Awkward+Awesome: War Zone

So today was the big Carnaval parade in Cajamarca. Since it would take forever to give you all the details, allow me to direct you for Abigail’s full-length amazing coverage here.

But for just a few bits of excitement, continue onward. Also, forgive me for having  no pictures of the amazing things that I’m going to try and describe to you, because bringing a camera to this event would have been suicidal.

Awesome: The world’s most extreme water fight in the entire world. Water balloons, guns, buckets EVERYWHERE.

Awkward: Being in a group of 5 gringos in the midst of THOUSANDS of Peruvians who love nothing more than to see a white girl cry.

Awesome: Bringing a bit of our own ammo to throw right back at them and learning how to properly tie and fill a water balloon. Seriously, it’s an art here. I thought I was pretty good at filling balloons until I met these kids. You fill them and then push all the water down so that it’s a really tight balloon and will explode on contact, and then you tie it a special way.

Awkward: This awesome way of tying balloons makes them hurt SO much when they hit you! 

Awesome: Being SO popular. Everywhere we go, “Gringas! Gringas! Hello! Good Morning!”

Awkward: When they say, GET THE GRINGAS and announce to everyone who can hear that unarmed Gringas are rapidly approaching. At one point  I yelled, “No! Soy Peruana!” (I’m sure they got a kick out of that one).

And confession: After my face had taken a beating, I got scared and would sprint through the scary parts, making myself a gringa alone and unarmed. The people loved this and would get ready to throw, but I’d yell, “Wait, there are lots more gringas coming! Save your balloons!!! Haha it didn’t really work…but it was worth a shot!

Awesome: Getting shot at with water guns. Seriously, this was a welcome attack because it meant that we weren’t being pelted at with fierce, hard, hurtful balloons.

Awkward: Being hit from balloons come from the top of five story buildings. You can’t see it coming and the force is EXTREME.

Awkward: Being two heads taller than the average person walking down the street. My face will never be the same. It took hit after hit after hit. And when they get the back of your neck….OUUUUUCH!

Awesome: Sitting down and watching other people get hit. It still made me cringe to watch people get hit because I know what kind of pain they’re going through…but oh baby it was funny to watch them get hit out of nowhere and look around in confusion.

Awesome: Watching a man come kiss a woman hello, and the moment they kiss, both of their faces are pelted with one big fatty water balloon. Oh, I died.

Awkward: Having nowhere to watch the actual parade because no body wants to sit by a group of gringo water magnets

Awesome: Having a group of drunk Peruvians invite us to go stand on top of their rickety, about to fall over pick-up truck.

Awesome: Actually taking up their offer and watching the parade in quite possibly the most dangerous way possible. 5 super tall white people standing on a truck with drunk Peruvians… pretty much we were wearing a “Hey, in case we’re not wet enough, please hit us again…and again and again!” and hit we were.

Awesome: I seriously had so much fun. It was fun sprinting down the street trying (and failing) to make it by the big crowds without being hit. It was fun trying to catch the balloons that were thrown at us. It was fun being with our friends, it was fun seeing awesome floats and it was just fun being in Peru.

Awkward: Trying to get home and passing at least 10 men who were relieving themselves in all sorts of public places and then realizing that we’re walking in that the whole way home. I guess that’s what you get when you mix a bunch of beer and no public restrooms.

Awkward: The pain. I know I’ve gone over how bad we got hurt. But take how bad you think it hurt…then multiply it by 84.

Awesome: The fact that we have the best friends family in Peru ever. Liz and Miguel and Aleksi have been incredible to us and cease to amaze us with their kindness. Before and After the parade Miguel’s mom, Momita fed us SO much and it was SO good! Also, since we were soaked and freezing cold, Liz, Miguel and Aleksi all brought out practically every dry article of clothing they owned and let us change into them. Seriously, some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. We are so blessed!

Well, I can say that I’ve survived Carnaval in Cajamarca (except for the fact that the parties continue to go on all month…so there will be more to survive), I can’t say that I’d want to do it again anytime soon, but don’t regret going one single bit!

Sporting Liz, Miguel and Aleksi's clothing!!

When I get home I can teach you the Peruvian art form of water balloon tying, and you’re life will never be the same again J

Hurrah For Israel

Have you ever wondered what you’re first instinct/reaction would be if you were to witness an accident? Are you a fighter or a flighter? Would you run to find help or respond to the scene yourself as fast as you could? I’ve often wondered this. I pass out at the sight of blood and even talking about accidents makes me queasy. I am not tough when it comes to this sort of thing. So I’ve often wondered what I’d do if I were to witness an accident of some sort.

Well, on Friday, I found out.

