Tag: challenges

The Protest

My parents, being the best-est parents in the world, came to visit me for my birthday. It was a tight 3 days they were going to be here and as much as I wanted things to go perfectly, things never seem to go as planned in Huancayo. (As a side note, I have decided that I will always plan future vacations for more than 2 weeks). Not only did things not go as planned, but during the few days they were here, my parents and I experienced a series of firsts.

La Huelga
This is what we had to walk through to get back home.
The Saturday evening my parents arrived, we had planned to go out for a birthday dinner, but it started to rain hard. It would be the first of three days in a row that it would hail golf balls in the afternoon. They say it was the first time it had ever hailed so much in Huancayo.

I had planned Sunday to be as Huancaino as possible, which is what my parents wanted – first, the patriotic flag ceremony in the main plaza and the parade that follows, led by the military’s band. I’ve seen at least part of the parade almost every Sunday because I love that community feel when all the families come out, kids running around, buying paper hats and ice cream. So, my parents and I are out there, ready and on time to see the whole thing, but the flags are already up, no ceremony. Turns out, it was the day of the yearly “Marathon of the Andes.” They had suspended the flag ceremony for the day to cheer on the exhausted runners who had started from Jauja.

On the Monday, the last full day my parents would be here, I had to go to work. I left early in the morning for Jauja where we were doing some home visits, finished as quickly as possible and was on my way home by noon so I could spend the rest of the afternoon with my parents. The only thing stopping us from getting back were a million huge stones, lit up tires, and tree trunks lying across the highway – the 2,500 citizens of Concepción (a city in between Huancayo and Jauja) were protesting against all the garbage Huancayo was dumping in their little town. It was my first time experiencing a protest. We walked for two hours past all the vehicles, past all the road obstructions, past the crowd of protestors, past the police on the other side with their body-length shields, to the part of the highway where cars were finally moving.

Thankfully – although the protest continued through the rest of the week – my parents were able to get out of Huancayo safely and on schedule. Thanks for coming to visit, mum and dad!

Wisdom

The first phase of the project has finally come to an end. We have officially conducted sixty parent questionnaires in sixty homes to assess the general development of sixty babies. As we take our first peeks at the data we’ve collected and as we clarify and refine the approach for the second stage of the project (much to the surprise, confusion, and sometimes frustration of Maria and I), I have had more than a couple moments of the “What am I doing here?” sentiment.

There is first the “What am I doing here? I’m not right for this job. You have the wrong impression of me. Everyone has been introducing me as a ‘specialist,’ but that doesn’t mean my textbook knowledge is more valuable than your empirical experience. How can I give you advice on parenting? I’m not even a mother yet. I don’t think that I know enough to teach you anything new or to answer all of your questions properly. In fact, maybe I don’t know what I’m doing at all.”

Then there’s the “What am I doing here? I’m now realizing how massive this project is. How can we interpret the data properly? There is so much more that I need to know. Why do the mothers here behave the way they do? How much of this is attributable to culture? How much of the culture do I have yet to understand? How can I possibly contribute to this project if I don’t understand the people I’m studying? I should have locked myself in my room, reading about Peru, when I had the chance to in Nova Scotia. I should have at least travelled to Latin America before. I should have…”

Of the six different areas of development we evaluated, the most staggering outcome of the infant assessments was a clear deficit in infants’ social-emotional development. This area of development refers to their ability to manage or regulate their emotional and social behaviour in a way that society considers appropriate and acceptable. And this is where it gets tricky – what is “appropriate” and “acceptable” in this context and who decides?

