Homecoming

So, I am officially back home again. I've been here for a while now (I got back on May 1st), but there have just been a lot of things to process and do and see after getting home.

Some initial reactions after coming home were:

- Norway is FREEZING cold!! Sometimes I feel a little lost here, like I really belong in the jungle, which makes me wish I could just snap my fingers three times and be back there...

- I own way too many clothes.

- I never knew how much I loved Norwegian bread until I tasted it again! I'm back to eating bread 2-3 times again, and it's sooooo good!

- I love my family!! I didn't realize how much I had missed them until I saw them.

- There are waaay more ecological/organic and fairprade products in the stores now than before. I guess some things have changed for the better while I was gone.

- Arriving at my house felt like arriving at a castle -- I haven't been in a house that nice in seven months. It felt really comfortable and familiar to be home again .Yet, at the same time, I was kind of confused and saddened by also feeling like my home is really decadent and excessive.

For the last six months, I've been living in a one-room apartment with just a few pieces of clothing to my name. There, I learned that life without too many things or clothes or electronics is actually a good life. Maybe a better life. There's such liberation in living simply, and though our apartment was still nicer than the houses of most of our friends, I still learned so much from living more simply.

Now that I'm home, though, I'm scared by how quickly the western lifestyle is starting to seem "normal" again. How quickly I fall into old habits; how quickly I start taking my blessings for granted. So if there's one thing I've been left with since I came back, it's a feeling of urgency. A feeling of needing to identify the ways in which I've changed, so I can make a concious decision to maintain those changes. I wish I could tell you what that means, but I'm not really able to articulate it yet. All I know is that it has to do with generosity, simplicity, and faitfulness.

If we're not mindful of how we want to live, the culture around us will dictate our lives. So in fear of falling into a rushed, comercialized, self-centered, and isolated lifestyle, I'm trying to make intentional choices about how I want to live. I'm failing already, but I'm counting on God and the people closest to me to help me up when I'm falling...

Ancient mysteries in the Andes mountains

After we left Iquitos, Elin and I met up with Vegard (another Act Now student from Norway) to spend a few days in Cusco. Cusco was once the capital for the great Inca empire, which ruled throughout the Andes mountains for about a century before the Spanish colonizers came. Needless to say, the city is full of interesting history and monuments. But the best part is that it's really close to Macchu Picchu, the mysterious ancient Inca ruins, which was really our main destination.

I have to admit, I was a little afraid that because of the excess of tourists, the whole thing would feel a little comercialized and disappointing. Thankfully, though, we were able to find a much cheaper and MUCH more exciting route to get to Macchu Picchu. (If you're planning on a trip to Macchu Picchu, ask me, and I'll tell you how to spend $25 instead of $130 to get there). A friend had told us about the route, but we weren't actually sure if it was feasable. But it turned out to be great!

Instead of taking the tourist train from Cusco to Aguas Calientes (a small town at the foot of the mountains surrounding Macchu Picchu), we spent the day driving through the rugged mountains, passing through small towns, and looking out over coca leaf and banana plantations. Late in the afternoon, we ended up at a train station, and from here we walked along the railways, that we hoped would lead us to Aguas Calientes. Along the way, we met a friendly traveler from New Zealand, Olivia (with scary resemblance to Olivia Newton John), who joined us for the rest of the trip. We were told that the walk would take anywhere from 1 to 3 hours (depending on who we asked), but we got to be a little nervous when we had walked for about 2 hours and it started getting dark. But just then, we saw light radiate from around the bend, and not long after we were in Aguas Calientes.

Walking along the rails to Aguas Calientes

After just a few hours of sleep, we got up at 4 in the morining to start the hike up to Macchu Picchu. The sky was clear and covered in stars, and I almost fell to the ground as I made out the shadows of the overpowering and majestic mountains rising up on all sides of us. I felt so tiny in the face of all this mystery and beauty, and if the trip would have ended right there, it would have been worth it. But we kept walking and after a steep climb for a little over an hour, we made it to Macchu Picchu! Along with some other hikers, we got there before the first buses came up, so we had the privilege of enjoying the sight of the ruins before it was overcrowded by people. SO tired, and SO excited to have made it to the top!