We had just had an awesome water fight to celebrate Carnaval with our kiddos. (If you haven’t yet, read about it here first, it might make this post make a bit more sense)

Well at three o clock, after much chasing, chucking, and ducking for cover, I was cold, wet, tired and ready to end this fiesta.  Of course the kids weren’t. I retreated upstairs and watched the kids continue to battle it out from the window on my second floor. Feliciana and Melchora were also watching from a window in a different room. 

Israel is an adorable kiddo with a big smile, a big heart and a little bit of mischief mixed in there. He was on Ricardo’s team for the water fight, determined to not leave a single dry square inch on my body.

This is my Fierce Israel

Israel (the lion in the middle) with his Camo brother Lazaro and his spiderman neighbor Reuban

I painted all of Israel's siblings faces. This is four of the 8 in their family

He had taken his shirt off and was standing on the ledge of our side walk, laughing in triumph at my retreat.  Ninos were cheering in agreement, and I watched in horror as Israel lost his balance on the ledge and fell backwards off of it and onto who knows what. I knew that there was a 6 or 7 foot drop off, but I wasn’t sure what was on the other side.  I just knew that he had gone straight back off of it.

So here we are. I just witnessed a crisis. My little boy was down. From what I could tell, there were no other adults around.  And…Here’s what I did.

I screamed! Just one, kind of short, scream.

Then I ran.

I sprinted down the hallway, literally flew down the stairs, taking 3 or 4 at a time, flung the door open, sprinted across the road and found a path down to where Israel had fallen, not knowing what I was going to find. It didn’t really pass through my mind that he could be unconscious or dead, I just knew I had to get down there and do something.

I found Israel on the ground, his body contorted, conscious and crying hysterically (THANK GOODNESS!). His legs were underneath him and he was holding his left arm in pain. I looked up to the group of people standing up on the ledge looking down on us.  All my ninos had gathered round and I found Melchora’s face in the crowd. Desperate for help, I yelled out, “What do I do?”. Of course, no one answered me (I spoke in English) and at that point Aleksi had rushed down and was by my side with Israel.

I knew that you weren’t supposed to move bodies when there was a chance of broken bones until there was a trained professional there, so I was hesitant. And then it hit me, “Hello Noelle. You are in the tiniest little city in Peru, and the closest hospital is 30+ minutes away, and even if we could get someone to help him, Israel comes from a family of 8 children. They are as poor as poor can be and could not afford the medical bills, doctor visit, let alone the bus ride up there. How on earth is this going to work out?”

Aleksi and I carefully lifted Israel out of the trench and carried him up the hill and back up to the sidewalk. Ricardo (who had been off with his devious team, plotting an extreme attack against me….) showed up right then and took Israel from us and brought him inside to lay him on the table.

At that point, Israel was still crying, the kids were following us in a little train and my mind was racing. Ok we have to check his entire body and see what’s hurt the worst, we have to get him warm and dry, we have to make him comfortable, we have to calm him down. I think at this point I got a little bossy (forgive me!) “Abby, can you get a towel and a shirt or jacket?” “Aleksi, Ice and a pillow!”  And then my American’s were gone and I was left in a room full of Peruvians, and a hurt Israel.

And then I witnessed a miracle. 

Ricardo (who speaks English and Spanish, wahoo!!!) was awesome! I knew what had to be done, but I haven’t gotten to the chapter in my Spanish book that talks about accidents or injuries so I had no idea how to express to Israel what I needed him to do or tell me. 

Luckily Ricardo was on the same page and knew exactly how to handle it. We went through Israel’s body, head to every last pinky toe and made sure that he could move it in every plausible direction and that it didn’t hurt.

 I cringed when we got to his legs, expecting the worst. He was scared too and hesitant to move them.  It took some coaxing to let him allow us to bend his knees, rotate his feet and twist his hips. His right hip was really sore and giving him lots of grief, I figure that must’ve hit the ground first. 

His knees: clear. His ankles: clear. His feet: clear. His toes: clear, each and every last little toe.

His tummy: fine His arms: a bit scratched up, but I cleaned those right up with my first aid kit (wahooo Nurse Noelle!). His shoulders: Good as gold. Elbows: working great. His one wrist was in a lot of pain, but from what we could tell, it wasn’t broken. Wahooooo!!!!

Next came the big test, can he walk? Again, he was hesitant to put his weight on his legs and walk by himself, but we were pretty adamant and guess what? He walked like a champ. Yes, it was slow and shaky, but one foot in front of the other, he propelled himself forward.

Oh my goodness, I couldn’t believe it. How was this little boy walking away with only a sore hip, wrist and a scratched up arm? I’ve replayed watching him fall from the window over and over again. From that very instant he fell, I knew that major damage was going to be done.

