I'm sorry to say that the Peru Writers' Group will be taking a break from posting stories for a few months. We found that the pressure of having to write for such a short deadline was affecting our writing. We are going to try and build up a stock pile of stories so we will have some excellent works of fiction ready for your reading pleasure when one of us gets a little writer's block.
We are still looking to have a couple more writers join our group and would definitely appreciate any contributions from outside the group.
Come back after April 1st and check for our new "Grand Opening."
To all of you who were following our writings, thank you and we hope you will be back.
Rodney L Dodig
Victoria Lugovskaya
Larry Pitman
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Simple Explanation
Written by: Larry J. Pitman
Jim and I were sitting at one of the outdoor tables at Café Haiti in Miraflores. My friend had been in Peru a long time and usually was a very good companion. We differed in one major respect, however. He liked to come up with a simple phrase that would explain a very complex problem. Or, at least, what I think is a complex problem. That is just what happened today. We had been discussing the growing occurrence of crime in Lima. He took a sip of coffee and said to me:
“Poverty is the cause of crime. If there were no poverty, there would be no criminals.”
He then sat back and smiled; satisfied that he had provided an unassailable answer to the problem.
I was quiet for a while, appalled by the innocent simplicity of this statement. I was stunned by his one size fits all approach, reducing one of life`s mysteries, i.e. why there are criminals in our midst, to a simple formula. .
As he sat there waiting, I know that he was preparing himself for the pleasure of an argument. He knew that I didn`t like what he had said. Rather than hitting him head on, however, I decided to tell a story and see what he would say.
“Tell me if you think that this person became a criminal based on his background
His name is Luis.
Here are some facts about him:
He was born in a fishing village north of Lima in one of the poorest families in the town. Luis claims to have forty-five brothers and sisters. Rarely seeing his father, who had many women, he was raised by his mother. No financial or emotional support whatever came from his father. Therefore his mother, who was desperately poor, finally decided to move to Lima, where she barely supported the family by laundering clothes.
In Lima, Luis became a street-wise kid who sometimes got into trouble with the police. He was a smart ass who treated those in authority with contempt .In addition; he was in a gang that was actively stealing from houses and even from the church. Luis dropped out of school after the fourth grade. “
I turned to Jim, “What do you think? Is this person a potential criminal? “
“He fits the profile of a criminal in my mind. But I know you are going to tell me that he turned out to be a wonderful person. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule.”
“OK, now I want to tell you the story of Victor Hugo.”
“His father was a lawyer and his mother had a successful business. Victor Hugo had a nanny who took care of him most of the time. He rarely saw his parents, but they treated him with warmth and gave him anything he wanted. He went to Markham, one of the most exclusive schools in Lima, where his grades were good. “
“Does he fit the profile of a criminal?
Jim said, “Obviously not, but I am sure you are going to tell me that he is a crook”.
“You are right; Victor Hugo is in prison serving a thirty year sentence for killing someone in a drug deal.
Meanwhile, Luis has worked hard all his life, supporting a beautiful family. His sons and daughters have excellent jobs because they received a good education and strong values. Luis is well known and respected in his community. “
“So what is the difference?
In my opinion, it has little to do with poverty. I believe that people choose to be good or bad. We all have the opportunity to do something wrong, but we choose not to take it if we are good. It has nothing to do with poverty in most cases.”
“Luis chose to do all this good with his life. He had no father to tell him what to do and his mother was busy just helping the family survive. Where Luis learned to do what he did, I do not know. Perhaps he was born with a good character. Meanwhile, Victor Hugo, with all his advantages, chose to do something wrong. I can cite you many similar cases.”
“Therefore, poverty does not cause criminals. I do not know exactly what does, but I suspect that there is no simple, easy explanation.”
I paused, waiting for Jim to slash back with his counterarguments.
