Fischers in Peru

Church Anniversary in Cauca

01 Oct 2024

I know we're in for a good weekend of travelling when René or Roberto mention a place that can't be found on the map.  So it was with Cauca last weekend (27-29 September, 2024).  The church there was having its anniversary, and believers from as far away as the Colca Canyon (over 50km away) came in for the celebrations.  On the Saturday alone they had 6 church meetings/ services (early bird service, below), and 3 on the Sunday, ranging from 1.5 hours to well over 3 hrs in length.

That sort of thing is probably going to mystify most of us, but these people have relatives and dear friends everywhere, and it's a great way for people to catch up, news to be shared, and fellowship to be enjoyed.  A couple of alpacas were slaughtered in preparation, lots of chuños (the dried black potatos in the green tub below) were soaked and boiled up, and cups of hot maté (herbal tea) served with every meal.

The mill stone and grinders (below) caught my eye.  Might not be as flashy as your blender, but certainly more reliable and have been around for eons.

During the night everyone crammed into a couple of adobe buildings to sleep (below).  Mums, dads, kids, bubs, the elderly, the teenagers, and a couple of orphaned lambs for good measure -- with everyone squeezed in it probably didn't get too close to zero deg. C.  At 2:00am it was very touch-and-go getting out of the building for a pit stop, but thankfully I didn't tread on anyone.  Next time I'm going to grab a spot next to the door...

Outside it was a different matter.  Technically it is spring here, but the ice on the Hilux in the morning was certainly the thickest I've ever seen on a vehicle.   The engine cranked slowly (batteries in sub-zero lose a lot of their power) but fired up anyway.  This was not the case for one guy's Chinese bus (approx. 12 seater, diesel).  We tried jump-starting it from the Hilux, but it wouldn't get going.  Then he suggested I tow him behind the Hilux.  I suggested we wait for the day (and his battery) to warm up a bit, but he wanted to get going and he assured me it would start.  Still with my doubts, we hooked up the tow rope and set off down the track, with my friend periodically dropping the clutch.

What a circus it was!  Huge clouds of white vapour (unburned diesel) occasionally belched out of the bus's exhaust pipe, but still no go.  Finally, after turning around and heading back to the settlement, the motor fired just before we came to a stop.  He was stoked with the outcome, but then he wasn't the one with a bent rear bar courtesy of the exercise.  Anyway I managed to straighten that out, more or less.  Next time we're definitely going to let the Andean morning sun do its thing.

At the small lagoon over from the church, geese and other water birds were getting into the spring swing of things:

Others were getting ready for the day as well:

Above: a herd of alpacas waiting to get out to the pasture.

Below: queuing up for desayuno (breakfast).  "Bienvenidos" above the church door means 'welcome'.  They certainly know how to do that here!

Sunday after lunch we took the dirt track out of Cauca (below) and headed back to Arequipa.  This is some of the highest altitude I've yet stayed in, at about 4700m.  Certainly gives the term 'breathtaking' new meaning...

Supporting the churches of Lojen and Salinas Moche

17 Sep 2024

Up near the shores of Laguna Salinas is a tiny village called Lojen.  The IEP (Iglesia Evangelica Peruana) church there isn't really established, and Roberto (Arequipa IEP presbytery elder) was itching to visit the small fellowship with their new building (less than a year old, and still largely unfinished).  Could I take him up there one weekend so that we could encourage the church?  No worries at all Roberto, Mike is always ready to give the Hilux another flogging and get to know more of the Quechua believers in the boondocks ;-)

Saturday afternoon saw us take off on the 2-hour trip to the high altitude salt lake, which is also about 2 kilometres higher in altitude than Arequipa.  The carretera (road) up the mountain side isn't sealed, and there are drifts of pulverised dust about 1 foot deep with lots of loose rocks mixed in.  On these trochas (tracks) the Hilux gearbox gets shoved into 4WD 'high range' to minimise the risk of understeer in the bends.

We pulled in to Salinas Moche in the late afternoon where there is some mobile coverage available , and Roberto began tracking down different church folk to see if a church service could be organised in Lojen with the support of some of the Moche crew.  One of the IEP brothers finally got back from rounding up his herd of alpacas and llamas for the night, and he helped us set up our sleeping quarters in the church hall.  By then word had got around that Pastor Roberto was in town, and the services were organised for Sunday morning: 9:00am in Lojen, and 11:00am in Salinas Moche.  Sorted!

Above: people rocking up for the service at Lojen.

Sunday morning at about 7:00am we headed off for Lojen, an easy 20 minute around the laguna from Moche.  First port of call was the granja (farm) of Faustino and his family, who provided us with a great breakfast of fried aplaca meat, rice and onions.  Then down to the church building where people were gathering.  We all sang (Spanish and Quechua numbers), Roberto preached, I brought greetings from the Australian churches, and a great time was had by all.

