Real-life, Christian Communism (kind of...), Peruvian Style

Last night, I learned what a “junta” is (pronounced in Spanish “HOON-ta” -- NOT the military dictatorship kind). It is a microfinance lending and savings plan that is a very common practice among extended friends/families in economically poor or “developing” countries, but virtually unheard of (I think) in the US outside of immigrant communities. Or maybe it is well-known and I’m just ignorant. But I think (in theory at least) it sounds pretty cool and exciting, just because it’s so simple (so incredibly simple, in fact, that I had a hard time grasping how it worked and why I hadn’t heard of other instances where its been used: I can’t find any description of it whatsoever on Wikipedia – in Spanish OR English. ). So now I’m going to share how it works in hopes that some of you hadn’t heard of it, either.

Here’s a situation where a junta could be useful (note: this is a REAL idea proposed during an informal church session meeting, not something I just made up): Santa Isabel church (where I work/attend) would like to have a multi-media projector to show movies and powerpoint slides on a big screen or wall. The projector costs about $1000. That is a LOT of money in Peru, especially in neighborhoods like the one I live in, Comas/Carabayllo, in the northern cones of Lima. The church would like to have the projector now (well, as soon as possible), but there is nowhere near enough cash in the treasury to pay for it. The solution: get a loan from a bank? NO! Form a junta! Here’s how:

1. Find nine other people that have at least $100 of disposable income each month. Preferably, some of them (but not all) should also have aspirations for purchases in the next couple months that they don’t have enough money to realize. In the specific example given above, where the church is the primary beneficiary, the church’s treasury counts as an additional “person” – bringing the total number of participants in the junta to ten.
2. All ten people (i.e. nine people + the church) agree to pool together $100 each month for ten months.
3. The first month, the $1000 of pooled money (10 people x $100) ALL goes to the church. The church then buys the multimedia projector.
4. For each of the remaining nine months, a different person in the junta/pool gets a turn receiving the entire $1000 that is pooled together.

And that’s it. In the end, nobody makes any money and nobody loses any money. It’s just a type of accelerated savings plan. All in all, the church has basically budgeted $100 a month for ten months to pay for a projector. So over the course of ten months, it will have indeed pad for its own projector, but unlike what would happen if the church simply put $100 in a personal piggy bank each month for ten months, the church gets the projector at the BEGINNING of the ten months (after only having saved $100) instead of at the end of the ten months.

I should probably mention that I only put the word “communism” in the title of the entry to get people to read it. This isn’t communism. However, sociologically speaking, whether or not such a junta plan is successful depends on much of the same factors that determine whether or not communism can be successful. A junta will probably not work in a very large population of people. A junta probably will not work among a completely random or arbitrary group of people. A junta will probably not work among a very heterogeneous group of people. Ten people sharing in a junta have to be ten close friends with a high degree of personal contact and accountability. They have to trust each other very much. They have to all understand the goals and purpose of the junta, and they should probably have a common worldview and cultural/moral framework. There are just too many possibilities/risks involved for the person whose turn comes last to get screwed by the others dropping out and not making all ten monthly contributions. (I keep using the number ten, but obviously a junta can theoretically have any number of participants; though I personally probably wouldn’t want to go much higher than ten).

Many poor people in the world don’t have access to banks or credit. Even if they do, many have trouble meeting the requirements to qualify for loans/credit. But regardless, by participating in a junta, they don’t have to pay back any interest anyway. That being said, there are some types of juntas that DO involve payments with interest, because otherwise the person with the last turn receives no benefit whatsoever, and could potentially come out much worse off depending on the conditions of the larger economy. I don’t know if this is common, but my solution would be just to have two juntas back to back – with the order reversed for the second one.

Also, you’ve probably figured this out on your own by this point, but juntas are usually used by people who are starting their own small businesses. Without a bunch of money to pay for the start-up capital, the business won’t get off the ground. Participating in a junta solves this problem. Especially if the business is successful, the first beneficiary in the cycle of the junta could also potentially be someone who wouldn’t otherwise have the required amount of money available to pay every month. But after taking their turn at the beginning of the junta to create their business, they’ve secured a source of income that will allow them to continue participating in the junta and paying back the amount they received when they took the first turn.