Jim and I were sitting at one of the outdoor tables at Café Haiti in Miraflores. My friend had been in Peru a long time and usually was a very good companion. We differed in one major respect, however. He liked to come up with a simple phrase that would explain a very complex problem. Or, at least, what I think is a complex problem. That is just what happened today. We had been discussing the growing occurrence of crime in Lima. He took a sip of coffee and said to me:
“Poverty is the cause of crime. If there were no poverty, there would be no criminals.”
He then sat back and smiled; satisfied that he had provided an unassailable answer to the problem.
I was quiet for a while, appalled by the innocent simplicity of this statement. I was stunned by his one size fits all approach, reducing one of life`s mysteries, i.e. why there are criminals in our midst, to a simple formula. .
As he sat there waiting, I know that he was preparing himself for the pleasure of an argument. He knew that I didn`t like what he had said. Rather than hitting him head on, however, I decided to tell a story and see what he would say.
“Tell me if you think that this person became a criminal based on his background
His name is Luis.
Here are some facts about him:
He was born in a fishing village north of Lima in one of the poorest families in the town. Luis claims to have forty-five brothers and sisters. Rarely seeing his father, who had many women, he was raised by his mother. No financial or emotional support whatever came from his father. Therefore his mother, who was desperately poor, finally decided to move to Lima, where she barely supported the family by laundering clothes.
In Lima, Luis became a street-wise kid who sometimes got into trouble with the police. He was a smart ass who treated those in authority with contempt .In addition; he was in a gang that was actively stealing from houses and even from the church. Luis dropped out of school after the fourth grade. “
I turned to Jim, “What do you think? Is this person a potential criminal? “
“He fits the profile of a criminal in my mind. But I know you are going to tell me that he turned out to be a wonderful person. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule.”
“OK, now I want to tell you the story of Victor Hugo.”
“His father was a lawyer and his mother had a successful business. Victor Hugo had a nanny who took care of him most of the time. He rarely saw his parents, but they treated him with warmth and gave him anything he wanted. He went to Markham, one of the most exclusive schools in Lima, where his grades were good. “
“Does he fit the profile of a criminal?
Jim said, “Obviously not, but I am sure you are going to tell me that he is a crook”.
“You are right; Victor Hugo is in prison serving a thirty year sentence for killing someone in a drug deal.
Meanwhile, Luis has worked hard all his life, supporting a beautiful family. His sons and daughters have excellent jobs because they received a good education and strong values. Luis is well known and respected in his community. “
“So what is the difference?
In my opinion, it has little to do with poverty. I believe that people choose to be good or bad. We all have the opportunity to do something wrong, but we choose not to take it if we are good. It has nothing to do with poverty in most cases.”
“Luis chose to do all this good with his life. He had no father to tell him what to do and his mother was busy just helping the family survive. Where Luis learned to do what he did, I do not know. Perhaps he was born with a good character. Meanwhile, Victor Hugo, with all his advantages, chose to do something wrong. I can cite you many similar cases.”
“Therefore, poverty does not cause criminals. I do not know exactly what does, but I suspect that there is no simple, easy explanation.”
I paused, waiting for Jim to slash back with his counterarguments.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Nostalgia
Written by: Larry J. Pitman
He always thought it was silly to think about the past. Sitting with friends, sipping a beer, he would pontificate, “The past? Forget it! It is gone and done with. Let’s enjoy the present and allow the future to take care of itself.”
He had probably picked up this quote from an article he had read by Tony Robbins in Reader`s Digest. He said it with such conviction that, whether they really thought that way, he usually had his audience nodding in agreement.
Moving to Peru, for him, was just turning another page in the history of life. Sure, he could keep contact with his family through the internet and the telephone. The separation from his former life meant little to him. In fact, it might be better here in Peru than being there. It was a great escape. Now, he had no responsibilities and, at least, there were no grounds for conflict with anybody.
All that seemed to work for him. He had adjusted well to life in Lima, and rarely thought about his former life in California or, even, about the family members that he had left there. He was living in the present just as he preached so often.
So he wasn’t prepared in any way for what happened.
