water wars

Things have been pretty stirred up here in our neck of Chimbote these past few days.  Apparently, something broke, or something had to be turned off, or something, and what we know for sure is that this whole corner of the city has been without water for five whole days with no certainty of when it’s coming back.

In our part of town, the city water usually comes twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, for an hour or two at a time.  During that time period, most households fill up large tanks, some on the ground and some on top of the roof, for daily usage.  Once in awhile, the water doesn’t show up, so most people have enough capacity to last a day or two on what they have, but not much longer.  Sometimes a specific house or street will go several days without water, but in that case neighbors are quick to share.  In this case, we’re going on six days of no water to an area of perhaps 3-5,000 households (or maybe more), with no forewarning that people should conserve as much as possible. 

We didn’t even notice until day 3 when one of our neighbors commented on it.  We, unlike most households, have a small well in our backyard that fills automatically when the city water comes.  Then we pump it to a tank on our roof, and thus get running water.  So we started conserving – minimal showering, saving sink water to flush the toilet, etc. – and we still haven’t run out completely.

Saturday night, just about the time when everybody had finally run out of water, I walked out of theater practice and saw a huge line up of people with their buckets lined up on the curb.  Several blocks away, a huge water truck was making its way toward us.  It seemed like a good solution, so I went home unconcerned.  A little while later I went with a neighbor family to take buckets to be filled by the same truck.  What I saw when I got there was complete chaos – the hose on the back of the water truck open, with nobody designated to control it, and ten to twenty people pushing and shoving with their buckets to get filled up.  People were yelling, water was being spilled, the truck driver tried to do his best by advancing when it seemed to get too crazy and going to a spot in the line that was more orderly.  But then people would just bombard the water hose all over again, pushing and yelling to get their share. 

My 15-year-old neighbor said to me, “And these people claim to be Christians.” 

I told him, “In the moment of desperation, we forget what it means to be Christian.”  But I don’t know who’s to blame.

Suddenly, with the water hose still open, the truck driver just took off, leaving water spilling out and lots of people with empty buckets behind him.  I suppose he finally just got fed up.  I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.

Since that night, the situation seems to have calmed down a bit.  Other water trucks have been coming to fill buckets, and people have realized that there is enough to go around.  But we still wait anxiously, because when conserving water, sanitation tends to go down, everyone seems a little more stressed out, clothes don’t get washed, plants don’t get watered, etc., etc.  It’s okay, though.  Our lives aren’t being threatened, and hey, millions of people around the world live in worse conditions every day, so I can push my water conservation to the limit for a few days. 

It does make one pause and think, though.  The poverty in Chimbote is not a desperate poverty, but where there is a denial of a basic right, there is undignified living.  So we will continue to fight, so that Jesus may be dignified in every man, woman, and child in Chimbote, in Peru, and around the world.

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Two days after I wrote the original post, today, I am finally posting it, and I am happy to say that the water is back!  Yesterday´s newspaper headline on the front page was ¿Until When? with a huge photo of people waiting with their buckets.  Finally lots of pressure got them to hurry up and fix whatever was broken!

love deeply

Wow, I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve last written!  My apologies… it’s amazing how time flies.  Our community posted an entry this week on the IWM Blog.  I’m including my part at the end of this post but I encourage you to read the entire entry as well.  But first a few general updates…

Classes are starting this week at most primary and secondary schools in Chimbote.  The universities are still on vacation until April, so my schedules are slowly changing.  The summer program at LENTCH has ended and we will soon be starting the regular academic reinforcement classes three afternoons a week.  I loved helping out in the classroom during the summer program, though there were many challenging and frustrating moments.  The kids in my classroom are starting to become more comfortable with me, asking me more questions and talking more freely.  This is a double-edged sword, as I love learning more about their lives but the more I learn the more frustrated I become by the challenges they face.  When we got to Chimbote, sure, it was definitely clear that poverty exists here, but perhaps partly due to previous experiences it wasn’t something that shocked me or slapped me in the face.  With time it is becoming all too clear that economic stratification and problems of hunger, abuse, sickness, and lack of education (etc., etc.,) are very, very real.  The detail for me lies in recognizing the injustice and combating it not with anger at an abstract system, but with love, with concrete actions of love toward individuals.  Our director Clare recently shared with me a quote from a friend of hers: “We did not change the world, but we loved it deeply.”  This thought struck me in a very strong way.  It is not to say that we should not hope to change the world, because the very task set before us is to construct the reign of God.  The way to do so, though, is not to bring more hatred and bitterness into the world (even if it is directed at sinful structures) but to experience a genuine love for all that is before us in the present moment.  This love will change the world, but that’s not the point.  The point is to love. 

Those are my reflections, at least.  I could write so much more, but I want you to read my other post as well, so I’ll stop for now.  Soon I will try to write more… there is so much that I could talk about!  I am learning a lot about the fishing economy here and I want to share some of what I’ve learned, but I’ll save it for a separate post.  I also want to tell you about some of my kids at LENTCH because they are truly amazing.  I want to tell you about Kelli’s birthday party, I want to tell you about the continual joys and challenges in the parish, I want to tell you about teaching English, I want to tell you about hiking Cerro de la Paz with the Sisters, I want to tell you about the beach, I want to tell you about my living community, I want to tell you about the mimed played we are working on in theater… is there any need to go on?  If you are particularly intrigued by something, please let me know, or if you have any questions or comments or wishes or stories of your own to share, please share! 

I wish you all the joy of the present moment!  With no further ado, please read on…

“Because food is always better when shared”

I never know if I should laugh, be disgusted, or feel accomplished when my economic lessons find their way into my everyday thought processes.  It happens often, not surprising considering the extent to which our community revolves around the exchange of goods.  Three mornings a week I head off walking to Casa LENTCH, an academic and social support program for children who work in the streets of Chimbote.   I have come to enjoy my 20-minute walk as a time to mentally prepare for the chaos of the classroom and soak up the sights, smells, and sounds of the neighborhood. 

One morning a couple blocks before arriving, I encountered two of our boys, brothers, about 13 and 7, buying food at the corner store.  They each bought a small package of crackers and an Inca Kola.  I waited but walked a bit ahead of them, as they walked slowly, probably wanting to finish their breakfast before arriving.  The older of the two opened his crackers and offered me one.  I immediately thought, I can’t eat his breakfast, especially not knowing when he had last eaten.  Still, I smiled, thanked him, accepted the cracker, and took this small act as an opportunity to enter into conversation.  “We came from San Luis,” he said.  I had visited San Luis, a neighborhood on the south side of Nuevo Chimbote, at least a 45-minute trip.  “There probably won’t be many kids here today,” he continued.  “It’s Valentine’s Day-- they’ll all be downtown.”  I hadn’t thought of that, but of course, with so many people out shopping for gifts, they would want to take advantage of the increased business.  I mulled with that as I thought, ah, but you are still here because your utility curves provide that the benefit of studying and eating at LENTCH outweighs the opportunity cost of the money you could be making downtown.  We approached the open gate.  “How good that you are here, though,” I told him, and he nodded.  We entered and casually parted ways. 

As I walked toward my classroom I took note of which students were present, wondering how they decided upon the best way to spend the day, a classic example employed by economics teachers when teaching opportunity cost.  Should a seven-year-old boy spend his summer day doing cartwheels at stoplights for money or learning how to add and playing soccer?  Applied economics in action, but I’m not sure if I should feel accomplished, be disgusted, or cry.

Read the full blog here: http://www.iwmissions.blogspot.com/

A group photo from LENTCH.. can you find me?