Earlier, I talked about the importance of trust in the success of a junta. It can only be successful in a tightly-knit community. What I think is REALLY cool about a junta is the trust involved and created. While a junta isn’t really an investment of money (because although there is definitely high risk involved, in the end you don’t receive any more than you put in), a junta IS an investment of trust. As far as trust is concerned, it is a feedback system. The community has to have trust to begin with, but at the end of the junta, there will be a lot MORE trust among the community’s members than there ever was to start with. Upon successful completion of the junta, the community will be even closer, because the junta showed that their trust in each other did not fail. These social/communal benefits of trust and mutual dependence gained by a junta can NEVER be replicated with a standard bank loan.

This is an article that probably explains what a junta is (or as the author calls it a “rotating savings and credit association) better than I just did, if you want more information.

Baby Coming Soon

So tonight I had "the talk" with my host family, Javier and Raquel. Usually "the talk" refers to a conversation that starts off with the line "son, you might have noticed that your body and mind are going through important changes...." or the innocent question "where do babies come from?" The version "the talk" I had tonight was a little more advanced than that. It was more along the lines of "regardless of what happened nine months ago, this baby is COMING!"

Side note: For those of you who might be newcomers to Pensamientos Peruanos, Raquel and Javier are a married couple who form my host family in Peru (I would call them my host "parents," but that'd be kind of weird, because they're only about 12 years older than I). Raquel is pregnant (Javier is the father -- just to clarify) and the baby is due to arrive any time between May 15 - 31.

Raquel is planning on working all the way through May 8 (that seems like a long time to me, but I'm not exactly one to judge -- and let's be honest, I know absolutely nothing about being a pregnant mother, aside from the fact that it can't be THAT tough, because three years ago when I was running varsity cross country in college, my now-35 year old coach beat me by 30 seconds in a 5K road race while she was 6 months pregnant.) So given that the hour is fast approaching, tonight was as good a time as any to go through what exactly is the plan when she goes into labor.

Raquel's doctor that will deliver the baby works at a hospital that is about a 20 minute taxi ride from the house. We went over what would happen should Raquel go into labor while I'm at home with her and Javier is working (Javier is not planning on taking off work, and I'm home during the day 3 days during the work week) . It's up to me to find a fast, secure ride for her to get to the hospital. I have the numbers of four people with automobiles in my cell phone (which brings up another important part of the plan -- always have the cell phone charged and with sufficient credit to make calls.) If none of them answer or if none of them are in the area, I have to go out to the street to hail a taxi. This is sometimes difficult, because there are times when not many taxis are around our street. Javier's brother Roberto, who lives downstairs in our house has a car (but he doesn't drive) that he rents to a friend that uses it as a taxi. When his friend isn't working, the car stays downstairs in the "garage." It's an automatic transmission (which means I can drive it, theoretically) and for awhile Javier joked about what I would do if none of the taxistas answered their cell phones and the driver of Roberto's car wasn't working that day. The problem is, a lot of times I can't tell when Javier's joking.... (Also -- I never did ask if there's some sort of emergency/ambulance number I can call as a last resort -- I should probably do that.)

Another key part of the plan is for me to have my video camera always charged -- Javier wants to videotape the birth (I guess maybe I should have mentioned that the second person I call after the taxi will be Javier so he can leave work and be there to see -- and record -- the birth of his son).

Basically, all of this is extremely exciting and horrifying all at the same time. I feel so blessed to be able to share in such an important chapter in the lives of Javier and Raquel. Hearing Javier talk about how excited he is for the birth of his son (who will be named Rodrigo Alejando Fernandez Vega -- they assured me that they are NOT naming him "Alejandro"after me!) was indescribable. Javier is really, really happy. He also told me that the main reason he wants to lose weight (I go running with him for half an hour 4 mornings every week) is so he will be in good enough shape when he's older to play with his children. At the same time as feeling excited and blessed and thankful to have this experience, even though I'm a (supposedly) mature adult, I'm also thinking to myself "wow, it is going to be a LOOOOONG TIME before I'm ready to be a father!" My last two months in Peru are definitely going to be much, much different than the first 9.

