La China

With the 50^th anniversary coming up, the volunteers have been asked to speak with the different local newspapers in Tumbes to put in a little blurb or spread on what is Peace Corps. Last Sunday, one of the local newspapers wrote two full pages on us with excerpts of interviews from a few of the volunteers. However, we thought it would be good to maybe put another notice about ourselves in another newspaper and I found myself asking around if anyone knew where the “Correo” newspaper office was.

“Sure I do” answered my uncle Koke. “The Correo office? It’s right on the corner of so and so- next to “La China.”

Not being familiar with one of these streets, I asked “Well, what’s “La China”?

“Oh, you know, the little blue prostitute house on the corner.”

(Here I paused and processed what he said)

“Come again Koke?”

“You know, the little blue…”

And then he proceeded to draw me a picture.

“Here we go” he said, “here’s the market street, here’s the street you walk up, HERE is La China’s prostibulo (he made sure to pronounce it very slowly so I could understand- PROS- TIIII- BUUU-LO) and the Correo office is next door.”

I tried to keep an even face and pretend that of course, I knew where the local brothel was located. But it was hard. Weren’t those things illegal? I had heard rumors of one existing between the Miami campus and Dayton airport but those rumors probably held as much truth as the government's denial of finding alien bodies in Roswell, New Mexico. So it surprised me to know that I had been walking past a Peruvian “Prostibulo” three times a week. Eventually, unable to keep my curiosity at bay and quite amused at the map my uncle Koke had made me, I asked him,

“Koke, how do YOU know where La China’s brothel is?

“Well, you see Lindsey (long pause), this one time I was eating my lunch outside on the side of the street with my motorcycle and this lady just came up to and asked me how much I was willing to pay. I had no idea it was a whore house- I was just sitting there, eating my lunch”!

Eating lunch my butt. I could now picture the area in my head and there was nothing inviting about that street nevertheless eating one’s lunch there unless you enjoy dining near dead animals and burning garbage.

Keeping those thoughts and judging to myself, I silently nodded my head while Koke finished his map and wished me good luck on my adventure to find the newspaper office. I would like to point out that Koke also has a tattoo on his chest that says “ Te amo Tatiana.” Tatiana was his girlfriend in high school and Koke has been looking for a way to get rid of the evidence since his new girlfriend doesn’t know it exists. She’s never seen him without a wife beater on.

The next day I went out on my quest to find the Correo newspaper office but I’ll I could find was the brothel. I just saw a homeless man coming out of there with his cup and hand and once again, judged. Needless to say, Correo wasn’t where Koke said it was and I've yet to find it to this date.

Hands up

I have a huge family. I have at least 40 first cousins and 18 uncles and aunts. It has been my long standing opinion that way too much intra and interfamily dating and marriage happens because everyone is from the same two or three families. One of my cousins is Banner. Banner is Fernanda’s son and Yenner’s younger brother. Is was Banner’s father that died in December of 2009 after working as a bread maker his whole life and not receiving the medical attention he needed in his last few hours.

I really love this part of the family. There are five children and they have probably more than your average amount of disputes due to a very jealous and high strung sister, Fabiola (don’t tell her I said that). However, the family really took a hit when the father passed away completely unexpectedly right after I got here.

After that, Banner, who is 16, took a turn for the worse. He began to hang out with the not so awesome people in my town, drinking all night long, vandalizing, dropped out of school, and basically acting like a screwball which is unfortunately how a lot of the male youth act in my town.

However, Banner has had his older brother Yenner look out for him tremendously. As a way to gain incentive to work, Yenner bought Banner a brand new mototaxi under the premise the Banner would work in my town for however long it took to pay back his brother and take care of it like it was his baby. There were other stipulations to, for example that he could never take the moto into Tumbes (it’s too dangerous and Banner doesn’t have his diver’s license) and that he had to stop drinking. He loves that moto. If I can, I will take a picture of it and post it here so you can all see it. So Banner has passed the last five months working everyday to get money.

Unfortunately, there are a few bad apples in my town that have gotten involved with gangs, drugs, and have made robbing a way of living. Here in San Juan, things have stayed mostly peaceful, but those who make their living in a more illegal way either work in Tumbes city or just keep a low profile in my town as to not draw more attention than they already get from a community that LOVES to gossip.

