Amazingly enough I'm getting near the end of my time in Peru and I will soon have to start preparing to leave. Last week was a week of mixed emotions, high and low, painful and joyous, happy and sad.
One of my main ambitions on this trip was to introduce Heber and family to my good friend Flor, which finally happened this past weekend. I'm so pleased that they've met and I know that Flor will be a significant help to them over the years. They all loved each other and she now calls them her new family, and of course she just loves little Gareth, as would you all if you were ever to meet him. She understands well their situation and she has years of experience of working with young people and knows what problems they confront in their daily lives. She has already arranged to visit them in their home and will continue to do so.
Heber and Pamela were both very impressed with her and are glad that she will be a part of their lives. It is of course one of the best things that has happened as far as I'm concerned. It is such a relief to know that Flor will be there for them when I'm no longer around, to support them and care for them. I can't think of a better person than Flor for them to have in their lives.
Thank you Flor for all you have done for me over the years that I've been coming to Lima and all the support and advice you've given me and for teaching me so much about the lives of the poorest children and families in Lima. I hope you are able to carry on working with them for many years to come. You are a truly inspirational person and I know that Heber and Pamela will benefit enormously from having you in their lives.
Flor's daughter Valeria, came along with her on Saturday. In case anyone is wondering Flor does not speak English but her daughter does and will be able to translate this post for her. I've met Valeria when she was younger, couple of times, and she is a lovely young person, now about to finish school and go onto university. She will be going to MALI in the New Year to study art part time before she goes off to uni. So good luck with that Valeria and don't forget that you promised to let me see some of your paintings.
We all spent the afternoon together. There are some photos in my Facebook page. Flor and Valeria eventually had to leave. It was very sad parting. I'm afraid to have to report that we both cried in the street outside Cafe Literario where I'd taken them for a last coffee or juice. I started it unfortunately. A very sad parting indeed but we will keep in touch over the old internet thing. So many ways now of doing so. My big brother Coinneach phones me every morning for free on WhatsApp just to make sure I've survived the night and not gone hypo.
I then spent the rest of the weekend with Heber and co. Mostly in my apartment which they love. I went out for an hour and a bit on Saturday night and left them on their own to give them some time together in a comfortable place, which they're not used to. The only thing I don't let them use is my MacBook as would be a bit lost if it broke down and one never knows what sites they may visit to download stuff. I wouldn't risk a virus on this machine.
Parting from them on Sunday evening was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. I've had many difficult situations to cope with over the past three and a half years but nothing compared to this. I don't know if you've ever had to leave someone you love, knowing you will never see them again? It is a painful experience, almost beyond endurance, which I've not yet got over. Or should that be gotten over?
I've tried to make it less painful for them by promising to come back next year to see them if it's at all possible. I know I've to go back to start more chemotherapy in a couple of weeks, so we will see how that works out. I don't know what Dr McLean will say when I tell her I want to come back here. After all she did describe this as a window of opportunity which I should take advantage of. Maybe there will be another one.
We went and did some shopping and bought them some things they need for themselves and Gareth and I gave them their Xmas present. I hope they will be able to have a turkey which will be cooked in a communal oven, and I think Heber's aunt and her young daughter will come along too. She's the aunt he lived with before moving in with Pamela and her dad and her brother. I've done my best for them.
I could tell that Heber was putting off our parting for as long as possible, as was I, but eventually I had to say lets do this horrible thing. And of course the tears weren't far away. Heber had his wee boy in his arms and kept holding on to me too in a big embrace. He then asked Pamela to join in. This was in the street waiting for their bus. Not sure what the locals thought. All things must pass. Eventually a bus arrived, Heber having declined the first one, saying it was full, and off they went.
I've not got over it since. I didn't sleep the night before and hardly slept last night. It sometimes feels as if this is the beginning of the end of my life.
He loved the graphic novel I bought for him. They sat on the couch together once Gareth was asleep and he read out loud the first story to her. She helped him along the way. I was very proud of my boy.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Friday, October 21, 2016
Casa de la Literatura Peruana, and Allen Ginsberg
I visited Casa de la Literatura Peruana last week for the first time. It's located in what used to be Lima's main railway station, Estación Desamparados and was opened in 2009 as a literary museum. It's quite magnificent and retains many original features of the old station, including trains passing by outside and a train which goes eight times a year on a tourist route of twelve hours to Huancayo. I wish I was fit enough to go, or that I'd known about it on my previous visits to this beautiful country.