AIPRAL Conference Part 2: Brazil and Stuff

So there's definitely much more to talk about with the AIPRAL conference than just bible studies and talks on economic justice. First and foremost, we had the opportunity to get to know about two dozen young Christians from all over South America: Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, Uruguay and Colombia. They were mostly 18 – 25-ish, either in college or recently graduated. There were maybe 14 males and 8 or 9 females. And of course, because of the geographical diversity, Sean and I got to hear a great variety of Spanish accents. The Chilean Spanish was probably most difficult for us to understand (well, apart from the Portugese, hahaha). Luckily, the guys who came to the conference from Chile spoke a decent amount of English. More importantly, however, they also did a GREAT job of putting on “gringo” Spanish accents. They could speak Spanish with a PERFECT California/valley accent. It was actually easier (and a lot funnier!) to understand them when they spoke with their fake North American accents.

We also participated in the “southern cone” tradition of hot tea (“mate”) drinking. The participants in the conference from Paraguay, Uruguay and Argentina were constantly drinking tea. They each had a thermos and matching mug. The mug is filled about halfway with some sort of plant/herb, and then either cold or hot (depending on the outside temperature) water is poured on top of it. Then they drink the tea through a metal straw that you’re apparently not supposed to move. The cool part is that even though everyone brought their own, they each took turns being the “tea provider” for the day. That is, one person would bring their mug/thermos, and then be constantly sharing/passing around. In this way, it’s a much more community/social activity.

The first time I tried it, I had no clue what it was. And being totally clueless, (not having even seen anyone else drink from it) the first thing I did was take the straw out (a no-no) and look at it. And because the bottom part was wide, flat and sort of curved (resembling a spoon), I made a motion to ask them if you were supposed to EAT it (it seemed like a possibility – I didn’t know!!). So of course everyone laughed and quickly made sure I didn’t eat it. Finally, my last faux-pas was just sipping really slowly – I would quickly learn that they basically drain the mug in one quick, long swig, and then it gets refilled for the next person.

The slow sipping may not have been a bad strategy – they all claimed that the tea didn’t have any stimulants, but there is no WAY that was true. After my first morning of participating in one of their tea-drinking social circles, I was WIRED for the rest of the day! I guess “mate” is their version of the regular North American’s addiction to coffee.

Unfortunately, Sean and I didn’t get to see too much of Brazil outside of just the hotel and the waterfalls. The conference activities went all the way from 8 in the morning to 8 at night. However, the national park in Foz de Iguazu where we saw the waterfalls was pretty awesome. To start with, everything just seemed so green, compared to Lima which is technically coastal desert. The climate reminded me a lot of home / the deep south – hot and humid.

Of course, the waterfalls were nothing short of spectacular. You can check out pictures in my picasa album. There was a path that sort of winded along through the trees, down the hillside next to the river, and around every turn there was ANOTHER set of spectacular falls. I thought it would just be one big waterfall, but there were at least 5 different sets (maybe more like 7 or 8). There were also bridges with platforms that went out over the river so we could get close enough to feel the mist. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to cross over to the Argentine side (the Iguazu river forms the border between Brazil and Argentina) where you can walk on a bridge that passes pretty much directly over the falls, but we still had an amazing time. There were masses of other tourists everywhere from all over the world. South America, Europe, Japan, and even a guy wearing a University of Georgia baseball cap.

Finally, after seeing the waterfalls, I went white water rafting down the river (down river, not up river from the falls…). I’ve been rafting a couple times in western North Carolina, so I knew what to expect, but it was still a little disconcerting that our guide only spoke Portugese! There were actually only two real rapids – but they were both a lot bigger and more intense than any rapid I had rafted through previously! After the second rapid, we basically all jumped out of the raft and just floated down the river for the rest of the day. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting when I was told it would be a 2 hour rafting trip, but I wasn’t going to complain – the water felt SO good in the Brazilian heat and humidity.

All in all it was a good trip. The only other thing I guess I could mention is that we crossed the border (the OTHER border) from Brazil into Paraguay on the last day to do some shopping. This really isn’t noteworthy at all, besides the fact that crossing the border was so quick, easy and painless. The shopping consisted of street venders and a couple shopping mall-type buildings that offered very little in the way of authentic Paraguayan crafts and mainly just electronics, clothes, music and movies for higher prices than we would pay in Peru.