It was INCREDIBLE. So quiet and mysterious (there are several competing theories as to what Macchu Picchu was built for, though most likely it was a religious ceremonial center), and just amazingly beautiful. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

A llama (or alpacca...? I still can't tell the difference) at the ruins. Pretty sure they are brought up here just for cheesy photo ops, but it works, doesn't it? All four gathered at the top. (And all four dissappointed when we saw that the other tourist that took our photo had cut our legs off. Big photo no-no!)


The big mountain right behind the ruins is Wayna Picchu, which also made for a good climb. Here looking down on the ruins from another perspective.

Such a beautiful place.
Elin and I celebrating our arranged marrige, which turned out incredibly well. It'll be so strange not to be around each other next year, after having lived together, studied together, and worked together every single day for the last seven months.

In awe...

Saying goodbye

Oh my goodness, time flyes by way too fast... After six months in Iquitos, the time inevitably arrived for Elin and I to say goodbye. Goodbye to the kids in Belen, our friends at La Restinga, and Iquitos.
I don't really have words to describe the process of leaving. All I can say is that despite of the sadness of leaving people I have come to love, I also left with a good feeling of having no regrets, just lots of learning lessons and good memories.
For lack of more words, I will simply put up some pictures and a video of the goodbyes.

Me and my little heartbreakers...

...and Elin with hers.

Few things makes me feel more loved than having a child wrapped around my neck, in this case Carolay (8).

Siara enjoying her cake at the goodbye party.

The Belen team gathered for the last time.

Goodbye party at La Restinga with 50-some friends.

Our boys! Willy, Jose Andres, and Jose followed us to the airport early Sunday morning.

I took a little video as we were leaving the goodbye party. The quality isn't the greatest, but it's something. The House with the blue door is where we work with the kids, and the balcony also serves as a diving board since the kids usually throw themselves into the river (which fills the streets during the rainy season). On the other side, you'll see Niro (8) scream my name (I went by my second name Kristine in Iquitos), and lastly my little heartbreaker Glidian (10).

Good news to the poor

Been visiting lots of affluent churches recently, and it got me thinking.. The new testament is often referred to as the "good news." Yet, in many affluent church communities, religion seems to be more of a tool for maintaining power and control than a radical new Way of service and humility. Is it really good news if it's only good news to those who already have everything they need, and not to the poor?
I like what Gustavo Gutirrez, Peruvian theologan and priest, active during the liberation theology movement has to say:

But the poor person does not exist as an inescapable fact of destiny. His or her existence is not politically neutral, and it is not ethically innocent. The poor are a by-product of the system in which we live and for which we are responsible. They are marginalized by our social and cultural world. They are the oppressed, exploited proletariat, robbed of the fruit of their labor and despoiled of their humanity. Hence the poverty of the poor is not a call to generous relief action, but a demand that we go and build a different social order.

Before hitting us, try talking to us!

That was the message the group of adolescents we work with wanted to communicate to their parents and to their community in general during an art exhibition they put on a few weeks ago. Using only recycled materials, they constructed an interactive exhibition based on the three main themes of the group: environmental protection, sexual and reproductive health, and violence prevention.

The teenager's messages to their parents included: "Before hitting us, try talking to us!" "When you say to your kids: 'You are an idiot and no good', that is violence!" "When you leave your children without giving them anything to eat, that is violence!"

I was especially struck by the work they did related to violence, which is a social problem deeply entrenched in the culture. Here, most everyone see violence as a completely natural response to anger, “bad” behavior, sadness, and a host of other feelings and behaviors. Moreover, the Latin-America machismo culture prescribes a strict gender-role, purporting that “real men” are physically strong, don’t cry, exercise their power over others through domination and control, and don’t show emotions. This gender-role (combined with the submissive gender role of women) creates a climate in which violence (and especially violence towards women) is accepted as a natural.