I spent two hours there, which is about my time limit for being on my feet without a break, apart from a sit down from time to time, seats being scarce. I wish I could have spent more time there so I could read more of the displays, which are obviously in Spanish, and hence take longer for me to read, and discover more Peruvian poets.
There were not a lot of visitors there, apart from a large group of Peruvian school children being shown around by their teachers. The place is part of the Education Ministry, so it's good to know that future generations of Peru's young people will have this magnificent facility to enjoy and benefit from. Let's hope so anyway. I would take Pamela and co but it's a little difficult with Gareth and my slowness.
The next day the local paper El Comercio had an article about it, which seemed like a happy coincidence for me. I discovered that my old pal Allen Ginsberg had visited Peru in 1960 and spent some time here and of course wrote some poems. He met Martín Adán, an important Peruvian poet, outside Estación Desamparados, whilst he was here and they spent the day together. I didn't see anything about Ginsberg when I was there last week but maybe I missed it.
He wrote a poem for Adán called "To an Old Poet in Peru" ( A un viejo poet en el Peru). I was planning to quote the whole poem here but that might be too much so will give you a few lines only, and then you can search for it online.
And you saluted my eyes
With your anisetto voice
Mistakenly thinking I was genial
for a youth
(my rock and roll is the motion of an
angel flying in a modern city
your obscure shuffle is the motion
of a seraphim that has lost its wings)
I kiss you on your fat cheek (once more tomorrow
Under the stupendous Desamparados clock)
I'm very pleased to have discovered this poem and to have stood under the stupendous Desamparados clock. He also wrote a poem called (I think) May 26, 1960 , which describes a visit to a turkish bath and which I will not quote here as it's quite explicit in a Ginsbergian way, and there may be children reading this in years to come, or others of a sensitive disposition. These poems were translated into Spanish by Antonio Cisneros. They were first published in USA in a collection called Reality Sandwiches.
Must go, I'm going to MALI.
I spent two hours there, which is about my time limit for being on my feet without a break, apart from a sit down from time to time, seats being scarce. I wish I could have spent more time there so I could read more of the displays, which are obviously in Spanish, and hence take longer for me to read, and discover more Peruvian poets.
There were not a lot of visitors there, apart from a large group of Peruvian school children being shown around by their teachers. The place is part of the Education Ministry, so it's good to know that future generations of Peru's young people will have this magnificent facility to enjoy and benefit from. Let's hope so anyway. I would take Pamela and co but it's a little difficult with Gareth and my slowness.
The next day the local paper El Comercio had an article about it, which seemed like a happy coincidence for me. I discovered that my old pal Allen Ginsberg had visited Peru in 1960 and spent some time here and of course wrote some poems. He met Martín Adán, an important Peruvian poet, outside Estación Desamparados, whilst he was here and they spent the day together. I didn't see anything about Ginsberg when I was there last week but maybe I missed it.
He wrote a poem for Adán called "To an Old Poet in Peru" ( A un viejo poet en el Peru). I was planning to quote the whole poem here but that might be too much so will give you a few lines only, and then you can search for it online.
And you saluted my eyes
With your anisetto voice
Mistakenly thinking I was genial
for a youth
(my rock and roll is the motion of an
angel flying in a modern city
your obscure shuffle is the motion
of a seraphim that has lost its wings)
I kiss you on your fat cheek (once more tomorrow
Under the stupendous Desamparados clock)
I'm very pleased to have discovered this poem and to have stood under the stupendous Desamparados clock. He also wrote a poem called (I think) May 26, 1960 , which describes a visit to a turkish bath and which I will not quote here as it's quite explicit in a Ginsbergian way, and there may be children reading this in years to come, or others of a sensitive disposition. These poems were translated into Spanish by Antonio Cisneros. They were first published in USA in a collection called Reality Sandwiches.