Above: Faustino's kids with a couple of their puppies.

Below: the alpaca/ llama herd itching to get out of the corral and start grazing.

There is one song I've often heard sung in these church services out in the high country, and I think the fact that it's a bit of a favourite reveals a lot about both the struggles and the faith of these Quechua believers:

     Agradecimiento / Gratitude

     Gracias Padre, gracias Padre / Thank you Father, thank you Father
     En el nombre de Jesucristo. / In the name of Jesus Christ.
     En las luchas, en las pruebas, / In the struggles, in the trials,
     La iglesia sigue caminando. / The church keeps on walking.

     Tú eres bueno, misericordioso, / You are good, merciful,
     Tú eres santo, todopoderoso. / You are holy, all-powerful.
     Tú eres justo y nunca has mentido, / You are just and you have never lied,
     Es por eso que en ti yo confío. / That is why I trust in you.

Below: after-service snap.  Holding Bibles aloft for a photo is the done thing.

From Lojen it was back to Moche and the Sunday service there, then lunch in a small but popular local restaurant.  On the menu for the afternoon was soup with alpaca jawbone and chuños (the black potatos that are freeze-dried during the cold winters).  I quietly gifted my chuños to Roberto who is always as happy to receive them as I am happy to get rid of them.  I just can't handle the flavour or the strange texture, but if it's been a staple food for your whole life then of course it's a different matter!

Above: some of the Salinas Moche congregation.

On the way back down to Arequipa we took in the view from an old mirador (lookout) across Laguna Salinas.  What a great weekend!

Above: Remants of the Inca (or pre-Inca? who knows) lookout.

Below: Roberto, probably dreaming about sprouting condor's wings.

Visit to Matazo

14 Sep 2024

The weekend of 23-24 August saw myself and René travel roughly north-east out of Arequipa for about 6 hours.  This got us about halfway between Arequipa and Lake Titicaca, to the village of Matazo.

Below:  The main street of Matazo, with locals hanging around the general store.  One of the things different about this area is that the ladies wear hats festooned with plastic flowers!

Being August, it was c-o-l-d.  Normally we don't travel in the high country during winter because it just gets too difficult.  But René was up for it and I try to go on as many trips as I can, to meet more of the Christians and pastors of the churches in these areas.

Below:  On the road to Matazo.

Above:  René trying to get phone reception at Santa Lucia, about 1/2 way to Matazo.

We left Arequipa at about 4:00am, and after a couple of hours driving we made it up onto the altiplano behind Picchu Picchu, a range of peaks to the east of the city.  By the time we got to Salinas Huito, I couldn't wash the windscreen because the water in the tubes was frozen.  Getting to Matazo, I tried to throw the dregs out of my coffee cup, but they were frozen too.  Next morning, I went to get an apple out of the car so that I wouldn't take my meds on a empty stomach, but it was frozen solid too.  While filling my water bottle on the tailgate of the Hilux, I spilled a bit and it froze before my eyes!

My Quechua friends were amused at my surprise to all of this.  I mean, I've never travelled conditions this cold, and it never really crossed my mind that an apple could freeze solid during the night.  No wonder they don't store much fruit or vegetables in sheds or whatnot; it would just freeze and then be useless when thawed out.  Only dry goods and their beloved chuños (freeze dried potatos) make the grade.

Anyway, freezing cold aside, the purpose of the trip was to run a taller (workshop) in Matazo on the Friday afternoon.  First session was led by René, taking the participants through John 3:16 and how one could prepare a talk/ sermon/ study/ Sunday School lesson from it.  Then it was my turn to take the group through Jesus' conversation with the 'Rich Young Man' in Luke 18:18-30.  Why does Jesus only quote 5 out of the 6 commandments from Exodus 20 re. our relationships with others?  Does he have a strategy behind not mentioning the commandment re. coveting/ greed?  By comparing a rich man entering the Kingdom to a camel passing through the eye of a needle, is Jesus teaching that rich people can't be saved?  Why then does he cryptically say that what is impossible with men is possible with God?  And what in the context can help us understand what Jesus is teaching?

Below:  René busting his moves in the workshop.  Notice the women seated to the left, the men to the right.  I came across the same practice in Pakistan back in the 90's.  It's not strictly adhered to here in the campo, but it's what usually happens.

Well, it turns out that Jesus' encouter with Zacchaeus (a filthy rich fella if ever there was) in the very next chapter shows us exactly how God does the impossible: we get to see a camel pass through the eye of a needle, as it were!  God so works in Zacchaeus' heart that he is no longer greedy and grasping and covetous, but now generous and open-handed.

Below: Saturday morning breakfast.  Note the dishwater thrown on the ground, which has frozen right where it landed.

