The first of many faces: Sheick
Recently, my friend Zach came to visit me for a week in Peru. He saw the sites, charmed my host family, and believe it or not, even rode a donkey. He brought me news of the U.S., tales of his life in NYC and half a suitcase of Sour Patch Kids. And as if that weren't enough, he risked life and luggage through customs and brought me a camera.
My own camera, sadly, was pick-pocketed in early July, and Zach's replacement was a very welcomed surprise — but it came at a price.
He told me that he would give me the camera, but only if I agreed to do a project. A portraits project of the people in my life here in Peru.
I'm not a photographer. But a deal's a deal. So, I present to you the first of many faces. (And thanks, Zach.)
Sheick, age 6, first-grader
My own camera, sadly, was pick-pocketed in early July, and Zach's replacement was a very welcomed surprise — but it came at a price.
He told me that he would give me the camera, but only if I agreed to do a project. A portraits project of the people in my life here in Peru.
I'm not a photographer. But a deal's a deal. So, I present to you the first of many faces. (And thanks, Zach.)
________________________________
Sheick, age 6, first-grader“Do you want to read a book with me in English?” I asked. Sheick nodded, chin to chest, face to sky, and back again.
I showed him my hand, and he took it, walking with me to the back step. We crouched down to face the banana trees and crowing roosters.
“Do you like Winnie the Pooh?” I asked. He nodded, vigorously again, until I was afraid his head would fall off his neck.
Laughing, I started at page one.
Sheick didn’t speak English. It didn’t matter. By page two, he ran his playground fingers across the page, shouting the names of the figures he saw.
“Weenie-poo!” … “Tigre!” … “Abejas!”
“Yes, bees,” I said.
By page three, he grabbed the book from my lap and declared it was his turn to read to me. With careful concentration, he sounded out the English words on the page in perfect, first-grade Spanish. It made no sense. He didn’t care.
At page four, he returned the now-smudged book to its prior place in my lap. We read on, trading pages. English to nonsense. Until all was well in the Hundred Acre Woods.
He looked at me. I looked back. I closed the book, and he grabbed it, flipping pages and running his palm across the drawings. Suddenly, he shoved it back into my hands.
“Again!” he demanded. “And this time in Spanish.”
I showed him my hand, and he took it, walking with me to the back step. We crouched down to face the banana trees and crowing roosters.
“Do you like Winnie the Pooh?” I asked. He nodded, vigorously again, until I was afraid his head would fall off his neck.
Laughing, I started at page one.
Sheick didn’t speak English. It didn’t matter. By page two, he ran his playground fingers across the page, shouting the names of the figures he saw.
“Weenie-poo!” … “Tigre!” … “Abejas!”
“Yes, bees,” I said.
By page three, he grabbed the book from my lap and declared it was his turn to read to me. With careful concentration, he sounded out the English words on the page in perfect, first-grade Spanish. It made no sense. He didn’t care.
At page four, he returned the now-smudged book to its prior place in my lap. We read on, trading pages. English to nonsense. Until all was well in the Hundred Acre Woods.
He looked at me. I looked back. I closed the book, and he grabbed it, flipping pages and running his palm across the drawings. Suddenly, he shoved it back into my hands.
“Again!” he demanded. “And this time in Spanish.”
A Walk in the Woods
I took my youth group on a paseo to Huarapal, a national forest reserve, to learn about deforestation and see some waterfalls. 
Two environmental students from the Universidad Nacional came along to teach the teens about the different plant species and their uses. 
Of course, there was some time for swimming.
Waterfalls along the trail.
Tumbes: Where the dry forest meets the tropics. But it kind of reminded me of Minnesota river valleys in summertime.So, I'm a godmother
I didn't want to be a godmother. I had said no before. But Jasmyn, 15, and one of my teen health promoters, really wanted me as the madrina for her confirmation.
"It's just one day," she pleaded. I sighed.
She's a good kid, and I wasn't busy.
"Ok, ok, but what do I have to do?"
I was right to ask this question. Normally, in addition to public speaking of some kind, being a godparent entails shelling out plata — for presents, hiring a DJ, the cake — something. But she assured me that I just had to buy her a small gift, attend a mass, and take some pictures.
So ... I went out and bought her a fun picture frame, along with some printed photos of some of our activities. I didn't want to buy a new dress, but the only other one I had was hole-y with moth bites. Even with my mediocre stitching skills, it was barely acceptable. In dark lighting, you could hardly see the tiny scunchies, but in sunlight ... well, it was questionable. I didn't mind being judged for my clothing (though my host mom has pointed out several times that I should), but I didn't want to embarrass Jasmyn.
I changed 3 times before I decided on a mid-length skirt and tank-top combination. As priests frown on spaghetti straps, I also had to toss on a black long-sleeved cardigan — it was the only thing I could find to cover my sleeves. Thank God it was only 100 degrees outside.
I showed up at 2, like J had told me. She was ready at 2:30. In the meantime, her mom chatted me up and laid on the guilt. Why didn't I come over more often? Why didn't we ever go out to the country to visit her mom? I smiled and nodded. The noncommittal affirmations worsened my guilt.
