Looking for the Sun

18th of February 2012

5:24 a.m. I barely dragged myself out of bed. Can not see anything. Sun did not lean yet its nose out from the eiderdown made of clouds. I wake up the guys. We go to the bazaar to do some shopping. Sack of potatoes, half sack of carrots. The same quantity of onion. One hundred bananas. Fifteen pineapples. The list is quite long. Triciclo parked in the front of the house. We take with us a suck of coffe. A green one coffee. We have to roast it. With the eyes closed, we traverse the streets of Calca. The city is teeming with life. And the only thing I'm dreaming about is to go back to my bed. It's cold. The raindrops are falling slowly from the sky.

God, what am I doing here? I'm coming back with my thoughts to that day when everything inside of me was screaming with the joy. To that day when I've trusted Him so much that I've decided to follow Him. Without any fear. Without any doubt. *It is not so easy when you have to be awake since early morning until the late night. But still, everything is for Jesus; so like that everything is beautiful, even though it is difficult.*
It is not always easy. There are times when a smile is hiding somewhere under a pile of gray thoughts. The words are barely squeezing through the tightened lips. Feet fail. Everything around irritate. There is a lack of strength. Just like that, it's human. But after all it's a time of joy. Inside joy. Mine. In union with Him. After all, I'm doing what Jesus did when he was on the Earth. I'm fulfilling his warrant: "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations". I help others to love God even if I still can't do that in a right way. He doesn't mind about my weakness, limits or poverty.. What could be more beautiful? To love and be loved. I'm opening my eyes. The rain gave a way for a few sun beams. I am just an instrument in your hands, nothing more.

*Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Calca through the lens

13rd of February 2012

Andes. My mountains. Every day different. Suprising. Beautiful.

One of a few cars in Calca.

A small shrine situated on patio of San Roman School.

My mountains again...

Sometimes they are wrapped in clouds...

Center of the Calca.

One of the bakeries. This one inside is so colourful.

Keep a cleanliness in the city. :)

Streets of Calca.

Church of Calca.

Calca pampers me with the colours.

The oldest house in Calca. They say it's haunted. :)

Feel the magic of the Christmas

21st of January 2012

I'm so tired that I can't even gather my thoughts. They ran away, every one of them in other direction. It's like a tag play. I'm chasing, I'm touching. Tomorrow again I have to wake up at daybreak. It's edvading. Thorough cleaning of the house. It's edvading. A while with a cup of tea in my hand. It's edvading. Cooking a dinner for the boys. It's edvading. Christmas time. Tag play.
I knew that it's possible to catch it. It's one of this thoughts that holds my neurons tightly and can't stop nagging me. Have you even thought about a mystery of Christmas?

Creaky snow under the feet, penetrating cold. Smell of the green Christmas tree and little lights refelcted in a big glass balls. Hours spent in the kitchen to prepare our polish dishes: herring in cream or some dumplings filled with meat. Christmas Eve wafer and the wishes said to one another with the tears in our eyes. Gifts wrapped in colour papers and tied up with a silky ribbon. House full of people and christmas carols singing to the accompaniment of guitar.

                                    

I was missing it this Christmas. Instead of snow I had a heated sun and some rain. In the corner of the room Christmas Tree tired of life dreaming of a new dress. Pancakes with cottage cheese and strawberries prepared a few minutes before a Christmas-Eve supper. Dark blue tablecloth and uncompleted tableware. Sunday’s jeans and flip-flops. Outstrechted sweater instead of white shirt. I was feeling bad. Everything inside of me was screaming, that’s in not like it should be. I was missing my house, the smell of spice cakes, Christmas wafer, strong arms of my Father, my Mum’s blue eyes, my sister’s laugh. Because of that sorrow I've built a wall around me. A high wall.

But He came, anyway. So silently that I did not notice. He's managed with my sadness and discouragement. Penetrated my imperfections and limits. Brought me a freshness and a power of life. Emmanuel. God is with us. In Poland and in Peru. Between the snow-covered pine trees and between coconut palms. In the palace with the marble floor and in a small cartoon houses. In the happy family and next to the cringed poor man in the dark corner of the street. It’s me and you who needs a Christmas tree and gifts. He only needs our heart. Everything else doesn’t metter. And it is this mystery of the Christmas. Mystery of God’s birth.

A walk with Jesus

10th of december 2011

I'm watching the sky. Looks like it had a willingness to scream. Clouds as big as rams are wrestling with the rays of the sun those are soft like a silk threads. The tops of the mountains covered by a soft fog are in silence. I'm tired. I want to sleep. I want to cry. I wish so to have a couple of minutes just for myself. The doors are opening. Ania asks me to go with Johan to the hospital, to Qoya. It wasn't a plan of my day. It's hard but I stand up. We are already in the bus. Tears are falling down on my cheeks. Thanks God Johan doesn't see it. I look around. My gaze rested on a smiling face of the girl with beautiful black eyes. Next to her there's sadly looking old Indian woman with the face wrinkled like raisins. My eyes are looking for Johan...and I see you, Jesus. And everything becomes clear. It's for you.