Saturday after breakfast we started the 6 hour drive back to Arequipa.  As a couple of the hermanas (sisters) had to get back to their farms, we took a different route and ended up going around the eastern side of the volcano Ubinas (below).  The closer you get to this behemoth the more desolate the landscape becomes, because the volcano regularly spews out loads of pumice-like gravel and ash.

On the way back René and I hopped out to take a closer look at some of the cushion-shaped plants, called 'Yareta'.  René is quite taken with Yareta because during the winter months it sheds some sort of resin, which he calls "lagrimas" (tears).  René says when he's got a cold he inhales the aroma of the resin, in much the same way we would use menthol (or Vicks) to ease congestion.  Personally I'm not sure Yareta resin really works... but then I'm not that sure about Vicks either ;-)  I keep a lid on my cynicism but I'm pretty sure René suspects I'm an unbeliever anyway! 

Above:  A close-up of the surface of a Yareta plant, with 'lagrimas' of resin on the surface.  The pink & green parts of the plant standing proud by a few millimetres are the flowers.

Below:  pumice gravel desert courtesy of the volcano.

René really is lots of fun to hang around with; often we're just cracking up laughing with stuff we see or talk about (he was really tickled when I referred to a speed bump as a "sleeping policeman", for example.  I think the amusing bit was the idea of running over a policeman).  And he's always ready to explain things to do with training in a Quechua context, or customs and practices, the way the local government works (or doesn't) in the remote areas, and so on.

In other news, I've been helping René resurrect his old Honda XL 250, which for years has been parked up.  It's running again after a carburetor clean-out, fresh fuel, and some fiddling with the electrics.  Just waiting on the front wheel to come back with it's new 21" rim to replace the old 23" rim, because it's so hard to get the larger sized tyres here in Peru.  Anyway, with a few more bits (like a new speedo; the old one was irredeemable) the old mechanical mule should be ready to rip once again.  I think René's plan is to sell it on, and put the money towards a small car instead.  Wise man!

Below:  the XL250 sporting a natty new seat cover.  As a younger bloke, René covered many miles on this thing, visiting churches, supporting church leaders, teaching the Scriptures.  I think he originally got the machine from a retiring German missionary.  The paperwork says it's 1995, but that must be the year of importation; the actual model is an early-mid 80's XL250S.

Workshop in Tarucani

26 Apr 2024

The ETE ('Educación Teológica por Extensión') program has gotten off to a bit of a different start this year.  The usual progam organisers/ leaders, Roberto and René, are out of travelling action.  Roberto is slowly recovering from an operation he had a couple of months ago.  I visited him last week to see how he was going, and it's fair to say the poor bloke has had the stuffing knocked out of him (he could really use your prayers).  And René, like the vast majority of Peruvian pastors, isn't paid for his work and so he has to get an income from elsewhere -- in his case, farming the land.  So he's off somewhere in the countryside herding alpacas and all that sort of thing.

So basically that means that I was wondering how yesterday's mid-week workshop at the estancia of Patimayo might go.  I needn't have worried; René had organised people to (i) act as coordinator and (ii) deliver the training material.   I was able to deliver a short study on Jesus' parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (see Luke 18:9-14), how it fits into its context (18:15-25), and what the implications are for all people generally, and also for us as followers of Jesus.

Above: main plaza of Quinsachata, between Tarucani and Patimayo.

Below: yours truly leading the morning study/ devotional on Luke 18.  And the hat?  Well it was about zero deg. C and I happen to value comfort above appearance.

Now, where is Patimayo?  Well, north-east of Tarucani -- which kind of sounds like a frontier town in the 1800's wild west.  But in fact it's a neat, orderly quiet sort of place which even sports a shop for abarrotes (groceries).  Twenty minutes further on you get to Patimayo, which is just a few houses and alpaca corrals.

Above:  Herd of alpacas in Patimayo, just itching to get out the corral gate for a day's feeding.

So why have an ETE workshop in Patimayo?  Because it's a geographically central location for that IEP (Iglésia Evangélica Peruana) parish, and so it means that most students can make it there without too much travel (be that on foot, on motorcycle, or codging rides with local traffic).

Above:  Hermana (sister) Antonieta leading the Thursday afternoon service in the chapel.

Thursday evening was the usual session of traditional music and singing by these Quechua Christians.  Some songs were in Spanish, others in Quechua, but it was all heartfelt and great to participate in.  Different people stood up to bring greetings from their families and churches, to thank all involved in organising the workshop.  So much of this would sound repetitive and even unnecessary to you or me, but it is the Quechua way.  They really are into honouring others in a way that the average Australian certainly isn't.

Below: tuning up for the evening's music session.