An hour into the 2.5 hour mass, I was getting antsy. This entire experience was forcing me to encounter everything I despised: dressing up, public appearances and sitting still for long periods of time. Seriously, I thought, what was I thinking?
Then, as if the small statue of Jesus looming over my head could hear my thoughts, I snapped out of it.
Wtf, Robyn, I thought. This isn't about you.
It was about Jasmyn. The 15-year-old, only child kneeling in the row in front of me. The health promoter who looked up to me like a sister and always arrived on time.
Shame mingled with the incense and overloaded my senses. How selfish could I be? She's a good kid. And it was an honor to be her godmother.
Once the focus shifted from me to her, the rest of the mass was much more bearable. For the first time, I noticed the colors in the room. The proud parents. The dangling rosaries. I sang along with the music, though I didn't always understand the words. And I felt it. The gratitude. The excitement ... to be here, experiencing things like this.
I still felt horribly uncomfortable in my non-Peace Corps-y clothes. My mascara was bothering my eyes, and I'm pretty sure some children gawked. But I felt lucky. And hey, check it out. I'm a godmother.
Jasmyn and me at a paseo to the beach
"It's just one day," she pleaded. I sighed.
She's a good kid, and I wasn't busy.
"Ok, ok, but what do I have to do?"
I was right to ask this question. Normally, in addition to public speaking of some kind, being a godparent entails shelling out plata — for presents, hiring a DJ, the cake — something. But she assured me that I just had to buy her a small gift, attend a mass, and take some pictures.
So ... I went out and bought her a fun picture frame, along with some printed photos of some of our activities. I didn't want to buy a new dress, but the only other one I had was hole-y with moth bites. Even with my mediocre stitching skills, it was barely acceptable. In dark lighting, you could hardly see the tiny scunchies, but in sunlight ... well, it was questionable. I didn't mind being judged for my clothing (though my host mom has pointed out several times that I should), but I didn't want to embarrass Jasmyn.
I changed 3 times before I decided on a mid-length skirt and tank-top combination. As priests frown on spaghetti straps, I also had to toss on a black long-sleeved cardigan — it was the only thing I could find to cover my sleeves. Thank God it was only 100 degrees outside.
I showed up at 2, like J had told me. She was ready at 2:30. In the meantime, her mom chatted me up and laid on the guilt. Why didn't I come over more often? Why didn't we ever go out to the country to visit her mom? I smiled and nodded. The noncommittal affirmations worsened my guilt.
An hour into the 2.5 hour mass, I was getting antsy. This entire experience was forcing me to encounter everything I despised: dressing up, public appearances and sitting still for long periods of time. Seriously, I thought, what was I thinking?
Then, as if the small statue of Jesus looming over my head could hear my thoughts, I snapped out of it.
Wtf, Robyn, I thought. This isn't about you.
It was about Jasmyn. The 15-year-old, only child kneeling in the row in front of me. The health promoter who looked up to me like a sister and always arrived on time.
Shame mingled with the incense and overloaded my senses. How selfish could I be? She's a good kid. And it was an honor to be her godmother.
Once the focus shifted from me to her, the rest of the mass was much more bearable. For the first time, I noticed the colors in the room. The proud parents. The dangling rosaries. I sang along with the music, though I didn't always understand the words. And I felt it. The gratitude. The excitement ... to be here, experiencing things like this.
I still felt horribly uncomfortable in my non-Peace Corps-y clothes. My mascara was bothering my eyes, and I'm pretty sure some children gawked. But I felt lucky. And hey, check it out. I'm a godmother.
Jasmyn and me at a paseo to the beachYEAR IN REVIEW
First day of Peace Corps: Sept. 10, 2008
First day in Peru: Sept. 12, 2008
First day of official service: Nov. 28, 2008
First day in site: Nov. 30, 2008
Cell phones lost: 3 — but I got one back, so ... technically, only 2
Books read: 26 and 5 "started-but-didn't-finish"es
Favorite book read: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Seasons of TV Shows watched: 18 ... that's kind of embarrassing
Most-beloved show on DVD: NBC's The Office
Number of oh-dear-God-I'm-so-sick sick days: 4
Craziest health problem: My brush with chucake
Biggest language blunder: "¡Estoy abierta!" does NOT mean "I'm open!"
Projects started: 6
Projects still going: 5 (the failure? the veggie garden at the primary school)
Condom demonstrations + banana: 12
Best thing said to me by a Peruvian child: Boy says, "When Chinese people talk, do you understand them?" I say no. Boy says, "But you speak English."
Thing I love most about Peru: The generosity of the people
Favorite Peruvian dish: Ceviche (from Tumbes), with lots of lemon and ají
Favorite Peruvian place: The Tumbes coastline at sunset
Best thing about site: My teens and the women at the health post
Most regrettable moment: Crying in front of my health post's machista dentist
Guilty pleasure: Ice-cold Coke from a glass bottle and crime scene investigation shows
Places visited: (Peru) Lima, Tumbes, Mancora, Chiclayo, Piura and Cajamarca; (Ecuador) Cuenca and Quito
Most frequently asked question: ¿Te enseñas? (Are you getting accustomed?)
