Limeños

May 1, 2009—May Day

• Huanca huansi—closed
• Taxi Ride to Miraflores
• Larcomar
• Walk Miraflores
• Huaca Pucllana—closed
• Plaza San Martín: political debate

Going for a Taxi Ride

Since the Museo de la Nación was closed due to May Day, a taxi driver, Lucho, offered to take me to the Museo de Oro. We negotiated a price of s/$ 20 soles ($6.60). But when that museum was closed as well he offered to give me a tour of Lima’s beaches and drop me off in Miraflores. I was a little hesitant, but as I was far from transportation routes, I judged I had few choices. I agreed to his offer for s/$ 70 ($ 23.00). Before we got to the area, he asked if I could pay the fare so he could fuel up (natural gas). As we toured the foggy and overcast area of Miraflores, we conversed of his job, St. Martin de Porres, how long he had lived in Lima, and his children who were in school. I mentioned that I was single, an educator and traveling through Latin America.

As we toured the beaches he dropped me off at a beach to take photos. I asked if he would stay in the cab so I could leave my backpack. He asked if I had any money in the backpack, I said no and put the backpack in the front seat. But as I walked to the beach, I had a horrible, unnerving feeling. The driver could leave with my backpack—it had no money, but it had my journal, my passport, and other personal items. Since I had already paid his fare there was noting to keep him if he wanted to leave. I took a few photos and calmly walked back to the cab, which he was wiping down. I got in and he asked me to check my backpack and examine it for any missing items. He chided me to never leave my backpack with a stranger. “I’m not a person that would take off with it, but others might not be so kind.” What a relief! And what made me trust this man? And what was I thinking that I could leave my backpack with a stranger just because I didn’t want to carry it to the beach? While I had no money in the backpack, if he had taken my passport, it would have put a serious dent in my travel plans. Foolishness. 

May Day Politics

I decided to end the day in Plaza San Martin, where there were a few groups of men having discussions on politics. There were socialist/leftist advocates who were arguing for radical reforms. There were critics who pointed out the failings of leftist politicians who had failed to implement what they had promised. Many pointed out the thieving, corrupt politicians Peru has had. They discussed what it meant to form consciousness and patriotism. Some brought in religion, stating that Christ is the supreme head of the world and with whom there is no solution. Another countered one cannot simply pray that political changes happen.  But what was so fascinating was how they had organized the discussion: there was a moderator who kept a person’s opinions to two minutes (he had a difficult time doing this), the comments of a variety of men were heard and the arguments were passionate, heated and very civil. The discussion attracted onlookers who were intrigued by the discussion.

At 6:00 pm, plaza security officers came and told the group to stop speaking. The men got upset since they were simply having a heated discussion about politics. The group turned their attention to the officers. What the men were exercising was freedom of speech, freedom of assembly. It was an issue of justice that they be able to share their ideas; there was no rabble-rousing, no one was getting hurt, no disturbing of the peace. One gentleman responded wisely and charitably stating, “We are not blaming you. We know that you are following orders from your superiors. You are simply doing your job, earning money to feed your families. You have a right to do so. But we too are exercising our right as Peruvians gathering together and discussing our opinions.”

The officers called for reinforcement and more officers on motorcycles came onto the plaza with blaring sirens and flashing blue and red lights. The gentlemen were trying to continue the discussion by ignoring the noise. One officer on a motorcycle actually drove into the circle of the discussion with sirens and lights. A man took a photo of the officer. I could not believe what I was witnessing: that the police were clamping down on a simple political discussion. The officers overstepped their power and should have left well enough alone. The crowd would have eventually dissipated. I was impressed with the response of the men. They stood their ground—one man commented, “If I leave, it would mean that I give up my rights and assent to this injustice. The men did not in any disrespect the officers but engaged them in reflection on what they were asking them to do. I was simply amazed that I was witnessing this.

 

What is a Latin American?

Maria Hinojosa, the Latino USA reporter, relates how the Chilean and Argentinean exiles in the US fomented in her a Latin American identity, apart from her Mexican-American identity. She was part of the great fabric of being a Latin American.

But what does it mean to be a Latin-American? Speaking Spanish/Portuguese.? Coming from a Catholic/Christian culture? Having a history of being colonized by an Iberian power, robbed and raped? Is it being a child of European master and Indigenous/African slaves with its psychological after effects and its evident mixture evident in its culture, religion, and food? Is it experiencing the succession of corrupt, plundering, dictatorial and ineffectual Latin-American governments that have failed to provide basic necessities to their people and have had a history of curtailed civil liberties? Is it the continuation of powerful/powerless, exploiters/exploited, haves/have-nots/destitute that continues to this day? Is it that Latin America still suffers and flourishes from the clashing of two worlds 500 years ago?