As my first highland trip for our second 2-year stint in Peru, the altitude knocked me about a bit, but I was kind of expecting that.  I wasn't the only one; Jimmy (Peruvian pastor mate) was also struggling with a low-grade headache.  But we kept our fluids up (lots of maté, the traditonal herbal tea) and popped a few aspirin which always seem to help.

Below: Jimmy (right) chewing the ministry fat with an IEP pastor.

 

Below: the unlucky alpaca which got turned into soup for everyone (and guess who got the bones).

On the way back this morning, we caught some stunning views of Laguna Salinas.  It's now full of water after the summer rains, and has heaps of flamingos wading around.  The Peruvian Andes really are spectacular; every ridge you come over, every valley you drive down, every river you cross, every town or settlement you come to... just wonderful.  (Hint: if you want to see any of the images in these blog posts in more detail, just right-click and select 'Open image in new tab' or the equivalent.)

Above: crossing over from Laguna Salinas to the valley where Tarucani and Patimayo are.

Below:  Looking east across Laguna Salinas to the active volcano Ubinas.

The gentle subject of huaycos...

17 Apr 2024

If you do a lot of travelling in el campo ('the countryside') here in Peru, you really should be doing it in a 4WD.

Above: The mighty Hilux in the Paracas desert, on our way back from the Feb. 2023 SIM 'Spiritual Life Conference' in Lima.

Now we Australians are fairly familiar with 4-wheel driving; it's part of what we do.  I spent some of my youth on the farm putting the old '72 Landrover through its paces on the steep shaley hills in the bush backblock, and like most of us I've had the pleasure of digging out a few thoroughly bogged 4WD's (and one bus here in Peru, but that's another story).  So whether it's 'bush bashing' or going on off-road holidays or getting around on the land, we Australians feel pretty familiar with the Australian terrain.

The danger, we have discovered, is when you get into unfamiliar terrain with a 4WD.  Like the Andes mountains, for example.  It's easy to see the dirt roads, the river crossings, and the semi-desert countryside as something we understand, and therefore we just assume we know what we're doing.  But therein lies the trap!  Because Peru has one thing we don't really get in Australia: the huayco (pronounced 'wai-co'), aka the landslide.

We came across this landslide (below) while taking a break down Quillabamba way last October, out the back of Cusco towards the jungle.  It was on a dirt road that winds up the mountains a few kilometres east of the famous Machu Picchu.  Now, thanks to a load of unseasonal rain, a few landslides had started happening.  And so it was that we came across this beauty:

Now, yours truly took one look at this and said, "No worries, we can get over that!" and then hopped out of the car, levelled it off a bit by pulling a few rocks and small boulders out of the way, popped the Hilux into low range 4WD, and over we went.  But a couple of bends later, we found that the road was completely washed away -- and there was no getting around that!

And then it dawned on me the dangerous situation we were in.  There were small rocks still trickling down from the mountain slopes above, and we needed to get out of there.  With Kerry guiding me, I managed to keep clear of the soft edges and do a 15-point turn in the Hilux, and then we headed back to the landslide we had just crossed.  This time I got Kerry and Megan to get out of the car while I drove it back over the pile of mud and rocks.

But as I was crossing it this time, the boulders under the rear wheels suddenly slipped sideways, and for a moment there I thought I was going over the edge and into the river a hundred meters (or so) below.  But thankfully (very thankfully) the rocks stopped rolling, and I got the Hilux over the pile and back onto the road.  Kerry and Megan clambered back in, and we headed back the way we had come.  A few minutes later Kerry asked, "That was a close one, was it?"  "Yeah," I said with the usual degree of Australian understatement about these things, "it was a bit ropey!"

A month or so ago there was this landslide (video below) in Peru.  You just won't believe the violence and power of these things until you see the video.  Thankfully both truck drivers survived, but their trucks were utterly trashed.

So anyway, now that we're a bit wiser about travelling in Peru, we can travel a bit more safely.  Just remember: the real danger is the danger you don't recognise. ;-)

Workshop in Paquenta

03 Nov 2023

Hot on the heels of the last ETE (Educación Teológica por Extensión) workshop in Chivay, the weekend of 13-15 October saw us in the village of Paquenta.  Where is this?  Well... it's out the back of Cota Cota, which is out the back of Tisco, which is out the back of Chivay, which is out the back of Arequipa.  You get the drift.  On the way there was a fair bit of wet weather blowing through, and we even copped a bit of snow:

This has to be the most remote location I've been to with René and Roberto: a gathering of houses and huts in a shallow valley.  There are quite a few buildings in the village, but most of them aren't occupied.  Only a few families live there; about 5 of these people are ETE students.

Below: A frosty Saturday morning in Paquenta.  The peaks on the horizon rise to over 5000m.

