This past week I spent getting to know my site where I will be living for the next two years- Cayalti in Lambayeque, the people I'll be living with and some of the people I might be working with. It was an amazing trip and I fell in love with my host family, the site and the people in general.
I came in Tuesday evening after a day long meeting with my counterparts. I left Lima Sunday evening with a fever and the assistance of about 1/2 a box of Immodium and lots of prayers. I was still not feeling so great Tuesday, though the fever thankfully broke on the bus ride to Chiclayo, my capital city. So I get to town and then hop in a mototaxi with my counterpart and site mate Nicole who lives in the next town over about 15 minutes away. We get to the corner of the street and they start yelling at the driver to stop there. I look over and a brass band is playing on the corner, which I found odd- thought maybe they were practicing. Then I get out of the taxi with my backpack and it dawns on me that this band is for ME. Oh shoot. I start walking down the street, not really sure where I'm going, when Nicole whips out her camera and tells me that the band is following me. I was probably some crazy color red at this point, as she's snapping pictures of the band and I parading down the street. I get to my house and hug about 15 people, the band follows us into the house and plays some more. Then there were the speeches by my host mom and sister (pops was out of town and my brother was in the city at school) and then of course I have to say something. So I ramble about how thankful I am for everything and try to explain that I'm a bit overwhelmed really- wasn't expecting all the fanfare. The band continues playing and I'm forced to dance for about an hour. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't dance, save for the instances in which I'm well inebreiated. Needless to say, I made a complete fool of myself but they seemed to enjoy that. The band left and then I got showed to my room and we all ate dinner, which was thankfully small. Around 8 or 9 everyone left, and my brother came home and I got a chance to settle in and relax some. Wednesday I was to meet the authorities at the municipality at 10am. Being the good gringa I am (and daughter of my mother) I was ready to go at 9:50. I was told my sister would come get me, so around 10:10 I went and sat in the "living room" and started waiting. Around 10:30, I was getting worried that maybe I misunderstood something, that maybe I was supposed to go alone (it was only 3 blocks straight down a street) and so I tell my brother that I'll go in a little. At 10:40, I was ready to go- I didn't want to make a bad impression by being so late. He suggested that he call his sister. She says 5 more minutes and she'll be there. About 11 she shows up and we take a moto to the municipality. I walk in and there are about 50 people sitting in rows, with a table up front with a cake and flowers and another Welcome Sara sign. Crap. I was expecting an informal go around and meet each of the people in the Muni. No no. I was told to go sit up front at the table, facing everyone. Every single person of authority was given a chance to speak, and then it was my turn- they wanted words from the volunteer. Crap. I had a speech in my head more or less, but was nervous with the microphone and having to face everyone like that, so I start out mumbling about does the microphone work because I wasn't sure. Then I fumbled through a speech, messing up my verbs the whole way and probably not making much sense. Then about 1/2 way through, every ounce of intelligence left my brain and I was left with nothing. I couldn't have even continued in English if I wanted. So I just said uhhhh, es todo- that's all- and shoved the mic at someone and promptly sat down. Two youth danced the Marinera for me, which is a beautiful dance that my family is insitant that I learn. I then cut the cake (photo op) and had to take a bite out of it. After all that, I cut it up and handed it out with my host sister and went around and met all the authorities one by one. In the afternoon I sat in on a meeting with parents of a youth group and got to talk again. One of the girl's mother is in love with me and has invited me to make and eat pie with her and her daughter. I met the Alcalde-mayor later in the day; he was overseeing the pavement of my road. I've been told they were only getting it done because I'm there. Thursday and Friday I spent with the youth group observing an interview project they were working on. They were long days, but I got my face out around Cayalti and now more people know who I am. Thursday I also did an interview for the local TV channel, which was dreadful. I had a radio interview on Saturday in which I had more microphone doubts. It was a crazy 4 days but I'm really excited.
