Embrace another side of Peru: Volunteering in the desert

by Amy-Jo Lynch (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Peru

I would like to share a special moment with you, going as far back as 2012. As Group Leader for a research project investigating the development of young children living and attending nursery within the indigenous community of Salas de Guadalupe, I was transported to the dusty and humid climes of the province of Ica, Peru. Despite all the training and preparation prior to embarking on the UK government’s International Citizen Service programme, I didn’t really process what I had got myself into until I arrived. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, living in the desert for three months, but I immediately felt at home. The dusty landscapes enriched with warm yellow, golden and brown hues was never lost on me; it would instantly hit me each time I stepped out of the house every morning, almost as though I had never seen this view before. I remember defiantly basking in the penetrating sun rays on my breaks, despite being told not to, although I soon learnt that it was best to follow local advice - you really couldn’t sit outside for too long! It was hot, it was humid, it was sticky. Interestingly, I later found out that Ica is home to one of, if not, the largest Afro-Peruvian communities in the country, which is significant to me given my Caribbean heritage and fervent interest in the African diaspora. Ica is the kind of area that they hardly even bother to mention in a guide book, or worse, tell you to pass through because there's nothing there to see. But you would be wise to see the place for yourself, to explore, and then form your own opinion. During the data collection phase of the project, I made an instant connection with an incredibly loving and welcoming family: a woman, named Jane, and her daughter. It was effortless. I was immediately drawn to them and it all started with a smile and a true acknowledgment of one another. Picturing this even make me smile as I write this. On reflection, this little family mirrored my own upbringing - raised by a single mother. Their bond was undeniable and it certainly resonated with me. Each day we would greet each other and take some time to sit and talk. Despite my very limited Spanish at the time, we somehow understood each other, helpfully facilitated by various gesticulations and the unwritten communications expressed through our body language. We were in sync. The little girl’s face beaming, often with an orange-stained mouth and cheeks. This was something I remember making a mental note of, curious as to what she was getting up to, but always distracted by her beautiful smile and playful energy - she really did radiate so much warmth. On the penultimate date, Jane left early and asked me to sit with her daughter until she came back. The time passed very quickly that day and after the nursery closed, we sat cross-legged together on the floor, side-by-side, and keeping each other company. Jane eventually returned with a bulbous carrier bag in hand, which she quickly handed over to me and I dutifully accepted, unsure of what was inside. She quickly fished out a bright, beautiful mango and placed it gently in my hand. She then took one for herself and bit right into the dewy, juicy flesh of the fruit, encouraging me to do the same. It's the only way to eat a mango for me since then, despite the messy display, but she didn't care so why should I! The taste was delightful, like a pop of colour in an old black and white film. “Wow,” this is what a fresh mango tastes like! I thanked them both for the precious bundle and looked at Jane and her daughter, with faces full of glee. And then I suddenly made the connection, looking at her daughter’s orangey face and then back at the gifts that I had just received. I was overcome with emotion, mostly gratitude, for a family who didn't have much in a material sense, still wanted to share something so special, and vital to them, with me.