He was looking at the web-site of the San Francisco Chronicle when he saw a collection of old photos from the 50’s and 60’s. He clicked on it, and in an instant, and was flooded with images of his past. They were familiar places, places of memories long ago stored away and forgotten. Immediately his mind raced to how he had been to those places with his father---- Golden Gate Park, Sutro`s Baths, Chinatown.
His father….. how much he had enjoyed those times with him.
From that pleasurable retrospective, slowly a feeling of sadness came over him. Those times, he realized, and his father are gone. Never to be repeated. He felt that loss, and then came the regret that he never had enough time to share those same experiences with his sons.
With this insight, he realized that he was really a displaced person. No place was really his home. California was no longer the place it had been in his memory. When he went back for a visit, he felt like he was visiting another foreign country.
Peru? Here, too, he was a foreigner. He liked living here and even felt comfortable, but he would never be a Peruvian.
Now he was becoming really depressed. He realized that the only home he had was in his memories. And these were the memories of things that no longer existed. Morose thought piled on morose thoughts. He was really down now.
He was normally a happy man, he thought. But now he feels terrible, just because he clicked on some old photos.
Then, he shook his head angrily, as though to shake all these sad thoughts out of his head.
He screamed inside his head,
“Damn this nostalgia. I’m here, and I am going to enjoy my life”.
He always thought it was silly to think about the past. Sitting with friends, sipping a beer, he would pontificate, “The past? Forget it! It is gone and done with. Let’s enjoy the present and allow the future to take care of itself.”
He had probably picked up this quote from an article he had read by Tony Robbins in Reader`s Digest. He said it with such conviction that, whether they really thought that way, he usually had his audience nodding in agreement.
Moving to Peru, for him, was just turning another page in the history of life. Sure, he could keep contact with his family through the internet and the telephone. The separation from his former life meant little to him. In fact, it might be better here in Peru than being there. It was a great escape. Now, he had no responsibilities and, at least, there were no grounds for conflict with anybody.
All that seemed to work for him. He had adjusted well to life in Lima, and rarely thought about his former life in California or, even, about the family members that he had left there. He was living in the present just as he preached so often.
So he wasn’t prepared in any way for what happened.
He was looking at the web-site of the San Francisco Chronicle when he saw a collection of old photos from the 50’s and 60’s. He clicked on it, and in an instant, and was flooded with images of his past. They were familiar places, places of memories long ago stored away and forgotten. Immediately his mind raced to how he had been to those places with his father---- Golden Gate Park, Sutro`s Baths, Chinatown.
His father….. how much he had enjoyed those times with him.
From that pleasurable retrospective, slowly a feeling of sadness came over him. Those times, he realized, and his father are gone. Never to be repeated. He felt that loss, and then came the regret that he never had enough time to share those same experiences with his sons.
With this insight, he realized that he was really a displaced person. No place was really his home. California was no longer the place it had been in his memory. When he went back for a visit, he felt like he was visiting another foreign country.
Peru? Here, too, he was a foreigner. He liked living here and even felt comfortable, but he would never be a Peruvian.
Now he was becoming really depressed. He realized that the only home he had was in his memories. And these were the memories of things that no longer existed. Morose thought piled on morose thoughts. He was really down now.
He was normally a happy man, he thought. But now he feels terrible, just because he clicked on some old photos.
Then, he shook his head angrily, as though to shake all these sad thoughts out of his head.
He screamed inside his head,
“Damn this nostalgia. I’m here, and I am going to enjoy my life”.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Wizard
Written by: Larry Pitman
Someone told me that there are lots of witches and wizards in Peru.
Where I come from we are skeptical of these sorts of things. In fact, I have never been a believer, even if I do enjoy the Harry Potter stories.
It is a little hard for me to admit this, but I think I might just have met a wizard. I was not sure. So, before I laid the label on him, I went to the dictionary and here is what it said:
“Wizard: someone having magical influence or power”.
Certainly, it appeared to me at the time that this person I met does have extraordinary powers.
Here is what happened.
I didn’t recognize him, but he knew me.