Part 2 of Alex’s Dissertation about Living Simply… AKA “My scatter-brained ramblings as I deal with a South American existential crisis"

Note: This is a long entry that doesn’t always flow very logically or get to the point right away (much like a lot of sermons I’ve heard, and some of the few that I’ve preached). But it is the culmination of something I’ve been thinking about a LOT over the past few weeks or so. I encourage you to please read all o f it (along with “Part 1,” from which the thought process of this entry follows directly), because I’d love your feedback, especially if you’re a current, past or prospective/future Young Adult Volunteer

So looking back on it, I now realize that there were some mixed motivations when I decided to become a YAV. And again, not all of that is bad – indeed there are far worse things that college grads could be doing just because it’s popular or “cool” besides volunteering in the non-western world on behalf of beneficial social/religious causes.

But Sean (fellow Peru YAV) asks an interesting question (as Sean frequently does): “If you couldn’t tell anyone about what you did this year, would you still decide to be a YAV?” Now, to be honest, I don’t think this is a completely fair question. Sharing your story is arguably the most important part of the YAV experience; I suspect that describing to friends, family and churches the things I’ve seen and done here in Peru will have a far greater positive social/economic impact than the actual volunteer work I’m doing here in Peru with churches and organizations that provide direct assistance for the poor. However, there’s always a dual nature of telling these stories, because although it would be wrong for us not to share such unique, life changing experiences, it’s almost impossible not to describe them in a way that is kind of self-righteous (whether intentional or not). There is a temptation to “martyr yourself” – intentionally put yourself in situations where you’re deprived of modern technological comforts – not only in an effort to create personal and spiritual growth/gain a deeper appreciation for life, but also because it’s a “cool” thing to do, and it gives you a great story that will make you a hit at dinner parties and wedding receptions. THIS is the possible danger of mixed motivations that Sean is getting at when he asks that question.

I’m not saying that I ever used to stand shivering underneath my cold shower, thinking to myself “this will be SO worth it after I get back and can honestly tell people that I took cold showers for a year straight.” The more likely scenario is that someone in the US will someday complain about their shower one morning running out of hot water, and then BAM! – I can chime in saying “well at least you didn’t have to take cold showers for a year straight like I did when I was in Peru, and like [fill in the blank with appropriate number] percent of the world does every day.”

Then there’s the even sneakier situation, when someone ELSE is talking about having to take cold shower while (s)he was living in a foreign country, and then I can come in by saying “Yeah, but what I think stinks even worse about not having hot water is when you have to wash your clothes by hand. You scrub and scrub, but they never really ever seem to get clean, and all the while your hands are FREEZING.” So basically in these ways, the well-intentioned person living simply abuses the tales of their experience to make others feel guilty for their own lifestyles. Or the simple-liver (“liver” as in “person who lives,” not the organ) uses the story of their experience to “one-up” other simple-livers to see who is the most “hardcore.”

Obviously, I’m getting really nit-picky, and there are also deeper issues of psychology/human nature at work here that I’ll spare you from exploring further (if you made it reading this far…). Suffice it to say that I know that to some extent EVERYONE does this sort of story-telling that is part genuine, part self-righteous. I may be guilty of doing it more than others. But I DON’T want to say that people should “censor themselves” when it comes to re-counting unique experiences. I think everything will be just fine as long as people have the self-confidence/esteem to acknowledge that one doesn’t need to proclaim these experiences to have a sense of self-worth, and that on the other hand, just because someone hasn’t had the experience of living simply and intentionally on another continent doesn’t make him/her less of a “good” person.

One other danger of “martyring yourself” is that it can potentially be HARMFUL for your personal physical/emotional health (as opposed to creating personal growth) if you neglect to give appropriate attention to your needs. With a little dedication, the typical North American can (relatively) easily live in a way that is simpler, more environmentally-friendly and also more in-line with how the rest of the world’s population lives. However, that does NOT mean that I can survive and be healthy for a year while trying to live EXACTLY like an Indigenous South American high-altitude subsistence farmer, because my body and mind has spent the rest of my life up to this point being a middle-upper class North American, not an Indigenous South American high-altitude subsistence farmer.