The clouds continue to wrestle with the rays of the sun and I'm passing the streets of Qoya with You. We talk, we laugh, we get know each other. You are so close, you are for the asking.
Thank You for these moments.

Dr Ever

8th of december 2011

Thursday. The day of Immaculate Conception of Holy Lady. Sun timidly shows its nose from behind the duvet woven of the white clouds. Silence. It's gonna be a wonderful day. Some of our boys went with Ania and Arthur up to the mountains. Lidia since the morning sings and smlies to all who have stayed at home. We will clean the house and prepare a food for our wanderers. I went outside and I'm looking at  small, narrow path leading up to the top of the mountains. I'm looking with attention but I can't see anybody out there. From that distance they are probably like aunts.
We gather in the hall to divide a work for today. Johan? Ausente (Absent). I look for him in his sleeping room, then in TV room, kitchen and bathroom. He disappeared. Alvaro calls me to the laundry that is situated next to our patio. Johan is standing near the sink. From his nose is running a blood like a water from the roof gutter on rainy day. I try to stop the blood. Without any results. We have to go to the hospital. I'm taking in hurry my stuffs. Reyne stops a moto-taxi. We go out in a front of the house. Moto-taxi driver while making pee on a grass next to the fance screams: "Buenos dias" ("Good morning"). I'm not surprised here anymore of anything. I live in Peru.

Few minutes later we rush with the speed of the turtle in the direction of the hospital. Yes, that's "emergency" case. Admission room. I ran into the building looking for any doctor. Some man wearing a faded, green t-shirt and white, latex glows is dancing to the rythm of "huajno" (traditional peruvian music) and making flourish with the broom. He explains me calmly that we have to wait. The blood running out of Johan's nose doesn't impress him at all. In the opposite room there is a lady wearing a high-heels shoes and outstretched sweater. She is fighting with the spiders. I want to shout that is not a time for a spring clean. OK, they finished. The lady of spiders impersonates a nurse and checks a blood preassure of Johan. Everthing happens in the corridor of course. She writes down from memory the temperature: 36,3°. She invites us to the room and she makes out a bill for 5 soles for this consult. Surprise. A man in a green, faded t-shirt puts on his neck a stethoscope and starts an examination. Torch is not necessary, NOKIA gives a light too. Johan's pupils react correctly. Breath stabilized. His heart probably beats in the rythm of "huajno", that still resounds in the hospital. Music heals, softens a pain. I'm observing it all and I'm listenning. The causes of nosebleed can be various...in this case the only necessary things are: referral for morphology and tampon moistened with adrenaline. The nurse is taking an ampoule of adrenaline and gauze from the glass show-case and makes out an other bill this time for making a nose dressing. Of course she doesn't wash her hands. I'm terrified seeing how the nurse is puting into the Johan's nose formless scroll of gauze. We have to wait a few minutes before we'll come back home.

I look around. Under the table, next to the door I see flattened mop that looks like an octopus. On the wall, right behind me there's a first-aid set sticked to the wall with linen plaster. Inside of it I can see just one syringe and an ampoule of adrenaline. Above the sink there is a figure of Jesus (Senor de Milagros) decorated with the Christmas lights. Johan is bored. He is looking  up to the celling observing a nurse who is collecting with the broom some spider-webs. I take stealthily some photos. After 10 mintes comes back a doctor. Asks me where do I came from and for how long I came here. He has a friend in polish city called Gdańsk. Then he asks me if Lech Wałęsa is my compatriot. He says a few of complements. His name is Dr Ever. He hopes to be of service in the future.

Market day

5th of december 2011

Today I participated in school meeting of one of our boys - Juan Carlos. The meeting was about “Fiesta de Promoción” ("Graduating Party"). Teacher together with some parents wanted to establish some points of this event. And yes – Juan Carlos is that boy who hasn't spoken to me for one week (I don’t know If I’ve already mentioned about it, but he just simply stopped talking to me because the other day I did not allow him to turn on the computer). I tried to talk with him on friday. But without any results, he even didn’t want to look at me. In the end it was Arthur who spoke with him and I think it has worked because he started to answer my questions. Today there was this possibility for me to go to his school. And it was a good moment for me to talk with him. We have eaten a “candy of peace” and established that we will start once again.
That is so amazing that sometimes we can forget some things and build on the much stronger fundaments. I still think about that moment. Maybe this seed that we sowed will bring some fruits... :)

