Last Thursday, I was sitting at my site trying to transcribe my interview with the health post, when Jennifer, another volunteer from Peru 18 who lives nearby, called me up. She said she was going to take a trip to Ellie's site to let her know our plan to travel to Cajamarca City on Saturday. Ellie had cell phone service originally, but a storm knocked her tower down and there was no way to communicate with her, other than a community phone that we for whatever reason couldn't get through on. So, not wanting her to have no idea we were all going to Cajamarca City, we decided to get on a cramped little combi and drive an hour and fifteen minutes into the mountains to find her town and tell her ourselves.
It was kind of exciting, to be driving out to her site to surprise her. I thought that would be a surprise that I would LOVE if it happened to me. The drive was beautiful too, the view of the mountains was amazing, and aside from the fact that the road was CRAP, I was really excited that I didn't get car sick even though I hadn't taken dramamine. I don't know what it is about this country, but it's really hard for me to drive anywhere an not get carsick.
We got to Ellie's town, which was way bigger than we thought. Jennifer and I both live in tiny towns, mine is the smallest with just 93 families. Ellie has stores and buildings, a plaza and a municipality. I was really surprised by how big it was and tried not to be a bit jealous. We went to the health post and see if she was hanging out there. Turns out she wasn't, but they gave us directions to her house and we went walking down towards the river. There was a park and lots of green. I tried not to look - "site envy", which is a common ailment of Peace Corps volunteers, was not something I needed. Walking down the street around where Ellie should be, we saw a house that looked a bit nicer than the rest and assumed that she lived there. We just stood on the street, shouting her name at the house. She eventually peaked out a window and came running downstairs. It was a fun little adventure. Unfortunately, Ellie's family was having a wedding during the coming weekend and she wasn't going to be able to make it.
Jennifer and I left a couple hours later feeling a twinge jealous. Everyone in her community had been so friendly and welcoming. She seemed to have made a bunch of good connections with people and Jennifer and I, who have had some trouble getting to know people because there is no where to go to really meet people, had a hard time not feeling jealous when we left. But I suppose every site has its positives and negatives.
Friday morning came, and I spent the morning at the health post and then went to the Promoción. This was basically the graduation for the 6th grade students from our town's primary school, who were moving on to secondary school in Chota. I showed up a bit early with the health workers and it was mostly just the teachers and Director Chavez there, but the whole room was decorated beautifully, if not a touch tacky, in purple streamers and balloons. Everyone was drinking beer in a drinking circle and they made me part of it. I'm not sure how long the teachers had been drinking, but I think it was enough time, given the super awkward moment that arose.
The health workers were talking to one of the louder and slightly more obnoxious teachers and telling her that I had been teaching them English. The first word I had taught them was "Boss", because they constantly call each other "Jefa" but they say it in a way that sort of undulates in a way that makes it sound like they are whining. It drives me absolutely bonkers for a really strange reason, but "boss" does not lend itself to flowing speech. They had taken to calling each other "Boss" all the time and then giggling. It cracked me up. Anyway, so this teacher now knew that I was teaching people English words and she asked me how to say "Huevos" in English. It's eggs, but I also knew that the slang term for "balls" is "huevos", and I had the sneaking suspicion that was what she was after - something about the slight quiver of the corner of her mouth when she asked me. So, I said, "huevos is eggs in English, but if you are looking for the slang term, it's balls." Everyone was pretty shocked that I knew the jerga for balls in Spanish, but the look on the teacher's face made it pretty evident that was exactly what she had been after, her glee punctuated by a very shrill cackle. Listening to them try to say "balls" made me laugh really hard, it sounded more like "buollz" and they were all giggling and cackling. I turned a little red, but before I could gather myself, the teacher had gotten up, walked across the room to Director Chavez and said something that involved "buollz", cackled, and came back to sit down. I still have no idea what she said but I must have turned purple I was so embarrassed. I could feel my face swell with blood and I couldn't help laughing at the same time. I sat there, shaking, but with my face covered by my hands, when the Director walked up to me and asked me what "buollz" meant. I wanted to answer the poor guy, though he didn't seem all that bothered by it, but I couldn't pull myself together. He waited, then eventually walked away. I felt terrible, but also thought it was hilarious. It felt like middle school, when you learn a word no one else does and then get to use it as a source of power until everyone makes the mistake of asking their parents what it means.
About two hours later, the Promoción finally got going. All the boys were wearing nice shoes, black slacks, and light lavender purple collared shirts. All the girls were in these big gauzy lavender dresses with little heels on. All the clothes were the exact same color, and the girls looked like dolls, or little girls playing dress up, each dress looked like a Halloween costume for Cinderella, but in the wrong color. Each girl had her hair pulled up in some different way with a couple of pieces of hair curled by their face. Each up-do looked like it was made of stone. I'm pretty sure hot wax must have been used to pull their hair up, and all I could think of was that painful scene from Memoirs of a Geisha, when they yank hot wax through her hair to put it up. All in all, there were about 10 kids or so, and they all looked like they were going to a strictly uniform prom. They all came in and sat down in the white plastic chairs, only to be told about ten minutes later they all had to go back out and process in with their families.
Each name was called and they walked in with their parents. It was sort of entertaining to see these kids all dolled up and their parents in rainboots and mud splattered pants. Each kid processed in, hugged their teacher, and then walked behind the table with the cakes (that's a common Peruvian thing at parties, to have a table covered in cakes that are just for taking pictures with). I was faintly amused that Peruvians don't smile in pictures, ever. This exciting occasion, graduation, and everyone looked like they were getting a mug shot taken. I know it is what they do in formal occasions, but it still was so weird to watch. They sang a religious song, Señor de los Milagros, and people kept looking at me. I felt awkward for not knowing the words until I realized that none of the kids did either. They were all lined up in two lines in the middle of the room the whole time. A big speech was made, in which, as is common practice, all important people are acknowledged at the beginning. Right after acknowledging the workers from the health post, I was acknowledged, but the woman who was in charge of the Promoción, who had invited me to the Promoción, had no idea what my name was, so I was acknowledged as the Señorita from the United States. I tried not to laugh, and I think resisted admirably, but it was funny.
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