During my trip to the province of San Ignacio, I came across corruption for the first time. San Ignacio is the northernmost province in the Department of Cajamarca and it borders with Ecuador. It occurred to me that I could cross the border to Ecuador to renew my visa since my six months were drawing to a close. The river that marks the border between Peru and Ecuador is a mere one-and-a-half-hour taxi ride away from the city of San Ignacio, so my colleague and I hopped on a cab and rode to La Balsa. I walked the bridge that separates Peru from Ecuador and got my passport stamped: a three-month visa to Ecuador starting from October 22nd. Everything seemed nice and simple.
Then I walked back over to Peru to get a new visa, and that was when things got complicated. I could not get a visa to Peru before the Ecuadorian authorities had stamped my exit from the country. So I went back to the Ecuadorian side, and it turned out that according to some obscure law you must remain in Ecuador at least three days before you are allowed to leaver. To me, it sounded and still sounds absurd: surely many visitors desire to visit the country for only a day or two? Can Ecuador really keep foreign citizens from leaving at their will?
I still don’t know whether the officers made the rule up. One way or the other, they refused to stamp my passport and I couldn’t return to Peru. I had no time to stay in Ecuador and had left San Ignacio with only a small handbag, since we planned to return the same morning. I reasoned, pleaded, begged, and finally cried, but nothing helped. Then I called my colleague to help. He negotiated with the officers while I waited with a Peruvian police officer who showed up to offer moral support. He assured me that there would be a solution, and explained that a German gentleman residing in Tarapoto comes over every three months to renew his visa, “invites the officers to some soft drinks” and they always reach an “agreement”.
More than an hour later my colleague indeed reached an “agreement” both with the Ecuadorian officers and the Peruvian one. I left La Balsa with a stamp on my passport that said I left Ecuador and entered Peru on October 26th while it was only October 22nd. The stamp cost me US$ 40, which is more than the officers earn per day. Quite content, they wished me a pleasant stay in San Ignacio and welcomed me back anytime.
I am fully conscious of the harm that corruption does; it undermines a country’s possibilities to develop. I used to think I would never pay bribes. However, having no other way out of the mess, I was glad to pay. I told my colleague I hoped the officers would at least use the money to buy something nice for their wife or for their children. My colleague was not quite as optimistic. “They’ll spend it on booze, that’s for sure.”
Friday, October 30, 2009
On poverty and development
Last week saw me visit two native awajún communities in the Amazon rainforest, as I travelled to San Ignacio for work. The awajún are one of the many native tribes in Peru that have preserved their language and culture to this day. The days I spent with the awajún changed my perception of poverty and taught me more than years of academic studies. I used to think that poverty meant going to bed hungry, living in precarious housing and working long hours for a pittance. After numerous in-depth conversations with the awajún, I came to understand the question is a lot more complex. Material poverty may not be as difficult to face as lack of roots and culture.
On all standards, the awajún communities Naranjos and Supayaku (both in the Province of San Ignacio) are extremely poor. They lack electricity, clean drinking water, sewerage, waste disposal, and a telephone line. The nearest dirt road is a tiring six-hour walk away, on rough terrain. The daily diet consists mainly of yucca and plantain, and especially the children look severely undernourished. Consumer goods are nonexistent, and basic necessities like rice and sugar are expensive since they must be carried to the community by mule from far away.
However, the awajún do not wallow in self-pity for the hardships they have to face. No-one complained about the lack of modern conveniences. On the contrary, the villagers genuinely feel they are fortunate to live in a place like Supayaku. They are extremely proud of their cultural heritage and ancestral traditions. The awajún described with pride how they live in harmony with nature and each other. They enthusiastically showed me the best fishing spots, made me try their typical dishes (yucca, plantain, fish), and told me of the flora and fauna of the area. They spoke of breathing fresh air, bathing in the river, listening to the sounds of the rainforest that pulsates with life. Theirs is a happy life in all its simplicity.
