Peru Part II – Chess and Carne

LLI’s program consists of teaching the children of Huaycan in various ’zones’, sort of mini-suburbs.  Some of these zones are really very poor, consisting of basic tin and brick shacks high up in the dusty hills along dirt paths that are inaccessible to most transportation.  The volunteers teach basic English, French, math, sport, art, dance and chess, as well as some adult computer classes to the local women.

I got given my teaching schedule on my first day, expecting to be largely chess-focussed, naturally.  However, with only a limited number of volunteers (and very few males), the needs of the program have dictated that I’m branching out quite a bit more than expected.  In fact, my main role here seems to be as “Profesor de deportes” (sports teacher), which takes up about half my time.  The other half is as the math teacher, the chess teacher (though there are fewer chess classes than I imagined), English teacher and, somewhat surprisingly, assistant to a women’s art class.  The sports classes are really fun, and I have no difficulties at all switching into the mindset of a ten year old boy chasing a ball (in fact, some would argue a switch is not even necessary).  Tunnel Ball, Dodge Ball, Freeze Tag, Red Rover and all those great games we Aussies played in primary school are all re-entering my life with enthusiasm, and I can’t say I’m at all disappointed to be playing these, soccer and volleyball two hours a day in the sun.

 

On the other hand, the chess program, I gather, seems to have faded a little in recent months, largely due to an absence of anyone chess-centric to take up the reins.  With such a small number of volunteers, this is probably to be expected.  Fortunately, part of the reason I chose this small, grass-roots organisation is because it offers the chance for volunteers to take the initiative and help shape and develop the programs, so hopefully I can help the chess stream blossom during my stay.  Already, we’re attempting to get the children of different zones together in a few weeks for the first inter-zonal tournament, and I’m also hopeful to take on a few private students from the talent pool I’ve scouted so far.

The biggest frustration for me continues to be my lack of Spanish.  I am by far the weakest at the language in the house, most of the volunteers being fluent or close enough.  Fortunately, I usually have other volunteers with me at most of the classes, Chris being incredibly useful during the chess lessons, and the girls patiently translating everything for me when I attempt to explain the games to the children during sports.  Still, it’s annoying to know that a lot of the really positive potential I have to pass on chess information and instruction to the kids is going to waste, at least at this stage.  Without any formal Spanish lessons, it’s proving difficult to get any further than a basic jumble of mispronounced nouns and poorly conjugated verbs in every sentence of Spanglish.

Still, the kids themselves are fantastic.  One thing that is vibrantly clear on a daily basis is how happy the local children are, despite their difficult conditions and circumstances.  A spinning top, a pencil or a flat soccer ball each seem to give kids here far more enjoyment than I’ve ever seen on the face of an Aussie kid with a Playstation.  The local adults, too, are very friendly and, like in Africa, incredibly hospitable.  I don’t know in this case how much is cultural, how much is intrigue about ‘Gringos’, or how much is just pity for my terrible Spanish – but I’ve felt very welcome in our neighbourhood.

In fact, the highlight to date has been an excursion to a birthday party for one of the eight year old girls in our classes.  It was a strange sight to see: twenty Peruvian kids between the ages of five and twelve, and six of us tall, pale Gringos, all packed into a tiny concrete room the size of my old bedroom.  There was an incredibly hyperactive clown as MC who wowed the crowds with jokes and jabs that, with the exception of the odd “Yus-tin Bee-ber!” reference, meant very little to me.  The cutest moment was when he asked the birthday girl who her best male and female friends were – and she chose Chris and Lauren (another volunteer, from North Carolina).  The clown was slightly taken aback but quickly recovered, and in fact then included us oldies in the mix as he initiated a boys-versus-girls dance-off.  Apparently on the dance floor, to quote Kat, a tall, alternative, means-business voluntaria from New Mexico, I ‘represented’.

 

Biggest unexpected plus: The internet.  For a region where water and electricity are not givens by any means, having fast and regular wifi is an amazing win.  And given that we can’t really go out at night, the net is a boredom saviour.  Unfortunately, my external hard drive (complete with over a hundred movies Tritty gave me) broke last night.  Fortunately, I always have internet chess to satisfy my cravings.

A close second:  Getting to play children’s games for hours every day.  I am, at heart, an eight year old boy – only with less hair.

Biggest unexpected minus: The lack of ‘carne’.  Given how relatively expensive meat is, and that we are eating only local Peruvian food, I should have seen this coming.  And we do eat well, and healthily.  Still, a vegetarian diet is not what my skinny body was prepared for, particularly after my two-steaks-a-day Argentinean experience.  It’s not like we want for quantity or nutrition, but as fate would have it, the primary staple – yams, a kind of sweet potato – is my most disliked vegetable.  Some of the house members (including Chris) are vegetarian (though it seems not entirely dedicated), but fortunately Valentin, who once aspired to be a professional rugby player, shares my meat craving, and we have begun an investigation of the local cuisine.  Some of you know of my last experience eating food from street vendors in a developing country – recall New Delhi, curried lambs’ bains, and weight loss of ten kilos in seven days – so I’m a little conflicted at present.  We’ll see.