René got the Saturday workshop up and running with the 5 Paquenta students and another 6 or so joining from Cota Cota and Tisco.  As a group we worked our way through a text from the Gospel of Matthew, helping the students to analyse the text, explore its context, and figure out how you'd prepare a teaching session based on it.

For me it's been a real eye-opener to see how René patiently, clearly, and methodically explains things.  Now this is not because the students are dumb; far from it, there are some very sharp tools in this shed!  But most people in these areas have very little (if any) formal education, and the many benefits schooling can bring.  This means there isn't much you can assume when taking these classes.  So, while you and I might find a given method for analysing a text fairly straight forward, well... can you imagine how you'd go if you'd never done this before?

One thing you can assume, though, is that everyone knows how to play football.  Paquenta FC was quickly formed and the game kicked off:

As you can see not much quarter was given, and Peruvian footy passions were well-stirred.  I was happy to be team photographer and marvel (as usual) at the fitness of these people who can slam a ball around at 4400m for 45 minutes and not really get that puffed.

On the way back to Arequipa I had the usual stimulating conversation with René and Roberto about the challenges of delivering Christian education in the rural backblocks.  It was a strange consolation to realise that, even though Roberto and René have been doing the ETE gig for decades now, and they have all the advantages that come with being a part of the culture they're working in, at the same time they keenly feel the challenges too.  As an outsider with a different perspective, but with the same desire to help train competent and effective teachers of the Bible in these churches, these guys are more than happy to toss stuff around and let this greenhorn join in the action.

As we were stumping our way across the pitch black plaza to our sleeping quarters late on Saturday evening, a couple of the brothers cautioned me not to trip across a huge rock which is still embedded in the plaza surface.  You can see where it's situated, right in front of the flag pole:

I haven't yet asked anyone about this, but it's got me wondering: Why, in an otherwise flat, clear and level plaza, would you leave a rock like this sitting there?  Maybe it was too big to move... but no, moving rocks is one thing the locals are very good at, and access to heavy machinery isn't that far away.

So what is it doing there?  My suspicion is that it's a huaca -- a sort of sacred object in the Quechua scheme of things that is/ was believed to have supernatural properties.  One thing the Spanish were keen to do when they colonised Peru was obliterate all these remnants of Inca religion.  I've read how the Catholic establishment was frustrated by the fact that while many of these sacred objects still existed in plain sight, only the locals knew which rocks were huacas and they weren't about to let the Spaniards in on the secret!

On the way back home, as we chatted about ETE training and the associated issues, the landscape of the altiplano did its usual breathtaking thing...

Above: a couple of tetchy vicuñas.  Below: a llama.  Even though you can be standing quite close to them, they have perfected the art of (seemingly) not paying you any attention while they gaze off into the distance.

Below: a rain storm bringing another dumping of snow and ice somewhere.

ETE trip to Chivay, Tisco, & Cota Cota

11 Oct 2023

Now that the winter chill is retreating, trips out in the sierra are possible once again.  Not even the ETE (Educación Teológica por Extensión) diehards Roberto and René want to do trips during the winter, and the students are certainly happy to stay closer to home.  The streams freeze over, and while there isn't much snow (that falls mainly during the warmer wet season, December to February), it's just bone cold.

A couple of weeks ago Ben and I went to Chivay (about 3 hours from Arequipa along sealed highways) for one of the ETE meetings.  Not many students attended this time; it can be a bit hit-and-miss, as often the students get saddled with last minute family obligations, farming responsibilities, or even have to attend to community work organised by their local alcalde (village leader).  And when the alcalde pronounces that it will be a weekend of working on the local roads, for example, then everyone has to drop whatever else they're doing, and they all head out -- husbands, wives, children, the lot! -- to work on the roads.  Shovels, rakes, baskets for shifting gravel and earth, and babies bundled on the backs of the mothers.  That's how public works get done in many of the villages of the campo (country areas) in Peru.

Anyway, by Saturday afternoon only about 12 or so students had managed to turn up, but that was all that René needed to get the progam happening.  After organising the dates and locations for some of next year's classes, René got a good class exercise going: asking the students to form groups of 3 or so, they had to study Matthew 16:13-23 -- the episode where Peter confesses Jesus as the Christ (Messiah), then Jesus declares that Peter will be the rock on which the church is built, but finally Jesus has to rebuke Peter for his refusal to accept that Jesus must suffer and die in Jerusalem.  Their task was to decide what the text was saying in its context, and then prepare a brief outline of how they would teach from the passage, and finally each group reported back to the whole class to explain and justify their conclusions.

Above: a number of the church people presenting a short play on how we could better prioritise our time.  Various social media platforms were presented as thieves of time that could be spent more profitably for the cause of the gospel.  Some problems are the same no matter where you live in the world!