But let’s come back to that meeting. I don’t know if I’m able to describe it. Supposedly it had to begin at 3.00 p.m. According to the peruvian habit I came there about 3:15 p.m. and I’ve noticed only two mothers sitting on the concrete stairs and observing the pulling down of some part of the school buildings. I’ve joined them and while I was listening their conversation I started to fear that there will be some kind of the fight at this meeting. About 3:30 p.m. appeared the teacher and 10 minutes later all of the mothers whose have just arrived started to scream and forced that poor teacher to start the meeting. The main problems they wanted to speak about were: MENU, type of the invitations, decoration and amount of premiums they needed to pay. I felt like I was on the market day next to the the stall. Profe (they call teacher like this) tried to control all the mothers who were all talking very loudly. I started to laugh. Each mother had her own idea, the students who participated in meeting, of course, too. When they were discussing about the MENU I bursted into laugh. One of the women shouted: 'Un poquito de silencio por favor al respecto de estos bocadillos!' - less or more it means: "A little bit of silence, please, in the respect to these snacks”. That mother had a very implacable face, and probably belonged to the “parent-teacher association” that here consists only of two parents. With her splendour outshone poor profe. This meeting and its climate reminded me a bit one of the polish movies “Rejs” (‘Voyage’) ... total surrealism! Two of the mothers didn’t mind about all the mess and they were producing small parts of earrings, other woman who was sitting next to me was knitting a sweater. And I was making notes writing down all what profe has written on the blackboard. I forgot to add that he was earsing it with the toilet paper that they use here in Peru almost to everything – for example instead of the tissues in a case of nagging cold they put into the nose two scrolls of the toilet paper and breathe through the mouth.
So..after they’ve already set a MENU, drinks, appearance of invitations, napkins and interior decoration of the ballroom  profe announced that most of the cost will be covered with the money from "parent-teacher association” and the rest will be covered with the money of overdued tickets. The women looked indignanted. Let me explain you why...Parents who did not take part in school's life and who did not participate in school gatherings had to pay for a snacks and small gifts, because here they receive tickets (fines) and they have to pay for school if they are not present. Woman with that implacable face pointed a finger at one of the students whom father did not appeared at school on Sport’s Day because he was sick and she commented it with the words: “It can’t be like this”. She was explaining, fully convinced, that for sure it was just an excuse. "Public injustice. Some parents pay the premiums and take part in school events and others don’t." Absence at school gathering costs 20 soles. Parents of Juan Carlos should pay 3 tickets, that means – 60 soles. I even did not think about arguing with the teacher as other mothers did screaming that they they haven’t missed any school meeting and that they would not pay. But their protests did not help because a woman from “parent-teacher association” had a notebook where she was writing down everything.

I was not able to stay there any longer. I stood up, said goodbye to the profe and I came back home. I have no idea how long still this meeting lasted.

I like to be here.

Juan Carlos is smiling to me again.

Continuation of spontaneity

27th of november 2011

Today we had to go up to the mountains, but Arthur reminded us that we had a meeting with some parents. Once in a month they come to Calca to spend some time with their children and talk with us about their behaviours and results at school. Some parents who come here don't speak spanish, only quechua - I didn't know about it and I was wondering why mother of Gumercindo haven't answered my questions. Sometimes these parents travel all day long to get here and spend one day with their child. They bring some fruits: bananas, oranges, mangoes, watermelons, pineapples - everything in the bags. They carry it all wandering through the mountains, crossing brooks and rivers without any bridges. And after a few hours of walking finally they can find a street where they try to stop any car and ask for a lift to the village.

Arthur and Margarita introduced us in the beginning of the meeting and told parents about our voluntary work in Casa Don Bosco. After that we had to find with Ania some activities for boys. And that was a spontaneity again - studying in the attic where the temperature was reaching 50 grades of Celsius. There was no air. The question was: "How to force them to work and study?". The meeting had to last 30 min. But after, this half of hour turned into 40 min and in the end into 50 min. We were waiting with Ania for the end of that meeting like for a salvation because normaly after that parents go downtown with boys and then we have a time to rest a little bit. But..not this time - why should we rest when instead of it for example we could make a volleyball and football competitions - children vs parents. But it's OK, we will rest later, we are on the mission - It's impossible to describe those competitions. Just try to imagine 50-year old Indian woman with two long black plaits, with the face full of wrinkles, with dirty hands because of the dust, in the two skirts and lace slip sticking out of it, in knitted tights, two sweaters, and with the sun, that raises here the temperature to 40 degrees of Celsius. A pleasure. :) Here I have some photos. Maybe it will help you a little bit to imagine what was happening here on our patio.

That's a big summary of our daily spontaneity. Now I'm only smiling because I can't do anything. It just has been so hard since the beginning. I needed a time to understand that I'm here to serve not to change and to make better all around me. That's not a point. It's me who has to change and work with myself. It's me who has to fight with my weaknesses, my fears, my habits and with my attitude give them an example. I can't require from my kids something that I'm not living.

Padre Maciek sent us a few days ago a video called "I'm going for a mission" that he made during our "retreat days" in Turin. Each of us (volunteers) spoke shortly about himself - where he wants to go and why, what he will do there. When I listen now myself I'm realising, that my image of the missionary work were..so unreal before I came here. After our return Padre Maciek should make a new video called: "I came back from the mission." and compare our "speeches". Today I already know that mission is not any kind of heroism, It's hard work, ordinary work. Aren't any big actions, are a small gestures, serving with the smallest things.