentee that the hostel would be easy to find, that i would be cheap and convinient i would jump at the chance. But this is Peru, and if I did not know before I certainly do now, nothing is ever that simple.