Frequently, I have to take a taxi late at night after my class. Several months ago, and only once, he had taken me home and now, after what must have been thousands of passengers, he remembered all the details of our previous journey. I didn’t need to tell him where I lived, he knew exactly.
“I remember everything,” he said.
“It is a gift” he added
He then went on to tell me about numerous occasions when he remembered the exact details of an event or a person.
“I have a photographic memory.”
“Also I have dreams with great detail, and then they become true.”
He told about how he foresaw the death of his father.
“I knew exactly when and where he would die,” he said.
“I can tell a bad guy with 98% accuracy. That is very useful in my work. I know just by looking whether I want to have this person in my taxi or not.”
He then described his intuitive powers which warn him about a coming event. He told me about a bank where he had his life savings. One day when he went in to make a deposit and, even though everything appeared to be normal, he had a strong feeling that he must take all his money out of this bank immediately. He then tried to make the withdrawal, but they said that he must wait a week. The next day he heard on the radio that the bank had been closed by government inspectors.
Then he told about how he has foreseen his own death.
“I had a dream with all the details. I know that I will die when I am 55 years old, and I have seen the hospital where I will die. I’m 53 now, and I feel my body beginning to deteriorate. My daughter, who has the same gifts as I do, has also dreamed that I will die in that year. “
I was shocked by how casual and matter of fact he seemed about this announcement.
He reassured me, “It doesn’t matter. I have no fear of death. I am a Catholic.”
By this time, we had arrived at my house. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me.
Should I have asked him to tell me my future?
Someone told me that there are lots of witches and wizards in Peru.
Where I come from we are skeptical of these sorts of things. In fact, I have never been a believer, even if I do enjoy the Harry Potter stories.
It is a little hard for me to admit this, but I think I might just have met a wizard. I was not sure. So, before I laid the label on him, I went to the dictionary and here is what it said:
“Wizard: someone having magical influence or power”.
Certainly, it appeared to me at the time that this person I met does have extraordinary powers.
Here is what happened.
I didn’t recognize him, but he knew me.
Frequently, I have to take a taxi late at night after my class. Several months ago, and only once, he had taken me home and now, after what must have been thousands of passengers, he remembered all the details of our previous journey. I didn’t need to tell him where I lived, he knew exactly.
“I remember everything,” he said.
“It is a gift” he added
He then went on to tell me about numerous occasions when he remembered the exact details of an event or a person.
“I have a photographic memory.”
“Also I have dreams with great detail, and then they become true.”
He told about how he foresaw the death of his father.
“I knew exactly when and where he would die,” he said.
“I can tell a bad guy with 98% accuracy. That is very useful in my work. I know just by looking whether I want to have this person in my taxi or not.”
He then described his intuitive powers which warn him about a coming event. He told me about a bank where he had his life savings. One day when he went in to make a deposit and, even though everything appeared to be normal, he had a strong feeling that he must take all his money out of this bank immediately. He then tried to make the withdrawal, but they said that he must wait a week. The next day he heard on the radio that the bank had been closed by government inspectors.
Then he told about how he has foreseen his own death.
“I had a dream with all the details. I know that I will die when I am 55 years old, and I have seen the hospital where I will die. I’m 53 now, and I feel my body beginning to deteriorate. My daughter, who has the same gifts as I do, has also dreamed that I will die in that year. “
I was shocked by how casual and matter of fact he seemed about this announcement.
He reassured me, “It doesn’t matter. I have no fear of death. I am a Catholic.”
By this time, we had arrived at my house. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me.
Should I have asked him to tell me my future?
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The First Time I Saw Lima
Written By: Larry Pitman
People often ask me about how I first came to Lima. I have told this story many times, but recently I have been hearing a voice whispering to me while I tell this story. It really bothers me.
The first time I saw Lima was in 1980. I was on a business trip to Latin America.
Dang it! That’s a lie. Tell the truth
Some of my wealthy investors were so grateful for the excellent work I did for them that they made donations to give me a trip to Peru so I could scout for new investment opportunities.