Some examples of questions I had a difficult time consolidating:

  1. One of the questions on the social-emotional questionnaire asks something along the lines of: “Can your baby calm him/herself within a certain period of time if you leave his/her side?” We found that a decent chunk of mothers responded no to this question, but we also noticed that many mothers didn’t seem to be worried that their baby could not “regulate his/her emotions” as we would say in child-development-speak. “No, of course my baby can’t be without me,” was a classic answer. At the same time, over 90% of the mothers were amas de casa (housewives) who spend almost 100% of their time with their babies. Is it so surprising that their babies are not accustomed to being alone?
  2. Another question asks if the baby ever puts a banana to his ear, pretending it’s a telephone, or puts some other object on top of his head, pretending it’s a hat. I clearly remember one mother’s answer – in a tone suggesting that she was a little offended – which, to me, explains a common attitude towards pretending/imagination here, “If my baby knows it’s a banana, why would he use it as a telephone?” This strikes my “chicken and egg” curiosity – is this attitude a result of the living situation or does the lack of pretend play (which links to creativity) speak to the way people live here?
  3. During some of the interviews, Maria and I would sometimes notice violence being encouraged. “Go hit the pig to scare it out of the house.” “Throw something at the dog so it’ll stop eating out of the garden.” This had implications for one of the social-emotional questions that asks if the infant or child is ever violent towards other children or animals. But being commanded to be violent towards animals in this way doesn’t necessarily imply an inherent violent nature, neither at this age nor in the future.

The question, then, is whether we can make solid conclusions about the infants’ social-emotional development if it may be considered acceptable and appropriate, at least in some of the towns we visited, for babies to be unable to regulate their emotions without their mothers, for babies to not engage in pretend play, and for babies to show occasional violence towards animals.

Part of me feels a little disillusioned – I knew I couldn’t come here and be a hero, but I’m now recognizing a small part of me that wanted to save the world. There is the temptation to say, “This is how it works where I come from. You’re doing it all wrong. You should do it this way,” and to be harshly honest, I have met my share of development specialists who harbour this attitude. For this reason alone, I’ve found that it’s so important for me to say “I don’t know” and to not be afraid of admitting it. I’m not sure what’s best for you. How can I tell you that the North American theories of parenting are best, let alone that they apply in this context? I can’t make the conclusion that you don’t love your child because you don’t spend a lot of time with him/her – your priorities are drastically different and I respect that needing to survive can be more important than finding time to play with your child.

So, I have come full circle back to the approach I knew I should have had from the beginning – ultimately, this is about sharing. It’s about taking advantage of what little time we do have here to exchange preoccupations, thoughts, and ideas. I learn from you as much as you learn from me. I dispel some of your unawareness of the importance of play, for example, and you teach me the importance of simplicity and working hard. Your knowledge is just as valuable as mine if not more valuable. I am honoured to absorb your wisdom.

Grandmommy & Baby

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.

Abuelita y Bebé
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.

Horror Hair

I made the mistake of going to the peluquería (the hair salon) today. A good friend and co-worker of mine said she knew just the place. We had to take a combi outside of Huancayo central just to find her. It usually costs 3 soles ($1) to get your hair cut my friend tells me, but this lady charges 5 soles for her work. She had to be good.

We waited a half hour for her to arrive. I took my seat and explained what I wanted in broken Spanish – keep it long in the front, trim the back, fix the bangs, which I had been painstakingly cutting by myself the last three weeks. She starts trimming the back and all seems good. I find it weird that she only sprays my hair with water because I’m used to the soak pre-cut, but I brush it off. What should I be expecting for 5 soles anyway? Then, in one fell swoop, she performs an act so wholly disgusting, rendering me speechless – she cuts almost 3 inches off the front of my hair. My hair was already so short, I was trying to grow it out, and now… I have a mushroom cut and I look like a boy.

For some reason, my friend says nothing as the peluquera cuts more of my hair off, as she shaves the back of my neck with shaving cream and a blade old-school style, as she cuts another inch off my already short bangs. The left side of my hair is now noticeably longer than the right side of my hair, my bangs aren’t straight but I can’t trim it any shorter because they’re already abnormally high on my forehead, and I have stubble on the back of my neck. Above all this, I get charged 10 soles when she usually charges 5 and I don’t understand why. I cannot believe I let this happen to me. This…is…un…fixable.

