Peru is a country of tradition, so there’s often a fiasco when someone breaks the norms. Overcoming the prejudices takes self-confidence and a strong belief in oneself. Ana tells us about her experiences and how she faces the discrimination.
Ana's family and friends give her a hard time about her relationship with Deiby, seven years her junior.Ana Santillán Muñoz is 31 years old and has made a name for herself as an architect and the president of an NGO, gaining the respect of her peers and employees despite being a young female in positions of power, a not-so-common phenomenon in the Central Andes. Now she faces the jury of social norms once again concerning her long-term relationship with Deiby, seven years her junior. “The hardest part about it has been the prejudices, not only because I’m older, but also because I have more studies behind me and already have an established life,” she explains. “I have a role in society and others have a hard time dealing with me mixing roles.”
They’ve been together for almost a year, yet Ana’s family and friends continue to show their disapproval. Most of the time she reacts in silence or doesn’t pay attention to what others say; other times, she defends herself by reminding the critics that it’s her life. “It’s most difficult with my family because their opinion matters to me,” she explains. “But in time, they’ll see that I’m happy.”
Ana's relationship with Deiby has changed her.The relationship has changed her. “I’ve never been the housewife type,” Ana admits, but now she cooks, does laundry and shops for groceries. “I saw myself in the mirror the other day at the supermarket and wondered what had happened,” she jokes. In the past, she imagined herself traveling all over the world and never saw the need for a house, but now she wants to settle down in Huancayo and have her own space with her partner. In fact, she’s even thinking about having children.
Her advice for people in a similar situation? Have patience and tolerance. “As women, we want to solve things,” she reflects. “But you can’t ‘fix’ another person.” Ana also notes that she and Deiby are the best of friends. “It’s less scary to say the difficult things if your relationship is also based on a friendship.”
How have you been different from the norm and how did you face the ensuing challenges?
P.S. This post was scheduled — I’m still traveling and I’ll be back by early next week! I promise to respond to comments and give love to your blogs when I return! =)
No one knew that he was dead. He sat upright against the wall for support, his head hanging forward in a resting position. He had been robbed of everything after exiting a nightclub in Huancayo and they left him there, probably imagining that he’d wake up from his drunken stupor. He didn’t. Instead, he died of hypothermia from a cold Andes night.
People have become numb to drunken men sleeping on the streets of downtown Huancayo.No one helped because it looked like he was just sleeping and it’s not uncommon to find a sleeping, drunk man on a street of Huancayo. We have become desensitized to the sight.
The “bystander effect” states that we are less likely to help someone in trouble if we’re part of a larger crowd. “I’m sure that the other guy will help,” we tend to think. Then, no one does. There are victims.
What have you become desensitized to? Please inspire us by sharing about someone you recently helped who may have been ignored by society.
“Loneliness is the most terrible poverty.” – Mother Teresa
I have always wondered how people can live alone – not single or independent, but isolated. Even though I like to consider myself a homebody and I find pride in being able to enjoy busying myself with solitary tasks, I can’t imagine a life devoid of family, coworkers, friends, and a partner.
They say that there was an old lady who lived across the street from where I used to live in Huancayo who trusted only one person, who only had one friend. The people she trusted the least were her family members. She was always afraid that her sisters would try and steal her money. She was rich by Peruvian standards.
She paid a neighbour to help her fix her water pipes one day. She let him into her home, and closed and locked the door behind him. She unlocked a second door to let him through, and then closed and locked that one behind him. There were three “front” doors in total. When they were done, she let him out with the same tedious unlocking and locking process.
The one friend had a copy of the keys to the old lady’s home in case of emergency – she was a storekeeper who lived at the end of the street. Other than their habitual gossip sessions, the old lady could usually be found sitting in front of her building, watching the goings-on of her neighbourhood. Every morning, she would open her garage for a bread vendor who stored her materials there.
One morning, the bread vendor was frustrated that the old lady wasn’t opening the door for her. With her regular customers complaining behind her, the vendor pleaded with the old lady’s friend – the storekeeper – to open the garage door for her. The storekeeper refused to open the door without explicit permission from the old lady.
In the afternoon, the police were called in. They found the old lady lying on the floor, near death. A few minutes later, she was gone. She could have been saved if someone had found her earlier.
Recently, parents have confided in Sara and I, asking for our advice on parenting, which felt ridiculous as a 23-year-old who neither has the appropriate experience, nor thinks about the subject often (if at all), nor has formally learned about parenting.
Think on these situations. Imagine what I may have been thinking when asked. Imagine the general sentiment here in Peru – an infinite amount of trust in whoever is introduced as a “specialist” and the possible lack of open conversation or education on the subject of parenting.
Last week my nephew hit my son. Since then my son has been reacting to all new people he meets by hitting them. How do I erase information that he’s already learned from imitating others?
My wife gave my son a bag of chocolates the other day and he started eating the whole bag even though it should have been shared with everyone in the family. So my wife took the chocolates away from him – then, of course, my son started crying. It hurt so bad as a parent to see him cry so I gave the chocolates back to him. Who was right, my wife or me?
What is the best music to let my 2-year-old son listen to? I heard classical music was good for neonatals, but how about young children? The only problem is, my son won’t put up with classical music. He’ll only listen to reggaeton because that’s the type of music that his father loves.
What do you think about those Baby Einstein videos? I heard that they really help to make your child smarter.
