Todd: Peru is very interesting. It is the raining season, so it rains a long time. Actually it rains a short time, and then it’s sunny for a little bit. There is this kid who lives close to us Elias. He likes to collect snail shells (caracol in Spanish). He can find more snails in a minute than I can in an hour. He is 2½ years old. He likes tops. There is quite a bit of cactus here. We went to a special park today. It was pretty much made out of rocks. It was very exciting because you could see almost everything at the top. There are these players (I saw one person with a guitar and one person who I don’t know what he was playing) who were playing for people. In Peru, there’s at least two main things you’ll need in a rainy season: sunscreen and an umbrella. At night it is very cool. Last night you could see the constellation Orion. It seemed a little smaller and it was right on top of the sky. It was like right above us. In downtown it is very full of people. A lot of people stare at us because we look different than they do. In downtown, there are very good candy stores and ice cream stores. One thing that is very annoying: the musical garbage truck. It plays music while it goes everywhere. We cannot eat much fruit because of parasites that we aren’t used to. And, I think that’s it. See you sometime soon.

Ash: The other day we were walking downtown and we saw a young boy across the street tug on his mom’s skirt, point to us and say, “Mire, Mire!” (“Look! Look!”) We are getting some stares because we do look different. Not glares or scowls, mind you. Primarily looks of curiosity.

I’m crying again. I guess I’d better get used to it for the next few weeks. I’m not crying because of poverty or depression or anything like that. No, I’m crying because of the tremendous visions of hope that I keep on hearing from different people. This morning, we went to visit the school where Audra might teach and the kids might go to school. It was small (about 50 students–who’s school year starts on Monday), and not in the best of condition. It reminded me of the one room school houses that have been moved to museums so we can see “how good we have it today” but with the rooms stacks on top of one another around a small courtyard. The floorboards were sagging and weak. Some windows were broken. We learned later the bathrooms don’t always work because the water system isn’t always dependable. The director wasn’t there during the morning visit, so Audra and I went back later with Arthur to meet him. He greeted us warmly with Bienvenido (Welcome) and after a few introductions he told us about the school. It is a Christian School (a rarity, it seems) with a passion. He told us the school has three main goals: First, teach the subjects. This, he told us, is the easy part. Second, to build character. This is harder especially in a society were broken and hurting families are the norm not the exception. The unemployment rate in the area is around 50 some percent. Even having a job is no guarantee, because the minimum wage in Peru is around S/.500 (500 Nueve Sol) a month (which is about $130 a month). Third, to lead the children and their families into a relationship with Jesus Christ. The director is a strong Christian man with a strong desire to serve the Lord. He wants to transform not only the children and their families, but also the entire community. But even that vision is too small.

Perhaps someday they can buy the land and the buildings they are currently renting. Maybe they can make much needed improvements, or even better, build better buildings with more room and more space. Someday, they want to offer technical education for the students who want to go even further. Someday, they want to offer a bible college. Someday, they want these facilities to be too small. Someday, they want to go beyond the borders of Huancayo. Because of the internet, they have already received requests from not only cities around Peru, but also from Argentina and Ecuador. What a beautiful vision.

They want teachers who can teach the children how to apply the knowledge they attain. They want a pastor to serve as the pastor to the children and their families. They want professionals to show them how to transform lives and not just teach subjects. The education system here is different than in the states. Some things make sense to us. Some things don’t. It’s not that they are wrong or that we are right. It’s just that we are different. What a tremendous opportunity to be a part of such a tremendous dream.

I’m crying more today…and it’s just the second full day here in Huancayo. I can’t wait to see what the next few weeks have to offer.

A cultural difference we learned today: In America, we pride ourselves on honesty. In Peru, they find their pride in education. For example, if someone says to us, “You’re a liar,” we get highly offended. But if someone says, “Well, that’s dumb,” we might not like it, but we get over it. In Peru, calling someone a liar is a minor thing. Calling someone’s ideas dumb or stupid is the worst thing we could say.

I’ve sat in on two cell group meetings (Audra has sat in on one) and listened to the group speaking Spanish for two hours straight. It is good to know we could follow the gist of the conversation and understand at least 50% of it.

