Higado

It was no secret that Becca had had a rough start to her Peace Corps service, or perhaps it was to some, either way, times had been less than desirable in those early months. But a strange sort of shift had started within her that she couldn’t have seen coming. 

The day that she did finally notice it left her in a brilliant mixture or glee and total shock. Sitting at lunch with two friends, Monica and Gina, during vacation, Becca ordered a menu which consisted of soup, a main course and a drink. As they chit-chatted, the truth came out.

“I really like this place and it’s so sunny, I feel like I never---,” Monica began.

“Score!” Becca exclaimed staring into her soup. Sifting through with her spoon for a moment, she revealed a small, smooth, brownish blob. “I got higado*! I love higado!” She plopped it in her mouth and grinned wildly as she chewed.

“Becca...” Monica began, but stopped short, running out of whatever thought she’d had as she watched Becca, still enjoying her soup while bopping about to the loud peruvian music playing in the street.

“Oh sorry, I cut you off, what were you saying?” Becca said innocently.

“Are you dancing?” Monica asked, still confused.

“How can you not dance to this music? It’s so catchy, I love this song,”

“Becca...” Monica began again. “Who are you right now?”

Becca paused for a moment and looked at her grinning friend and found herself confused for a moment as well. In a matter of months the girl who never danced and would have blanched at the thought of higado was...well, this...? “I have no idea, I’ll keep you posted,” she answered and finished her soup.

*Higado = Liver

Out-takes

As part of the English Teaching Committee, Becca was part of a project to make video vignettes for English lessons. She made two stunning videos covering colors and weather with the help of a group of silly and seriously awesome kiddos, but those aren't really important - more entertaining are the out-takes: 

La Navidad: Not a Popular Holiday Amongst Pigs

            When Becca told people in the states before her departure about her impending adventure, the topic of the holidays always seemed to come up. The holidays are going to be really hard. When she met people in Cruz del Medano and the surrounding area, the topic came up again. You’re here for two years, but are you spending Christmas here? What about your family?

            For as long as she could remember, Christmas had been Becca’s favorite holiday. Surrendering to her least favorites like Thanksgiving and even to the more beloved like Fourth of July and President’s Day, even to her own birthday, Christmas was in short, the bomb. When she was a little kid, she adored the candle-light singing at church on Christmas eve, spending time with her family, opening presents, and sitting around all day on Christmas doing a whole lot of nothing. In high school, every day from December first to the end of school, she wrote out cheerful notes to her closest friends and included little treats and presents. In college, she braved the icy mountain passes year after year to make it home for singing, present, and more than anything else, her family. But this year, Christmas was very different.

            Noche Buena (Christmas Eve), which was always the more celebrated of the two days in her family, started decently. She woke up feeling well for the first time in a week, at least well enough to shower. Of course then she got stung by a bee. Luckily after that came breakfast with her  host family and helping to make the final Paneton.* As the afternoon wore in she became increasingly less sure of the day’s plan and purpose and got different answers from everyone. But evening she returned to her home to find her family milling in and out of the kitchen to the front of the house. Making a crucial error in stopping where some of them had crowded by the oven, she found the chanchito* she thought was missing from the back yard, though she didn’t at first recognize it without fur or skin...

            The evening brought a lot of...well, waiting around and confusion. Around eight they had a small dinner, around nine Becca’s sister, Sandra, and her dad fell asleep, around ten, she found herself in the living room watching the news while her family either slept or ran around with cousin. At eleven, her sister Mireli and her cousins brought her to a misa (mass) in the church by the park. The service was a little confusing but she was happy to spend time with her family and see a lot of her friends from the community.

            After the mass they walked home and found a house of sleeping family members, which they promptly woke up because it was officially midnight and la navidad! Confusion struck again as Mireli grabbed three baby figurines and led Becca into the front room to be the Madrina. She quickly learned that this meant placing each baby on each level of the nativity scene. Her father prayed afterward, dedicating the moment to their newest family member and they all clapped.

            Fifteen minutes later they had moved the table outside near the giant Christmas tree, filled it with food, and taken their places around it. The ate, the talked, they slept sitting upright at the table, Becca had her first taste of jonki* and then the kids (Becca included) went inside to take a few pictures. By three AM, Becca was relieved to hear Mireli say that she was going to bed and so was their mom, Becca took herself off to slumber as well.        

            Sitting in her bed the next morning at six, listening to the silent house around her, she couldn’t help but feel like something was entirely off. Usually by six, she was feeling guilty about being in bed while her mom cooked downstairs and her dad started making the bread. This guilt typically roused her by 6:30 (7 on a rough morning) but on Christmas Day, everyone slept until 9. They had a breakfast that included her mom downing another shot of jonki, which she lovingly rose in toast to Becca.