You mean that you stole some money, and you were on the run from the law
I chose Lima to start my trip because there is a town in Ohio, where I am from, with the same name.
Come on. You threw a dart at the map of South America and the closest place was Lima.
Lima seemed like it would be a pleasant place. I was impressed by the airport when I arrived.
Let’s face it. Lima in those days was on its heels, a backwater. Just the kind of place you needed to hide out. The airport at Corpac was strictly small time
It was weird coming off the plane because I didn’t know anyone in the whole country. However, I liked the idea of a new adventure.
Oh yeah, really you were scared to death, but you didn’t have any other choice.You were just glad that the police were not waiting for you at the airport.
I asked the taxi driver in my finest high school Spanish to take me to the best hotel in town.
He took you all right, charging you three times the going rate.
That was the Hotel Bolivar. They have a great bar there and, of course; I had to try their famous Pisco Sours.
Yeah, that’s no surprise since you are a drunk
That was where I got my big break.
Of course, you found another drunk
I was sitting there a few days after I arrived and this guy and I start a conversation. He is a Peruvian named Fernando. He spent some time in Miami so he speaks pretty good English. We hit it off pretty good. After a few drinks, he asked me if I would like to go to a night club. I always enjoy the night life so I said yes.
You mean, you and Fernando took off to the local whorehouse.
Fernando and I got to be really good friends and before long I was almost part of his family. That is how I met my love, Liliana, Fernando’s sister. Then, when I married her, I did become part of his family.
They were desperate to marry her off and you were the only candidate.
Soon after we were married, they asked me to be a manager for one of their companies.
What else could they do? Then, they put you in a position where you could not do any damage.
Even though the economy went up and down, I figured out how to operate in Peru and I did well.
You were lucky to be in the right place at the right time.
Now I am president of the company and an important businessman in Peru.
You are still just a crook on the run.
Why don’t you shut the hell up? I don’t need you.
Silence
People often ask me about how I first came to Lima. I have told this story many times, but recently I have been hearing a voice whispering to me while I tell this story. It really bothers me.
The first time I saw Lima was in 1980. I was on a business trip to Latin America.
Dang it! That’s a lie. Tell the truth
Some of my wealthy investors were so grateful for the excellent work I did for them that they made donations to give me a trip to Peru so I could scout for new investment opportunities.
You mean that you stole some money, and you were on the run from the law
I chose Lima to start my trip because there is a town in Ohio, where I am from, with the same name.
Come on. You threw a dart at the map of South America and the closest place was Lima.
Lima seemed like it would be a pleasant place. I was impressed by the airport when I arrived.
Let’s face it. Lima in those days was on its heels, a backwater. Just the kind of place you needed to hide out. The airport at Corpac was strictly small time
It was weird coming off the plane because I didn’t know anyone in the whole country. However, I liked the idea of a new adventure.
Oh yeah, really you were scared to death, but you didn’t have any other choice.You were just glad that the police were not waiting for you at the airport.
I asked the taxi driver in my finest high school Spanish to take me to the best hotel in town.
He took you all right, charging you three times the going rate.
That was the Hotel Bolivar. They have a great bar there and, of course; I had to try their famous Pisco Sours.
Yeah, that’s no surprise since you are a drunk
That was where I got my big break.
Of course, you found another drunk
I was sitting there a few days after I arrived and this guy and I start a conversation. He is a Peruvian named Fernando. He spent some time in Miami so he speaks pretty good English. We hit it off pretty good. After a few drinks, he asked me if I would like to go to a night club. I always enjoy the night life so I said yes.
You mean, you and Fernando took off to the local whorehouse.
Fernando and I got to be really good friends and before long I was almost part of his family. That is how I met my love, Liliana, Fernando’s sister. Then, when I married her, I did become part of his family.
They were desperate to marry her off and you were the only candidate.
Soon after we were married, they asked me to be a manager for one of their companies.
What else could they do? Then, they put you in a position where you could not do any damage.
Even though the economy went up and down, I figured out how to operate in Peru and I did well.
You were lucky to be in the right place at the right time.