Sometimes I scare myself when I realize how desensitized even I have become to the violence during my time here. The kids I work with have shown me bruises where their parents have beaten them, teenagers have told me stories about their alcoholic dads that abuse them and their mothers, and even those I somehow thought lived in families free of violence turn out to have bruises (either emotional or physical). I wish I could say that I was equally outraged each time I heard one of these stories. But the truth is that, though each story stings, there are too many to fully let the impact of each story sink in over you. And, honestly, what disturbs me most of all is the thought of all the stories that are not being told… The silently suffering, day in and day out, year in and year out.

Let’s not forget that these stories exist close to home too. In America, 1 in 4 women will experience violence in their lifetimes. In Norway too, supposedly one of the countries in the world with the greatest gender equality, women still bear the larger burden of violence in the home. And again, there are undoubtedly countless stories that are not being told here either…

If you are interested in learning more, click on the following links:
Amnesty International's campaign Stop Violence Against Women
UNIFEM - Violence Against Women

Fight for your right....to party!

Recipe for teaching kids about children's rights:
4 weeks of previous workshops around the theme of children's rights
72 hats with the different rights written on them
Enough balloons to decorate the whole room
1 clown
1 gigantic piñata
20 liters of refresco (lemonade)
72 hyper 7 to 11 year olds

Let it all come to a boil in a two hour gathering of games and fun, and... voila!

Carmen (in pink) overwhelmed (in a good way) by the high energy level!

The rights of the children in Belén are ignored and violated on a daily basis. Abuse, lack of access to healthcare, long hours of work from a young age, discrimination based on skincolor or socioeconomic status, and lack of access to education are just some of the problems they face on a regular basis. Teaching them that they indeed have rights, and the power to claim them was therefore quite the challenge. But I think it got through to them eventually, and we ended the topic with gathering the three groups that we work with, throwing one big party!

The kids screaming, practicing their right to use their voice!

F.L.: Rosa, Damaris, Alexandra, Marcos (a canadian volunteer dressed up as a clown), and Linda.

Confession: I want to bring these girls home with me! Deborah and Linda are the cutest..

It was a beautiful sight seeing canoes full of confident, colorful, and content kids, returning home after the party.

One of the boys was picked up by his mom who normally runs a small corner store. During the rainy season, as the water rises, she packs her canoe full with all her merchandise and paddles from door to door!

Tired and happy after a long afternoon..

Where is Julia?

A few years ago I went on a mission trip to Juárez, the industrial Mexican city right across the border from El Paso, Texas. There I met Julia (see picture below), a young girl with the most beautifully curious expression on her face. Tonight her face was brought back to my memory as I saw the film Bordertown, based on the real story of the countless raped and murdered women of Juárez. Though conservative numbers affairm the deaths of 600 women, some estimate that up to 5000 women have been brutally killed, mutilated, tortured, or raped. The majority of the victims are workers in the maquiladoras, the massive factories that produce cheap electronics with the help of minimally paid Mexican labourers. Neither the factories, nor the companies buying their products have taken responsibility for the safety of their workers in this lawless town. Click on the picture of the movie to see a trailer, or click HERE to read more about the female homocides in Juárez.

Recalling the face of Julia and other memories from Juárez, I remembered that one of the momements that made the biggest impression on me during that trip was a visit with a catholic priest and a nun who had been living and working together in Latin America all of their lives. Reflecting the horrifying truths portrayed in the film, they told us about the frequent kidnapping, raping, and murdering of women, sometimes even during bright daylight. The nun told us that not long ago, she had been walking down the street in the afternoon, when a young girl came up from behind her, grabbed her arm, and said: "Walk with me, I'm being followed". In their neighborhood there was frequent instances of violence, and though they didn't emphasize it themselves it was clear that they were and had been putting their lives at risk protecting those most vulnerable.

Take a look at Julia's face again. She must be around 15 years old right now. Where is she? Maybe she too is working long hours for little pay in one the maquiladoras supplying Americans with cheap electronics. Maybe she too is putting her life at risk as she returns home late at night without protection. I pray she will not be another one of the women whose disappearance or death will silently be swept under the rug.