Another interesting element in this “living simply” debate is the attitudes of the people that I’m here supposedly being in solidarity with. Now, I haven’t had many up-front, extended conversations with Peruvian friends or church/host family members about the obvious differences in technological luxuries and comforts between my personal lifestyle in the US and the average working-class lifestyle here in Peru, but I would suspect (or at least hope) that people here appreciate the fact that I understand how great the discrepancy in wealth is, and that I’m here showing them that I care by being in solidarity. However, for many people (and especially, I think, for people where I live on the outskirts of Lima), the modern, western life of wealth and luxury is exactly what they’re working so hard towards! They would love to enjoy the comforts that I have in the US: automatic dishwashers, washing machines and dryers, high speed internet, affordable personal automobile etc. For me to come to Peru having rejected what they see as goals and signals of “progress” and upward mobility must be dumbfounding. So while I’m living in solidarity with them physically, I’m still on a different wavelength culturally/philosophically – no way would they make the same decision I did if they were in my shoes!

But maybe this is a case of where I really can “make a difference” socially/economically HERE in Peru through my ministry as a YAV (as opposed to just making a difference through “reverse ministry” back to the US through my correspondence and reports of my thoughts and reflections). I can show people that wealth, luxuries and technology, which may increase social status or make life “easier,” doesn’t always make life “better” or more meaningful. In fact, these things can inhibit us from connecting deeply and lovingly to each other as a community rather than a group of isolated individuals.

And I agree 100% with that message – it’s definitely true for me, and it’s one of the beliefs that factored into my decision to become a YAV. But at the same time, if the reason I’m here is to show these confused poor people in the southern hemisphere that their materialistic goals of wealth and comfort will turn out to be empty and unfulfilling, then aren’t I just guilty of a new type of western cultural imperialism – one that advances the agenda of a postmodern, liberal white North American? Isn’t this a perfect contemporary example of what not to be: the western aid worker who has gone to the “undeveloped lands” to give them a paternalistic hand up, courtesy of advanced western thought?

In the end, I don’t have the perfect answer. I think there’s got to be a middle road somewhere: a way that I can show through my life choice to be here that I think the fruits of high modern, advanced capitalism aren’t all they’re cracked up to be as far as improving the real “quality” of life – but without doing it in a preachy, paternalistic way.

So finally, back to the original point (and yes, I promise I had an original point!): What did I decide for myself in terms of dealing with the discomfort that being surrounded in comfort/technology gives me? Well, I decided I’m going to keep taking my hot showers. I’m going to keep using the washing machine. But I have also decided to intentionally cut back on using the internet and TV. I think that these things are keeping me from “being present” with my host family, and really forming deep relationships with them. I’ve been aware of this danger for some time now, but what really made me notice it happened just a couple days ago. On Saturday, Angelo, my ten year old “host cousin” that visits the house only on the weekends and loves hanging out with me, came upstairs to my room to ask me if I had time to come downstairs and play with him. I had spent the previous hour or two just mindlessly checking email, chatting and using facebook. Of course, I quickly turned off the computer and went downstairs, feeling guilty for having not done it earlier, and we had a lot of fun. See, from the two months of living with my first host family, I know that I can easily adapt to life without the internet or TV. I don’t really miss it too much when it’s gone. But when it’s there, it’s pretty hard for me not to get sucked in. However, I think by making this intentional, conscious decision to start abstaining, I will be able to break my “addiction,” and eventually be much better off for it. So if you happen to notice me spending time on g-mail’s chat service, skype or facebook, tell me to go out and live in Peru. Or at least make me feel guilty for whatever I say I’m doing that’s “so important” at the time.

I guess that’s the final irony in all this. I would very much like to have a discussion about the (many) issues I’ve raised with these two blog entries. However, starting this week I won’t “be present (that is, online) very much to contribute to it. I am planning on checking my email and blog comments occasionally, and maybe I’ll write down the comments so I can write about them later in my journal before efficiently and quickly transcribing them to my blog (which is actually the way I wrote these past two entries – on paper first so I could focus). Well, anyway, thanks for reading all this, and God bless.

- Alex

Tensions and difficulties with the YAV principle of "Living Simply" (Part 1)

Note: This is the first part of part two of a two part series of blog entries that have two parts. Part two of part one, which concerns the AIPRAL conference in Brazil, is coming soon!

