Servicios Postales del Peru (Serpost)--not your friend

I just returned from picking up a package from my mom which was being held at the Peruvian post office customs department. The innocent-looking notice came yesterday saying that I needed to pick up a package. Being the national post office, I thought it would be at a nearby location. Well, after a 40 minute taxi ride I finally arrived to the postal annex where my 17 lb.-package of books was being sequestered. A guard at the entrance asked for the notice and my ID. Then he directed me to window #1 where I filled out some paper work after showing my passport again. I took that piece of paper to window #2 where a nice lady took it and gave me a ticket with the number 09. Number 94 was showing on the screen. The numbers advanced painfully slowly and seemed to completely stop when they reached 01. I went up to a window where they were delivering packages to inquire why the numbers had stopped and was directed to another window . As I waited in line at this other window I noticed 02 was now on the screen. "Ok, I thought it can't be much longer, at least the numbers are moving again". So, I sat down to do a crossword puzzle.

After a while, 09 finally came up. I went to window #3 where after showing my passport and handing in some paperwork I was told to wait "a little while" for my name to be called. I sat down again wondering why all the Serpost employees looked so busy behind the counters while all the clients where just sitting around holding on to their ticketed numbers. What where they looking at so intensely on their computer screens? Why did they keep shuffling through paper files? After another while, a pregnant german woman, who along with her Peruvian husband had been there longer than me, grew impatient and started complaining outloud about the Peruvian postal system, how this was the most ridiculuos postal office she had ever seen and how this would never happen in Germany. I thought "Welcome to Peru, welcome to Latin America, welcome to any place where bureacracy still serves to keep people employed". I had seen my package. I saw it behind window #3 and was able to read my mother's name on it. Only a glass window and a few steps kept me from it. I started fantasizing: what if I ran in (there was a small access door), grabbed my package and ran for life. Then I remember the security guard outside. That's why they had a security guard at the gate, I thought, to keep people from snapping and stealing their own packages. It had been much more than "a little while" and my name wasn't being called, nor was the german woman's, nor was anybody's. The german woman went to window #4 and after some untelligible haggling she came out holding a piece of paper and shouting "yoo-hoo!" with evident glee. Ok, I thought, if the german woman did it, why can't I? I went to window #4 where a small crowd had gathered after seeing the success of the german woman. After waiting in line, showing my passport, and sigining a piece of paper, I was handed the final piece of paper that confirmed that I had sufficiently suffered Serpost and had earned the right to receive my package. I was told to go to window #5.

At window #5 I waited in line behind the german woman. Then an elderly woman arrived and waited behind me. After a while, she grew impatient and moved to the front of the line. Her granddaughter called her to return to the back of the line, but she paid no attention. I told the german woman, "wasn't she behind me? what's she doing upfront?" Then an argentine woman who was now behind me said "what a conchuda she is". The german woman tapped the elderly woman's shoulder and told her to move back into the line. The elderly lady mumbled something about being in a hurry and something about her grandaughter I couldn't understand. Then, the argentine woman exploded and began shouting at the elderly woman telling her that she had been there since eight in the morning (it was now around 12:30 pm), that everyone had other things to do, and that she had kids to go feed. The elderly lady told her to be quiet, which incensed the argentine woman even more and shouted "No me joda, it's my democratic right to say whatever I goddamn please!" Fortunately, the elderly woman agreed to return to the line before things got out of hand. Also fortunately, because my package contained only books, it was exonerated from paying custom taxes. With my package in hand I hurried out of the postal annex--not before having to identify myself with the security guard again--to hail down a cab for the long ride back home. After I told my story to the porter at our building, he wisely advised me: "next time use a private carrier".

Racism

Racism here seems similar and different from the U.S. I've been told, and believe, that the racism against indigenous people is stronger than that against the Afro-Peruvian population. It's true, people see the glory of the Incas as something positive in an anthro/arqueological sense, but most mestizos (or cholos) don't connect to themselves and their heritage in a way that promotes pride, especially because the descendants of the Andean/Incan civilizations are alive! and have been methodically deprived of their lands and livelihood, hand-in-hand as they were denigrated by the ruling class (of Spanish descent which then embraced other European immigrants). It's not even like Mexico, where there is lipservice to the heritage of the Aztec empire, etc., even though the actual, living indigenous people are mistreated. I've been told that the movements of indigenous people are stronger in Bolivia and Ecuador, although I'm not sure why really.

Recently, a fancy discotheque in the exclusive Larcomar shopping center was fined for not admitting non-white patrons. A sting operation was set up by the police where first a cholo couple showed up and was told that they needed to be in a special "invited-guests only" list to gain admission to the establishment. Then, a while later a white couple was readily admitted though they were not in any list nor were connected to the establishment in any way (they were part of the sting operation!). It's amazing the extent to which on TV and print advertising all you see are white faces when more than half of the population is indigenous.

Fuji, come back Chino

"Fuji, vuelve Chino" -- "Fuji, come back Chino"

At 10% approval rating, president Toledo is perhaps the least popular of all Latin American presidents. Some people attribute his low popularity to the fact that he's a "cholo" or a person of indigenous origin who's being put down by the white elite. However, this is probably not the whole story. Toledo came into power with a huge mandate, particularly from indigenous and poor mestizo groups feeling that he was one of their own who would work for their interest. He made many promises that many Peruvians say he has not kept. He has given in to demands from the IMF and the global powers that be and by doing so has insured that the poor remain so. Many Peruvians now wistfuly remember the days of Fujimori (aka "el Chino"). Fujimori himself has fanned such hopes by hinting that he will return from his self-imposed exile in Japan to run again for president. Of course, both his admirers--he has a higher approval rating than Toledo, though that's not saying much--and his opponents want him to come back. The former to see his political rebirth and the latter to see him tried and jailed. The Peruvian government recently made the latest in a series of formal requests to the Japanese government for his extradition. The Japanese government drags its feet. Perhaps they see him as a prodigal son.