Search Him

So, I’m going for a walk with my friend, Kevin, through the streets of Huancayo. There are always a lot of people out and about in the evenings in the centre of the city. On a whim, I ask if we can cross over the walkway that spans the busy highway. It’d be fun to see the cars whizzing by from above, I think. We’re walking up the stairs when we run into two young guys chilling in the stairwell. They start talking to Kevin in Spanish and I can’t understand completely what they’re saying. I think at first they’re just saying “Hi” until I notice that they aren’t smiling and that Kevin has given them 1 sol. We’re being robbed.

As far as I understood, Kevin was trying to negotiate. “Search him,” the taller guy said. So far, they’ve left me alone. I’m frozen, watching all of this in amazement and fear. The shorter guy leans in to pat Kevin’s pockets (or maybe to reach inside), but Kevin pushes the guy away. I imagine he’s saying something like, “Calm down. I’ll give you more money.” He takes out his wallet and gives them 2 more soles. They aren’t satisfied. “Search him,” the taller guy insists. I’m thinking of how much money I had in my pockets and in my shoes; if they only knew.

I’m really scared and a million thoughts run through my head. Give them my money. Help Kevin. Escape. Yell. There are so many people walking along the pathway just below us. I feel horrible because this was all my idea. I feel horrible as I start to instinctively inch my way towards the staircase to escape. The taller guy notices me move and puts him arm around me, blocking me. I have never felt so afraid in my life.

The taller guy lets me go for a moment to help his friend out and I run down the stairs, turning back once or twice to see Kevin getting hit in the face, double teamed. A few seconds later, Kevin is beside me. He was hoping for and waiting for me to escape. Apparently he’s a scrapper, has been in many fights before, but was being passive because he was afraid of what they might do to me. On the way home, he spits out blood more than a couple times. I’m saying “sorry” over and over again. He’s just happy that I’m safe. So am I. Peru can be a dangerous place. It was a lesson I needed to learn because I tend to see the world as one big happy place; I tend to be very gullible, trusting. Next time, they might not be amateurs. I’ve gotta be street smart and even then, you just never know.

Update 2/15/11: After traveling through Peru and living in Huancayo for an extended period of time, I’ve learned to become more street smart and I feel incredibly safe living here. In fact, Peru is one of the safest places to live in South America — It’s why I’m back here!

Earlier in the week, we did an exercise on conflict. The class was divided into three groups – one was instructed to put all the chairs by the door, another was instructed to put all the chairs by the window at the opposite end of the room, and the last group was instructed to put all the chairs in a circle. Simple exercise, right? It was interesting to see how the group transformed – people were shoved out of their chairs or dragged across the room, some teamed up, and others were sneaky and waited to catch people off guard. The chairs had become more important than the people. Four observations from the group dynamic and the discussion afterwards:

Taller Sobre Conflicto
People got a lot rougher than we all expected.

  1. The group that found itself with the most chairs (the “door” group) were the least likely to come to a compromise. In fact they didn’t even consider any kind of negotiation. Even when the “window” group brought all their chairs over to try to strike up some kind of deal, the “door” group refused to entertain any type of interaction. In their eyes, they had the most resources and therefore were the “winners.”
  2. Gilo from South Sudan – one of the tallest and biggest guys of the group – noticed that many in his group were relying on him to hold down the most chairs or at least the chair he was sitting on, but he was also dragged off in the end and his chair was eventually stolen. From that experience, he pointed out how dialogue would have brought about more positive change than size and power.
  3. Hellen from Uganda held back because the scene immediately reminded her of incidents back home when the government distributes soap or sugar. The scenario was always the same – a mad scramble, each person for himself or herself, children getting trampled. Olga, the facilitator, also mentioned that when they conducted the same exercise years back, the two Diploma participants who were there from Iraq left the room as soon as the chaos started. They later explained that they see the same chaos back home every day and they have learned to protect themselves by removing themselves from the situation.

