To be or not to be...

a gringo. and do i even have a choice?

I think that most YAV's have had to deal with being the outsider and the names that go along with that. Some have eloquently written about it, but I don't know if I can. There are definitely some cultural differences that I just don't understand; like office politics. I will probably never understand the undertakings of office politics in Peru. Never. But, I do understand the differences when called a gringo. There are two sides of the word, one is loving, interested and curious. The other is aggressive, hating and expectant.

Let me explain...

I recently took another trip to Huancavelica. I am at least a foot taller than pretty much every person in this little mountain town. I am obviously different. I go there to visit artisans; to help out where and when I can. The ride there is not pleasant. It is about 12 hours in a bus on windy moutnain roads, though since our first trip, we have gotten first floor seats for the trip there. I fit much better on the first level.

Anyway, we traveled to a neighboring town called Yaoli to visit an emerging artisan group. They live in the countryside in the hills above the even smaller mountain community. We were early so we decided to walk around a bit. We were approached by a neighbor asking if I wanted to buy anything because I was there. I told him I was a missionary and didn't have anything. We spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon sitting in the sun in a cow pasture with women who mostly only speak Quechua (a native language) as they knitted scarves and I got a sunburn. It was fantastic.

We were lucky and found a ride back to Yaoli and headed to visit another group called Sumac Ruaaq. On our walk to their house, we passed a school and someone saw me and yelled "Gringo". All of a sudden the second story windows were filled with kids screaming "Gringo". At first I just kind of laughed and shrugged it off. But it continued, and so I said that "I wasn't a gringo, I was a gringa. I am a girl". Nothing changed. "Gringo. Gringo." became the chant. And then one voice yelled out, "give me money rich gringo". I said, "I'm sorry, I'm a volunteer, I'm a missionary and I don't earn any money". They didn't either hear me, or believe me and continued with the request. We were finally out of earshot when a group of young boys saw me and the gringo chant continued.

We sat and spoke with the artisans for a bit and then decided it was time to head back. In sight of the school, the chants and the requests began again. We even had an artisan with us, and the kids saw no signs of stopping and the people I walked with showed no sign of seeing a problem with it.

We stopped and had a coke, and wide eyes followed me with whispers of that word.

It was finally time to go back to Huancavelica and we were in the cab when a young boy knocked on my window and said something I couldn't hear. I told him so, and looked for the window handle, but through the open front window I heard him again ask for a gift from the rich gringo.
We drove away.

This is the only time I have ever been approached like that in Peru, and the only time in Yaoli, but it is so different than these situations....

The next day back in Huancavelica, we left the ATIYPAQ office for lunch and as we walked a girl grabbed my hand really quickly and backed away. She asked me where I was from, and I told her to guess. She asked if I spoke English, and I said a little. She said goodbye gringa, I said goodbye in French.

In the eveing we visited artisan group El Mercurio. As we walked the staircase to the road we needed to take, there was a group of children who saw us and immediately yelled gringos! They were excited. I was slightly annoyed. But we got to the top and they walked us to the door and we said instead of gringo, call us amiga. And they did.

Later that night, I was sitting in the ATIYPAQ office on the couch when a woman from the town of Ccaccamarca entered and saw me. She said, "Mama gringa. Do I get to sit and rest next to you? What luck!" Again, very different.

I don't know how I feel about the word gringa. Yes, I am a tall, white woman from the United States of America. I am not rich. I am struggling with how to respond to this label I have been given. I do not want it, I did not ask for it or the presuppositions that accompany it. But, it is a part of this culture I am in. It is something they have learned since childhood. However, that doesn't make it right. Like John in India, I can take this lesson and apply it at home. I can correct my friends when they use a racial slur, or the words retard or gay in a negative light. But, for now, I still don't know what I to do with it. Or better yet, what I can do with it.

all for me, for now.
k.