My little sister always wants to rush to eat during mealtimes even though we try to explain to her that the potato is still steaming hot, for example. My mom always tells us to rush and cool down the potatoes so she can eat, but I say that we should let her learn for herself (i.e. let her touch the hot potato) or just keep the potato away even though she continues to cry. Who’s right?
My baby sister always enters my room and starts rummaging through and destroying all my make-up. How do I teach her what things she shouldn’t do? How do I break her bad habits?
I thought it was about time to post another blog re: food in Huancayo. Every week or so, I spend time with R’s family living the true vida peruana sometimes helping to prepare delish comida (food, but doesn’t comida sound more exotic?), but usually contributing as the official taste-tester. Here, I have had many opportunities to develop my skill of enjoying and appreciating food whether it’s desayuno (breakfast), almuerzo (lunch), cena (dinner), or lonche (which sounds a lot like “lunch-y,” but is actually a Peruvian term referring to something like an “evening tea + snack.”) In the picture, I’m in San Carlos practicing skewering panchos (hot dogs) while R’s mom prepares the bloody anticuchos (cow hearts). Que rico! (Yum!)
I prepared the hot dogs and left the cow hearts for the rest of them.Now that Maria’s over her month of tummy trouble that hit her hardcore upon arrival in Huancayo, she’s feeling good enough to get back into cooking (her usual refried beans – good thing we bought a blender) and experimenting with random tidbits we find in the mercado (market). A few weeks ago, we discovered how to take advantage of the booths in the mercado that are dedicated solely to condiments. These booths have huge bowls of liquids of different colours – creamy looking sauces, salsas, dark green yummy muck, mysterious spices, the works. All we have to do is tell the lady what we’re cooking with (e.g. pasta with spinach) and she mixes a whole bunch of the liquids together to make a unique homemade sauce just for us! Amazing eh?
Another discovery – the cheese in Concepción (a town just outside of Huancayo). Whenever we run out, we take the trip out just to buy the fresh cheese from the milk factory there. I always get the queso fresco (literally, “fresh cheese”), then María and I share the stronger queso andino (Andean cheese) or queso hollandés (Dutch cheese).
It’s also become a habit that one or both of us take the almost-daily trip to the panadería (bakery) just around the corner from our apartment to not only buy bread (petit pan for me, ciabatta for María) but also treat ourselves to a churro, which is nothing like the churros we know from Disneyland – these Peruvian churros are soft and filled with melted caramel. We always get them heated in the microwave there. I’m at the panadería so often that the ladies there know me by name and I always stop to chat with them a bit. I’m also good friends with the with the helado (ice cream) lady who I always wave to – even when I haven’t been buying many ice cream bars lately because the weather is getting a lot colder. Then there’s the esquina (corner) lady who sits at the corner of the street near our apartment – I always go to her when I have a craving for my favourite Peruvian chocolate bar, Sublime. “Hola mamita!” I always call out to her like a true peruana and she always replies, “Hola chinitaaa!”
Speaking of being chinita (the little Chinese girl)… for those of you that were wondering, the visa-renewal-trip to Santiago, Chile was duber successful. Upon re-entry, I’m walking up to the Peruvian customs officer with my passport, forms, and officially signed documents stating that I’m a volunteer here so that I can get stamped for more than the 90 days they originally gave me, all shaking and nervous – and the first thing the officer says to me is the familiar, “Hola chinitaaa!” Of course you can stay in Peru for however long you want, he tells me in Spanish. So he stamps me for 183 days – 3 days more than what I hear they usually give Canadians. All for being small-eyed. =)
There is a difference between hearing crazy stories about rural Peruvians – choosing your life partner based on a stone throw to their forehead, leaving babies in mud pens to be accidentally eaten by wild dogs – and hearing less-than-crazy but much more real stories from rural Peruvians themselves. Today was day three of infant assessments – we’re spending the next week and a half visiting individual families in their homes in five different locations in and around Huancayo.
This baby has suffered so much in her short lifetime, but we're thankful that she has a loving grandmother.I was surprised to meet a mother hitting almost 50 years in age with an 8-month old baby. As we worked through the questionnaire, her love for her infant was evident. It was hard not to fall in love with the beautiful baby girl, her curious eyes and full head of curls peeking out of the manta (the cloth Peruvians use to carry their babies on their back). She was attentive to her baby, was thoroughly knowledgeable of her baby’s capabilities but also subtle deficits, and was eager to honestly disclose what she knew about her baby so that we could also best share our knowledge on how she could promote the infant’s physical, mental, and socio-emotional health.
As the assessment came to a close, she expressed concern for her baby’s delay in gross motor development – the baby wasn’t able to hold herself up in a sitting position and her legs were too weak to support herself standing even when holding on to a railing or someone else’s hands. From there, her story unfolded. She is actually the grandmother and not the mother of baby, she confessed. She has three children – the youngest daughter was spoiled and wild, accidentally found herself pregnant, then tried to abort the baby on multiple occasions during the pregnancy, taking “special herbs” from the rainforest. The baby was born anyway, but who knows how these abortion attempts may have affected her prenatal development. The grandmother was unhappy with her daughter’s decisions, but didn’t intervene until her daughter accidentally dropped the baby from her manta one day – the baby fell to the ground and rolled a certain distance away, traumatized.
It was the last straw. The grandmother took the baby and the baby’s older sister into her own care, forcing her daughter to work. The daughter now sends money home monthly and when she visits, the baby cries as if her own real mother is a stranger. And such is the life of many of these families it seems.
