Pisco: Sour and Sweet

On August 15, my third day in Peru, and earthquake shook the country. The earthquake, which measured 7.9 on the Richter scale, thoroughly devastated the southern cities of Ica and Pisco; it left people 595 dead, 1,800 wounded, and 76,000 houses totally destroyed. Although Peru and foreign countries immediately sprang into action with relief efforts, the southern regions of Pisco, Ica, and Chinca remain in a state of emergency.

Two weekends ago, I traveled with about 120 other limanian students to Pisco with an organization called Techo Para Mi Pais (Techo). Techo is a non-profit organization that builds houses for impoverished people or victims of a natural disaster. Since the earthquake, over 500 young volunteers (18-30 years) have traveled to Pisco and the surrounding areas to restore some hope in people who have lost literally everything. Almost two weeks have passed since I went, but I am still churning my experience over in my head, trying to make sense of my feelings and impressions. I will certainly never forget my weekend in Pisco.

The 120 volunteers were split into three groups that targeted three small rural towns in the outskirts of Pisco. Most of the early relief efforts focused on the urban center of Pisco, so even two months after the earthquake many of these small towns had received very little aid. Our group of about 45 people was assigned to Las Palmares, a 33-family town 40 minutes outside of Pisco. When we arrived, the reality of the tragedy sunk in. Against the bleak desert background, there was only rubble of adobe bricks and half-fallen walls. In the entire town, not a single house was inhabitable. Given that Las Palmeras was a poor town before the earthquake, you can imagine its desperation after the disaster.

When we arrived, the residents of Las Palmares were living in make-shift reed houses and sleeping in tents that foreign countries had provided. In most cases, two families shared one tent, which was a squeeze of space as well as a complete loss of privacy. The town's only toilet had been destroyed, so there were no septic facilities whatsoever. The residents, who so graciously cooked us dinner, cooked over an open fire outside of their reed houses. Most astoundingly, the town did not even have access to clean water until over two months after the disaster; on October 14th, firefighters from Spain inaugurated a public fountain that would finally provide a source of filtered water.

The weekend was a test of physical and emotional strength. In the face of extremely limited resources, townspeople and volunteers overcome obstacles to accomplish results that I thought were absolutely impossible. It was a weekend of pushing and pulling, of hurting and healing.All weekend I struggled with exhaustion but was rejuvenated by the gratification of our progress.

Techo aimed to build 25 houses in Las Palmares that weekend, which required constructing one house per day per group of 5 volunteers. If building one house per day doesn't sound challenging enough, consider that the lack of electricity-- our only tools were pick-axes, shovels, nails, hammers, and hand saws. All of the houses were prefabricated, and arrived in parts on a truck. For over 6 hours, we unloaded the panels for all 25 houses. The floor panels (which were the heaviest) required the teeth-gritting strength of 14 people to lift. My arms have never been so tired in my life, and by the end of the truckload, I feared that my muscles would give out, and that the floor would fall and crush my feet.

It was nearly 7 pm by the time we finished unloading the truck, which crunched our schedule to building three houses manually in just over two days. To make up for lost time, we worked every night until 10 or 12 at night and returned to the work site by 8 the next morning. We worked relentlessly to clear and level the ground, set the floors, and connect the wall panels. Then, we hammered the ceiling beams and climbed onto the roof to attach the metal shingles. By the second day, my group built 1 1/2 houses, and at 11 pm the third night we finished all three houses.

Our work in Pisco highlighted a commitment to progress, even under hopeless circumstances. Residents and volunteers refused to fail, searching for creative solutions. The construction of our first house is an example of our unrelenting force to push forward. It was dark by the time we were ready to set down the floor, and the light from the distant streetlights did not reach the area. At first, the family lit the sight by candle, but the wind quickly blew out the flame. Imagine building a house by candlelight! Later, the house owner climbed a ladder up to the nearest streetlight, spliced the electric cable, and ran a series of electric wires to a bulb that lit our work site. Now that we could see where to put the floor, the next challenge was getting it there. The wide, pre-fabricated floor panels didn't fit through the front entrance, so we had to take a much longer detour around rocky back road. As a dozen of us grunted to lift the heavy panel, someone would yell "Branch! Go right!" and later "Go left! There's a cow in the road!" Unbelievable.

By the end of the last day, we were physically and emotionally exhausted. We woke up at 6 am and returned to camp at 2 am, only to repeat the same routing the next day; out of the entire 84 hours that we were in Pisco, we slept only 18. We were filthy-- the desert sand crusted up every corner, and the only "facilities" were six port-o-potties shared by the entire group. We were cut, bruised, bug-bitten, sun-burned, and sick. My friend Oliver cut himself with the metal roof panels and had to get 8 stitches in his leg. Some were sick to their stomach, and others had a fever.

But we did it! In three exhuasting yet memorable days, we completed all 25 of the proposed houses in Las Palmares. Our the entire group gave 80 families a home, contributing to an accumulated total of 441 Techo houses since the earthquake. Each time we constructed a house, we also reconstructed the family's sense of hope, restoring their pride and setting the foundation for a new life. For me, this weekend was proof that human compassion knows no borders; the unrelenting drive to progress, and the gratification of a beaming smile, are understood in every language.