So anyways, let’s rewind to last Monday. My annex town Tacural, was just finishing it’s anniversary celebration (which I judged the beauty pageant for) and a lot of people were just drinking in the morning. One of the “bad” apples in my town whose name is Kokon asked my cousin Banner to take him there. Let me just say that Kokon is 15 years old, is still in high school, and I’ve definitely had conversations with him before. Of course Banner had no problem taking him over there, I usually just go walk but he would be making the equivalent of a cool 20 cents from the business.

After getting to Tacural, Kokon offered my cousin a glass of beer and to sit with him and another man named Julio. Julio grew up in San Juan, married a girl here but beat her unconscious two years ago while she was pregnant so he’s been living in Tumbes ever since but still comes here to celebrate during the fiestas.

After drinking their “vaso” Julio and Kokon asked my cousin Banner if they could take them into Las Merecedes in Tumbes. Knowing how Las Merecedes is the equivalent of no man’s land and should definitely be avoided, Banner said he didn’t want to go in there.

“But come on man, you’re with us; we’ll protect you.”

And so they went.

In hindsight this was a very poor decision.

Banner was set up by both Julio and Kokon and soon enough another moto came up from beind and crashed into my cousin’s. Julio then kicked Banner off, beat him up and two men from the second moto pulled out a gun and shot at Banner’s foot. Luckily, it missed him. Banner was rightfully enraged and tried to get his moto back but after the shot rang he gave up and watched his moto disappear with the four guys.

Banner ran to the nearest police station where the police told him to go to another one. Eventually he got there, identified Julio in one of the suspect books and went with a policeman to Julio’s house. Funny enough, Julio opened the door, denied the charges, said that he and Banner had been friends with childhood and that he would never rob him. And that was it. The police said they could no longer help Banner.

Banner came home around lunchtime.

Apart from lecturing Banner on how he should have never gone into Tumbes, there was nothing we could do. His mother and older brother Yenner had left the night before for Lima and weren’t expected until later the week and his other brother Junior was out working in Tumbes and wouldn’t be home until the evening.

When Junior got home, he said that the thieves or chorros as we call them, had gotten Junior’s phone number and called with a ransom for the moto at 1000 soles. Understandably, no one has that type of money lying around so Junior tried to talk them down but they hung up.

This is when I walked outside and saw the whole family in a circle, watching and waiting for the cell phone to ring.

Eventually, Junior called an aquaintance of his that worked as a mechanic in Las Mercedes and ironically enough, this aquaintance was just getting ready to strip the moto (to sell everything individually so it couldn’t be traced). The mechanic was under pressure from the chorros and if he didn’t do as they said, reprucussions would be had.

Doesn’t this seem like something out of a movie?

Eventually the chorros called again and demanded 900 then 800 soles for the moto. This Junior agreed to pay. Us as a family would help come up with the money. Junior was told to take the money to a middle man and then the moto would be brought to him. Unfortunately though, no one could be sure we would get the moto because sometimes people just take the ransom money and then run away with the moto, leaving you sans moto and sans money.

So between a few people from the family (namely my butcher grandma) and myself, we came up with the money and gave it to Junior to take the next morning to the middle man. I routinely asked why the police couldn’t get involved and was told either a. the police refuse to get involved in things like this or b. if the chorros knew if Banner or Junior were contacting the police, they would go after them later and no doubt with guns.

In order to speed things up a bit, at the end of everything, Junior was able to pay the ransom and got the moto back (albeit without the battery or back tire).

That very day, I went with my sister and cousin to go buy carrots at the store when we came across 15 year old Kokon just walking around the plaza as if nothing had happened and had the decency to look us in the eye. Banner says he wants to buy a gun and make him pay. I probably would too if I were him, but the threat scares me nevertheless.

Party time

Happy February to all; I’m sure it’s cold as ever over there but, down here, it’s been hitting 100 degrees every day. As I write this, I’m sitting on my cement floor (the couch in my house it too hot) and I have a portable fan stuck next to my face. The only problem is, is that this hand-held fan operates on two batteries and I get the feeling that they’re starting to lose their juice. The fan is beginning to smell like burning rubber and the blades definitely aren’t spinning around as quickly as they used to.

