Days 6-8: Playing catch-up

Buenos dias todos nos amigos y familia.

I have been letting my mom do most of the heavy lifting on the blog as of late, and I am particularly grateful to her as I sit here scratching my brain as to what it was that we did as far back as Tuesday. It has been that kind of week!

In some ways it feels as though we have lived about a hundred lives since arriving. In others, we are still relative newbies. There is a group here from Oklahoma that runs an eye clinic every summer and have been doing so for 16 years. Other volunteers include a 40 person group from Dallas, Texas and both Marquette nursing groups, amongst others. It is not uncommon for this to be the second, third or even fourth or fifth visit for many of the volunteers. Piura, and perhaps more importantly Santisimo Sacramento, is the kind of place to which people feel a connection. We feel so truly fortunate to have met some awesome people and are already mourning the loss of a few of our favorites who left/ are leaving this week! It seems silly in that a little over one week ago we knew no one, but extreme circumstances have a way of bring people together, I think.

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Madre del Buen Consejo

I digress. This week was one filled with new opportunities and with them new lessons (thanks, Oprah). On Tuesday we returned to the ~900 student collegio, Madre del Buen Consejo. I worked to provide 1:1 cares in the Special Ed classroom and Mom worked with Julianna, the resident English teacher in her various classrooms. Tuesday evening we joined the Marquette students for their final presentations--aggregate assessments of the patients the worked with in the parish Pro-Life/ Prenatal clinic and the men of the Vida Nueva AODA center.

On Wednesday, we walked to the local market (an experience in and of itself) and bought one week's worth of food for the orphanage Madre del Redentor. it was a fascinating experience to see Rebecca, the social worker, weave her way through hundreds of booths to find the best price for fruits, vegetables, bags of grain and yes, raw chicken (feet and all)! As Mom wrote  earlier this week, Madre is a home for girls who have either lost their parents or who have been surrendered to the sisters because their parents either cannot afford to take care of them or because of a history of sexual abuse within the family. We were able to spend time with the girls (including having our hair braided- at some point, I'll post a picture of Mom's corn rows).

Wednesday evening we attended a fascinating lecture about the Peruvian healthcare system by a local public health nurse. We learned that the average Peruvian makes 750 soles ($250)/ month. Keep in mind that this is the entire country (including urban Lima) and not Piura. Additionally, only 72.3 % of the country has access to running water. More importantly, only 23.6% of the Peruvian population has access to CLEAN water. Wednesday night we attended a fiesta in the village Los Pobverines. This will require a separate blog in and of itself.

Finally, yesterday, we returned to the collegio and mom and I both worked with the English teacher as she did TWO HOUR lessons with the second and third graders. Last night, we drove 40 minutes on non-existent roads to the most remote chapel under the Parroquia Santisimo Sacramento umbrella, Los Cumbieres. Electricity was scarce and chapel small, yet there was standing room only. Padre said Mass using a smartphone flashlight to read the Gospel. I am not one to wax poetic about receiving communion, but it was one of the most profound experiences and one that I hope to remember the remainder of my life. The sun had just about set and I was weaving out of mothers, children, stray dogs and new friends who spilled out of the chapel, as people sang what has become one of my favorite songs. After Mass, we walked down an unlit dirt road to a bonfire, where the church cantors sang and we roasted marshmallows. It would have been a beautiful evening if we hadn't seen the lights go our of the village as we drove away. And if it hadn't been for the lines of kids who ran out of their homes on our return trip to see who had cars. And if we hadn't returned to a pizza and ice-cream party.

This morning, as I write, I am sipping a freshly brewed coffee and enjoying the stream of sunlight through the computer room window and listening to the music of the Mass outside of our living quarters. Life is stirring all around me (still clad in my pajamas) and I think it is time to return to the land of the living. But I will leave you with a final reflection:

 "And what is wrong with charity? What is wrong with charity is its personal, fickle nature: its air of the

(Picture taken off the internet)

 dependence of the weak and the poor on the will and disposition of the rich and powerful. What is wrong with charity is that it is subject to the vagaries of short term funding. What is wrong with charity is that it should be a complement to, not a substitute for concerted social, economic and political committment and action for common welfare. What is wrong with charity is that personal moral agendas can be smuggled into action and remain unexposed to pubilc examination and debate." (AIDS in the 21st Century: Disease & Globalisation/ Burns & Whiteside).

La paz,

Kathleen