Beaches, addictions and Poverty of the Soul

Our final week in Peru was spent in the North, in a town called Mancora. Mancora is a couple hundred kilometers from Ecuador and probably about 500 kilometers from the equator. Thanks to a strong breeze, we were able to stay cool in the shade, but when we were in the sun, it was brutally hot. And despite our efforts to stay in the shade, we both got burned and browned in equal measures.

The ocean was fierce, with high waves most of the time--great for the surfers, but rough for swimming. We were able to find a swimming hole behind some rocks not far from our hotel. I loved watching the children, all Peruvians on vacation, swimming in the shallows and playing in the shadows of the rocks while the waves crashed over them. When the waves roared in, I could see hundreds of tiny sand crabs burrowing into the sand. It reminded me of my younger days in Ocean City, when we would catch the larger version of these crabs in our sand buckets. In later years, I stopped seeing the sand crabs and I assumed that they were a victim of deteriorating water quality.

Getting to and from town turned out to be an adventure in itself. We had to take "motor taxis" along a dusty road. The drivers ranged from middle aged and portly (would we make it up the hill?) to young and macho (will we survive this?) and one night Barbara and I couldn't stop laughing and screaming as our driver careened around corners and flew over bumps while we held on with all our strength.

Even in a beach town, the upstanding character of the Peruvians has remained. I have been struck by all the things that I haven't seen since I've been in Peru: I've never seen anyone drunk or on drugs, I've never seen anyone arguing or fighting, I've never seen a child hit or yelled at, and I've seen very little littering (even in Lima, a city of 10 million people). Children are everywhere, integrated into every aspect of daily life, in markets, restaurants, plazas, and shops.

Even in these final days, I can honestly say that my original impression of "Peruvians are peace" has held up. In fact, I would have to say that I've never been in the presence of more consistently kind, low key, unflappable people in my life.

It is hard not to compare life here to life in the United States. And I would be the first to admit that I should not idealize Peru. But there are some key things that stand out. For one, the family unit is extremely strong here. Extended families gather together for meals and entertainment on the weekends. It is common for multi generations to live together, and elders are highly respected. There are no social programs--no unemployment insurance, welfare, and the health system is not strong, but it does exist. Yet, there is also no homelessness. There is hunger and malnutrition, but people are not starving. It is possible to get a good education, but it is less likely to occur in the rural areas. And extreme poverty does exist.

What I don't see is the poverty of the soul that exists in the US. This is a strong statement. And I do not make it lightly. But this is a culture that is not fueled by fear, nor is it driven by material possessions, status or shaped by violence--all characteristics of my own culture. So it is intriguing to me that it also is a culture where depression, addictions and homelessness are almost nonexistent.

Being from Baltimore, a city that inspired The Wire, and having had devoted my career to community development, I am fascinated, if not frightened by the trajectory of my own culture. And even with my best intentions, I too got off track. I would not be seeking peace in Peru if that were not the case.