Nevertheless, their way of life is endangered. The awajún fear that foreign mining companies and coffee exporters will come destroy their environment in search of the abundant natural resources the rainforest has to offer. In June, Peru gasped at the violent confrontation between awajún demonstrators and the police in Bagua which ended in hundreds of casualties. The natives asked the government to respect their way of life and put the interests of the indigenous peoples before the interests of multinational corporations. In the Peruvian media the awajún were frequently pictured as riotous troublemakers and primitive, ignorant natives. According to President Alan García, they are not exactly “first-class citizens”.
The government spurs prime commodity extraction by multinational companies in the Peruvian rainforest in the name of development. “How can they call it development if it brings death?” one of the community elders in Supayaku asked. The awajún do want development, but they want the right to determine themselves what is desirable development. They do want schools, health centres and roads. What they do not want is to see their mother tongue, their traditions and their way of life disappear.
In Supayaku I learnt that one does not need much in the way of possessions to lead a full, happy life. Despite the material poverty, I did not see desperation or suffering. Instead, I was amazed by how hospitable, kind, considerate and respectful people were. My colleague and I could not have been received more warmly. It seems that the less you have the more you are ready to give.
On all standards, the awajún communities Naranjos and Supayaku (both in the Province of San Ignacio) are extremely poor. They lack electricity, clean drinking water, sewerage, waste disposal, and a telephone line. The nearest dirt road is a tiring six-hour walk away, on rough terrain. The daily diet consists mainly of yucca and plantain, and especially the children look severely undernourished. Consumer goods are nonexistent, and basic necessities like rice and sugar are expensive since they must be carried to the community by mule from far away.
However, the awajún do not wallow in self-pity for the hardships they have to face. No-one complained about the lack of modern conveniences. On the contrary, the villagers genuinely feel they are fortunate to live in a place like Supayaku. They are extremely proud of their cultural heritage and ancestral traditions. The awajún described with pride how they live in harmony with nature and each other. They enthusiastically showed me the best fishing spots, made me try their typical dishes (yucca, plantain, fish), and told me of the flora and fauna of the area. They spoke of breathing fresh air, bathing in the river, listening to the sounds of the rainforest that pulsates with life. Theirs is a happy life in all its simplicity.
Nevertheless, their way of life is endangered. The awajún fear that foreign mining companies and coffee exporters will come destroy their environment in search of the abundant natural resources the rainforest has to offer. In June, Peru gasped at the violent confrontation between awajún demonstrators and the police in Bagua which ended in hundreds of casualties. The natives asked the government to respect their way of life and put the interests of the indigenous peoples before the interests of multinational corporations. In the Peruvian media the awajún were frequently pictured as riotous troublemakers and primitive, ignorant natives. According to President Alan García, they are not exactly “first-class citizens”.
The government spurs prime commodity extraction by multinational companies in the Peruvian rainforest in the name of development. “How can they call it development if it brings death?” one of the community elders in Supayaku asked. The awajún do want development, but they want the right to determine themselves what is desirable development. They do want schools, health centres and roads. What they do not want is to see their mother tongue, their traditions and their way of life disappear.
In Supayaku I learnt that one does not need much in the way of possessions to lead a full, happy life. Despite the material poverty, I did not see desperation or suffering. Instead, I was amazed by how hospitable, kind, considerate and respectful people were. My colleague and I could not have been received more warmly. It seems that the less you have the more you are ready to give.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Pilgrimage to Motupe
During a long weekend in the coastal city of Chiclayo, Pilar, Sara and I took time to visit Motupe, a popular place of pilgrimage 60 kilometres northeast of Chiclayo. Motupe is famous for its miraculous cross, located in a grotto up on a mountainside. The cross was first discovered 141 years ago, and its hide seemed so inaccessible that the locals took for granted that it must have been placed there by the Virgin Mary herself. Since then, pilgrims flood the site.