Now I am president of the company and an important businessman in Peru.
You are still just a crook on the run.
Why don’t you shut the hell up? I don’t need you.
Silence
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Juana's Story
Written by: Larry Pitman
It was to be the happiest day of her life. One she had worked hard for sacrificed for and awaited eagerly. She loved Hilario and looked forward to the life they would share. Maybe they would even get married. That would be better for their three children.
She was a country girl. Her people were from the mountains and spoke only Quechua, but they were relatively prosperous. Hilario was different, his family was from Ayacucho, and spoke only Spanish.
Her family sent her to Ayacucho to attend school. That is where she met Hilario. They fell in love. Then, they decided to live together in silvina cui* following the traditional custom of the mountains.
Juana and Hilario lived in his modest family home along with his mother. Three children followed in rapid succession. Juana, a natural care giver, also took care of Hilario’s mother until she died.
It had been a long hard struggle, she reflected, but they had decided to invest in their future by selling his family’s land. Hilario could then study for his Engineering degree, and she would stay at home and take care of the children. Because the university was in Arequipa, Hilario was often gone, usually only coming home during vacation times. The absences had gotten longer as he studied at the University and the fifth, and last, year she barely saw him at all.
Finally, he had his degree, and she thought they would be together again.
Hilario , when he arrived home on that eagerly awaited day, was distant and preoccupied. Just as Juana started to talk about their future life together, he looked at her and said,
“You are an ignorant and uneducated person. I can’t introduce you to my friends from the University because you would embarrass me. Actually, I now have someone else, a real lady, who will be more suitable. Since this is my house, you and the children must move immediately. “
With these words, Juana’s hopes and dreams broke into a thousand pieces. Still, it wasn’t in her to plead with him. She had to submit. His word must be obeyed, and she had no choice, but to leave.
She told the children that they were going to visit family in Lima. That was all; they didn’t need to know that they were never coming back.
The relatives she had in Lima weren’t eager to welcome a woman with three small children. That meant that the little family had to move frequently over the next few years. But they did stay together.
Finally they found a makeshift home, modest and ramshackle, in Comas, one of the settlements around Lima.
Juana was a hard worker and a wonderful cook. She earned enough to support the family and make sure that the children got an education.The years went by. She had had a couple of lovers; unfortunately they only wanted to live off of her hard work.
Even though her children now had an education and jobs, one was an engineer, another nurse and the third, a teacher, Juana kept working. Still the care giver, her mother, very ill, now lived with her.
One day Juana opened the door, and there was Hilario. He was badly dressed, horribly thin and looking thoroughly defeated by life.
He said, “Juana, forgive me. I need you.”
She stood there in the door way looking at him for a long time. Then she slowly, gently closed the door.
*Silvina cui – a trial marriage where a couple lives together for a time before deciding to make it permanent.
It was to be the happiest day of her life. One she had worked hard for sacrificed for and awaited eagerly. She loved Hilario and looked forward to the life they would share. Maybe they would even get married. That would be better for their three children.
She was a country girl. Her people were from the mountains and spoke only Quechua, but they were relatively prosperous. Hilario was different, his family was from Ayacucho, and spoke only Spanish.
Her family sent her to Ayacucho to attend school. That is where she met Hilario. They fell in love. Then, they decided to live together in silvina cui* following the traditional custom of the mountains.
Juana and Hilario lived in his modest family home along with his mother. Three children followed in rapid succession. Juana, a natural care giver, also took care of Hilario’s mother until she died.
It had been a long hard struggle, she reflected, but they had decided to invest in their future by selling his family’s land. Hilario could then study for his Engineering degree, and she would stay at home and take care of the children. Because the university was in Arequipa, Hilario was often gone, usually only coming home during vacation times. The absences had gotten longer as he studied at the University and the fifth, and last, year she barely saw him at all.
Finally, he had his degree, and she thought they would be together again.
