A Complex Culture

A letter from Sara Armstrong serving in Peru

October 2015

“Sara, find a cultural interpreter!”

That was one of the imperatives emphasized during our orientation and training for mission service seven years ago. Today, in Peru, we realize that we will never fully understand the complexities of the culture here. I have been reading the papers today, trying to catch up on the news after several weeks away. President Humala’s wife, Nadine, has been charged with graft and money laundering.  His approval rating is down to 12 percent. I ask myself what this means for the country and the 12 political parties involved in its governance.  Being a “cup half empty” person, I worry about the stability of the government. But when I talked to a trusted Peruvian friend—a cultural interpreter—I came to understand that most probably the fallout of this crisis will not extend beyond tarnishing Humala’s reputation and making it unlikely that he should ever again be able to run for president.

We have learned so much from so many Peruvians. When we arrived in Peru in 2009 some of the first people we met were Gabriela Franco Luna and her mom, Urpi Luna Quispe. A year later, when they were experiencing a housing crisis, we, with some qualms, invited them to share a house with us.  It was one of the best decisions of our lives.

When I arrived in Peru I considered myself bilingual. But I rapidly realized two things: I did not know local slang and the Quechua words that have been incorporated into everyday Spanish vocabulary here, and I did not understand the extremely formal, florid style used for business letters in Peru. Urpi works as a translator from her first language, the Quechua of Cusco, to Spanish. (This is only one of 10 Quechua dialects.)  As we began to establish relationships with partners here and tried to help them understand the unique way Presbyterians work, Urpi was able to help me to convey subtle and vital nuances in Quechua and help me to understand the subtexts of their replies.

Since Urpi handles her own teams for her work, she was able to help us negotiate fair prices and reliable relationships with hotels, bus lines and restaurants for visiting mission groups. We joke that when Rusty puts on his sneakers, jeans and a ball cap, the price of taxis goes up 25 percent over what it would cost if he were wearing his more Peruvian-style clothes. We call it the “gringo price.” Many service providers want to offer us the “gringo price”; it takes time and coaching to discover people we can trust in the business world.

Both Gabi and Urpi give us encouragement in the face of daily living here.  When it took us three months to get our service provider to change our Internet connection from 2 to 8 MB, their sympathy and laughter helped us to be patient. They helped us resolve the problem. Also, I now have a “go to” person when I can’t figure out which of the 3,000 varieties of potatoes is used to make causa rellena. (It’s the yellow ones. Yum!) One of our friends had a brother who died in a crazy accident.  We had no idea of the funeral customs.  They coached us:  This is where you buy flowers for wakes. This is how you deliver them.  You have to stay all day and go to both the funeral and graveside services the next day.  The customs are so different from the services I used to conduct as a pastor; we would have been completely lost without help.

Through our cultural interpreters we have been able to peer into the customs of a traditional family from Cusco. These families are generally closed to outsiders, but we are welcome. Trips to Cusco now involve great food, hugs, and invitations to family gatherings. Urpi’s wide knowledge of herbs and traditional Andean medicine means that she is often called to visit sick people in their homes.  I have been able to accompany her occasionally. When we have traveled together with family and friends, she has known what to prescribe to remedy altitude-related maladies and travelers’ illnesses.

Sharing the kitchen and the garden is always interesting. In my U.S. garden I’d quickly pull up nettles as weeds. Here they are used as a tea and as a (painful) treatment for arthritis.  In many Peruvian homes and restaurants you see aloe vera plants hanging by the roots over a doorway. I did not really notice them until someone told me that they were to absorb the bad spirits in the house.  We have plenty of aloe vera in the garden!  I begrudged the space that these large plants occupied until I got bronchitis this year.  Then Urpi showed me how to harvest the big lower leaves, clean and peel them under running water, and mix the jelly in the middle with lime juice and honey. Bottoms up! This helps digestion and strengthens healing lungs. It was not easy to eat this concoction at first but I now find it delicious!

It is not just knowledge that we exchange.  Urpi and I walk the dog together when we are both home, sharing our lives as best we are able in our second languages. We garden, do yoga, cook, and plan projects together.  She has involved me in the group of Quechua speakers who gather to speak in the language of their hearts, to sing and celebrate together. She has traveled with our mission teams as well.  Last summer a team from Texas asked her to teach a two-day class on nutrition to a group of Quechua-speaking women from Sinodo Puno high in the altiplano. She talked with them about God’s gift of food in the Bible, and all that the body needs to be whole.  She showed these 60 women how to prepare nutritionally sound meals, and all the women exchanged knowledge about the medicinal herbs they use in their area. One elderly woman exclaimed that in her lifetime these topics had never been covered in church!

Our lives here would have been much poorer if we have not had the courage to live on the edge, to be open to different and ancient ways of living—if we had not looked for cultural interpreters.  This is part of being Presbyterians in mission.  We look for ways to partner, to learn from each other, and to share the gospel creatively.

I thank all of you who pray for us, participate in our financial support, and keep in touch with us regularly. Rusty and I delight in sharing our lives and learning with you.  If you are not currently supporting a Presbyterian mission worker, please consider supporting our work here. (You can give online by using the “Give” link below.)

¡Sonqoy manta! (“From my heart” in Quechua)
Saracha
The 2015 Presbyterian Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 54