Must go, I'm going to MALI.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Donkeys, Dylan and more
I'm really very fond of Pamela and wish I had more time to spend with her and Heber and Gareth, who is such a beautiful and happy boy. But at least now I've got to know her and Gareth and have an idea of how their lives are together and will be in the future. For this I am very grateful. It will mean so much to me in the coming years (hopefully it will be years, let's not go into that right now) as I approach the end of my life.
I am so impressed that she loves books and enjoys reading just as much as I do. Well done Heber for telling me, and for remembering how much books mean to me. Maybe some day he will catch up on his lost education and develop a love of books for himself. Meantime it's good that he encourages Pamela and in turn they will pass on to Gareth a love for books and who knows, one day, he will become a famous writer himself. Right now he likes to eat books and tear them up. I've bought him one but he won't get it into his grasping hands on his own, they will read it with him, though I guess it's maybe bit early, but never too young to start as they say.
I was in a bookshop with them the other day and was debating with myself what to buy her. It eventually came down to a choice between two books by Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera or One Hundred Years of Solitude. They are both equally good books and I wouldn't want to say that one is better than the other, I wonder which one Gabo liked best? I chose the former as I think it's a little easier to follow in terms of plot and multiplicity of characters. She hadn't read it. However I was not much surprised to hear that she had read Chronicle of a Death Foretold ( Crónica de una muerte anunciada), which I think she was introduced to by her school or one of her teachers. I saw a dramatised version of it here in Lima some years ago and the book is an excellent little read. So she knows the author, which is great as he is one of the best and writes in Spanish.
She tells me that her parents were born and brought up in the Puno region of Peru, beside Lake Titicaca, in the Altiplano, and came to live in Lima to improve their living standards, as did so many others, although many of them also left to get away from the deadly activities of the Shining Path organisation. I think she's visited there one time and hopes to go back to see her grandfather who still lives there, along with some uncles and aunts.
Her grandfather has a little farm which he still keeps going, with some forty sheep, four cows, two bulls and other animals. So a bit like a croft I guess. But bigger maybe. He also has a donkey which he needs to get about his farm and which he rides into town every so often for supplies.. and he's going blind. I can't help but think of RLS on his donkey in the Cévennes, one of the first examples of travel writing and worth an hour or two of your time, or Sancho Panza on his donkey with Don Quixote. And of course Jesus himself rode into town on a donkey, if memory serves. I would love to see this old man on his donkey, but probably won't manage that now, so I just have to feel close to him through Pamela.
Her father went to visit him last week to try to persuade him to move into Lima so he can look after him, but the old man refused to come as he doesn't want to leave his animals and he can hardly ride his donkey up los cerros or even less into Lima. Maybe if he does go blind he will have to accept the offer.
I often go to a little cafe nearby called Cafe Literario. The coffee is good and the staff are friendly and chatty. I was sitting there reading a review of a book about Puno called La Batalla por Puno, which is looking at the history of that part of Peru and why it's politically and socially different from the rest of the country. I wish my Spanish was up to a better understanding of the book and the review.
I was most surprised to find in the middle of this review four long paragraphs about the Dylan song All Along the Watchtower which the author claims Dylan could more or less have been speaking about the Altiplano, and that the song can be used to understand the book. " ya pensaba que este libro podía ser observado, evaluado y comprendido con la ayuda de una gran canción suya: All along the Watchtower". He goes on to do and to explain why the song is appropriate and says the theme of the song is the possibility of liberation. Couldn't agree more.
The thing is that I was reading this the day before Dylan was awarded his Nobel Prize and had asked Miguel who works in the cafe what he thought about it. He read the article with me and was quite impressed by my Spanish, he himself being fluent in English. Turns out that he is also a big Dylan fan, so I was very pleased to have spoken to him. Naturally I called in the next day to say hello and ask him what he thought of the award. Like me he was delighted.
I am so impressed that she loves books and enjoys reading just as much as I do. Well done Heber for telling me, and for remembering how much books mean to me. Maybe some day he will catch up on his lost education and develop a love of books for himself. Meantime it's good that he encourages Pamela and in turn they will pass on to Gareth a love for books and who knows, one day, he will become a famous writer himself. Right now he likes to eat books and tear them up. I've bought him one but he won't get it into his grasping hands on his own, they will read it with him, though I guess it's maybe bit early, but never too young to start as they say.