As long as we consumers care more about the bottom line than the conditions of the workers who have produced the products we buy, the owners of the maquliadoras will continue to neglect the safety of their workers. We have the power to change that.
Of course, the factories alone are not to blame for this violence. This article from June 2008 highlights the connections between the warlords of the cocain industry and the ongoing merciless violence in Juárez. Yet, by placing international pressure on the factories neglecting to provide for the safety of their workers, the local government, the factories and those who demand their products, as well as the perpetrators will be forced to confront this brutal reality.

Though there are many ways to confront this issue, one of the first steps can be using our consumer power to choose to be part of the solution. One suggestion is taking a few minutes to look at the Ethical Consumer website, a UK based organization with lots of great guidance for those of us on the path to becoming more informed consumers.
From there, the rest is up to you. Think critically. Shop wisely.

The Lice Lesson

So I was visiting a family in Belen the other day, talking with the parents to get the information neccessary to register one of their daughters (and a participant in our workshop) in the national registary. As of this moment, she does not have a birthcertificate, and thus in the eyes of the government, she does not exist. It's a little scary to see how many of these kids do not have birtcertificates, and almost equally disturbing how many parents have no idea when their children (or themselves) were born!

Anyway, as we were making one of these visits, one of my girls from the workshop started playing with my hair. I was just enjoying the feeleing, when suddenly I started noticing that she was pulling something out of my hair and then eating it! What IS that? I asked her. She just smiled, pulled out a small little insect (also known as lice), and put it in her mouth.

That day I learned two important things:
1. Children eat lice. I guess that's normal here.
2. Lice love me. This is the third time I've gotten them. (Either that, or the lice cures are not very effective.. Maybe I'll just chose to believe the latter explanation).

Carnaval!!

The originally Brazilian festival of carnaval has taken in a life of its own here in Iquitos. After about a month of water balloon fights in the streets on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, the time finally came for the big celebration two weeks ago. On Saturday, lots and lots of neighbors got together to dance, throw water at each other, and put up their humisha (a palm tree that they decorate with food, balloons, and gifts, and then place in the middle of the street). The day after, Sunday, is the biggest celebration. It basically consists of dancing, getting dirty (covering each other in mud, paint, and natural tints), and getting clean again (with water balloons and buckets of water being thrown over you ever other minute or so). It is definitely one of the best parties I have been to in my life -- children and adults all playing together, everyone dancing, and everybody (and especially adults) getting to act like children. Here's some photos from the two days.

Elin and I, and our friend Carmen, covered in mud.

A radio station was hosting a party in the street, and that is where we spent most of the day Sunday. Incredibly liberating and fun having mud/water-fights with strangers, while dancing and enjoying the live music.

I was up on the stage for a little bit for a dance contest..

A girl covered in blue, ready to attack with her water-balloon.

Pretty dirty by the end of the day... From the left: Willy, Elin, Carmen, I, and Chichi.

Putting up the humisha was a beautifully chaotic sight. The palm tree was huge, so it took lots of people and ladders and screams to get it to stand upright and secured in the street.

After the humisha was up, the some of the women grabben us by the hand and got us to dance with them around the pole.

Elin attacking me color..

What will you suffer for?

Since we are in a time of lent and sacrifice, I thought this beautiful Parker Palmer quote would be appropriate to share:

I believe that the God who gave me life wants me to live life fully and well. Now, is that going to take me to places where I suffer because I am standing for something or I am committed to something or I am passionate about something that gets resisted and rejected by the society? Absolutely. But anyone who's ever suffered that way knows that it's a life-giving way to suffer — that if it's your truth, you can't not do it. And that knowledge carries you through.

What are you willing to suffer for?

How to keep 30 3-13year olds in line...