Eff.

So as I’m sure you all have been hearing that Peace Corps is getting ready to celebrate their 50^th anniversary. Despite the fact that we definitely have not been in Peru that long, we’re still taking the opportunity to throw a bunch of parties. There will be two in Lima at the end of the month and one in each department where the volunteers are located. Personally, I think a lot of this money could be going to other things (grants mostly) but people like parties more so that’s what’s happening. However, those are only my personal opinions. The one in Tumbes is set for the 22^nd and we’re expecting around 100 people to come. I’m scheduled to speak a little bit and the idea of it is making me quite nervous.

Anyways, on the subject of parties, summer is the time to have them. I’m not sure why people plan it like that because there are infestations of biting bugs, torrential rains, and the general heat and humidity makea it hard to sit still anywhere for more than a few minutes. I told you all about the party and dances we had in San Juan back in January, but did I tell you about being chosen as a judge for a beauty pageant for my annex town a few weeks later? Talk about stress.

I woke up one morning at around 7, par usual, and was drinking my coffee and eating my bread when someone came to my door to speak with me from a party committee. Hoping to dissuade this woman from even thinking about asking me to participate in anything, I chose not to change out of my pj s nor brush my teeth before walking outside to meet her. However, my bad breath didn’t manage to scare her away.

“ Buenos Dias Inssy” (unless I’ve gone through multiple instruction, my name pronunciation remains a mystery to many).

“Buenos Dias” I say, “ What can I help you with”?

“Porfa (short for por favor, or please), be a judge for our beauty pageant tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night? A. Isn’t that short notice and B. I don’t like judging things, the last time I judged something it was a kite contest and I almost got mutenized for my decision.”

“ No no no, don’t worry, you’ll be great- just buy a present and be at the stage tomorrow.”

So I went, and it was interesting.

I went of course, at the hour I was told (8pm) and when I got there, I didn’t see a soul. The only thing I did see was a “stage” made out of long tables COVERED in flying, biting ants. It was disgusting. I couldn’t even see the tablecloth underneath because no joke, the place was crawling with bugs. Throughout the night I got used to crickets dive-bombing my head and beetles getting stuck in between my bra and shirt.

At 11pm everything finally got started. Being a woman of the 21^st century, I’m not sure how comfortable I feel judging other girls based on their body type and how “beautiful” they are, but they’re popular here so I took part and just felt super awkward when all the men gathered around the stage to whoop, holler and whistle when the girls walked around in their bikinis.

By the end, two out of three girls were names Miss Aniversay and Miss Tacural. I gave my present to the third one because a. she got a shitty deal, being the only won to not win something and because I voted for her for 1^st place. I hope she enjoyed the Tootsie Rolls and sparkly shirt.

This past Valentine’s day, my cousin’s orquestra, Yenner Artur, had another show in my town but this time in the evening. Despite the fact that I usually don’t like Valentine’s day, this “baile” or dance if you will, actually made this Valentine’s more or my memorable ones.

I showed up with the rest of my family relatively soon after the band started to play. As I’ve mentioned before, the 15+ people in the band all practice at my house and at least 5 sleep here when they are putting on a show. So I’ve gotten to know their faces, but I would definitely not say we have long conversations about philosophy and or the chance of an apocalypse in 2012.

So imagine my horror when I was called to go up on the stage in front on the rest of my town to receive a hairy stuffed animal on behalf of the band for Valentine’s day. I was standing quite peacefully and enjoying the music and beer when I heard the name “Inssy” come over the loudspeakers with the band all looking at me. Now I’m embarrassed to talk in front of a lot of people in English let alone Spanish, so imagine my mortification when I was asked to dance ON STAGE and in front of everyone to some serious booty-shaking music. After what seemed like 5 minutes of dancing and moving my hands in a circular motion (my dance resembled waxing a car), I was given the stuffed animal and got down as quickly as I could.

After a mere five and a half hours and after sitting on a greasy piece of chicken in a pretty blue dress, I decided to call it a night. However, passing five hours now doesn’t feel nearly as long as it used to when I first arrived to Peru and staying anywhere for more than three hours screamed torture.

Maybe it’s because my dance skills have improved.