As with all my weeks here, these past few have been marked by the close quarters kept by little and big joys and sorrows. Every day I see a little more of the struggles the women maintain to get by, and every day I am amazed by their ability to continue to laugh together in the face of it all and to show each other the kindnesses that make these trials bearable.

At the end of last week the new designs were ready to go for the sweaters, but the ladies were still busy working on school uniforms. A little concerned that they had not yet completed an order I believed was due weeks ago, I sat down with Betsy to see what had happened so we could address whatever changes needed to be made for future orders. The problem, however, turned out to be on the other end as the order had not been placed by the school, but rather by parents on an individual basis so that the ladies were forced to wait to make each batch as the parents trickled in to pick up one or two more.

¨It's tragic¨ Betsy said at the end of her explanation, and I laughed, thinking she was referring to the fact that the ladies were still working on the unimaginative uniforms after all these days, then suddenly realized as she went on talking that I had misunderstood and that the tragedy to which she was referring is that the parents don't have the money to buy all of the school supplies for their children at once, and so they are still waiting, two months into the semester, to buy their children uniforms that would cost next to nothing in our terms. (The ladies finally decided to give the order to another group to finish, and so we are now able to focus on our own designs).

Situations like these never cease to astound me. The struggles the people face, not only to get by another day but to make things a little better for the children in the midst of deep inequalities and limited access to resources, make me wonder at times how we will ever make any sort of lasting change. With every attempted step forward comes any number of unforeseen obstacles and difficulties pulling them back. Yet somehow hope still exists.

Last Friday I witnessed another example of this refusal to give up faith when three of the women who were offered work at a store downtown made the decision to instead stay with the group and stick it out a little longer. María told me that they believe in what we are trying to do and believe in the group, and so they would rather keep going the way things are for now than have things a little better shortterm. I was also deeply encouraged by the number of people who turned out for a march two Sundays ago against delinquency, domestic violence, and other sources of insecurity in Alto Cayma. Children, parents, policemen, a school marching band and a good number of senior citizens were followed by a line of combis as they marched 1.5 hours under the blazing Arequipeñan sun, handing out pamphlets on creating a safer community, carrying signs, and playing music through the streets of Alto Cayma. The march ended at the church with chicha morada (a drink made from blue corn) for all and a general sense of goodwill as members of the community spent the afternoon together after taking a collective stand.

Thursday the 26th also marked 22 years for me, and it turned out to be a very nice day with my friends and family away from home. I started the day with Betsy searching the Centro for various types of wool for the new models. When we arrived at the workshop later in the morning some of the ladies were still busy working away at the machines while others bustled in and out, whispering to each other secretively in Quechua. We ended up seated around the multi-purpose plastic tables with plates loaded down with pollo a la brasa and pastel de papas as well as a cake with "Emli" written on the top in yellow frosting. Once everyone had finished eating, we put on the music of Colca, a nearby valley which is the childhood home of many of the women. Some sang and we all took a turn at dancing. As some of the women headed back to work in the workshop, a few stayed behind to sing a few of their favorite traditional songs which I could have listened to for hours (I uploaded some footage of one of the songs to youtube for all to enjoy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXMwWgpCC3c ). When I got home that evening, I had another round of cake with my host family (including grandma, aunt, and cousins) and empanadas. Along with a few skype calls home and all of the birthday wishes that made their way to Peru, it turned out to be a lovely day. I am not going to be able to respond individually to all, but please know that they were very much appreciated, thank you!

I am going to close this time with a brief lesson in Quechua, the language handed down from the Incan civilization and still spoken by some 10 million people in the Andes. This is an approximation, as each knitter offered me a different pronunciation and spelling (there seems to be a great deal of regional variation), so use your imagination. We recently started learning the numbers in English, and in exchange I was taught Quechua for 1-20 so we'll begin with the numbers as well:
One: juk [huk]
Two: ishkay [EESH kai]
Three: quimsa [KEEM sah]

One more note--photos are finally up! Click on this link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/efifield26/ or the one on the right side of the page and it should take you right there. Enjoy!