When we returned to Iquitos after Christmas vacation and infield, I was itching to get back to work, take on new responsibilities, and get some real challenges. After asking one of the leaders in if there was anything we can help with, we were told that, sure, we can plan a six week program for the youngest kids that meet every morning from 9-12. I guess you should be careful what you wish for. :)

Since the majority of the kids at La Restinga are adolescents, it didn’t seem like too difficult of a task at first. Yet when we got started, it turned out to be quite the challenge. We went from having 3-5 regular kids everyday to a high of 30 kids a few days later! Though technically only 8-13 year olds should enter the group, many of the kids aren’t allowed to leave the house unless they bring their younger siblings... leaving us with an age span from 3-13 years old! Though Elin and I know enough Spanish to survive, keeping between 15-30 kids under control is quite a cross-cultural challenge. Especially because many of them have been raised on the street, and have barely had to follow a single rule in their lives. Thankfully, a traveling Argentinan woman has been with us this last week, which has been such a God-send. Plus, we've spent part every day at a workshop at a children's center last week, and we're hoping to develop a lasting collaboration with them.

Though the challenge was a little larger than I expected, this is exactly what I wanted. I feel exhausted and inspired and I'm looking forward too see how things go the next few weeks. And if you want to send some advice on how to establish group-rules for street kids (or some prayers!) my way, it would be greatly appreciated.. :)

Food for thought

I recently listened to a Speaking of Faith program about theologian and social activist Reinhold Niebuhr. I was really struck by some of his often-quoted words, and I simply wanted to share them with you:

"Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore, we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true, or beautiful, or good, makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, could be accomplished alone; therefore, we must be saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our own standpoint; therefore, we must be saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness."

Click HERE to hear the radio program on the rediscovery of Niebuhr's reflections for yourself.

Peruvian cooking and apartment photos

During our time here, we've had a few opportunities to learn to cook different Peruvian dishes. Oil and rice are essentials to all meals, so everything that can be fried, is fried, and there's almost not a single meal that doesn't include rice (even pasta and soups are served with big portion of rice). There's always a ton of spices, and many people will use several large spoonfuls of salt, sugar, cumin, pepper, and MSG (a questionable "flavor enhancer," most popularly used in chinese restaurants) even in small batches of food.

Our good friend Carmen, see photo below, came over to our apartment the other day to teach us how to make ceviche, a Peruvian specialty made of raw fish in lime sauce, served with onion, potato, rice, yuka (a white root), fried corn (not to be confused with popcorn), and more. Peruvians usually make food from scratch, so it was about a 4 hour adventure (including the trip to the market). But it was definitely worth the wait -- so delicious!

Cutting up the fish.

Taking a bite (or at least pretending to) of the raw fish.

I've been asked to put out pictures of the apartment where Elin and I live, so here they are! It's small and nice -- a little kitchen with a cooking plate, a table and four chairs, a small fridge, a fan (the most important piece of furniture we own), a bathroom, and two beds. The apartment is really nice by Peruvian standards, and to be honest, it would have been nice to be in a bit of a simpler place, but I won't complain. It's great to have a quiet place to come home to, and a place to bring over friends, and to host English classes on nights and weekends. Plus, its only about a 15 min walk from La Restinga, so it's easy to go back and forth several times each day.

The beds and the door leading out to the hallway.

PS: Go to this website (http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/000225ceviche.php) or just google "ceviche recipe" to find out how to make it yourself!

Tamshiackuy

This sunday, Elin and I went to Tamshiackuy, a village about an hour in boat away from Iquitos, to visit our friend, Javier. Going away to these smaller times sometimes makes me think I'm on a different planet, where everything is beautiful and quiet, and the only thing that matters is the people and nature around you. Two of the highlights was spending the afternoon at Javier's friends house and hanging out with his kids, and a walk to a nearby town, where we visited a medicine plant garden.

Brian, the second oldest son in the house, staring out the window.

Brian and his little brother, Marcos.

One of the best smelling flowers I have ever encountered.

Marcos sending a shy smile to his brother.

Elin and I in the medicinal plant garden. Notice the war-paint in our faces -- this is natural tints from one of the plants, which people still use for body paint during holidays.

On our way to the village, we stopped and observed some of the community members frying crushed yuka. It doesn't have much taste, but is a popular snack, or it's cooked with milk and sugar.