            The rest of the day was quiet, so quiet that Becca had to ask more than once what they were going to do today. Each time the reply was the same: it’s Christmas. In the afternoon she watched 17 Again with her sisters and sitemate, overjoyed that they found it funny and commented on just how guapo they think Zac Efron is. Evening brought dinner and a visit to a friend’s house and by 10 Becca found herself climbing the stairs up to bed once more, her first Peruvian Navidad behind her.

*See: Peruvian fruit cake, except everyone loves it...

*Baby pig

*Possibly some form of grain alcohol

Broken Bread

There are few things in the world worse than being sick, and not just kind of sick, but “actually concerned about having to confront the grim reaper about staying on the planet” sick. It was on a lovely, sunny Sunday afternoon that Becca was harshly reminded of this and learned of new things: one of those things in the world that’s worse is being that level of sick in a foreign country on an outing with your sisters and not being about to explain it to anyone effectively.

Saturday night ended with stomach cramps but Becca ignored them thinking they’d pass, Sunday brought worsening pain, headache, and eventually fever and complete deliriousness. And so she told the doctor over the phone what was happening and he prescribed her medicine which he said would make her nauseous but farther from death, though Becca wasn’t entirely sure what he said for certain because the human brain doesn’t do well over 102 degrees.

This was how Becca’s week began. On Sunday, her body broke.

And on Monday, her watch broke.

Despedidas

In the 10 weeks since she’d walked into their home, wide-eyed and practically unable to communicate, MamaGloria, Lucho, and Felipe had given Becca more than she could say. She couldn’t say that they’d even been strangers when she arrived. Perhaps it was their kindness or patience, maybe their eagerness to make her feel at home (or that one time that didn’t laugh too hard when she locked herself in the bathroom), but no, they had never been strangers. They’d been her family from the very beginning.

And so when the final week of training came and her visit to Lambayeque was finished, she was both excited to see her family again and dreading the following goodbyes. Her final week had also been changed around in order for more training time so she didn’t get to live with her family the last week.

On Wednesday, she visited them so that she could spend a little time with them and pack her things. Being gone for so long, the house felt strange, like maybe it wasn’t hers anymore. She greeted MamaGloria, had a quick chat and then went to her room to pack up her things. After about an hour, she returned to the living room where MamaGloria was ironing. They both smiled.

“Quieres cafe y un pansito Rebecita?” she asked. (Would you like coffee and bread, Rebecita?)

They sat for the remainder of her time there, just over three hours, and talked about everything they could think to talk about. As she felt the tears forming in her eyes, Becca reminded herself that she would see her family again. Though it wouldn’t be quite like this again.

Just after six, Lucho entered the dining room and told them that the taxi was out front. They helped her with her bags and MamaGloria packed her a bottle of water and an orange. She hugged both parents, who she’d see at the going away party the following day and then Felipe, who she had to say a real goodbye to. Her wished her luck and told her she’d do great. They took a few pictures and then she jumped in the cab, waving and trying not to cry. 

On Thursday, the group returned to their training center for a Dia de Accion de Gracias (Thanksgiving) lunch with the staff and then a Host Family party in the afternoon. The entire afternoon was a blur of kind words, good food, hilarious commentary, and awful goodbyes. Becca sat with her parents and they all laughed through a talent show and chatted to each other, trying to ignore the impending goodbye. 

In the end, it was pretty quick, hardly painless, but at least quick. Knowing they Lucho would be attending the Swearing In Ceremony the following day, she focused on saying goodbye to MamaGloria, a woman who had been a mom and a friend to her for almost two months. The woman who had packed her amazing decorated lunches, who had taught her how to properly hand wash her clothes, and who had taken the time every night to talk with her, help her with homework, and watch whatever was on discovery. 

MamaGloria hugged her, kissed her, and told her a lot of wonderful things. They both had tears in their eyes but smiles on their faces as Becca watched her host parents walk out of the center. In a lot of ways it was like ripping off a bandaid; it was quick, for one, but there was also a delay. There’s always that delay, that couple of seconds where you don’t yet feel the pain, just a strange kind of shock. 

On Friday, the entire Peru 20 group traveled to Lima with all of their luggage, checked in to two hostels, stored their bags, and went to the residence of the US Ambassador for the official swearing in ceremony. They entered in a line, greeting program directors, language facilitators, fellow volunteers, and finally took their seats in the front of a long room, closest to the podium. Becca turned around to inspect the audience and immediately found Lucho, sitting in his suit, hands folded. She caught his eye and they both smiled and waved.