Of course, for many Protestant Christians here in Peru, this text in Matthew is often seen as 'Catholic' text for establishing Peter as the first pope -- and as such, it's a text they tend to skip over or avoid altogether.  Yet, whatever our Christian denomination or persuasion, the text of the Bible is simply the text of the Bible, and we need to read it as such without fear nor favour.  René, you cunning strategist!

Ben and I each joined different groups, and our role was to help the students ask questions (because good questions are like keys which unlock meaning) and consider a text they weren't that used to thinking about.  We had to be careful not to push our own views of the text, but rather let the students do the work.  And work they did!  With a bit of prompting and encouragement they started to take in the wider context, to think about Jesus' purposes as the Christ, and what Peter and the disciples were thinking (or not thinking, as the case may be).  After about 30 minutes' discussion and pondering, the students reported back and, as usually happens when people study a the text on its own terms, each group came up with quite similar ways of summarising the text and its parts, and how they would teach from it.  Good job!

Above: René and Ben having a chat.  Notice how the church has plenty of warm cushions and woven coverings on the benches, and blankets available for people to use during the service.

On Sunday morning René and I left Ben in Chivay (he'd taken his own 4WD), and we headed north to Cota Cota via Tisco to pick up Benigno, his wife and a co-worker.  They had just spent a month in Cota Cota running classes and exams on behalf of IBSA, one of the Bible colleges in Arequipa.  Then it was back to Callalli (pronounced 'cul-yali') where we dropped off René who wanted to catch up with some believers there.

Above: 180 degree streetscape in Tisco.  The altitude, the silence... it's hard to beat.

One excellent thing about this trip was that, as we travelled, René and I got to spend a few hours chewing over the challenges of pastoral training and support in these areas.  I told him that I thought his class exercise was top-shelf: in the one exercise the students had got to think about and practice (i) reading the text in its context in Matthew, (ii) the process of interpreting the text, (iii) how the text applied to their own situation, and (iv) how they might structure a sermon or talk based on the text.  This really is the bread and butter of church pastoral work.  As René and I talked, we came up with a number of future possibilities for encouraging and supporting church pastors, teachers and elders in the sierra.  To quote Big Kev, I'm excited!

Above: For some reason Ben is looking happy in a rather protracted planning session (dates and localities of future ETE workshops).  It would be easy to complain that these sessions take far too long, but the Quechua way is to discuss and run absolutely everything past absolutely everyone, so that everyone feels like they own the decision.  And that means the students are far more likely to turn up when the time for the workshop arrives, of course ;-)

It was on the way home after dropping René off in Callalli that we came across an utterly destroyed vehicle smashed into an embankment.  Ben (who had headed back from Chivay earlier in the day) later told me that when he went past there had been a huge crowd gathered and a few very badly injured (if not dead) people had been pulled out.  Accidents like these are so common in the Andes; some people drive without any sense of fear or responsibility, overtaking at full speed around blind curves and putting everyone in danger.   Trucks reguarly engage in this deadly game of roulette, too.   We came around one bend on the way to Chivay and were greeted with two trucks and one car, all 3-abreast coming around the bend; there was nothing for me to do but hit the brakes, hit the horn, flash the lights, and squeeze over as far to the right as we could.  You really do have to be on your toes.  It's such a shame, because most of the Andean highways are superbly engineered and would be considered safe roads anywhere else, but the impatient and reckless driving habits of some of the locals are the real danger.

Anway, it was good to get back to Arequipa after nearly 12 hours of driving.  This coming weekend is another ETE workshop somewhere north of Cota Cota.  Looking forward to it!

Ten Days in the Cotahuasi Canyon

26 Jun 2023

Many of us will have heard of the Colca Canyon, with its condor viewing experience that draws tourists from all over the world (well, that's assuming you don't have a pandemic happening, or nationwide rioting for that matter).  But to the north there is another canyon -- much deeper, wider, but less well-known: the Cotahuasi Canyon.

SIM workers Brad and Gina Shaw have been living in the Cotahuasi Canyon for over 20 years, helping establish the church, setting up a radio station, providing health care, and much more besides.  Most recently the Shaws and the Cotahuasi church have been hosting a Bible translation team from the Quechua mission AIDIA, who are working on translating the Bible into the 'La Union' Quechua dialect.

Last week we spent ten days in Cotahuasi, with Mike teaching the Bible overview course, Kerry helping out Gina with the huge amount of hospitality the Shaws provide, and us accompanying Brad on a couple of radio 'reconnaissance' trips to different villages in the canyon.  We also took a couple of days off to visit some hot springs and the awesome Sipia waterfall.

Below: Bible overview course in full swing.

Above: a couple of ladies having a 'Berean moment' (see Acts 17:11) in the IEP church in Huillac, Cotahuasi Canyon.