I was in a bookshop with them the other day and was debating with myself what to buy her. It eventually came down to a choice between two books by Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera or One Hundred Years of Solitude. They are both equally good books and I wouldn't want to say that one is better than the other, I wonder which one Gabo liked best? I chose the former as I think it's a little easier to follow in terms of plot and multiplicity of characters. She hadn't read it. However I was not much surprised to hear that she had read Chronicle of a Death Foretold ( Crónica de una muerte anunciada), which I think she was introduced to by her school or one of her teachers. I saw a dramatised version of it here in Lima some years ago and the book is an excellent little read. So she knows the author, which is great as he is one of the best and writes in Spanish.
She tells me that her parents were born and brought up in the Puno region of Peru, beside Lake Titicaca, in the Altiplano, and came to live in Lima to improve their living standards, as did so many others, although many of them also left to get away from the deadly activities of the Shining Path organisation. I think she's visited there one time and hopes to go back to see her grandfather who still lives there, along with some uncles and aunts.
Her grandfather has a little farm which he still keeps going, with some forty sheep, four cows, two bulls and other animals. So a bit like a croft I guess. But bigger maybe. He also has a donkey which he needs to get about his farm and which he rides into town every so often for supplies.. and he's going blind. I can't help but think of RLS on his donkey in the Cévennes, one of the first examples of travel writing and worth an hour or two of your time, or Sancho Panza on his donkey with Don Quixote. And of course Jesus himself rode into town on a donkey, if memory serves. I would love to see this old man on his donkey, but probably won't manage that now, so I just have to feel close to him through Pamela.
Her father went to visit him last week to try to persuade him to move into Lima so he can look after him, but the old man refused to come as he doesn't want to leave his animals and he can hardly ride his donkey up los cerros or even less into Lima. Maybe if he does go blind he will have to accept the offer.
I often go to a little cafe nearby called Cafe Literario. The coffee is good and the staff are friendly and chatty. I was sitting there reading a review of a book about Puno called La Batalla por Puno, which is looking at the history of that part of Peru and why it's politically and socially different from the rest of the country. I wish my Spanish was up to a better understanding of the book and the review.
I was most surprised to find in the middle of this review four long paragraphs about the Dylan song All Along the Watchtower which the author claims Dylan could more or less have been speaking about the Altiplano, and that the song can be used to understand the book. " ya pensaba que este libro podía ser observado, evaluado y comprendido con la ayuda de una gran canción suya: All along the Watchtower". He goes on to do and to explain why the song is appropriate and says the theme of the song is the possibility of liberation. Couldn't agree more.
The thing is that I was reading this the day before Dylan was awarded his Nobel Prize and had asked Miguel who works in the cafe what he thought about it. He read the article with me and was quite impressed by my Spanish, he himself being fluent in English. Turns out that he is also a big Dylan fan, so I was very pleased to have spoken to him. Naturally I called in the next day to say hello and ask him what he thought of the award. Like me he was delighted.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Taxistas occupy the streets in Villa Maria
Heber and his moto taxista pals work incredibly hard and get little or no respect for their work. He tells me that he has to pay 35 soles a day for the hire of his moto taxi (one sol is about 24 UK pence or 29 US cents) and 10 soles a day for fuel. So he needs to make 45 soles a day before he starts. Each passenger is one sol, so he needs 45 passengers at least before he begins to provide for his family. He aims to make at least 45 soles on top to have enough for their daily needs. So he must pick up at least 90 passengers every day to make a living. He sometimes works longer hours if there is something they need to buy for Gareth.
And the competition for passengers is extreme. I must admit that at times the taxistas used to annoy me when I was in Villa Maria. They ride like crazy guys with seemingly no concern for their own safety or other road users. Heber says they need to do it to get the passengers they need. They dive across the road to beat each other to another fare, crossing through the traffic in both directions with gay abandon. Or maybe not quite. He has had a couple of bad accidents already and written off one taxi. Car drivers, of course, pay no attention to them and are careless of their safety. I used to wonder how there were not more accidents, fatal or otherwise. Pedestrians lives are also at risk. At least this pedestrian thought so.