Downtown Huancayo (500.000 people)

Some Boys Skateboarding in the park

A tiny sampling of the Market

February 25, 2007

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Ash:  Ever since arriving in Peru late last night/early this morning, I have been trying to find the right words to begin this blog.  As of right now, words still fail me.  We are writing a bus (not one wired together with baling wire with crates of chickens on the roof, but a luxury coach with reclining seats and Oliver Twist playing in Spanish on the video screens).  The bus is taking us from Lima on the coast of Peru to Huancayo (elevation around 10,000 feet).  At one point of the trip we will be at over 16,000 feet (that’s more than 3 miles!).   As I write this, we have been on the bus for about one hour, and looking out the window watching the world slip by around me, I am left speechless.  In my head, I started this blog a number of times, but words fail to capture what I am seeing and feeling.

            My heart is breaking.  Tears well up in my throat and threaten to break free.  As I look around me, I realize perhaps for the first time how fortunate I have been being raised where I was raised.  Again, fortunate is not the right word.  Perhaps, privileged.  For the last hour we have been driving by homes, hovels, shanties, and shacks tacked precariously to the dry hillsides and crowding the street.  A while ago we passed three fountains.  They were difficult to see, however, because of all the women crowding in to wash their clothes.  Before that there was a handful of men and boys playing soccer on nothing but hard caked dirt. 

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            Before coming, I’d read that this is one of the driest deserts in the world.  I thought I’d wrapped my mind around it.  I hadn’t.  I couldn’t.  The primary color is a muddy brown (ironic since rain is so sparse).  A few green plants line the roads and the river flowing through the valley.  Some cling precariously to the mountainsides.  Mostly, the mountains so far are dirt and rock.  Someone has placed a huge cross at the top of one of the mountains. 

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            It’s not all heartbreak I see, however.  It is interesting to see where a community finds its pride.  In the middle of all I see, there are people–lots of them.  Working, playing, living, talking, waiting, reading.  The community is not the buildings.  It is the people.  Everywhere we look, there are people living life to the fullest they can at the moment.  In nearly every village we pass, there is a beautiful park, meticulously cared for with trees and flowers and green grass. 

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            I realize I am looking at all this through American eyes.  There’s nothing wrong with that, I just need to realize it for what it is:  American eyes.  I can’t look down on anybody because they aren’t like us.  Everyone has a right to live as they find joy and happiness.  Material wealth (having things) like seem to value so much in America doesn’t always mean community.  Green grass on the hillsides don’t always mean contentment. 

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            Although we have been climbing steadily since we boarded the bus in Lima, we are just now starting to climb into the mountains and away from the cities.  The buildings are giving way to fields of crops…

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Audra:  Hope and hopelessness mingle here.  I have seen desperate living conditions and people clinging to the hope they have to have.  There are beautiful gardens on rooftops.  Flowers climbing walls, fences and gates.   Austerity of dry, rocky mountains and the plenty of produce in the market.  I’m not desolate because there are so many possibilities and opportunities.  These are not people who don’t care–just people working hard with what they have.

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“How are we going to go higher?” says Kia of the Andes Mountains.  Most likely, one step at a  time. 

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Todd:  Hello, people of Georgia (and other places).  Most of the flowers are the same here. I had to take a six hour flight to Lima and a seven hour bus ride to Huancayo on the way.  We met the Ivey’s.  I got to play on the drum set.  There are lots of the same movies live Oliver Twist, Happy Feet, Aquamarine and A Good Year.  We also went to a great local restaurant.  Last thing:  the art is very cool in Peru.  See ya!

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Kia: There is so much poverty in Peru. There are skinny dogs that wander the streets. There are quite a few nice shops and restaurants. We can’t drink the tap-water because it would make us sick because we aren’t used to it. We have two nice and cozy rooms to sleep in. But they have no heating or air-conditioning, so most of the time it’s pretty cold. Last night I got the feeling of altitude sickness and at the restaurant I had to drink Coco Leaf Tea and it tasted revolting but made me feel better. Talk to you Later!!