It is about an 8-hour drive to get to the Cotahuasi Canyon.  This takes you across the 4500m altiplano until you come to the rim of the canyon, which is about 2 miles deep.  (The Grand Canyon, by comparison, is a mere 1 mile deep.)  Within the canyon it's another climate: relatively warm, there are trees in abundance, farms, livestock, flowing water.  But up on the rim and across the altiplano it's cold, dry, icy, minimal vegetation (if not just bare dirt), and the air is thin.  The canyon and the surrounding altiplano feel like completely different worlds.

Below: Coropuna, 2nd-highest mountain in Peru (6377m).  From Arequipa you have to drive around the western side of Coropuna to get to Cotahuasi.  As you drive around the mountain, you get to see some of the glaciers that are coming off its flanks.

Above: Brad (l) and Fredy (r) helping a local get his radio reception sorted in the village of Cochapampa.

Below: Police station, Pampamarca.

Above: Majes valley.  There are many river valleys like this along the Pacific coast of Peru.  These areas rarely get any rainfall, but they do have permanent rivers that come down from the Andes.  Rice, wheat, oats, corn, peppers -- a whole variety of crops are harvested.  Human habitation of these valleys goes back a long way; many have areas where you can find petroglyphs (carvings on rock surfaces) and hunter-gatherer stone tools.

Below: church lunch after the Sunday service, Cotahuasi.  The ladies had got together the night before and peeled a mountain of potatoes, cut up about 10 chickens, and had everything cooking while the service was underway.

 

Visits to Cota Cota & Pachachaca

05 Jun 2023

We're now into winter here (southern hemisphere), and therefore the coldest months of the year are just ahead of us.  The ETE (Educación Teológica por Extensión) directors, René and Roberto, aren't total gluttons for punishment, so the previous two weekends (26-28 May to Cota Cota, and 2-4 June to Pachachaca) will be the last trips until September -- because in the Andes during winter it does get a bit nippy...

At about 5:00am it starts to get light, but there is little ice to be seen.  But by 7:00am each morning, this stream at Pachachaca was iced-over.   Not having a thermometer handy, I don't know how cold it actually was, but the last time I had felt such biting cold was when I lived in Canberra back in the late 80's, when -7.0 °C was common in August.  So I'd guess that a crisp June morning in Pachachaca is around -5.0 °C.

At 8:00am, René and a couple of the other men decided it was time for a shave and a freshen-up.  Down to the stream they went, just below the icy section (above).  With a bar of soap and a disposable razor, faces were shaved and hair got washed.  Talk about tough men!  I asked René how on earth he managed with the cold.  The secret, he said, was that if you are washing your face or upper body, is that you must keep your socks and boots on -- because if you do this bare-footed, all the energy from your body will immediately drain straight into the ground and you'll come down with an illness.  Likewise, he said, if you're washing your feet then you must make sure that your upper body is clothed and dry, to prevent immediate loss of energy or your 'vitality'.

That's just one example of the kind of health lore that many Peruvians subscribe to.  Of course, my reaction as a Euro-Australian was to think that energy flows and all that sort of thing are a bit on the 'alternative' side.  That they may be.  But never having bathed in a freezing Andean stream, I'd still be inclined to take René's advice anyway!  I might be 'Euro' in origin, but I'm definitely not one of the those Scandinavian ice-breaking skinny-dippers.

Driving back to Arequipa, René and the other brothers and sisters in the Hilux also had some conversations about the health benefits of drinking urine -- specifically that of donkeys and llamas.  The urine has to be fresh, I was assured, and it's good for curing diabetes and also COVID.  Stifling my cynicism, I asked whether the flavour was an issue.  René paused for just a second, and then said that the flavour wasn't important when you had such effective medicine.  Clearly we are from different planets.

Now it would be easy for me to guffaw at such ideas (and believe me, when it comes to donkey's urine, I do have a laugh -- inwardly!).  But here's the thing: if you're from a culture which has, since time immemorial, had to survive in such a hard and sparse landscape, what are you going to do for medicine, and how are you going to think about maintaining your health?  And these days, even when Western medical technology is available, it's simply not accessible for most Peruvians due to the cost.  So maybe I'd just better keep my guffawing to myself.

You also know you're on another planet when, above the doorway you have just entered, you are greeted by two dessicated hawks:

The building we were staying in belonged to the Pachachaca/Tisco municipality and not the church.  I asked my Quechua friends about the dead birds, and they weren't sure -- but it is something to do with keeping evil spirits out of the building.  Maybe some Australians aren't that different; horseshoes above doorways, anyone?  Anyway, one thing was certain: it had been very bad luck for the hawks.