And then the roads are terrible or non existent in places, " if you'd seen these roads before they were made you'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade" comes to mind. Although they compete fiercely for work, the taxistas support each other and keep an eye out for their pals. Heber says he prefers to be friends with the older guys as many of the younger ones have criminal tendencies, like robbing their passengers. Oh dear.
Last week they organised a protest in the streets of Villa Maria. They have been asking and pressing the mayor (alcalde) of Villa Maria to fix the roads up the mountain or to build some where they don't exist. So they blocked the main road outside local authority (municipalidad) HQ with their moto taxis. There were about a thousand of them protesting and they stopped the traffic for five hours.
I can't tell you how proud this makes me feel, that they understand the need for self activity, to take responsibility for their lives and to take to the streets when all else fails. When asking and pleading no longer works. I'm very proud of my boy and I hope some of the things I taught him will stay with him for the rest of his life. I think he knows how pleased I am to hear this. Apart from bringing me Gareth and Pamela this is some of the best news he's brought me.
We spoke about what might happen now. He knows not to trust the mayor or any other politician. I think there may be problems with the mayor out there in Villa Maria, apart from the usual stuff, so I guess the taxistas will be low on his list of priorities. I've told him they may need to take to the streets many times to get their roads. Of course he is also, along with everyone else up the mountainside, waiting for the new president to bring them water! Some hope.
Anyway their protests were good news for me and made my weekend. Well I think really Gareth made my weekend, but a little exaggeration is allowed, surely at a time like this. I'm not quite sure how they managed to organise their protest, as they don't have a trade union, and are really self employed. I think maybe it was done through the companies they hire the motos from. Maybe some day they will begin to organise their own union and get better organised. Meantime it's a good start. Long live the revolution!
And the competition for passengers is extreme. I must admit that at times the taxistas used to annoy me when I was in Villa Maria. They ride like crazy guys with seemingly no concern for their own safety or other road users. Heber says they need to do it to get the passengers they need. They dive across the road to beat each other to another fare, crossing through the traffic in both directions with gay abandon. Or maybe not quite. He has had a couple of bad accidents already and written off one taxi. Car drivers, of course, pay no attention to them and are careless of their safety. I used to wonder how there were not more accidents, fatal or otherwise. Pedestrians lives are also at risk. At least this pedestrian thought so.
And then the roads are terrible or non existent in places, " if you'd seen these roads before they were made you'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade" comes to mind. Although they compete fiercely for work, the taxistas support each other and keep an eye out for their pals. Heber says he prefers to be friends with the older guys as many of the younger ones have criminal tendencies, like robbing their passengers. Oh dear.
Last week they organised a protest in the streets of Villa Maria. They have been asking and pressing the mayor (alcalde) of Villa Maria to fix the roads up the mountain or to build some where they don't exist. So they blocked the main road outside local authority (municipalidad) HQ with their moto taxis. There were about a thousand of them protesting and they stopped the traffic for five hours.
I can't tell you how proud this makes me feel, that they understand the need for self activity, to take responsibility for their lives and to take to the streets when all else fails. When asking and pleading no longer works. I'm very proud of my boy and I hope some of the things I taught him will stay with him for the rest of his life. I think he knows how pleased I am to hear this. Apart from bringing me Gareth and Pamela this is some of the best news he's brought me.
We spoke about what might happen now. He knows not to trust the mayor or any other politician. I think there may be problems with the mayor out there in Villa Maria, apart from the usual stuff, so I guess the taxistas will be low on his list of priorities. I've told him they may need to take to the streets many times to get their roads. Of course he is also, along with everyone else up the mountainside, waiting for the new president to bring them water! Some hope.
Anyway their protests were good news for me and made my weekend. Well I think really Gareth made my weekend, but a little exaggeration is allowed, surely at a time like this. I'm not quite sure how they managed to organise their protest, as they don't have a trade union, and are really self employed. I think maybe it was done through the companies they hire the motos from. Maybe some day they will begin to organise their own union and get better organised. Meantime it's a good start. Long live the revolution!