I tried to count the number of silent and verbal prayers I offered from the moment he fell to the moment Ricardo and I dropped him and his siblings off at his home, but it was impossible. There were prayers offered out of urgency, from confusion, from the need for enlightenment. Countless, “Please let him be ok, please let him be ok.”.  Prayers asking Israel’s pain to subside. Prayers asking for him to be calm and at peace. And finally prayer after prayer of gratitude.

Israel and his brother Lazaro

Thank you so much for the prayers said on my behalf and that of my ninos. As I sat next to Israel while we were checking him for injury, my job was to mainly keep him calm and comfortable. I held him close while he sat up and stroked his head while he laid down. In that moment, I realized that I love these kids so much. I wished so badly that I could trade places with him. I knew that if I had broken an arm or leg, sure it’d stink big time, but I’d manage. I couldn’t stand the thought of one of my kids being seriously hurt. So thank you for keeping them in your prayers because I’d be a mess without them.

Oh I am so grateful that he is ok. Like I said before, these kids are poor, in a way that I don’t think you or I can fully comprehend (at least I know I can’t). I was so scared that he was going to need medical treatment that he simply would never have the opportunity to get.

But he’s safe, he’s well, he’s a little sore, but he’ll be alright. And for that word’s cannot express my joy and gratitude.

Hurrah for Israel, Hurrah for Israel.

P.S. Keep in mind that this was also the day of our Extreme Mold Crisis (blog post coming soon) where we were told we had to pack up and leave THIS instant. Talk about stress!

We Made It!

January 14, 2012

Can you say CULTURE SHOCK? I can… but only in English.

We got to the Cajamarca bus stop at about 8:20 am. A wonderful Peruvian woman named Lady who teaches English in a school helped us to  collect all our bags. We were supposed to be greeted there by a man named Herman Sandro, but he was nowhere to be found. There were tons of Peruvian men wanting to give us a Taxi ride and I think they were frustrated that we wouldn’t go with them. They were probably thinking, “Stupid Americans.” But we were told to wait for Hermano Sandro, so we did.

Pretty soon we were the only ones left in the bus station. Three American white girls with 12 huge pieces of luggage. We had no idea what to do so we said a prayer and sure enough within 3 or 4 minutes of our prayer Hermano Sandro showed up and helped us take our luggage out to the street where we waited for a bus or a taxi to take us to our new home.

Also, keep in mind that at this point, we three white girls are the ONLY English speakers in our town. Ever since Lady left us at the bus stop, we’ve done nothing but communicate with others in Spanish. Hermano Sandro tried to explain how things worked to us the best he could, but he only knows a handful of English words.

We caught a taxi, loaded it up with our belongings and squished in the back seat and began our 10-15 minute ride from Cajamarca to Puyallcana. The taxi dropped us off at what looked like a run down shack made of cardboard and old tin. Hermano Sandro pointed to it and said, “El Bichito”, meaning  that that run down shack would be our home for the next three months. I was seriously shocked. It was not what I was expecting AT ALL.  To be honest, from the moment we left America there has been NOTHING even close to what I was expecting. My mind is consistently blown.

Hermano Sandro showed us around the center and then we caught a bus into Banos del Inca to get money and groceries. He showed where we go to church and he showed us the hot springs that we could bathe in. Will we remember where any of that is when we try to go by ourselves? Not a chance :) We bought a palta (avocado), mango, a few nectarines, bananas and some Clorox.  We also bought a big thing of bottled water, some Clorox wipes, soap and toilet paper.

We came back to the center and met Feliciana and  Merchola. They are the two ladies who come to the center at 10 am and begin preparing a meal for the children who eat at 1. Neither of them speak a lick of English…naturally. I asked her what I could do to help with the meal, so she put me to work on pealing potatoes…with a knife. As soon as she handed me the knife, the lights completely went out. There is contruction going on around our house and apparently they have to turn our electricity off quite often. (it was off until about 10pm).

So Feliciana and I sat there and pealed potatoes in the dark. In silence. Just kidding! I can’t stand awkward silences, so I went to town with this woman and chatted up a storm. I became really confident in my Spanish speaking abilities and we were able to communicate just fine! In a little bit Brittany and Abigail came down and joined us with some flash lights. We each pealed 2-3 potatoes in the time that Feliciana pealed oh…. 30 or so. We were so slow! Next came rice sorting.  There is just a big pile of rice on the table and it has insects, grass and rocks mixed in with it. So we sit there and pick out what we don’t want to eat in our rice. All five of us were doing this and at one point one of us Gringas said something and Feliciana and Merchola just busted up laughing. So of course we started laughing and we all spent a good minute laughing sooo hard. At what? We have no idea.