Now a bit about my family and house:
I have a mom- Bremilda, who is the ama de casa which means she stays at home and runs the house. My dad Juan is a professor at the school across the street from our house. My sister is 24 also and is a psychologist. She works with the youth group with my counterpart. She has a novio-fiancee (he was in the band that met me) so it looks like we'll have a wedding on our hands in 6-9 months. My brother Carlos is 19 and is starting college where he'll be studying languages- English and French- so he's excited to have an English speaker in the house. I have another sister who is 30 and lives in Lima. She has two sons, one who is 12 and lives with us and one who is 9 months and lives with her. I haven't met them, and the 12 year old, Bryan, was in Lima visiting his mom while I was in Cayalti. I'll meet him when I go back and the sister and other nephew around Christmas. Bryan insists on calling me hermana- sister and called Tuesday night to see if I was there yet and to talk to me.
My house is two floors. You enter the house through the living room which consists of a TV, a table, a computer and a bunch of wooden and plastic chairs. We don't have a couch. Then you go through the dining room which is a big table and chairs and a refrigerator. My room is off the dining room. It actually used to be the entry to the steps to go upstairs, but they boarded off the steps and opened the wall on the other side and put a door on the room so I could live there. After the dining room, you are in the kitchen, which is pretty much outside. I use the term kitchen loosely. That's where the stove is (not oven), where we keep plates etc, and where some food is kept. The fridge in the dining room seems to be for decoration, as I asked if I should put the mayo in it and was told no, it's not plugged in. Go straight thru the kitchen and there is the bathroom. I have a toilet (woohoo!) but no seat (I'll be buying one pronto) and a shower stall. There's even a shower head. BUT. We only have water from 8-9am each day and I was told the shower head doesn't work. So, I'll be bucket bathing for the next 2 years. The nice thing is that we do flush (though with a bucket) after each use as opposed to the if its yellow let it mellow rule we follow in Yanacoto. In Yanacoto we don't have running water all the time either, but we have a tank on the roof that collects water when it comes, so it's like having running water. There's no tank in Cayalti. From the kitchen if you go right, you are in the coral or patio area. In the back corner is our one and only sink we wash hands, dishes and clothes there. Along the back wall are our cuy- guinea pig and patos- duck. My family thinks I'm crazy because every day I would go out and watch them. And sometimes talk to them. I'd ask them how they are and then tell them that I was going to eat them. Our clothes line is out there two... one of them is made of barbed wire, so we'll see how many holes I have in my shirts after two years. My room- I have a bed and a desk- like a desk from a school where the seat is connected. The first two days, I couldn't figure out why my room smelled like a farm. I thought maybe it was because my window opened right to the ducks and cuy, even though they didn't quite smell like that. Finally, it dawned on me one night as I was trying to get myself comfortable in my bed, that my bed was made of STRAW! I snuck a peek and it looked like a regular mattress and the edges were normal-ish, but the middle part was all straw. A few things about straw. It smells. And it's hard. My hips are bruised from sleeping on my side. I will be buying a new mattress and a dresser, since I don't have one of those. Life will definately be different, but I have a great family and a great site. I've met a good number of people who are eager to change their town, have a vision for the future, and know that it won't just fall into their lap or happen overnight. My visit was really encouraging and motivating. My pops is a writer on the side and was talking about writing a book about his experiences and how now I'll be part of that. So I'll let you know once I'm written about!
It's been rough getting back into training, though 4 of our guys broke up the routine this morning. They went to the super sketchy black market place (as opposed to the less sketchy black market place) in Lima and ended up buying Security Guard uniform shirts and hats. This morning they took over opening the door and then interrogated us as we entered. They were not even letting some people in. Some had the fortune of being pushed against the wall and 'frisked' (thank you Keenan). Thankfully only a few more Spanish classes. Though they are requiring EVERYONE to take the final test which is crummy. It's late and pictures will take awhile to load, so that will be a tomorrow project maybe.
Hasta luego!