Nowadays, the way up is tiring but nowhere near as tiring as before. Stairs lead all the way to the top, and the way is flanked by little tents where locals sell soft drinks, candy and souvenirs to pilgrims. It reminded me of Lourdes, a shrine in Southern France, which has over the years turned into a commercial circus. Buy a bottle of holy water, or take three for the price of two! A statue of the Virgin Mary adorned with twinkling neon lights, now for sale!
In the midst of all the commercial hub, the stairs up are lined with stations of the Way of the Cross.
After about an hour of climbing, we reached the grotto. The walls of the platform are lined with plaques where people thank the Virgin of Motupe for her blessings. It is customary to ask the Virgin for a favour, and if it is granted, you must return to show your gratitude. For example, many couples who cannot have children make the trip to Motupe (some even climb up the stairs on their knees) and ask the Virgin to bless them with a baby. It seems like many wishes have been granted, for the walls of the shrine hang with hundreds of photos of little children.
The cross itself stands in a small cave, surrounded by flowers and adorned with bracelets and rosaries. The devout reach out to touch the cross, say their prayers and light candles outside. I lit a candle for the health and happiness of my family. I didn’t ask for anything in particular, so I won’t have to return if my wish is granted! ;)
Annually on August 5th, Motupe celebrates its patronal feast, Fiesta de la Cruz de Motupe. On that day, the cross is carried down in a procession to a chapel in the town of Motupe. August is high season, and pilgrims have to queue to reach the cave. We visited Motupe in October, but even then there were hoards of pilgrims.
The shrine has changed a lot in the past decades. Pilar told us that when she first visited the sanctuary nearly thirty years ago, there were no stairs nor food or drinks to buy. The way up was a lot more arduous and dangerous, and if you forgot to take a lot of water along, you reached the cross dying of thirst.
Nowadays, the way up is tiring but nowhere near as tiring as before. Stairs lead all the way to the top, and the way is flanked by little tents where locals sell soft drinks, candy and souvenirs to pilgrims. It reminded me of Lourdes, a shrine in Southern France, which has over the years turned into a commercial circus. Buy a bottle of holy water, or take three for the price of two! A statue of the Virgin Mary adorned with twinkling neon lights, now for sale!
In the midst of all the commercial hub, the stairs up are lined with stations of the Way of the Cross.
After about an hour of climbing, we reached the grotto. The walls of the platform are lined with plaques where people thank the Virgin of Motupe for her blessings. It is customary to ask the Virgin for a favour, and if it is granted, you must return to show your gratitude. For example, many couples who cannot have children make the trip to Motupe (some even climb up the stairs on their knees) and ask the Virgin to bless them with a baby. It seems like many wishes have been granted, for the walls of the shrine hang with hundreds of photos of little children.
The cross itself stands in a small cave, surrounded by flowers and adorned with bracelets and rosaries. The devout reach out to touch the cross, say their prayers and light candles outside. I lit a candle for the health and happiness of my family. I didn’t ask for anything in particular, so I won’t have to return if my wish is granted! ;)
Annually on August 5th, Motupe celebrates its patronal feast, Fiesta de la Cruz de Motupe. On that day, the cross is carried down in a procession to a chapel in the town of Motupe. August is high season, and pilgrims have to queue to reach the cave. We visited Motupe in October, but even then there were hoards of pilgrims.
The shrine has changed a lot in the past decades. Pilar told us that when she first visited the sanctuary nearly thirty years ago, there were no stairs nor food or drinks to buy. The way up was a lot more arduous and dangerous, and if you forgot to take a lot of water along, you reached the cross dying of thirst.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Birthday
In Peru, parties are big and anything is a good excuse to throw one. Practically every weekend there is a birthday party, a going away party or a welcome back party. On October 1st I turned 23, and that naturally was an occasion to celebrate.
On the eve of my birthday I invited some 20 friends over for dinner. My lovely flatmates and two Peruvian friends helped me with the cooking – or rather, they cooked and I helped out. We made a tuna salad, a vegetable salad, papa a la huancaína (potatoes in a creamy sauce spiced up with yellow chilli peppers) and pies filled with yuca and cheese.