I came into this year as a Young Adult Volunteer wanting to live simply. To get away from the silly preoccupations of materialistic American popular culture, and to learn to form real, genuine relationships with people. I was gladly willing to sacrifice things like internet access, TV and hot showers in order to have a “genuine,” year-long taste of how most of the world lives. I wanted to be in solidarity with the urban poor on Lima’s outskirts – a “place” (socially and geographically) that has a host of difficult problems that are unique from those of Peru’s impoverished rural provinces.

For my first two months in Peru, I did all of that fairly well. I was living in a modest home where I always took cold showers. If I wanted to use the internet, I had to walk down the street where I could pay an hourly rate (albeit a very, very small one – about 30 cents) to use a computer in an internet café. If I wanted to watch TV, I had to go upstairs from my room and join in whatever the other family members were watching in one of the bedrooms/living spaces with a TV. When my clothes were dirty, I either washed them by hand or paid my host sister or someone in the neighborhood to wash them for me. Overall, I spent a lot of time simply sitting and talking with the members of my host family. And when I needed time to myself, I read, wrote in my journal or just quietly prayed or reflected in my room.

But, as I discussed on my blog in December, there were some issues with my host family that posed risks to my physical and emotional well-being. Debbie and I, with the help of Hernando and Eduardo (two pastors who supervise my work with my church placements), decided these risks were unnecessary. We made the difficult decision to switch my host family.

My living situation with my new host family, where I’ve been for five months now, is very different from that of the first one. I now can take hot (or at least warm…) showers. I wash my clothes whenever I want in the washing machine. My laptop, which I originally brought to Peru so I could type blog entries offline and then save them to a flash memory drive before uploading them online quickly from an internet café, is now connected 24 hours a day to the (relatively) high speed internet connection in my bedroom. Also in my bedroom is a cable TV with a DVD player, which presents another option for occupying my time when I’m feeling anti-social and just want to “zone out” for awhile.

In other words, as far as technological comforts, I’m really not living too much more “simply” than I ever did in the United States of America. Sure, I don’t have a car, so I take public transportation or walk everywhere, and I dry my clean clothes on a line outside instead of in a machine – both of which are marked improvements in the “living simply” area – but that’s about it. Over the past few months, I’ve found myself spending far too much time mindlessly checking my email, watching you tube videos and online episodes of The Daily Show, checking people’s facebook profiles, and perusing the endless stream of constantly-updated weblogs and online news sources. And thanks to email, instant messaging and the ability of Skype to make ridiculously cheap international phone calls over the internet to US cell phones, I also spend a lot of time corresponding with friends and family (which maybe I shouldn’t mention, just in case you’re reading this and I haven’t kept in touch with you personally…). In fact, a few of my friends have discussed how “weird” it is that I keep in touch so well, since it’s usually impossibly difficult to maintain contact with people who are living simply on another continent.

And, from what I know of how other PC(USA) YAVs are living this year, my friends’ reactions are not unwarranted. My situation seems pretty unique. For most of them, time on the internet, when available, is utilized to maximum efficiency, because access is either rare, expensive or far away. Books are the other “hot commodity” besides the internet, because most YAVs don’t have the constant presence of TVs and computers to divert and entertain them. Finally, by now people have gotten pretty used to washing their clothes by hand, or else they’ve at least formed good relationships with the local people who wash their clothes for them.

However, just because it’s different doesn’t mean that every aspect of my living situation is “bad.” Keeping up with current events and world affairs is generally a “good thing,” in my opinion. And the opportunity to communicate regularly and personally with friends and family is something I’d rather not give up.

Moreover, I think the otherwise noble YAV principle of living simply creates some problematic unintended consequences. First and foremost, it becomes a bragging point. It’s easily romanticized. I think this is one of the reasons why the prospect of being a YAV was so appealing during my senior year of college. Taking a year off to help the poor is a “cool” thing to do. After coming back from Peru, I would be able to casually drop into conversations the fact that I survived (no, flourished!) during a year in which I rarely had internet access, took cold showers and had down-to-earth conversations with people instead of watching TV with them. I sacrificed technological and material comforts for the good of society and the good of the planet. Meanwhile, I was working as a VOLUNTEER – forgoing a year’s worth of wages – not to simply donate that money to the poor, but rather because I was living in solidarity and actually getting to know the poor (to borrow a line from Shane Claiborne).