Adventures in the Archives

Ixchel doesn't get to come along to the archives, so these are my [Stephanie] daily "adventures." Hopefully, this will be of interest to more than my history colleagues. After we dress and feed Ixchel and Alex whisks her off to her nido, I head off to catch my "colectivo" -- which is a cut-rate taxi that travels a set route w/ as many passengers that can be stuffed in (watch out for the occasional big American car; we were 8 in that vehicle one day). While Limeños are absolutely impassive during these hair-raising rides, I alternate between covering my eyes at the huge bus hurling head on into my door and letting out little frightened-rodent squeals as we cut across 5 lanes of traffic, to coughing and crying as the chama (small private bus) which DIDN"T pass the smog check fills the taxi with a heavy smoke. My fellow passengers eye me with mild curiosity over the edge of their newspapers.

I'm working at the archives of the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriors (Foreign Affairs) and the Archivo General de Nación (National Archives--AGN). The former is located closer to the Plaza de Armas in Lima and the latter in the Palacio de Justicia (the Supreme Court, etc. are also housed here), both near Lima's center. All our middle-classish Peruvian friends, as seems to be the case across Latin America, warn us of the danger lurking around every corner in the historical city centers (mind you, I certainly don't discount the possibility of crime). During my first weeks, I walked to the Palacio de Justicia clutching my backpack to my side, alert to every shoeshine man, haba-bean seller, and blue-uniformed schoolchild. As I neared the Palacio de Justicia, men came within inches of my ear and repeated some distorted (to my ear) words. Just as I had been warned: these were obviously men trying to sell me drugs...must be using some Peruvian slang for coca that I hadn't learned in my court interpreter years. I shook my head, averted my eyes, and moved away quickly. After a week or so, my ear and the rest of me relaxed and I could make out the words: "tramites" and "notario" -- in other words, assistance with legal papers. Although maybe there's something shady about it if they're whispering.

I'll end with some initial observations for my history colleagues, much of which is likely self-evident:
1 - Act like you don't understand the word "no" o "no hay" o "no se puede" and just keeping talking until the staff thinks of a way to help you get the document you want, etc. At the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, the receptionist who screens the authorization to the archives letters insisted that my letter wouldn't work because I hadn't written the director's name (it is a letter I am using at multiple archives). She thought I was daft because I wouldn't understand her and go away, but in the end she let me handwrite the director's name in, carefully directing me where to put the accents on his name (seriously indicating that a mistake on the accents would be a major problem). The director ended up being extremely helpful, as has all the staff at both archives.

2 - THIS IS A LOT EASIER THAN READING 17TH CENTURY DOCUMENTS! Some of my docs were handwritten, but NO COMPARISON. And boy do those colonialists make a mess with all the ancient dust on those documents. My docs, just the same, have enough dust to have dried out my contacts (in combo with the ferocious pollution of Lima) leading to my blinking so much that Alex thought I had a tic. I've been using my glasses a lot.

3 - But you colonialists will be happy to know that your docs are much better organized than the republican period. Even early 20th century may be a problem and the indices have been virtually useless to me. If it wouldn't have been for the generous assistance of the archivists, I would be probably be slogging through a lot of completely useless info.

4 - The effect of limited resources: documents are falling apart because they can't afford the folders, etc. that would preserve them...the index of one of my 1000-page Ministerio de Hacienda Memorias had disintegrated (and it is NOT EXCITING looking at every page of the Peruvian Treasury Dept's report! Although I found great info on confiscations of Japanese properties by tolerating this tedium.); I'm not sure how I'm going to get documents that are in the (AGN) Annex "porque no hay personal" to pull them off the shelves for me; the AGN turns off the water at 5 p.m. so no bathrooms; and Pres Toledo is closing all public offices (including all the archives of course) from December 13 - Jan 3 as an austerity measure. I hope the $$ I'm paying for copies (only slightly less than the Huntington Library! Ouch!) helps. I do try to take detailed notes on my PDA w/ wireless keyboard (a must for archive work in my opinion) as much as possible rather than make copies.

I'm not always sure that I'm following a fruitful research path, sometimes looking through reams of paper to find a marginally useful document. But there are moments when I hit documents, often through a lengthy and circuitious route, that I sense are a big piece of the understanding how the Japanese community in Peru came under such attack in the 1930s and 1940s, and I get quite a rush, I must admit. And then I look at my watch, put all my books on reserve until the next day, zoom out to catch my colectivo back to Miraflores where I'll take Ixchel out to a park to chase pigeons, and scramble up loosely-constructed jungle gyms and fly down steep slides to her delight and my pounding heart.

Ixchel and her "nest"

Ixchel is in a "nido," which is what they call pre-school/daycares here. She loves it. There are about 40 or 50 kids up through 5 years, but only 5 children in her aula. She loves her teacher Miss Ines. Besides having the opportunity to play with other kids, her vocabulary has taken off (I'm sure it's the age, too). The nido is only 3 blocks from our home, so Alex takes her and picks her up (from 8:45 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.) every day. I try to leave about that time to go downtown to work in the archives and I get back about 4:30, so Alex watches her until I get back and then I usually take her to a park or something until dinner time.