Summer in the Southern Hemisphere

from our Missionaries serving in Chimbote, Peru

by: Marcelle Keating

Summer has returned for me like an old friend.  Vamos a la playa!  We may be in a dessert but we are also within 30 minute drive of three beautiful beaches.  Public transportation easily gets you there and back for around 10 sols.   I have to admit there is a certain satisfaction to be enjoying the fruits of summer once again in Peru while everyone else is complaining about the cold weather back home.

 There are so many things to take in here.  The sun is intense but there is always an ocean breeze so the heat index is not that high.   Sunscreen and hats are a must.   Anyone can sell anything here without a permit so there are many vendors for cool treats in every neighborhood.  For 50 centimos,  you can pick from a variety  of treats made of ice &  real fruit to cool down.

Neighborhoods come alive after night fall.  The volleyball nets come out and the people sit outside their  house to stay cool, play music and watch the games.   There usually is a sol at stake for those playing.  Double or nothing.  After 7 pm, you can hardly walk our dirt roads without passing a volleyball net or a soccer game.

 

School is out so there are lots of children playing in the street.   Spindle tops, though ancient, are still in play here with the youth.  The public swimming pool is open for those who can or want to learn to swim.   The shallow end of the pool is packed with those who want to splash.  Unfortunately,  for the most part,  the swim lanes in the middle go unoccupied.   Not too many know how.  Classes are available for the brave.

In February, children have the added delight of Carnivales.   At any given time, young or old, working or not, male or female, regardless of your age, you could become the innocent target of a random water balloon or water gun.  Just laugh it off, you will be dry soon enough.   It helps beat the heat.   Peru knows how to enjoy the summer.  

by: Emily Ruskamp

“Raspadilla?,” I asked. 

“You haven’t tried one yet?,” Lucho responded.  “They are a real Peruvian snack, eaten only in the summer.  You won’t find them anywhere else in Latin America.” 

Colver spotted a stand a couple blocks away and invited us to get one.  We arrived to find that the woman running it had left it in the hands of her 10-year-old daughter, who skillfully opened a box of shaved ice, filled a small plastic cup with it, packed it, and flipped it over into a second cup.  She then drizzled four fresh-fruit syrups on top, stuck in a small plastic spoon, handed me one, and repeated the process for the other two.  Raspadillas in hand, we strolled back toward the church, enjoying our frozen snacks and commenting on the quality of fruit syrup, definitely not found on any snow cone in the U.S.  By that time it was coming on noon, so we tossed around the idea of grabbing a pre-lunch ceviche, but as I had to cook lunch that day for my community, we decided to save it for another day.  Lucho, a budding Peruvian chef himself, walked with me to my house as we discussed the merits of various dishes from around the world.  We chatted for a few minutes in front of my door before saying goodbye until later that night when we’d be at the parish for game night in the youth center.

One of the most beautiful parts of my service as a missionary is, essentially, “wasting time.”  The morning I tried raspadillas began with a two-minute meeting with Colver at the parish to inform our pastor about the youth retreat this weekend.  I’m a little worried about the consequences upon my return to the U.S., but I’m beginning to really avoid making concrete plans in favor of diving more fully into the possibilities of the present.  Though frustrating at times, I think oftentimes more progress is made with a half-hour conversation about nothing much than in five minutes of hard planning.  At least that’s what I like it think, because in Peru the latter cannot be done without the former.  It works out, though, because nothing beats the summer sun like ice-cold raspadillas!

by: Kelli Nelson

A couple of weeks ago I started reading The Gift, a collection of poetry by the Sufi master, Hafiz.  His writing, to me, speaks much of the power of the sun to re-energize, nurture, and awaken, to dance in the song of the sun, which is at its strongest this summer season.  I’ve allowed one of his works to linger as my summer prayer.  It reads: “Write a thousand luminous secrets upon the wall of existence so that even a blind man might know where we are and join in this love.”  Now, my dream is to live the work of this pen that creates such beauty and both slowly and at times unexpectedly my companions in Chimbote are teaching me how to awaken within that dream and make it so.

This summer, with Centro Amar (a support for women in prostitution and their families) I’ve started making regular visits to a family in a neighborhood on the edge of Chimbote where houses of weaved esterra are the majority, camp-fires cook rice, and piled-up furniture serves as a lock for the front door.  A professor and I spend afternoons with the three children and a few of their friends doing academic reinforcement, a part of our Centro Amar’s prevention program, and on the occasion I get to visit with their mother, whose incredible story of survival is one of choosing (despite financial difficulties, and no steady income) to fight a life of prostitution and drug abuse.

The other day when I went to visit, the children were laughing and playing Carnival (a February tradition of water fights) in the summer sun while mom sat at the table, head in hand, eyes red and glossy.  It was noon and I had woken her up.   A headache, she told me, and the kids would be staying with her mother.  Our visit was short that day, as she didn’t really want to talk and had a hard time getting around. I left feeling like something was off, she wasn’t her usual self by any means, and I really didn’t know what to do.

Later, upon debriefing the visit with my supervisor who makes periodic visits, we sat with the idea that it may have been a drug relapse as her symptoms were similar to those she had experienced in previous encounters.  This mom and her children have been on my mind ever since, trusting that my presence in our last visit was meaningful.

Her bravery and willingness to continue trying to overcome addiction is a luminous secret that I want to share.  And, I know that if I allow it, God can be a working luminous secret within me for them like the summer sun is for all of us. 

This is my prayer for Summer in the Southern Hemisphere.