Sorry...I don't work for the CIA

Before I left for Puno, Peru, my professors at American University advised me on maintaining the confidentiality of my study's participants. They commented of the possibility of members of the Peruvian government and perhaps the U.S. Embassy taking interest in what I was doing and/or in the populations involved in my research. I listened intently and have taken the necessary steps to cover the identity of my participants and their communities, but I definitely did not think I would have any exciting run-ins with high officials. Then again, come on, if you know anything about my adventures to date, you wouldn't put it past me to have something like that happen, right?

well ...

In November, I traveled to Lima for a Fulbright Conference and a fantastic Thanksgiving turkey dinner with members of the U.S. Embassy and the Fulbright Commission. During my visit, I also took advantage building contacts in different NGOs and institutions. One of my main concerns at the time was finding out more about the conditions of contraband and how it is impacting the communities where I am working.

As I have mentioned before, is that the contraband, or informal market are a simple reality of life in much of Latin America, and most prominently in the more impoverished regions. My communities are highly involved in the contraband activity. Of course, they depend on the majority of their purchases from the contraband because they see it as the only viable, economic option available. If you were to ask them whether they felt right about purchasing illegal products, they would either change the wording to the more "economic choice" or claim that without the dried foods (mainly rice and pasta) that come from Chile, Brazil, and Bolivia they would die of hunger. Most national products are either too expensive or too difficult to receive in the marginalized peasant communities.

Now, the two districts where I am working share borders with the nation of Bolivia. The majority of the population is highly involved in the transportation of the products from the border to Puno, Juliaca, and even as far as other departments like Tacna, Arequipa, and Lima! Trucks upons trucks of contraband are shipped across these regions daily (mainly after dusk) and are taken to markets throughout the country. You can get almost anything you can think of at these markets. Just ask my brother, Matt, or Father Reker! When they visited me in Cuzco/Puno, I made sure that they saw what was available to the population. From Ipods to Corn Flakes, leather jackets to microwaves, you name it and it can be purchased in the contraband.

Somethings are not even available outside the contraband markets because of the high quantity of supply available below market price. For example, there are no movie theaters in Puno, Peru. Why? Simply because you can get any movie the day it comes out in theaters on pirated DVDs for less than $1. If I want a movie, I can't buy or even rent legally. In Puno, I must go to the contraband to get pirated DVDs.

So, my intention in November had been to find out more firm, quantitative data on the contraband industry in Puno. Unfortunately, I have found that there really lacks data on the contraband activity. The only national entity with relative base of knowledge and interest in this arena is that of the SUNAT-the national customs office.

Miracle of all miracles, working my contacts in the Catholic University in Lima as well as with NGOs in Puno and Lima, I ended up getting the email address of the top legal adviser to the customs office in Peru! Even better news was that he said he would be in Puno in a few weeks and would be happy to meet with me!!! Okay, well at the time I thought it was great news....

So, we arranged to meet in Mojsa, Enrique's restaurant, for lunch. As we began to chat, I sat anxiously, with notebook and pen in hand, awaiting to learn all about the custom's take on contraband. What did I end up learning_ Well, that the he was a 40-something divorcee, with two children and VERY single. He went on talking about his personal life through most of the meal. He offered to help me out anyway possible if I were in Lima anytime soon. At the end of the meal he even had the nerve to ask me about my social status:

Dr. Gross-me-out: "So, are you single?" (In Spanish this refers to your status as either single or married)
Me: "Um, yes"
Dr.: "And do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "Yes." (Total lie, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do)
Dr.: "Oh [disappointed sigh], and is he Peruvian or back in America?"
Me: "Oh, no he's Peruvian, here in Puno"
Dr.: "Oh, well like I was saying, call me whenever you want if you need anything blah, blah, blah"

Ick. Well, the little useful information that he did provide me did not do very much for what I was looking for. But, I found it very interesting that he had been the fiscal of Puno, and had been responsible for the capture of the head of the culebra - the top contraband directive. Trying to sound like a cocky Jack Ryan, he tried to make himself out as some national superhero who could not continue fighting evil because his life were in danger in the region of Moho. I rolled my eyes thinking that his ego was the biggest character flaw.

It was very evident (a note that I kept in the back of my head) that he had interest in my work in the region of Moho. I was not surprised, therefore, when he contacted me a week ago. He was in Puno and wanted to chat with me. Knowing that his insight would be of assistance to me (especially now that I lost my contact in Lima when the CND was closed), I wanted to make my meeting with him short and concise. And more than anything, I wanted to put an end to the flirtation and any icky, gross hopes that he had for a gringa girlfriend (ewww, ick, gross, yuck.)

So........................

We planned to meet again in Mojsa, but this time I had a strategy prepared for the encounter. Immediately (I mean the guy didn't even try to small talk me) he asks how the social situation is in Moho. "What do you mean?" I ask innocently. He extends his question to ask how are the living conditions, what is the attitude of the population, and then BAM....what's the condition of contraband. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. He wants me to be his informant.

I made it clear in my response, that I was not going to rat out any contrabandists or even tell him where I had been and with whom I had been working. He tried to get me to reveal more, returning to his super duper hero role, stating that the customs office was planning to run a full-out operative against the contrabandists in Moho.