Person I talk to most from back home: My mom
Person I talk to most in Peru: Sarah
Person I talk to most at site: My host mom
Most important thing I've realized: The United States is the greatest country in the world — for its diversity and opportunity alone. And I entirely underestimated my love of my mom's leftovers.
Worst habit accrued: Lying (to avoid gossip, resentment or unnecessary frustrations at site)
Favorite pastime: Making music videos
Soundtrack to my year: "If you want me to" by Ginny Owens
Most interesting thing I've done: Rode a donkey
Coolest thing I've learned: That you can purify water with the sun
Strangest behavior in the eyes of Peruvians: Eating vegetables raw and not drinking alcohol
Greatest accomplishment: Keeping my compassion while growing thicker skin
Favorite Peruvian custom: Invitar-ing (giving a little of whatever you have to everyone else)
What keeps you sane at site: Closing the door to my room
Something I've discovered: Peace Corps volunteers are some of the coolest, craziest and most incredible people I've ever met in my life.
Things I miss most from home: Watching TLC and Discovery with my mom on the couch, visiting my dad at work, watching chick flicks with my sister, going to my brother and sister-in-law's house, playing with my nieces and nephews, going out to dinner with my friends, eating what I want when, free refills, clean water from the tap, hot showers, bookstores, feeling healthy, carpet, couches, understanding what's going on around me most of the time, having regular access to news, colorful seasons, coffee shops, tex-mex, really tight hugs, singing at the top of my lungs without anyone listening, cooking, church on Sunday mornings, and sandwiches. Lots and lots of sandwiches.
Favorite photo of a Peruvian child:
Favorite photo of a Peruvian landscape:
Favorite photo of my site:
Favorite photo that needs a back story:
Favorite photo of a captured moment:
First day in Peru: Sept. 12, 2008
First day of official service: Nov. 28, 2008
First day in site: Nov. 30, 2008
Cell phones lost: 3 — but I got one back, so ... technically, only 2
Books read: 26 and 5 "started-but-didn't-finish"es
Favorite book read: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Seasons of TV Shows watched: 18 ... that's kind of embarrassing
Most-beloved show on DVD: NBC's The Office
Number of oh-dear-God-I'm-so-sick sick days: 4
Craziest health problem: My brush with chucake
Biggest language blunder: "¡Estoy abierta!" does NOT mean "I'm open!"
Projects started: 6
Projects still going: 5 (the failure? the veggie garden at the primary school)
Condom demonstrations + banana: 12
Best thing said to me by a Peruvian child: Boy says, "When Chinese people talk, do you understand them?" I say no. Boy says, "But you speak English."
Thing I love most about Peru: The generosity of the people
Favorite Peruvian dish: Ceviche (from Tumbes), with lots of lemon and ají
Favorite Peruvian place: The Tumbes coastline at sunset
Best thing about site: My teens and the women at the health post
Most regrettable moment: Crying in front of my health post's machista dentist
Guilty pleasure: Ice-cold Coke from a glass bottle and crime scene investigation shows
Places visited: (Peru) Lima, Tumbes, Mancora, Chiclayo, Piura and Cajamarca; (Ecuador) Cuenca and Quito
Most frequently asked question: ¿Te enseñas? (Are you getting accustomed?)
Person I talk to most from back home: My mom
Person I talk to most in Peru: Sarah
Person I talk to most at site: My host mom
Most important thing I've realized: The United States is the greatest country in the world — for its diversity and opportunity alone. And I entirely underestimated my love of my mom's leftovers.
Worst habit accrued: Lying (to avoid gossip, resentment or unnecessary frustrations at site)
Favorite pastime: Making music videos
Soundtrack to my year: "If you want me to" by Ginny Owens
Most interesting thing I've done: Rode a donkey
Coolest thing I've learned: That you can purify water with the sun
Strangest behavior in the eyes of Peruvians: Eating vegetables raw and not drinking alcohol
Greatest accomplishment: Keeping my compassion while growing thicker skin
Favorite Peruvian custom: Invitar-ing (giving a little of whatever you have to everyone else)
What keeps you sane at site: Closing the door to my room
Something I've discovered: Peace Corps volunteers are some of the coolest, craziest and most incredible people I've ever met in my life.
Things I miss most from home: Watching TLC and Discovery with my mom on the couch, visiting my dad at work, watching chick flicks with my sister, going to my brother and sister-in-law's house, playing with my nieces and nephews, going out to dinner with my friends, eating what I want when, free refills, clean water from the tap, hot showers, bookstores, feeling healthy, carpet, couches, understanding what's going on around me most of the time, having regular access to news, colorful seasons, coffee shops, tex-mex, really tight hugs, singing at the top of my lungs without anyone listening, cooking, church on Sunday mornings, and sandwiches. Lots and lots of sandwiches.
Favorite photo of a Peruvian child:
Favorite photo of a Peruvian landscape:
Favorite photo of my site:
Favorite photo that needs a back story:
Favorite photo of a captured moment:
Rotten timing, Google.
I spent an hour and 45 minutes today waiting at the internet cafe for gmail to work before giving up and heading back to site.
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