Friday, October 07, 2016
"El Fútbol de Donald"
I had lunch with Flor earlier this week. She is the person who looked after me when I was working in Villa Maria del Triunfo and other places and who organised everything for me. She is a good friend and brilliant worker with all the kids of Villa Maria and elsewhere. She means the world to me. She brought me up to date on what's been happening over the past four years, since I was last here.
She has known about my cancer since soon after I was diagnosed but I hadn't told her quite how bad it is. As we sat there in the cafe and I explained to her that this would be my last trip to Peru she began to cry. I had to hold her hand to comfort her. I hadn't realised quite how much she cares for me or even loves me. In the best way possible.
I guess I have become quite strong mentally over the past few years and usually avoid tears in most situations except maybe when a movie moves me, which has always been the case. The only person I cry with now is my brother Coinneach, and I'm sure he will agree I do it less now than I used to.
Well anyway we got over that piece of news and actually eventually we had a good laugh about the things we've done and seen together. Things which will be in my memory till the end.
These kids have grown up now. They're all four years older. Some have moved on, one of the girls is training to be a cosmetician, others are still in education of some sort and the younger ones are still around. Flor would like me to go out to Villa Maria to see them all. She has offered to arrange a re-union party with as many as she can contact. I doubt if I will have the stamina to go out there. It is not an easy journey at the best of times, but in my present precarious condition I doubt I can handle it.
She has offered to have the party at her house, which would be easier, but it's actually further out than Villa Maria, in Villa el Salvador, where I once put on another party. So we've decided, or should I say Flor has decided that, if she can manage it, she will organise to bring them into Miraflores on the bus so we can have a party here. Don't quite know how this will work out.
I bought a football for the boys and girls of Villa Maria, last time I was there. Flor tells me that they became very possessive of the football and it became know as el fútbol de Donald. They would only allow the boys and girls who were attending at the time I bought it to play with it. This is very touching and moving for me, though not to tears, and I feel proud to know that these kids keep me in their memory.
It's also hard to believe that I played football with them four years ago. Look at me now. But I made it back, so that's something. Flor has never met Heber and family. She would like to meet them which will be good as I'm sure she will do whatever she can to support them.
I'm going to bed now as Gareth will be here soon.
She has known about my cancer since soon after I was diagnosed but I hadn't told her quite how bad it is. As we sat there in the cafe and I explained to her that this would be my last trip to Peru she began to cry. I had to hold her hand to comfort her. I hadn't realised quite how much she cares for me or even loves me. In the best way possible.
I guess I have become quite strong mentally over the past few years and usually avoid tears in most situations except maybe when a movie moves me, which has always been the case. The only person I cry with now is my brother Coinneach, and I'm sure he will agree I do it less now than I used to.
Well anyway we got over that piece of news and actually eventually we had a good laugh about the things we've done and seen together. Things which will be in my memory till the end.
These kids have grown up now. They're all four years older. Some have moved on, one of the girls is training to be a cosmetician, others are still in education of some sort and the younger ones are still around. Flor would like me to go out to Villa Maria to see them all. She has offered to arrange a re-union party with as many as she can contact. I doubt if I will have the stamina to go out there. It is not an easy journey at the best of times, but in my present precarious condition I doubt I can handle it.
She has offered to have the party at her house, which would be easier, but it's actually further out than Villa Maria, in Villa el Salvador, where I once put on another party. So we've decided, or should I say Flor has decided that, if she can manage it, she will organise to bring them into Miraflores on the bus so we can have a party here. Don't quite know how this will work out.
I bought a football for the boys and girls of Villa Maria, last time I was there. Flor tells me that they became very possessive of the football and it became know as el fútbol de Donald. They would only allow the boys and girls who were attending at the time I bought it to play with it. This is very touching and moving for me, though not to tears, and I feel proud to know that these kids keep me in their memory.
It's also hard to believe that I played football with them four years ago. Look at me now. But I made it back, so that's something. Flor has never met Heber and family. She would like to meet them which will be good as I'm sure she will do whatever she can to support them.
I'm going to bed now as Gareth will be here soon.