Very firmly, I took this opportunity to voice my opinion. I warned him that they should not be surprise to receive a harsh reaciton from the community, even those who are not involved in the contraband trade. He shot back at me that the contrabandists were obviously seen as heros in this area.

"No," I commented, "I don't think they are seen that way. In these regions of Puno, the state is not present and most of the population only looks at contraband as the little left for them. The infrastructure is so horrible that there is no true option for economic development beyond auto-consumption of farming production. If the state were more pro-active in assisting the infrastructural needs, or even basic needs like potable water, sewage, and electricity, the population of Moho may not react as harshly to the intentions of customs."

Now, enter Enrique...hahaha, strategy part 2 to make sure things are clear as crystal with Dr. Gross-me-out. As we are chatting, Enrique comes up from the kitchen and greets me as "his love" and gives me a big kiss on the lips. According to the waitresses who were watching our melo-drama unfold, the Doc didn't look too happy.

"Ah, let me present my boyfriend..." I began to say.
"Samuel, nice to meet you." And with a firm handshake so came to an effective end the flirtations. I think the mix of his dissapointment in neither gaining my insight nor winning my heart provoked him to urgently have to leave. We said goodbye, because as he said, we probably would not see each other again before I leave for the United States. He promised ot send me more information the following week, but I don't plan to hear from him again.

My friends, who work in Mojsa, overheard the conversation, and actually applauded me after he left. There is a lot of hatred towards the very corrupt and considerably ineffective customs system. I myself, and my family, are victims of it...how much extra did we pay for having two used shirts shipped in the mail? They commented that he was obnoxious and totally out of touch with the reality which the population in Puno faces.

Punishment in a community of extreme poverty

After conversations with my mother, I realize that a younger audience sometimes reads my blog. I ask you to please self-sensor because of some graphic content. I still plan to post because I truly feel it is important to share the realities of the culture in which I am working: the beautiful, the comical, and the painful. We all must consider how others interact in order to move towards developing cultures of non-violent conflict resolution. I hope that after reading this entry, you do no think less of the Aymara culture, but instead understand that as societies evolve and change, each will have struggles to overcome. I am grateful for having witnessed this event today and it only furthers my determination for my next steps in the years to come....

"The darkenss is a bit frightening, don't you think?" asked my host, Raul, in the high community (above 14,000 ft) in the province of Moho.

"Very much so," I replied. My solemn response, was less in reference to Raul's accounts of the dangerous night creatures, than to the screams of the children that echoed in the black sky.

Raul's neighbor was extremely upset upon seeing that her children (ages 11, 6, and 2) were unattentive to the family's three pigs and allowed them to graze too close to the house. As a result, the pigs enjoyed a feast of potatoes.

I would like to side-note here that potatoes and I will not be seeing much of each other upon my return to the US. In the past 6 months I have consumed more potatoes than in my whole 24 years of existence. Today alone, I had a breakfast of potato and grain soup, and a lunch of potato soup with a main dish of potatoes and rice. Dinner, I opted for a powerbar...THANKS Matt!)

As a result of the potato loss, Raul's neighbor chased the pigs away hysterically with a handfull of rocks. And next came the punishment for the children "being lazy and disrespectful". While I was not an eye witness to the actions, the screams of pain from the children were enough to make my stomach turn. I asked Raul what the punishment involved. Whipping, he told me, was the typical way of handling their children. When I asked where they were whipped he did not respond. Seeing as everyone here wears multiple layers of sweaters and pants, I would certainly not see the marks on their bodies. My hope was also that the clothing somewhat buffered the pain.

The screams continued for roughly a minute. as we were sitting outisde the house, I took notice that during the course of events, Raul's two children (ages 10 and 12) distanced themselves physically from their parents. They moved to the opposite side of the stree, their faces drawn cold of emotion.

After a few moments, I broke my own silence. In general, I am not an advocate of cultural comparison. I frown greatly upon the "well, in my country we do it this way" statements. I find them to be culturally imperialistic and ethnocentric. Moreover, I believe in the need for cultural adaptation to different values, relationships, and means of communication.

"In my country, it is illegal to raise a hand to your child," I quietly commented. "It is considered child abuse."

"Oh. And so how do parents punish their children?" Raul asked.

"Typically, they will take away privledges like watching TV or using the computer."

"Ah, well we don't have TVs here," Raul responded. Of course they aren't TVs, they do not even have electricity or running water. And the bathroom situation...I will spare you all those details.

Trying not to be left without a more productive alternative, I said "sometimes kids are not allowed to go out and play with their friends, or are given more chores as responsibilities."

"Ah, that must work," Raul commented.

"Yes, it is extremely effective," I replied.

The cries from next door faded as other screams grew down the street. Another child receiving another whipping. "It's getting dark, would you like a candle for your room?" Raul inquired.

"No thank you, I brought one with me." I headed to my room, accompanied by his two children so that I could give them a gift of chocolate nutritional mix for their morning milk and said goodnight. As prepared for bed, I was hapyp to hear Raul and his children giggling in the room below as they played games.