The ceremony was a blur of recognitions, speeches, and good thoughts. Afterward, the group took photos with their program departments, and as a whole with the Ambassador. And after that their was time to talk, time to spend with family, time to say goodbye. Becca stood with Lucho for a long time, talking about little things, talking just to talk. Friends came by and said their goodbyes, everyone ate delicious, tiny foods served on big silver trays.

Becca felt a stroke of panic when host families started filing out, knowing it was time to say the last goodbye. She was thinking it was kind of silly, all of these goodbyes, knowing that they would see each other again in a few months when she came back for a few days of In-Service Training. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it would simply never be like this again, never so perfect. That thought mingled with the feeling that she didn’t really know how to say thank you to her perfect family. She had imagined that the language barrier would be her main issue, but it turned out to be a lack of words in any language. Sometimes the words don’t exist and there is no long speech to give to tell them thank you.

And so Becca hugged her host dad and he kissed her on the cheek. When they pulled back, they were both crying. 

“Gracias,” Lucho said and Becca peeped the same in reply. She had a feeling that was all that could really be said, as she watched him walk out the door.

Goal or No Goal

On the first day of training, Kathy (part of the wonderful training staff) compared their ten weeks in training to going to the beach. Her logic was that things are easier on the beach, you can prepare and train before you have to get in the water (their future posts). One week in, Becca did feel like she was at the beach...well that she was swimming...ok, drowning. At the beginning of week two, Becca was slowly suffocating on a constant stream of health information, Peru information, informaccion de Espanol, safety and security tactics, medical policies, and every time she turned around she was getting a vaccine for something.

“Today you get typhoid, tomorrow rabies,” the doctors told her and she laughed an exhausted, hysterical laugh.

“¡Si Se Puede! Poco a poco,” her Spanish teacher repeated as Becca filled page after pages of her vocabulary flip-book. 

Enrique warned them harshly about the advances young men would no doubt make and what implications their behavior could have. “We don’t have 1st, 2nd, 3rd base here...we play futbol, it’s goal or no goal,” he warned.

The cars honked and the dogs barked and everyone talked far too quickly. Peru was absolutely and entirely...wonderful.

Living in Peru was kind of like falling in love with some one so awesome that they scare the crap out of you. Sometimes literally...as it turned out much of Peace Corps medical training was poop-related. The volunteers were promised that they would poop their pants at least once before leaving. They were told a story of a guy who woke up one morning, did some stretches, bent over and....well. Aw, Peruvian food.

“Don’t trust your farts,” was the advice from Jorge, a highly esteemed medical professional. “You’ll think ‘oh, I’m ok,” and then you’ll need to change your clothes...”

Mixed into the stresses of digestive anxiety, language immersion, and huge communication barriers with her host family, was a wonderful dose of perfection. Even with the world seemingly held together by threads, this was where Becca needed to be.

Timeline

During the days that made up her final month at home, she experienced a slew of emotions comparable only to that of a puberty ridden pre-teen. She packed, sorted out her affairs, and spent time with her loved ones and while she was beyond excited she couldn’t quite shake feeling like she was dying. As it turned out, it wasn’t easy to leave everything behind for 27 months of Peace Corps service in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language. Who knew?

Still she examined the events that had gotten her here with pride;

Fall, 2005: Wrote an essay about the gap between the rich and the poor for her 11th grade history class and impressed her teacher who directed her to consider the Peace Corps. 

January, 2011: After college and during an AmeriCorps term, Becca decided it was time to think about the Peace Corps again.

June 16, 2011: Finished Application

June 28, 2011: Finished extra paperwork and fingerprinting

July 1, 2011: Got a call to arrange an interview

July 12, 2011: Interviewed at the Seattle office, received nomination at the end of the interview.

Early August, 2011: Received Medical paperwork

Late September, 2011: Completed and sent in Medical Paperwork

Mid-November, 2011: Received a call from Medical Clearance office explaining that she was being put on a obligatory mental health deferral until June, 2012 due to previous concerns.

May 17, 2012: Finished and sent in Dental paperwork.

June 12, 2012: Finished deferral paperwork and finally sent in the very last piece of Medical Clearance paperwork.

June 28, 2012: Received call from Medical Office saying she’d been cleared Medically and to expect a call from a placement officer within a couple of months.

July 5, 2012: Received a call from Placement Office for a short follow up interview and an invitation to serve in South America starting in Mid-September. 

July 11, 2012: Received full packet of information and official written invitation to serve in Peru 2012-2014.

July 13, 2012: Officially Accepted offer to serve.

It all felt like a million years ago now, but then Becca found herself incapable of understanding time at this point. The days dragged and flew at the same time as her final month in the states came to a close and September 13 grew closer. All she could do was keep breathing, keep packing, and keep desperately trying to learn Spanish.