Peru - The Love shown by the Causas in the Higher Mountains with the Cuyes
“She made it just for you to try.” Marco tells me as the fried guinea pig is in front of me, its fingers curled into a fist, its siblings who were lucky to have avoided death this time, sit quietly in the kitchen corner facing the stone walls.
Huaraz, Peru sits at just a peak over 10,000 feet. It’s recommended that you drink Coca tea when you arrive, a tea created using the dried leaves of the coca plant, the same plant used to make cocaine. However, a cup of tea contains less than a fifth the amount of coca alkaloid in a line of cocaine, and is meant to help with altitude sickness due to its ability to stop an increase of red blood cell production. Although often overshadowed by Cusco in the South, Huaraz has some incredible trekking.
When I arrived, Peru was largely in political turmoil after a failed coup by the President Pedro Castillo against congress, leading to protests breaking out for several months. Protesters aimed to block roads and target airports, leading to clashes with the police force, particularly in the southern half of the country.
Bumping on a small bus during the several hour journey to Lake Parón, I meet two brothers, Marco and Miguel, on holiday from Lima who brought their younger cousin Thiago along. They teach me all kinds of Peruvian slang (“jergas”) giving me this little gem of a paragraph to send my parents.
"Hola viejo estuve en Perú y conocí unos causas que quisieron invitarme unas chilindrinas, pero no atraqué porque estaba aguja, pero les dije que cuando vuelva les caeré barbón e incluso llevaré a mi jerma. Descuida viejo te estaba cochineando."Traducción: Hola papá, estuve en Perú y conocí unos amigos que quisieron invitarme unas cervezas, pero no acepté porque no tenía mucho dinero, pero les dije que cuando vuelva iré con más plata e incluso llevaré a mi pareja. Descuida papá te estaba bromeando.”In the pitch black, we squeeze into a small cab to take us through a windy pass via the Kahuish tunnel. As daylight starts appearing on the horizon, the driver’s head starts drooping, until the bumps in the road bring him back to. Thiago starts grimacing next to me, saying he feels sick, but the car doesn’t stop. He vomits into his small plastic bag, then he falls asleep holding it, using only his pinky finger to keep it from dropping on his feet. No one says anything as the car keeps going.
As we start descending into the hillsides, houses are painted bright colors displaying political election messages on all sides. A roaring river cuts through the center of town, cascading over large rocks.
Their uncle holds the keys to the town, showing us the inside of a church that they intend to tear down in the next years. Inside are hand made dolls representing important religious figures. It’s carnival time where people of the community dance around a tree covered in gifts, and each tries to cut down the tree with an axe. The uncle cuts off fruits from the cacti on their farm while letting us sit under the overhang on top of sheep fur mats. A group of students on their summer holiday cut down a very tall and lanky tree near their auditorium, falling down and nearly crushing some of the students. The uncle chides the students, as this was one of his projects.
We hop over stone walls to the cemetery where Marco and Miguel’s grandparents are buried. “Abuela!!!” Marco yells hugging the grave, semi- jokingly. “Hola abuelo!!” he yells into the headstone of his grandfather.
I’ve seen colorful and loving lives that will continue on. I’m grateful to have gotten the glance that Marco, Miguel and Thiago have shared with me.
After a night bus and a few sleeping pills back to Lima, Miguel gives me a lift over to the airport as he pulls out a Peruvian flute as a parting gift. Somos causas.