Celi made me a torta de tres leches (a sponge cake soaked in three different kinds of milk; the most delicious type of cake I’ve tasted).
As a welcome drink we served pisco sour, a Peruvian cocktail containing pisco, lemon juice, egg whites and syrup. It tastes a lot better than it sounds! :) At midnight it was time to sing Happy Birthday to you, and I could open the presents. According to Peruvian tradition, the birthday boy or girl has to take a bite of the cake (or smash his/her head into it). Only then can he/she cut the cake.
I woke up at sunrise on my birthday and left for Chamis secondary school, where I teach English every Thursday morning. After my morning cup of coffee I was actually quite awake and eager to meet my students. Once they spotted me getting off the combi (van turned into bus), the pupils shouted “Happy birthday”, in English! They sang Happy Birthday to you and had even brought buns and marcianos (somewhat like water-ice) to share. I had brought soft drinks, cookies and sweets, so we had quite a feast. The youngsters at Chamis are the nicest ever, nothing like the mean and nasty Finnish middle school students. I’ve grown very fond of them.
In the evening my workmates organized a “surprise” party for me at the office. We started with a flowering ceremony. The lights were turned off, everyone sat in a circle in candlelight, I was seated in the middle, and one by one all scattered rose petals on my head and voiced their birthday wishes. Then we had cake (tres leches, once again!), snacks and red wine.
My colleagues gave me a red quilted jacket, which was the perfect present, since I never dress up warmly enough when I go up to Cushunga (3.500 metres above sea level) or Sexemayo (3.800 metres). Last Tuesday I was so cold I shivered all over and my teeth chattered. From now on, I will stop thinking I’m close to the Equator and it should be warm; I know it is not, so I’ll wear my new jacket, a woolen cap and mittens! :)
On the eve of my birthday I invited some 20 friends over for dinner. My lovely flatmates and two Peruvian friends helped me with the cooking – or rather, they cooked and I helped out. We made a tuna salad, a vegetable salad, papa a la huancaína (potatoes in a creamy sauce spiced up with yellow chilli peppers) and pies filled with yuca and cheese.
Celi made me a torta de tres leches (a sponge cake soaked in three different kinds of milk; the most delicious type of cake I’ve tasted).
As a welcome drink we served pisco sour, a Peruvian cocktail containing pisco, lemon juice, egg whites and syrup. It tastes a lot better than it sounds! :) At midnight it was time to sing Happy Birthday to you, and I could open the presents. According to Peruvian tradition, the birthday boy or girl has to take a bite of the cake (or smash his/her head into it). Only then can he/she cut the cake.
I woke up at sunrise on my birthday and left for Chamis secondary school, where I teach English every Thursday morning. After my morning cup of coffee I was actually quite awake and eager to meet my students. Once they spotted me getting off the combi (van turned into bus), the pupils shouted “Happy birthday”, in English! They sang Happy Birthday to you and had even brought buns and marcianos (somewhat like water-ice) to share. I had brought soft drinks, cookies and sweets, so we had quite a feast. The youngsters at Chamis are the nicest ever, nothing like the mean and nasty Finnish middle school students. I’ve grown very fond of them.
In the evening my workmates organized a “surprise” party for me at the office. We started with a flowering ceremony. The lights were turned off, everyone sat in a circle in candlelight, I was seated in the middle, and one by one all scattered rose petals on my head and voiced their birthday wishes. Then we had cake (tres leches, once again!), snacks and red wine.
My colleagues gave me a red quilted jacket, which was the perfect present, since I never dress up warmly enough when I go up to Cushunga (3.500 metres above sea level) or Sexemayo (3.800 metres). Last Tuesday I was so cold I shivered all over and my teeth chattered. From now on, I will stop thinking I’m close to the Equator and it should be warm; I know it is not, so I’ll wear my new jacket, a woolen cap and mittens! :)
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