Thursday, October 06, 2016
Poverty
I had Heber and co staying over the weekend. I was exhausted but very happy to have them here. I told them to help themselves to whatever they needed. They proceeded to eat me out of house and home. Gareth is a beautiful boy who seems to have taken to me and is very glad for me to hold him and look after him. He does look at me sometimes as if to say who is this guy? He doesn't often get to meet bald, white, pale faced old guys. It's good for him.
Over the weekend I got to know more about their living conditions which are worse than I had imagined. They live in Villa Maria del Triunfo with her father and brother, who is a year older than Heber. They live in Los Cerros which is a bit like favelas in Brazil but not exactly. Los Cerros are small mountains, which surround Lima and where over the years poor people who arrived from the countryside have built their homes. I don't know how many there are around Lima, but probably millions.
There are few facilities such as roads or piped water to the houses or sewage systems. The governments make promises to improve things when they're up for election and then proceed to forget their promises. It is beyond my understanding why these people don't lead a revolution but not surprising that the fascist parties have so much success. They organise heavily in Los Cerros and went very close to winning the presidency this year.
The houses are built by the people themselves. The ultimate in self build I suppose. I call them houses but they are little more than shacks, precariously built up and down the mountainsides. Their house is quite high up the mountain. It is built of bricks made from earth and water as they cannot afford cement. The walls are permanently prone to collapse from any passing slight disturbance. One of the walls fell out recently.
There are no floors just the dried earth beneath their feet. Which means that of course Gareth cannot crawl about on the floor. And like I said they have no water piped in. A tanker arrives twice a week to deliver water to a communal tank. I think it must be a very small tanker or lorry with tanks on board. Sometimes my Spanish fails me or my disbelief overtakes my poor brain. Their waste matter is taken away as far as I can make out. I didn't like to be too nosey about this aspect of their lives.
At night it gets very cold up on their mountain and sometimes it snows. Which amazed me as I didn't think they got snow in these parts. I fear the consequences of even the mildest of earthquakes or tremors as the least of them will flatten these shacks.
Pamela washes clothes by hand every day to keep up with the washing and cleans the house every day, but I find it hard to understand how any cleaning is possible. They are both immaculately clean and well dressed as is Gareth. He is very well cared for. Heber still wears a shirt I bought for him a few years ago.
Gareth goes to a centre for babies and young children run by INABIF which is a government programme for family welfare. He goes there every day Monday to Friday where he gets play and development activities as well as being fed. Pamela takes him there at 8 am every day and collects him at 5 pm. This costs them 3 soles a day which is a little under one dollar.
Heber goes to work with his moto taxi every day. A very dangerous activity with many other drivers competing for the custom of people going up and down the mountain. He works all day, sometimes as much as fifteen hours, to earn enough each day to meet their needs for food and Gareth and anything else. There are little combis venturing up too but mostly its the moto taxis. Heber wants to take me up the mountain to see his house but I don't think I'm well enough to do that.
They hope to be able to build their own home higher up the mountainside and have a piece of the mountain in mind for doing so. Heber helped his father in law to build a one room extension on his house for him and Pamela and he says he has an uncle who will help.
I was on the phone to him the other day and told him how much I liked Pamela. He told me he was very fortunate to have her in his life. I think he is but also that she is fortunate to have him. He has matured so much since I saw him last. The new responsibilities in his life are taken very seriously by him. He has never really had anyone before in his life who cared for who or for whom he could care. Now that he has it has changed him into a responsible, young adult. Not that he was irresponsible as before but he certainly did not have much love in his life.
His grandmother has come down from Cusco to see the wee fellow but neither his mum nor his dad have bothered to come to meet their grandchild. Yet more rejection. I know it saddens him but he tries to make excuses for why they don't come. Neither do they phone or provide any financial support. His father could if he wished.
I've called this post Poverty, but realise there are people around the world living in worse conditions, and some like those in Aleppo being bombed to death or others living in terrible refugee camps in France or Greece and maybe I should be grateful for what Heber and his family have in their lives. I am of course. They are certainly very happy and determined to make a success of their lives. But I'm keeping the title.