Hilario , when he arrived home on that eagerly awaited day, was distant and preoccupied. Just as Juana started to talk about their future life together, he looked at her and said,
“You are an ignorant and uneducated person. I can’t introduce you to my friends from the University because you would embarrass me. Actually, I now have someone else, a real lady, who will be more suitable. Since this is my house, you and the children must move immediately. “
With these words, Juana’s hopes and dreams broke into a thousand pieces. Still, it wasn’t in her to plead with him. She had to submit. His word must be obeyed, and she had no choice, but to leave.
She told the children that they were going to visit family in Lima. That was all; they didn’t need to know that they were never coming back.
The relatives she had in Lima weren’t eager to welcome a woman with three small children. That meant that the little family had to move frequently over the next few years. But they did stay together.
Finally they found a makeshift home, modest and ramshackle, in Comas, one of the settlements around Lima.
Juana was a hard worker and a wonderful cook. She earned enough to support the family and make sure that the children got an education.The years went by. She had had a couple of lovers; unfortunately they only wanted to live off of her hard work.
Even though her children now had an education and jobs, one was an engineer, another nurse and the third, a teacher, Juana kept working. Still the care giver, her mother, very ill, now lived with her.
One day Juana opened the door, and there was Hilario. He was badly dressed, horribly thin and looking thoroughly defeated by life.
He said, “Juana, forgive me. I need you.”
She stood there in the door way looking at him for a long time. Then she slowly, gently closed the door.
*Silvina cui – a trial marriage where a couple lives together for a time before deciding to make it permanent.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Shall We Dance
Written by: Larry J. Pitman
He hated dancing. But he quickly learned that if you go to a party here in Peru, it is almost certain that there will be dancing. Not only that, Juana loved to dance, and she was the real reason why he was in Peru.
Juana couldn’t understand how anyone could hate dancing. It was such an important part of life in Peru, where everyone joins in, from grandma to the five year old. He tried to explain that it was different where he was from. He told her that he had never seen his parents dancing, even once.
He told how dancing was associated in his mind with humiliation and embarrassment. Painful memories abounded. For example, in elementary school he had a sixth grade graduation party where the girls were on one side of the hall and the boys (him included) were clustered as far as possible on the opposite wall. The teacher would then drag the boys (him included) across the floor and get them to take a partner to dance. It was so embarrassing. It didn’t get any better in high school either.
In college, he did develop a marginal, rigid body, approach to dancing so that he could get out on the dance floor and not totally embarrass himself or his partner. Or so he thought.
Despite all this negative programming, he realized that dancing was extremely important to Juana. He imagined him and Juana dancing with the rhythm and spirit he had seen by many Peruvians. More than that, it is also a way to experience the music that is so loved in this country.
He also began thinking that he had to let go of his feelings about dancing and let himself open up as a means of personal growth. Foolishly, he even said this to Juana.. But he never thought any more about it.
Juana hadn’t forgotten, though. Out of the blue, one day she told him that she had come across a marvelous lady in the Mercado* who would be willing to teach him to dance salsa. He turned pale, swallowed hard, flashing back to his painful past, and said,
“Ok, bring her on.”
Doña Augusta became his salsa teacher. That first lesson was difficult for both of them. She probably assumed that she was dealing with a normal human being, but didn’t understand that some of gringos are not born with natural rhythm..
She put on the music and started moving in a dance step. He responded by moving his feet in a stiff-legged style. She looked at him in a strange way and said:
“FEEL THE MUSIC”.
She could have been talking in Quechua; He really did not know what she meant.
Then she said:
“LISTEN TO THE BEAT”.
He really couldn’t hear any beat. It was hard enough just to move his feet. Listening to the music, hearing the beat, AND moving his feet, was just too much . It was then that she realized that she had an extremely tough assignment.
She took a deep breath, grabbed him, and said:
“MOVE LIKE I DO”.
Then he started moving his feet somewhat like she was doing. It was hard enough to just to keep moving his feet, but she also kept saying
“Feel the music”
and
“Listen to the beat”.
Both of them began sweating profusely. They were exhausted at the end of the first lesson and he hoped never to see her again.
