A Different Way of Thinking, revised.

 

Now that I’m able to get around town more easily and I understand the language better, and now that it doesn’t take me three and a half days to do my laundry, I have had the chance to learn a lot more about the situation here in Chimbote and Cambio Puente.

I have been able to pick up on things other than language during my time here, too. For instance, now I know the difference between the smell of a cooking fire made from wood and one made from dried corn cobs.

Useful? Maybe not.

Interesting? I guess.

But I have learned, other more valuable lessons since being immersed here for about a month (I can’t believe it’s already October).

The novelty of being in a new place has worn off a bit and now I'm able to work on having a little more critical and objective perspective.

Whereas I used to think that everybody was poor in Cambio Puente, that it was just something that existed across the board, I’ve come to realize that it’s all relative:
 For instance, you can tell a lot about a family's situation just by taking a good look at their house:

Having brick walls is a big deal.

Having brick walls made from concrete instead of mud is an even bigger deal.

Cement floors? You’re on your way up.

Pictures of your children graduating from school on your walls might as well be expensive paintings.

Selling groceries out of your home is an indicator that you are more than likely middle class.

Selling products out of a location that is separate from your home and you’re most likely in the upper-middle class.

You know you’ve hit it big if you’re moving to a home in Chimbote.

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Also, just because some women here had never heard of the idea of proteins, carbohydrates and food pyramids doesn’t mean they didn’t know anything about nutrition. They don’t need to know how to read a nutrition label to understand that if their child’s diet consists of cookies, rice and potatoes, they aren’t going to be healthy. 
The problem lies in what we choose to do with the information—just like in the U.S. we know that McDonald’s is bad in excess, yet we still have people who eat their daily.

Is it an economic problem? Of course it is.

Is it unfair that a mystery meat and French fry combo costs less than grilled chicken breast and spinach? Definitely.

This is why programs like Sembrando Infancia are so important. S.I. gives parents the extra information they need to be able to make the best decisions for their families while also empowering them to be accountable for their health. 

The responsibility is placed squarely on the parents—because we all know that if it were up to the kids they´d be fine eating mini-marshmallows and fistfuls of dirt for the rest of their lives—and if there is one attitude that I’ve noticed is the most prevalent here, it’s that parents really do want the best for their children.

—and it seems that some parents just need to hear somebody tell them: "At the end of the day, you are in charge of your child´s health. What are you doing about it?" for the message to really sink in.

 

Another thing I´ve learned is that there is a clear definition between the people we are working with and the people we are working  for. 

We are working with people like Monica. She saw a little boy being neglected, decided that it was wrong, and chose to do something about it. And there are many more just like her in this community, Peruvian men and women who recognize that things should be, and can be better. They are educating themselves and their families, they are going to seminars, forums, protests. They are taking a stand, which is really motivating for me to see because, after my two years are up here, it is going to be people like Monica who´ll have to take charge of the development of their own communities. 

Then there are the people we are working  for.  People like Jesus´ grandpa. 
I´ve been thinking a lot about him lately and time has changed my perspective of him as well. He doesn´t understand what cerebral palsy is. He doesn´t understand why or how it is that his daughter had a son who will be a burden on his family for the rest of his life. I´m not making excuses for him, I´m only trying to understand where he´s coming from. Maybe the way he sees it, just like with the animals he´s worked with all his life, all Jesus needs is some tough love and strict correction. It's no wonder then that he scratches his head in confusion when the giant Caucasian comes to his house to bend and unbend his grandson´s knee—the same knee that bends and unbends quite enough when he drags him to the tienda down the street.

The other day I was trying to help Jesus walk in a straight line during his exercise routine. I held him up by his arms and we walked in front of his house where his grandpa sat watching us through narrowed eyes.

Jesus tripped and fell suddenly. 
I felt really embarrassed that I'd let that happen and I quickly helped him up, dusted him off and looked up sheepishly at his grandpa.

He just stared, unconcerned.

We tried again. Before his third step he fell to the ground.

"Maybe if I hold him better, tighter."

We tried it again, he wiggled out of my grip as if he wanted to do it on his own.

¨Si se puedes, Jesus.¨ I said and let him try.

He immediately fell to the ground.

Then I saw it. 
A mischievous grin.

He was playing what I now call ¨The Falling Game.¨ I sat him down and he laughed as I shook off my frustration. I checked to see what grandpa thought of all this. He cocked his head as if to say, ¨Ah-ha, not so easy, huh.¨

That experience really allowed me to reevaluate my opinion of him. I know that he loves Jesus, and probably Jesus-Jesus too. I know that he probably cares about his family a lot. It is apparent that my presence bothered him at first, but now he seems more curious than aggravated. It will probably take some time, and he may never change, but I´m here for him just as much as I´m here for Jesus—and for me, that simple shift in thinking has made all the difference.

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