Portraits Project: Lalo

Lalo, 40, groundskeeper and part-time clown

"Hello!" He calls to me. 

It's 6:30 a.m., and I'm only half-awake. 

"Hello," I croak back, squinting to see him in the early morning sun. 

"Good morning," he says (only it sounds like "gooed more-neen"), and continues to  sweep tiny plastic plates and bits of cabbage into a dust pan. 

I nod, make what I think is a smile, and head past him to the bathroom, almost tripping over a chicken on my way. While I'm brushing my teeth, I can hear him humming. 

Last night had been another late one for their polleria. There was a soccer match — Peru vs. Ecuador — and people came by for chicken and to catch a glimpse of the game until 1 a.m. Volume was at full blast, and whenever anyone scored, an announcer shouted Gooooooooooooooooooooool!! for an entire minute straight. 

I barely slept a wink.

I step out of the bathroom, and Lalo looks up to smile at me again. 

"How did you sleep?" he asks. 

"Fine," I lie. "How about you?"

"Oh, great!" he says, and I believe him. 

He sweeps another bit of shredded cabbage and dumps it in large plastic bin. 

Garu, our baby howler, squeals behind him, causing Lalo to turn his head in concern. 

"What's wrong, my love?" he asks her. "Are you hungry?"

He dumps the broom and dust pan, and rushes to Garu, who's now hanging off the metal gate. Grabbing some chicken left over from the night before, he makes a tiny plate and places it at her feet. 

"Monkey?" he asks, sounding like "mone-key," and points at her with a huge grin. 

"Monkey, yes," I say, nodding. Lalo reaches out to pet her head, and Garu grabs his finger. He makes a face and grabs his chest as if Garu herself were pulling at his heartstrings. 

It's then that I come to my senses and realize that there is a baby howler monkey in my back yard, hundreds of miles away from the jungle. 

"Lalo," I ask. "How did you find Garu?" 

This is when he tells me his story. 

He was raised in the circus, traveling all around Peru. He was a clown, his sister a dancer. When he came to Tumbes, he met Nancy, his media naranja and future mother of his three kids. He decided to stay to raise a family and now works as a groundskeeper at the elementary school where his wife teaches second grade. 

Many of his family members still travel with the circus though they are now based mostly out of Trujillo. They had recently gone to the jungle and brought Garu back to him as a gift. Every once in a while, Lalo gets asked to perform at birthday parties or anniversaries. His nickname around town is "El Payazo," and now I understand why. 

As he tells me this story, he make wild gestures and faces. 

"Do you ever miss the circus?" I ask. 

He looks a me thoughtfully and pours some water in a small dish for Garu.

"Sí, claro," he says. "But my loves are here now."

He smiles at me again with his wide grin.

A moment passes.  

"Well, I better get going," I say, turning to head back to my room. 

"Gooed Bye!" he calls back to me. 

"Bye!" I call back, and now, smiling, I close my door behind me.