Piranhas in the pool

Yesterday, after the morning-program finished at La Restinga, some of the kids asked me to come with them and play on the boulevard (the street along the river, where the people congregate to wander at night). The summer vacation program has now officially started, and there are lots of new kids, so I had such a fantastic time getting to know and running around with this group of five heartbreakesrs. As the day got hotter, we went over to the big fountain with a small pool around it, and the kids screamed of joy as they threw off their shirts and jumped in. (I don't think it's normally allowed to play in the water, but the kids said that because there's a gringa (white woman) with them, the police wouldn't say anything. They were right. Sad, but true.)

Anyway, midway through a role game of tourists and sharks, one of the boys stopped in his tracks, and, a little paler than before, he turned to me and said: "Oh no.... Here comes the piranhas." I turned and looked, and recognized them immediately. Piranhas is the common way of referring to the rougher streetkids that live off of shining shoes, getting money from tourists, and stealing (not all streetkids steel, but those who do, or a suspected of doing so, are often referred to by this name). The leader of the gang, let's call him Jose, has been coming to La Restinga off and on for a long time, but is still living on the streets. His life could be so entirely different if he could choose La Restinga over the streets, but for an adrenaline-seeking group of young boys, leaving your friends on the streets in favor of a life of safety and rules is not always an easy thing.. Jose, especially, is really rough around the edges, and as he and his friends jumped into the pool, the dynamics changed instantaneously. The "piranhas" shoved the other kids away, grabbed the ball they had been playing with, and started their own game.

Photo on the right: Imagine if the first thing people associated with you when they met you on the street was this meat-eating fish....

Observing the ways in which the kids and the "piranhas" treated each other broke my heart. Having the sub-human identity of a piranha, these streetkids are met with suspicion, fear, and sometimes disgust from other children and adults. Being met by such expectations, it is a natural progression to come to see yourself this way, to think of yourself as less than human. Also, it makes it extremely difficult for them to make new friends, or to be accepted into a protective community of kids who are not living on the streets. Hoping and praying that they will start coming to La Restinga more so that we can get to know them better and recognize and treat them as the human beings and children that they are.

Infield - Chilean and Bolivian adventures

Infield, a one-week course mid-way through the abroad stay, was a wonderful oppertunity to see the other norwegians again, share and process our experiences thus far, and have time to dream about what we would still like to contribute with and get out of the rest of our stay. Wheche, our professor from Hald (and my personal hero) flew in with the intern Tor Haakon, and from La Paz, Bolivia, we went together to Coroico, a beautiful small town three hours north of La Paz.

Since Infield was in the beginning of January, a group of us Norwegians decided to meet up and celebrate New Year's together in Arica -- a small Chilean beach town right accross the border from Peru. From there, we took an overnight bus to Puno, on lake Titicaca (at 3821meters, it is the highest navigable lake in the world). Our bodies were in a little bit of a shock, going from beachlife one day, to freezing weather and altitude sickness the next, but we took it easy and stocked up on some traditional alpacca gear to keep warm! Lots of pictures below, including our visit to the floating islands, man-made by layers upon layers of straw, and inhabited by the Uro peoples.

New Years Eve in Chile: (from the left) Guro, Thea, Elin, me, Vegard, and Kristine (Kristin was there too, but was taking the picture).

A miniature representation of life on the floating islands

An older man making handicrafts to sell on the island. Tourism has becoming one of the main sources of income for these people.

Strong colors and indigenous patterns is common.

On our way from Puno to La Paz, we had an hour stop in the small town Copacabana, also on the shores of Lake Titicaca.

From the famous cathedral of Copacabana.

Crossing the border: Thea, Kristin, Kristine, Elin, and Vegard

Busy markets

A saleswoman protecting herself from the hot mid-day sun in La Paz.

A small boy looking lost on the streets.

Two older women on the streets of La Paz.

Celebrating Elin's 23rd birthday while visiting Alalay right outside of La Paz, where Vegard ad Guro work. Marius and Svenn, who work at Alalay, Santa Cruz, had also joined us at this point.