Carnavales Round 2

Carnavales has struck again in Peru. Its that magical time of year before Lent where everything in Peru seems to be filled with dancing, parties and celebration. This year not only did I have the ever glorious chance to give birth to a baby in front of my entire district, it was also a bigger and more elaborate event. Unlike last year when the dance routine was so impromptu that we practiced the day of and there was discussion of not even participating, this year we came prepared. Nothing like 4 nights of practice until 11 with perpetually changing choreography to make you moderately want to kill yourself.

Luckily there was no rain this year so we got to hold the district wide dance competition on the giant soccer field rather than on the small basketball court. The stadium filled with people from my district to watch a dance competition between my town, one districto publado and two annexes. Once again I was a sort of clown, too tall to dance in formation with the other women. I had the pleasure of wandering around pregnant, and at the finale give birth to a black baby. And when I say black baby I mean the color black. A baby doll that would not be sold in the US under the threat of lawsuit. Let me tell you the comments that you get when you are wandering around with balloons under your skirt pretending to be pregnant are priceless. And then if your baby dies during the dance routine, you then have to talk about your dead baby for roughly the next week and a half.

During our the first round of our dance routine I just had the balloons tied under my skirt, and then in the second round I had to have an actual 3-pound baby doll hitched up under my skirt. Not the easiest task I have ever accomplished, especially when it is tied with one plastic string. At any given moment it felt like the doll could come flying out of my skirt and completely ruin the moment I was supposed to give birth. Fortunately I made it through the dance and had the chance to give a dramatic, although quite embarrassing, birth and then watch my baby die and break into melodramatic overwrought tears. You know all in a days work in the Peace Corps.

Unfortunately my community lost to the districto publado, but we did not go down without a fight. In fact their win caused quite the hullabaloo. My town thought they were robbed of victory by untrained and bribed judges. I would agree that in fact we did do a better job during the competition, but the prospect of having to give birth in front of my whole province the next weekend was enough to make me slightly indifferent to the loss.

After extensive investigation, some of the most vigilant members of my community figured out that the judge culpable for us losing was a new biologist in the health post. He had been in the town for officially 24 hours when he was charged to be one of the judges to the most important and high stakes competition in my site. The poor man didn’t have food for a day because the woman who does pension in my site was one of the leaders of the “we were robbed of victory” campaign and was simply too angry to give him food. Naturally what you want to happen in your first 48 hours in a new community. Even after that entire struggle, there was nothing we could do at the end of the day but accept our loss and secretly talk about how it should have been us dancing the next week at the provincial competition. An ever so small part of me was glad that I would not have to scream a fake birth to a large dead black baby in front of actually everyone I had ever seen in Huancavelica.

The next week my community made the trek down to the provincial capital in order to see the unjust winners dance, get covered in baby powder and enjoy the yunsa that took place late into the night. For those of you that don’t know, a yunsa is a tree that they chop down and then put back up in a hole into the plaza. Yes, they intentionally put a hole in the concrete of the plaza de armas for just the purpose of putting a tree into it. The tree is decorated with free gifts such as buckets, blankets, cups and fly swatters. Throughout the night dancers gradually cut down the tree, and the moment it falls it is a free for all for the prizes.

In Huancavelica during carnavales the yunsa tradition takes place at least once a week, always to the exact same song. One singular 15 minute song song that sounds like “dadadadadodo carnavales” over and over again for hours, as you can tell clearly my favorite song. The band will play about 2 round of the song, take a 10 minute break and start right back up again. Who doesn’t love listening to a repetitive song played by a band for a solid 5 hours? The way it gets stuck in your head is so indelible at points you think about removing your auditory function.

When all the festivities in Huancavelica were said and done, I thought, I headed up to Cajamarca for one of the biggest carnaval celebrations in Peru. The Cajamarca carnaval is equip with giant parades, a constant stream of water fights, dancing and bands (playing the same song, but a different rendition of the Huancavelica version) each night in the plaza de armas, and one day filled with a giant paint fight. Since it is warmer in Cajamarca than Huancavelica there is unfettered use of buckets of water and super soakers, all day, every day. Any 10 year olds wildest dreams come true. Thankfully, there was a social norm to stop when the sun went down otherwise we would all have pneumonia. The water proved to be quite problematic at times, even killing one of my phones, which I have placed in my boob for “protection.”

Logical when water is literally being chucked at your face.

Generally walking around could be hazardous. Being white made things even worse. And if you ever happened to be in a group larger than 3 people you were just asking to drown. Throwing buckets on your head was entirely acceptable, and walking through the plaza was basically not an option unless you wanted to swim standing up. By the end of my 4 days in Cajamarca a bird swooping down caused me to duck and brace to get hit with a water balloon.

The paint fight put the water fights and any form of nightly dancing to shame. It is hands down one of the most epic experiences I have had in Peru. It is literally a war with music, dancing and a shit ton of paint. Everyone is running around dancing holding buckets of paint, squirt guns of paint and water and generally going to town on each other. There were certain parts of town where people simply posted up with hoses to douse passersby. The second we left our door we got approached by 3 women who put paint on us “de carino,” so we wouldn’t get pelted for being clean. That plan did not work. About 7 seconds later a heard of boys soaked us through and through with every color of paint.

I myself am allergic to latex, a thing I did not take into account until after I was already hit with the first round of paint. Let me tell you being covered with latex paint when you are allergic to latex is not necessarily the most comfortable experience, there was lots of Benadryl running through my system. Even in the face of this the fight was beyond entertaining. The best part, besides the general frolicking, dancing and all our squirt gun war was the ability to squirt people whenever you wanted. If a guy whistled at you, you could simply shoot water at him, or if someone really nasty tried to hit on you it was socially acceptable to throw paint in his face. Made me wish we were always permitted to run around with squirt guns full of paint.

The night was filled with huayno dancing in the plaza and bets placed on how many a drunkard were going to sleep in the plaza. I guarantee you every night there were at least 20, minimum. Cajamarca combined with carnaval in Huancavelica created what seemed like an endless stream of carnavales bands and dancing, the kind of jovial environment that should exist before 40 days of sacrificing something. America should take a hint.

When I got back home I was ready to sit down, be calm, and work. I thought it was close enough to Ash Wednesday that the festivities would have ended. I had no such luck. There were still bands a blaring. People running around with talc on their cheeks reveling in the joy of carnaval. There is a limit to how much you can revel. I believe it should be a three-week limit. At this point you should surrender to the realities of life. Or just play another song. Any other song really. Even though it seemed like the music, well the 2 songs would never end, the entertainment of carnavales makes February seem like a remarkably entertaining month, rather than one covered in rain and short depressing days.