Since last we spoke, I´ve experienced quite a bit in the Peruvian campo, working with students from my high school in the town of Locumba (pop. 500). I was given the opportunity to travel to these towns as part of a program called Mes de Misión (in English, "Mission Month"), a four-week service project that all students at my school must complete during the summer between the equivalent of their freshmen and sophomore years of high school. The purpose of Mes de Misión is to give the students the opportunity to help people in poorer areas of Tacna, while challenging them to live independently, away from their families.For me, living in rural Peru this past month was like entering another world, where the main lodging was often huts made from cane, with dirt floors and communal, outdoor plumbing; where the primary means of transit was in the back of a rickety camion, which would race down narrow, unpaved, and dangerously sinuous roads to towns in which few Westerners have ever stayed; and where the natural beauty of the valley where Locumba is located was matched only by the hospitality with which our group was greeted by many of the locals. Mes de Misión was, in short, the greatest adventure of my life: a journey back in time and a very close encounter with people who live without the daily stresses and comforts that we are accustomed to in the West.
Now, before you start to think that this month was some romantic tour of the idyllic Peruvian countryside, let me give you a taste of how I experienced rural third world poverty, and how I endured what was easily the most challenging month of my life.
One of the most difficult things about the month was the diet. I ate a lot of rice and potatoes, and pretty much nothing else. I went a month without protein. The month-long fast would have been manageable on its own, were it not for the tough requirements of the manual labor. Most of my month was consumed by the construction or filling-in of zanjas (big ditches) that would be used to bring water to a small town outside Locumba. To dig these zanjas, we had available pick axes, shovels, crow bars and about 60 sets of scrawny 14-year-old arms. Needless to say, I became well acquainted with construction methods used in the US in the middle of the last century, and spent days toiling on projects that could have been accomplished by a mechanized backhoe in a few hours. I personally had an intimate, four-week relationship with a pick-ax that left my hands blistered and my unchallenged mind craving both the climate control and intellectual stimulation of good desk job.
Finally, on top of both hunger and exhaustion, there were, of course, the "chookies."
Perhaps you remember the B-listed 1980s horror film about a demonic doll named Chucky? Peruvian professors love this film and have adopted the name of the lead character (pronounced "chooky" in Spanish) to refer to their equally devilish students. I certainly had my fair share of run-ins with the chookies, to the extent that I often felt that if Sartre is right, and hell really is the eternal presence of other people, then the deepest darkest circle of my own personal inferno is one inhabited by Peruvian 14 year olds. These kids' teasing, their lack of focus, their raging hormones, their constant need for direction (from 5am until 9pm) left me more emotionally and physically sapped than the manual labor. Thankfully, I have a slight respite from them, until classes start in March. Well, I have now given you 500 words of complaining about Mes de Misión. And that's often what I did during the month: bitch. Self-pity was my constant companion in January. Be it my rumbling stomach, my often rumbling bowels (yes, even a diet of only carbs can make a gringo sick), or the constant presence of the chookies, I always had a way to feel sorry for myself. It was not until half-way through the month that I actually tried to enter more fully into the experience and rely on my faith to keep me from getting completely overwhelmed. For, yes, I was malnourished; yes, I was emotionally drained; yes, I will never look at a ditch in the same way again; but, at the same time, I had moments in this month where I could not have felt more spiritually alive.
In the end, I concluded that you could choose to look at Mes de Misión as a taxing and absurd obligation which is unhealthy, unhelpful (professional workers could have done our work in half the time and with a tenth of the drama), and, thus, unnecessary. I know some of the kids I led felt this way. Some part of me agrees with them, too.
What made the effort at times fruitful was that I forced myself to believe in a prayer from Saint Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuits), which I recited every morning and which I have provided you below. Among other spiritually uplifting Jesuit mottos, I forced myself to remember this prayer whenever I questioned the utility of the construction project, the sanity of the chookies or even my rationale for spending two years in Peru.
During those times when I rejected the temptation of self-pity, this month was very spiritually powerful for me. Like St. Ignatius suggests, I was able to realize that I could offer up to God all that I loved (i.e., a balanced diet, contact with my family, my health, my liberty) and feel blessed and honored in the sacrifice. Perhaps I´m crazy or just gullible enough to believe in Jesuitical trickery. I prefer to think that I genuinely grew closer to God in the past four weeks and know that I helped some of the kids to do the same. All the same, I am happy that I have finished the two Mes de Mision experiences that I will have in Peru.I wish you a blessed and (hopefully) warm month. I am conscious, however, that there are probably around 150 potential JVs out there, who are in the middle of a demanding discernment process. You all have a lot of questions, probably which you would like to ask me anomously, instead of risking a misstep with the dreaded JVI office (they´re not THAT evil). Ask me anything, no question is out of bounds (and all will be kept in confidence). Email me at dlynchper06@yahoo.com. I will try to respond to your quesitons in the JVI blog next month. In the meantime enjoy the prayer below as a tranquil way to reflect on the discernment process you are undertaking at present.
Prayer of Saint Ignatius of Loyola
Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, my understanding, and my entire will.
All I have and call my own.
Whatever I have or hold, you have given me.
I restore it all to you and surrender it wholly
to be governed by your will.
Give me only your love and grace
and I am rich enough and ask for nothing more.
Learn more about Dermot here.