None of the houses in these altitudes have any form of heating.  There are no trees (it's too high for trees or bushes to grow, at around 4.500 metres) and therefore no wood to spare for burning, and so the only fuel available is dried llama/alpaca dung.  But there's only enough of that for cooking.  During the daytime the sun gives plenty of warmth, but the during the nights you just have to rug up.  For most people, that means a mattress of alpaca hides.

Yes they smell fairly musty, but I can also tell you they are warm and very comfortable.  I use a sleeping bag on these trips, but you also have to add a couple of thick blankets over the top, and sleep fully clothed.  (That's my stylish frazada there with the zebras on it.)

Below: students warming up in the morning sun.

For lighting at night, many huts and houses now use solar panels and LED bulbs.  The municipal building has its own generator available, so here are a bunch of the guys figuring out how to get it running:

I would have thought they'd be dab hands at rigging all this up, but the extension lead without any plug and two bare wires did present a challenge.  After yours truly, with some experience at 'home wiring' (ahem) had a crack at it, we had ourselves some light and the meetings and classes could begin.

Above:  René (left) and Nelsondavid (right) selling course books to a student for the next term of study. 

On the Saturday morning of each of the trips, the students would head out into the surrounding countryside to visit the farms and share the Christian message.  It wasn't just 'Bible bashing', as we might call it; I was impressed with how René, for example, knew pretty-well everyone courtesy of his last 40 or so years of visiting these communities.  "And how is your mother?" "Ah, your uncle used to attend the church in Chivay, didn't he?"  Genuine concern for people's welfare alongside clear and succinct explanation of the gospel were the order of the day, along with an invitation to that evening's church service. 

Above: the IEP church building in Cota Cota.  Note the loudspeaker poking out of the building above the doorway.  It is common practice to broadcast a church service to the whole village or town.  We might look sideways at this, but the fact is that the local municipality and other community organisations do the very same thing.  It's just an effective way to let the whole community know something, and it doesn't seem to raise any eyebrows.

On the way back from Cota Cota (last weekend in May), Roberto directed me along some little-used tracks which took us out near the Condoroma dam.  Along the way, he and René reminisced how as younger men they used to go along these tracks on foot.  It would take them days to get anywhere.  Then motorcycles became the preferred mode of transport.  And now, finally, they were doing it in comfort in a 4x4!

Above (centre of picture): pre-Inca fort, supposed to be about 1100 years old.  It's situated on a hill in the centre of a valley, and has commanding views in all directions.

The drives home on these trips are always an education for me -- be it learning about the benefits of llama's urine, or reflecting on the weekend's services and classes, or discussing the challenges many of these believers face in their traditional Quechua communities.  And as the scenery rolls past... well, there is always a lot to be thankful for.

Day trip to Laguna Salinas

21 May 2023

After getting through a rotten bout of gastro (probably 'norovirus', if you're keen you can look it up), we'd had to cancel a trip to Puno, which was a bit of a let-down.  So yesterday we thought we'd take a trip up to Laguna Salinas, about 2.5 hours' drive from home on the other side of the mountains, just so we could have a picnic and take a break.  Mike has already been there a couple of times (see blog entries below on earlier ETE trips), but this was Kerry and Megan's first chance to see the amazing scenery and the wildlife too.

It was a super-clear day, and as we drove up the slopes between Picchu Picchu and the volcano Misti, we had a superb view of the city behind us.  You always know when you're getting above 3-3500 meters because the Hilux starts running out of puff... so just keep the RPM up so that the turbo can pack enough air into the motor.

Once up at the lake, we made our way around the western shore until we came to the town of Salinas Huito.  We had pit stop and Kerry got chatting to a couple of the locals.

Then we headed back south to the other town on the lake shore, Salinas Moche.  On the way we stopped at an old chapel, 'Santuario Virgen de la Asunta'.  According to the lintel over the main doorway, it was built in the 1860s (couldn't quite make out the last number, either an 8 or a 9).  It certainly is in an amazing location.

In the background you can see the active volcano Ubinas.  On the way around to Salinas Moche, Kerry tried a spot of flamingo photography, but they are cautious birds so unless you have a camera with a good telephoto lens it's not exactly a slam dunk.

We got to Salinas Moche a bit after midday, and to our delight realised we'd jagged the one Saturday of the year that they have their community parade!  Everyone was out in their finest garb, and every community group was respresented in the parade: the school teachers, classes of students, the local health clinic staff, the artesan group... even a bunch of welders carrying their welding gear went marching past, which really warmed Mike's heart.  Every community group got honoured, the band was going full tilt and it was heaps of fun.  

And the final group in the parade were none other than the local IEP (Iglesia Evangelica del Perú) congregation.  Good on them for not hiding under a rock!  Video here.

As the afternoon chill started to descend, we pointed the Hilux back towards Arequipa and enjoyed seeing Misti from angles we're not accustomed to.  It really is a huge mountain, and lots of snow and ice on it this time of year.

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