I reflected on how I acted during the exercise. At first, I tried to conspire with another team member and steal some chairs, but I mostly held back as chair legs were being dangerously flung into the air. Krista came up with the idea to let all the groups succeed – by helping each other achieve each group’s goal in turn, first bringing the chairs to the door, then the window, then put them in a circle. I helped yell to get everyone to listen to Krista, but after she proposed the idea to the most people that would listen, I was surprised that nobody took action. They pretty much just went back to what they were doing!

How would you have responded to the exercise? =)

Insights

Ohmigoodness! Thank you so very much for posting comments, guys! It totally makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (i.e. I really feel the support).

Today we began a two-day workshop with a facilitator from the Canadian government’s Centre for Intercultural Learning (CIL). All internships funded by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) have this two-day preparatory workshop, but most only have these two days before being sent off to their host countries so I’m glad we have an entire month to get in the groove. I’m so happy to have these opportunities to discuss cross-cultural issues, especially because I feel a little bit like the underdog without a background in international development. It’s especially exciting to engage in discussions with the other interns because they’re so well-traveled, well-read, and have well-developed opinions but are still very open-minded.

We played a card game in the beginning that really initiated a lot of discussion. First, we sat in three groups and each group got a set of instructions to the card game – unbeknownst to us, each of three groups received a different set of instructions. During the game, we weren’t allowed to talk to each other and the trouble started when we had to rotate players. Without communication, the “new” member of each group had to figure out that there were different rules at their new table. It was supposed to be a microcosm of dealing with intercultural issues and it was interesting to see the different approaches people had. Some were laid back and just went with the flow even though they were confused that the rules were suddenly different and some tried to implement the rules of their original table even though everyone else at the new table were playing by a different set of rules.

I remember that at my table, one of the girls was trying to show us her way of playing the game even though the rest of the members of the table were playing by a different set of rules. I had the urge to take over and explicitly show her the rules of the table, but another guy at the table took a different approach before I could act. He has a really laid back personality and compromised by splitting up his “winning” cards between himself and the other girl to appease her. It was such a simple act that I hadn’t even thought of. I guess, sometimes, the best thing to do is to take it easy. There isn’t only one right way to do things and we certainly can’t be going to Peru with even the slightest attitude of superiority, assuming that our methods are somehow better than their existing way of living. No matter how many times I am reminded of this, I seem to continually catch myself in moments when I am subconsciously trying to enforce my beliefs, opinions, or ways of behaving. It helps that I am continually humbled by the other interns in this group.

I was talking to my sister yesterday night and realized that the tension and anxiety I’ve been feeling (and probably the reason that I’ve been having a hard time sleeping) is because this whole experience is really outside my comfort zone. Engaging in discussion on issues I’m really not familiar with, trying to delve deep into my limited life experience to produce relevant and insightful comments (this rarely happens). Being a “group member” almost 24/7 as we are always in a group during class, meals, and all the activities the interns organize afterwards whether they’re playing soccer, going for walks, chatting in the common room, or having Spanish conversation sessions.

But she also helped me realize that “the only person being hard on me is me.” All of the interns are inclusive, supportive, encouraging, understanding, and just downright nice. I guess I will only grow and change by stepping outside of my comfort zone in these ways.

It is a challenge every day, but that doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t be able to wake up every day and face that challenge. I always find running to be a good microcosm of life for me. Whenever I head out for a run in the morning, there are so many excuses running through my head, so many reasons I could conjure up to justify going back inside (it’s raining, there’s a stone in my shoe, a blister’s developing, I already ran yesterday). And while I’m running, I’m fighting the whole way to not stop before the length of time that I’ve set for myself. And the majority of the time, I get through it, and sometimes I’m even able to push myself further and run faster for a couple intervals. It seems that I have to have more faith in myself when it comes to daily life as well.

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