A letter from Alexandra Buck in Peru
July 9, 2009
Dear Friends,
Settling into the unsettled
June has been a month worth talking about. Time flew by in a blur of intense experiences, leaving me reeling and gasping for air. I’ve spent the past two days in bed with a fever and headache, my body’s way of telling me to slow down. As I’ve slept, my fever dreams have demonstrated my confusions: my blankets turned into protest symbols, sweat mixed with tears, moonlight faded to morning light and I awoke to a friend’s concerned touch and a mug of hot tea with special Andean remedies. The fever broke, allowing me to shed layers of defenses and orient myself within my familiar surroundings. There was never any reason to be scared, but sometimes reality has too many interpretations to allow us to discern where we stand.
With Berta, an artisan of the group Mana at the newly inaugurated “Bioferia” or “Ecofair” in Surco, Lima.
On the first weekend of June, I found myself standing in a circle at the inauguration of the EcoFair, a local produce/organic market. Our artisans had a table next to tables with local vegetables, dairy products and natural health foods. A friend pulled me to the front row of the circle to receive my quintu, five coca leaves within a rose petal. We petitioned to the four directions and to the Creator, giving thanks for the beautiful earth and our ability to enjoy it. Then, making an offering and a request, we placed the quintu in the fire as the shaman swept our messages upwards and to the four directions with a condor feather. I felt conflicted: an intense connection with the ceremony and a self-imposed distance due to my status as a foreigner. I told my friend. “Are you human?” he asked me. “If so, this is a part of you.” He was perfectly right, and this sense of invitation and belonging has been present since my arrival in Peru.
Artisans and family members of the group El Mercurio in Huancavelica work together to reach higher goals.
The next day I was in the Andean town of Huancavelica, celebrating a day in the countryside with the artisan group El Mercurio. This group of 30 women had invited us to spend the day playing games and having a picnic beside the river with their families. Around 10 husbands came, too, an incredible triumph given the history of machismo, abuse and violence, especially against women who choose to work outside the home. I shared a manta picnic blanket with Norma and her family, who offered me potato after potato, even after seeing my plate loaded with potatoes, alpaca, chicken and salad. We ate until we felt sick, then went to the river to wash our plates. Norma washed her hair in the river as well, and I poured the freezing cold water over her hair to wash out the soap. “Don’t be scared,” she told me, as I let the water flow delicately, “I’ve lived at this altitude my whole life, I don’t get cold anymore!” The women splashed me with water and we shrieked joyfully as we chased each other with bowls filled with the icy river water.
That night at dinner, every TV and radio was fixed on the news in the Amazon. Pictures of violence filled the screens and I couldn’t finish my meal. My Peruvian colleagues talked in murmurs about the horrendous images, commenting on the politicians’ statements. We headed outside to see the luminous full moon, a sign of peace in the black mountain sky.
Back in Lima a few days later, I finally had Internet access. I poured through the news and mountains of emails from Peruvian and U.S. colleagues regarding the massacre in Bagua. I had to take frequent breaks, as my body filled with the screams of injustice. After writing a number of briefs through various networks, I headed to an ecumenical vigil in my neighborhood. In the company of my Peruvian friends, I felt calmer. We heard testimonies from Bagua community members studying in Lima, religious representatives on the ground in Bagua and many concerned neighbors. We lit candles in hope. We sang: “I sing to God, my Creator God; For life, our life, which today wants to live.” We danced together to praise life. We blessed each other’s heads, arms, heart and hands. We prayed to earth, air, water. I left walking side by side with my dear Peruvian friend, our hearts a little more at peace, under the light of the glorious moon on a rare clear night in Lima.
With my colleagues Conrado and Jorge of Joining Hands in the June 11 march in Lima. The banner behind us reads: “Christians with the Amazon people. Without justice there is no peace.”
The next day, I accompanied my colleagues from the Joining Hands Network and the Latin American Bible University in a public rally against the violence. It was the most public demonstration of our solidarity as colleagues, and my body tingled with excitement. Every group of marchers had their own messages; ours were, “God loves justice, that’s why I am marching,” “Brother and Sister Police, we cry for your dead,” “The jungle is not for sale, the jungle will be defended” and “The voice of the people is the voice of God.” Nearing the end of the march, the crowd stopped. As we looked forward, we saw smoke in the air. Everyone took off running. My colleagues grabbed my arm and we huddled in the corner as tear gas bombs fell onto the crowd. We fled with eyes stinging and made it safely back to our office. I was, and am, infuriated that the government reacted with violent force against the marchers. This week the government finally repealed the laws that caused the indigenous reactions and has agreed to open dialogue about implementation of the U.S.-Peru Free Trade Agreement with the indigenous communities. We watch intently, with hope.
Driving home from the EcoFair the next weekend with friends, they played a CD that had songs with traditional Andean instruments. The story of the song is the condor and the eagle. The legend tells of the indigenous people in South America, represented by the condor, and of North America, represented by the eagle. We are broken and scattered, but one day, we will reunite, come together and take the Spirit into our own hands, and peace will reign again. I’ve seen so many of these North-South interactions, but often the birds fight, tumbling through the air with feathers flying and blood dripping. I hope to be part of a peaceful flight.
Last night, I stood in a circle with all my fellow PC(USA) mission co-workers in Peru, our colleagues from the Joining Hands Peru Network and friends from the PC(USA)-supported Latin American Biblical University. And I realized that in this circle of support, love, faith and community, I have found my church sanctuary. As I experience these intense moments, these people are by my side to witness and accompany me in my transformation as we work together to transform the world. The words of a new song I’ve learned remind me of one of the laws of nature that speaks so theologically true: “Each on gives that which one receives, and then receives that which was given, nothing is simpler, there’s no other law: nothing is lost, everything is transformed” (Jorge Drexler).
May God continue to transform us and through us, the world.
Alexandra
