Time Travel

“Time keeps on slipping into the future” – Steely Dan

Time has a funny quality here. There are days that seem endless and months that pass in mere minutes. I at once can’t believe I’ve lived in Peru for all of 2010 and also feel like I’ve been here much, much longer. There’s a sense of sameness in small towns like Huaca Rajada, a feeling that time is somewhat irrelevant. People come and go, easing in and out of our lives as they seek work in Chiclayo, Lima, or further afield, but they’re always welcomed back as if no time has passed at all. Conversations veer to the familiar – the weather, family members, the latest town gossip. One doesn’t have to be here every day to understand the cycles of the seasons or the small family dramas that play out similarly in households around the world.

We tell time by the cars leaving for Chiclayo. It’s time for lunch with the “Rápido” (even after 16 months, I have no idea why this particular car is so named, they all seem equally slow to me) lumbers down the dirt road, Chiclayo-bound. I know it’s Saturday because Jackey (my other host sister) and her son come spend the day with us. Otherwise there is little difference between a Monday and a Thursday, or a Tuesday and a Sunday; the days blend together in a lulling rhythm broken only by the occasional campo baile.

When I return to site after a week or two of travel, I’m always a little worried that my artisans or family will have had some important meeting or participated in some big event without me. But every time I come back, they greet me as if I’ve always been here. As if my absence was a fleeting second. Sure, there’s a little friendly guilt-tripping – “Jessica, it’s been years,” they say. But I get this snarky retort whether I’ve been gone two days or two weeks. No, they respond, nothing new is going on here, nothing new to report. “Aqui estamos,” they reply day after day.

In many ways this blasé attitude toward the future is incredibly frustrating. It’s hard to motivate people to work when they are convinced that this is their lot in life and little they do will ever change their situation. Granted, there are a few incredibly motivated people in my town, but two or three people, mighty as they are, can’t carry an entire population forward. So from a development standpoint, time works against me.

But on a personal level, it’s been comforting to realize that I’ve woven myself into the fabric of this town, of it’s unique pace and personality. I don’t know when it happened, but one day I suddenly knew the combi schedule, I could predict what was for lunch based on the weather. It’s odd to find yourself at home in a place that once seemed so remote and alien. Time has a way of making everything eventually familiar.

Sometimes I wonder if they’ll remember me when I come back to visit in five, ten, or twenty years. I can’t answer for sure, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll find the same women gossiping in the shade of the algarroba tree, and they’ll welcome me back into their folds as if no time has passed at all. As if I’ve always been here.

I hope you are all enjoying a wonderful holiday season, wherever you are!