Augusta, however, is a patient, determined woman. Weeks went by. After many lessons, to his surprise, his feet started moving more like Augusta. He even began to HEAR THE BEAT.
Then Augusta got more ambitious and tried to get him to move his whole body and not just his feet. That is not easy for a stiff-backed gringo, but when he started to move his body, he began to FEEL THE MUSIC. Truly a miracle!
Then he realized that he had learned something more. Now he could move with a partner in synch with the music. This was a totally new experience for him . That was what he wanted to have with Juana and now he had it.
Now when they go to a party, people look at him in surprise when they dance. He can almost hear them think:
“Wow! That gringo, he dances like he has the soul of a Peruvian”.
And he murmurs,
“Thanks, Augusta”.
• A local market
He hated dancing. But he quickly learned that if you go to a party here in Peru, it is almost certain that there will be dancing. Not only that, Juana loved to dance, and she was the real reason why he was in Peru.
Juana couldn’t understand how anyone could hate dancing. It was such an important part of life in Peru, where everyone joins in, from grandma to the five year old. He tried to explain that it was different where he was from. He told her that he had never seen his parents dancing, even once.
He told how dancing was associated in his mind with humiliation and embarrassment. Painful memories abounded. For example, in elementary school he had a sixth grade graduation party where the girls were on one side of the hall and the boys (him included) were clustered as far as possible on the opposite wall. The teacher would then drag the boys (him included) across the floor and get them to take a partner to dance. It was so embarrassing. It didn’t get any better in high school either.
In college, he did develop a marginal, rigid body, approach to dancing so that he could get out on the dance floor and not totally embarrass himself or his partner. Or so he thought.
Despite all this negative programming, he realized that dancing was extremely important to Juana. He imagined him and Juana dancing with the rhythm and spirit he had seen by many Peruvians. More than that, it is also a way to experience the music that is so loved in this country.
He also began thinking that he had to let go of his feelings about dancing and let himself open up as a means of personal growth. Foolishly, he even said this to Juana.. But he never thought any more about it.
Juana hadn’t forgotten, though. Out of the blue, one day she told him that she had come across a marvelous lady in the Mercado* who would be willing to teach him to dance salsa. He turned pale, swallowed hard, flashing back to his painful past, and said,
“Ok, bring her on.”
Doña Augusta became his salsa teacher. That first lesson was difficult for both of them. She probably assumed that she was dealing with a normal human being, but didn’t understand that some of gringos are not born with natural rhythm..
She put on the music and started moving in a dance step. He responded by moving his feet in a stiff-legged style. She looked at him in a strange way and said:
“FEEL THE MUSIC”.
She could have been talking in Quechua; He really did not know what she meant.
Then she said:
“LISTEN TO THE BEAT”.
He really couldn’t hear any beat. It was hard enough just to move his feet. Listening to the music, hearing the beat, AND moving his feet, was just too much . It was then that she realized that she had an extremely tough assignment.
She took a deep breath, grabbed him, and said:
“MOVE LIKE I DO”.
Then he started moving his feet somewhat like she was doing. It was hard enough to just to keep moving his feet, but she also kept saying
“Feel the music”
and
“Listen to the beat”.
Both of them began sweating profusely. They were exhausted at the end of the first lesson and he hoped never to see her again.
Augusta, however, is a patient, determined woman. Weeks went by. After many lessons, to his surprise, his feet started moving more like Augusta. He even began to HEAR THE BEAT.
Then Augusta got more ambitious and tried to get him to move his whole body and not just his feet. That is not easy for a stiff-backed gringo, but when he started to move his body, he began to FEEL THE MUSIC. Truly a miracle!
Then he realized that he had learned something more. Now he could move with a partner in synch with the music. This was a totally new experience for him . That was what he wanted to have with Juana and now he had it.
Now when they go to a party, people look at him in surprise when they dance. He can almost hear them think:
“Wow! That gringo, he dances like he has the soul of a Peruvian”.
And he murmurs,
“Thanks, Augusta”.
• A local market
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