Spoons, Sparkling Shoes, and Summer School
I’m sitting in my bed, after a day filled with teaching English to Frank, cooking lunch with freshly sacrificed gallina, and running spontaneously at the colegio after cleaning up from yesterday’s clausura for vacaciones útiles. It would be wrong not to explain to you how I have become more Peruvian by the day, and how today it was especially apparent.
Development number one: Forgetting that forks exist.
In Ñunya Jalca, and most places in Perú, it is quite the anomaly to see someone eating with a fork and knife. Somehow, everyone seems to eat even the toughest meat with solely a spoon and their hands. At first, I couldn’t comprehend it and probably looked ridiculous trying to eat chicken as they do. But now, including today, as I sit down to eat our weekly gallina, I naturally reach for a spoon and seem to forget that cutting with a knife, followed by utilizing a fork, is another option!
Development number two: Cleaning my shoes on the daily.
Today’s example: The second I walked in my door from my run in the rain I cleaned my shoes until they were gleaming.
This is a Peruvian trait that I have inherited over my last few months in site. It is said in Ñunya Jalca that “los zapatos son la cara de la persona”, and therefore it has become a necessity to walk the streets with sparkling shoes if I want to fit in in any shape or form. Not to mention that I’ve caught my host mom cleaning my shoes multiple times now and out of pure guilt I started taking on the role which developed into a norm.
Enough about my changed eating and cleaning habits, it’s been quite a while since I have updated you on the ins and outs of my day-to-day. To start, today marks my 2.5 months of living in site and 5.5 months of living in Perú; I can’t comprehend how fast time has passed. But then, when I think about it on a deeper scale, I recognize just how much I’ve grown, changed, and learned in my 160 days in Perú. It might sound cheesy, but I couldn’t say something more honest. I thought I understood what privilege looks like because of the privilege I’ve had traveling the world: meeting locals, being “off the grid”, and stepping into communities that rarely see tourists. But the truth is, that was quite naïve. It’s hard to comprehend what privilege looks like until you are living in a rural town, building deep relationships with the community, and seeing the gratitude that people feel for things that “we - those living in a “developed” and capitalistic society - quite frankly don’t think twice about. I could go on about this indefinitely, and if you would like to cover the topic, please give me a call because it doesn’t cease to leave my mind.
Beautifully, as January came to a close, three volunteers (Cam, Tom, and Claire) had birthdays within a week. We took this as a perfect excuse to celebrate in Chachapoyas! Our Airbnb was a dream, fitting almost all 15 of the volunteers who came for the weekend. It reminded me of an old European apartment, leveled in fours, roof lined with trailing succulents, fairy lights draped from post to post under the metal awning, an ancient grill, and a vast view of our special town backdropped by mountains painted in green. Per usual, we ate deliciously, feasting on pizza (the best I've had yet in Perú) and homemade tacos. We indulged in Black Mouth’s legendary coconut oil mocha - vital to include that the cacao is harvested from nearby chacras. A lifelong memory for me will be Olivia and I making guacamole on the rooftop, bonding over and listening to our shared favorite music, and watching the sunset while Paul, Juliana, and Ethan played Settlers of Catan nearby. It still ceases to amaze me how lucky I am to have such intelligent, compassionate, hilarious, and driven volunteers in my region of Amazonas. I would be lying if I didn’t say that the conversations I have with these friends are the most intellectual and stimulating conversations a friend group has provoked in me.
As yesterday signified my final day of vacaciones útiles, it feels only right to update you on the development of my summer as an English teacher. Vacaciones útiles is summer school, usually funded by the district, giving students in Perú opportunities to learn and disfrutar their summer break. Living in a small community like Ñunya Jalca, there isn’t any funding for this program. Children in my community either tend to stay at home, glued to their cellphones, or work on their chacra between January and March when school isn’t in session. I took this fact as an opportunity to start vacaciones útiles in Ñunya Jalca, teaching English and sports to four different age sections, ranging from 11 to 16 years old. Each day, as I opened the door to Jorge Chávez Secundaria, a different age group of students poured through, some eager to learn English, others to play sports, and some solely mandated to be there by their parents.
Each age group taught me something unique.
1. Managing a classroom is hard.
At first, managing a classroom of 30 11-year-olds was quite near impossible, especially regarding how in Perú chatting with friends and playing “Free Fire” while your teacher is talking is normal. Luckily with time, I learned a few tips and tricks. Sure, my energy may have been completely drained after teaching two hours of English filled with games and an hour of sports filled with futbol and voley, but most days I went home feeling whole. It was noticeable that week by week my students gained more trust and respect for me, and the chaos settled. When I would walk into class in the morning, sit down during our breaks, and chat with students at the end of sessions, I was showered in hugs, nísperos and pumerosas, and words of gratitude.
2. Relationship building is essential.
My favorite class grew to be my Tuesdays, my small group of 7 16-year-olds. The thing about these students was that each of them was there because they wanted to be. They loved learning English, playing soccer - mixed boys and girls which is quite the site here – and chatting with me about their little day-to-day updates. How grateful I feel that before I start my first year teaching at Jorge Chávez, I have seven students with who I have a reciprocal relationship. I will try to push their minds outside the box to recognize their capabilities while they push my mind outside of my box to give me new perspectives and realizations.
Due to the lack of funding for my vacaciones útiles, Gustavo (our física teacher) and I came up with the idea of hosting a futbol and voley tournament with the vacaciones útiles of Puerto Naranjitos that my friend Brianna (another PCV) started.
At 6 AM the morning of the tournament, I heard “Christina… campeonato… Jorge Chávez… 10 AM” announced on the vocina in our town, and with that, I knew the gente would be coming to watch. Surprise caught me as I gazed at the sun shining through my window, an anomaly during the rainy season. A few hours later, our students waited eagerly for Naranjitos to arrive, and when the moment came, the students were for a lack of better words - stoked. With the help of Profé Juan and moms from our town, the referees were taken care of, and the games played out beautifully. Brianna and I sat on the edge of our seats on opposite sidelines, cheering on our teams and chatting with our friends made over the last five weeks in classes. After four hours roasting in the unexpected sun, the comedor popular provided lunch for Naranjitos as Brianna and I indulged in a quite needed arroz con pollo at The Cajamarcina.
At the end of the day, I recognized Brianna’s combi driving away and my students walking back to their houses as a symbol of closure. My heart was full, and I felt accomplished. This tournament was something Brianna and I did that wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t in Ñunya Jalca and Puerto Naranjitos. Sometimes I question if I am making an impact, but in this moment, it felt like I was. Before I fell asleep last night, I received a text from Lorena, one of the students who I’ve grown the closest to saying, “Le agradezco, fueron mis mejores vacaciones”. So simple, yet so meaningful.
As I continue to sit in my bed, I reflect on my last month in Ñunya Jalca. Each day, as I walk the streets, I feel more at home. As I journey from my house to wherever the day takes me, I have my daily conversation with Liz about our next plan to run, the señora who always asks me about what chamba I’m doing that day, the comedor popular ladies who invite me to eat, and someone new - who I am sure next time I write I will have shared memory with. Little by little, I’m creating a footprint in my town and next time I write, I hope it’s the slightest bit deeper.
Love the sparkly shoes!!! When we were in Morocco, one of the things I still find myself doing sometimes is taking off my "outside shoes" and putting on "inside shoes" for the house & then never wearing my inside shoes on a carpet in the house. Reminds me of your clean shoes now :) You'll probably bring that habit home with you!
Love! and excited for our next rooftop guac