Their fortitude is commendable to say the least. Next time we feel like complaining about our slow broadband speeds or something else equally trivial please think of my boy and his family up there on their mountainside.
I will post a photo of Los Cerros which I took last time I was in Villa Maria.
Over the weekend I got to know more about their living conditions which are worse than I had imagined. They live in Villa Maria del Triunfo with her father and brother, who is a year older than Heber. They live in Los Cerros which is a bit like favelas in Brazil but not exactly. Los Cerros are small mountains, which surround Lima and where over the years poor people who arrived from the countryside have built their homes. I don't know how many there are around Lima, but probably millions.
There are few facilities such as roads or piped water to the houses or sewage systems. The governments make promises to improve things when they're up for election and then proceed to forget their promises. It is beyond my understanding why these people don't lead a revolution but not surprising that the fascist parties have so much success. They organise heavily in Los Cerros and went very close to winning the presidency this year.
The houses are built by the people themselves. The ultimate in self build I suppose. I call them houses but they are little more than shacks, precariously built up and down the mountainsides. Their house is quite high up the mountain. It is built of bricks made from earth and water as they cannot afford cement. The walls are permanently prone to collapse from any passing slight disturbance. One of the walls fell out recently.
There are no floors just the dried earth beneath their feet. Which means that of course Gareth cannot crawl about on the floor. And like I said they have no water piped in. A tanker arrives twice a week to deliver water to a communal tank. I think it must be a very small tanker or lorry with tanks on board. Sometimes my Spanish fails me or my disbelief overtakes my poor brain. Their waste matter is taken away as far as I can make out. I didn't like to be too nosey about this aspect of their lives.
At night it gets very cold up on their mountain and sometimes it snows. Which amazed me as I didn't think they got snow in these parts. I fear the consequences of even the mildest of earthquakes or tremors as the least of them will flatten these shacks.
Pamela washes clothes by hand every day to keep up with the washing and cleans the house every day, but I find it hard to understand how any cleaning is possible. They are both immaculately clean and well dressed as is Gareth. He is very well cared for. Heber still wears a shirt I bought for him a few years ago.
Gareth goes to a centre for babies and young children run by INABIF which is a government programme for family welfare. He goes there every day Monday to Friday where he gets play and development activities as well as being fed. Pamela takes him there at 8 am every day and collects him at 5 pm. This costs them 3 soles a day which is a little under one dollar.
Heber goes to work with his moto taxi every day. A very dangerous activity with many other drivers competing for the custom of people going up and down the mountain. He works all day, sometimes as much as fifteen hours, to earn enough each day to meet their needs for food and Gareth and anything else. There are little combis venturing up too but mostly its the moto taxis. Heber wants to take me up the mountain to see his house but I don't think I'm well enough to do that.
They hope to be able to build their own home higher up the mountainside and have a piece of the mountain in mind for doing so. Heber helped his father in law to build a one room extension on his house for him and Pamela and he says he has an uncle who will help.
I was on the phone to him the other day and told him how much I liked Pamela. He told me he was very fortunate to have her in his life. I think he is but also that she is fortunate to have him. He has matured so much since I saw him last. The new responsibilities in his life are taken very seriously by him. He has never really had anyone before in his life who cared for who or for whom he could care. Now that he has it has changed him into a responsible, young adult. Not that he was irresponsible as before but he certainly did not have much love in his life.
His grandmother has come down from Cusco to see the wee fellow but neither his mum nor his dad have bothered to come to meet their grandchild. Yet more rejection. I know it saddens him but he tries to make excuses for why they don't come. Neither do they phone or provide any financial support. His father could if he wished.
I've called this post Poverty, but realise there are people around the world living in worse conditions, and some like those in Aleppo being bombed to death or others living in terrible refugee camps in France or Greece and maybe I should be grateful for what Heber and his family have in their lives. I am of course. They are certainly very happy and determined to make a success of their lives. But I'm keeping the title.
Their fortitude is commendable to say the least. Next time we feel like complaining about our slow broadband speeds or something else equally trivial please think of my boy and his family up there on their mountainside.
I will post a photo of Los Cerros which I took last time I was in Villa Maria.
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