We headed out to the final village visit. The road was particularly narrow and winding. It was mostly dirt and at one point it was blocked off and closed. Navidad explained that this area is new to capitalize on mining and where the road was blocked, we saw a mining crew below. They moved the barricade so we could pass by. That made me feel pretty uneasy. All of my fears about emergency response were fresh again. I tried not to visualize the news story about the missionaries crashing on the mining site. But, the story was playing in my head.
The camera angle doesn't show how steep this actually was, nor how narrow the road got.
On the nearly hour long bus ride, some complaining was happening from our group. Some of us were dreading another long ceremony. Let me explain that as touching as these ceremonies are, they are also a bit peculiar. (Remember the soup in the hair?) For one thing, the adults don't smile while they dance. The songs are long and very redundant, and the dance moves the same. As the guests, we sit and watch, unsure whether the dancers are enjoying themselves. If eight people were dancing, maybe 2-3 were into it, smiling and really enjoying the dance. The rest seemed overwhelmed or bored or shy. And it goes on. and on. and on. Navidad was in our van and heard our concerns over the long dance scene. When I say 'our,' I don't believe it was the Spokane girls complaining. I didn't mind sitting through it. While I agree that they were long and a little bizarre, I considered that they practiced and anticipated us for a long time, so I was happy to sit and watch. Others were feeling more troubled by the experience. As the bus drove, we anticipated what the next village would have in store for us. After we had experienced both ends of a welcoming spectrum, we really didn't know what we were in for.
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| Daisies and Hugs from the Children of Huacaycancha |
Well, Huancaycancha did not disappoint! We were greeted by the high school marching band. A full band! They had a floral arch for us to arrive to and beautiful live music playing for us. Our seats were set out, as well as a table lined with flowers in vases. We had ushers to seat us and a courtyard full of patient, dressed up children. The locals were seated (on the ground) in a semi circle on either side of our chairs and dressed in their best clothes. As we sat, one by one, a child brought us a fresh flower. The marching band played on and the locals dance performance began. Another, peculiar ceremony where teenagers were force-fed food and drink. I'm not sure what it was, but they obviously did not like it. Some spit it out after their turn. They shared disgusted expressions, but they were also laughing.
The speeches began. The mayor of this village spoke to us with such sincerity in his tone. I listened intently, trying to pick up words I knew. The village adults spoke more Quechuan than Spanish I think, and they spoke too fast for me to pick much of it up. But, Navidad translated that they hadn't had anyone visit them in five years. Five Years! They reiterated several times how happy they were to see us. It began to snow small flakes during the speech and they interrupted what they were saying for one of the most touching things I have ever experienced.
As I type this, my eyes tear up because it was so special. Each village man approached one of us in the group and offered us their poncho for warmth. They took off their very best clothes and loaned them to us. And you know what? Those ponchos are so warm! It helped us substantially! I was moved to the core by this sweet gesture.
The speech continued, but Navidad said something that hurt. Navidad explained to us that he told them that we were a little tired of dancing ceremonies. He told us they cut some of their program for us. I looked at the excited group of children and the well dressed citizens and wondered who wasn't going to get to do their part. It was probably one of the hardest things I experienced during the mission. There are things lost in translation. Maybe no one in our group was seriously asking for the ceremony to be cut short. Maybe Navidad just let us believe that he shortened the ceremony. I don't know for sure what was actually said or cut out. I think we were tired and complaining, but I don't know how serious anyone was about not seeing the whole ceremony. I know Navidad had our interest at heart and I also think he has a huge heart for the villages. Maybe he was playing both sides. I hope so. My heart still hurts to think that maybe someone didn't get to perform.
Navidad grew up in a small village similar to where we visited. He had to walk over an hour each direction to school each day. He was given a chance to study college in Cusco because he was a great student. But, he grew up very poor. He remembers what the village life is like. I hope he protected them from any of our spoiled American attitude. I think it's obvious that people who sign up to do a mission have a compassionate heart. I don't think anyone in our group was intentionally being spoiled. We were using humor to get us through a tough situation. Our jokes and complaints about the long ceremonies were not meant to hurt anyone, especially the sweet people of Huacaycancha. I could ask Navidad more about what truly happened, because we are now Facebook friends. :) But, I don't think I want to know. The end result was that we had a very special experience with these villagers and I hope they know how special we thought it was.
As we said our goodbyes, I made a point of saying "Muchas Gracias! Hasta Luego! Adios!" (Thank you very much! See you later! Goodbye!) to many of them. I hugged them. I was starting to feel comfortable with my small Spanish. At least enough to show manners.
Tomorrow I will blog about my experience as an English speaker in a Spanish land.
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