Kristina and I landed in Lima, Peru late Monday night, grabbed our bags and soon found our guide Alejandro.  We exchanged awkward pleasantries and immediately showcased our embarrassing lack of familiarity with the Spanish language.  Thankfully, Alejandro's warm smile and soft hand shake put us at ease, and we hopped on a taxi bound for a hotel in the sprawling city that hosts a third of Peru's population.  We drove alongside desolate, dim streets lined with boxy brick and mortar buildings mashed together to maximize space.  On the sidewalk, I soon spotted the first of countless stray dogs wandering about in the darkness.  Like many strays, her face reflected a life of hardship and sorrow and worry and longing, and it broke my heart.  Kristina noted most people here struggle to feed themselves and their families, and couldn't take a stray home if they wanted to.  She also points out the government has a responsibility to get them fixed, to lower their numbers and reduce the suffering.

The Slums Of Lima

Stray Dog By Daylight

Forty-five minutes later, we arrived at the “Hilton”, our hotel for the night.  It turned out this was unlike any Hilton we'd ever been to.  For example, the Hilton's I've been to in the states came with lavish amenities such as toilet seats, and lacked a convenient trash can to deposit shit-covered toilet paper.  They also cost a bit more than twelve dollars a night.

The next morning after a good night´s sleep, we met Alejandro´s quiet wife Ines, and got into another taxi to travel through the now bright, bustling and chaotic streets of Lima.  Here, the rules of the road are simple: honk incessantly, show no regard for safety, and pray you arrive at your destination.  In the end, not altogether that different than New York City.

Leaving Lima (Sideways)

We soon arrived at the bus station and boarded a double-decker bound for Huancayo, where we are volunteering for the next month.  The ride was slow and hot and beautiful, laced with small mountain towns, waterfalls and train tracks.  The trek was also extremely vertical, taking us 10,732 feet into the sky.  Eight long hours later, we arrived at our destination high in the heavens, looked around, and found our contact Juliana was nowhere in sight.  Instead of taking a seat and waiting for her to arrive, we decided to panic and run to the nearest hostal to book a room for the night.  Famished, we then dashed to a nearby bakery and after ordering sandwiches and some pizza, Juliana showed up, ready to take us to the volunteer site.  We again displayed our impressive ineptitude with Spanish, explained our predicament, and agreed to meet again in the morning.

The Vertical Road To Huancayo

The next day Juliana took us on a short cab ride to the volunteers' residence, where we met two Brits we are staying with, Sofie and Sue.  Sofie is 26 and loves to talk.  Sue is 63 and loves to laugh.  It is easy to admire their courage and kindness for traveling so many miles by themselves to help others.  We then walked to Makikita, a small school and dental office that quadruples as Juliana´s home and office.  We talked about our background and what we might be able to bring to the organization and in the end, we decided to start out by working and playing with differently-abled children living in and around Huancayo.  We also scheduled a series of Spanish lessons so that we can actually communicate with the people we are trying to help.

The altitude here is crippling.  At first, it is impossible to take a few steps or even stand up without running short of breath.  The height is so extreme we are taking pills to ensure we adjust without intense migraines and nausea.  Despite our perpetual exhaustion, we decided to embark on what turned out to be a long walk through town with Sofie.  It is here that we began to understand what an American spectacle Kristina and I are.  Children and adults alike stop in their tracks to gawk at us white people, their mouths open and jaws on the floor.  Little girls are especially entranced by the sight of Kristina.  She says they gaze into her eyes as if wondering whether there is a soul inside.

Sofie skillfully led us across the cramped and dirty streets of Huancayo, where pedestrians have absolutely no right of way.  Even the sidewalks here are treacherous, featuring deep square holes that no longer have metal grates on top.  They were created to catch rain water, but they now just as easily catch anyone not paying close enough attention.  In this fifth largest city in Peru (population 377,000), emission standards are nonexistent, and cars emit smoke so thick you can feel the petroleum on your skin and in your bones.  Sue later tells us she once saw so much black smoke coming from a school bus she assumed it must be on fire.  She shouted to alert others to the danger, who gave her a puzzled look and went about their business.

Huancayo From Above

After walking a few miles, I spotted a glass building sticking out like a sore thumb among the dirty brick and mortar all around us.  It turned out this was the mall Sofie was taking us to, complete with a Burger King, KFC, Pizza Hut, and a massive store much like Target or Wal Mart in the states.  This is the only spot in Huancayo where you can find such an “American” experience, the kind I have been desperate to get away from.  Fortunately, Sofie adds minutes to her phone and buys a new pair of socks relatively fast, and we are soon back on the streets, where we find one of the few vegetarian restaurants around.  This is where I begin to realize how poor the people of Huancayo are, and how far the dollar will go.  Our meal turned out to be monstrous: we each ordered a huge omelet filled with cheese, green onion and red pepper on top of a pile of rice.  It came with a bowl of seasoned dried corn, delicious artichoke soup, spinach and potato salad, sweet tea and a gelatinous orange dessert.  The cost per person?  Two dollars and fifty cents.

The next day we hopped on a small bus with Juliana and found ourselves in a busy marketplace five minutes later.  We followed her past stores brimming with life's necessities, including hundreds of different fruits and vegetables, pots and pans, and rotting meats of all sorts, especially chickens plucked and strung up by their legs.  At times it´s hard not to vomit amid the stench of decaying carcasses, hearts, livers, gizzards and God knows what else - all covered with flies.  After a few blocks, we ducked into an alcove and ran up a few flights of stairs, where it turns out a small school called Tikani is located.  Here we met Gabriel and Rene, our escorts for the day.  They speak little English, but manage to let us know we will be following them for the next few hours.  

The four of us hopped on another bus and left the bustling marketplace, headed for the more rural parts of Huancayo.  We arrived at a small cottage home and found a smiling man behind the front door, who had been busy cutting metal with his dogs and chickens at his side.  He welcomed us in and introduced Kristina and I to Manuel, a five or six year-old boy who has trouble seeing out of one eye.  Manuel was upset at first, but broke out in a wide smile when he saw his friends and the toys they had brought.  We went to a field behind the house and began to play games with him.  At first, it seemed like we were only there to give him a few moments of fun, but it soon became clear that the games we played are designed to help him exercise his good eye.  One required Manuel to match two pictures together, and he had to squint and look very close to see what they were.  We also played the classic game of Fútbol, which required him to use proper hand-eye coordination with the one good eye he has.

Rural Huancayo: One Dog Per Bridge

After playing with Manuel, we went to another nearby home, this one build out of mud instead of brick.  Inside we found another smiling father and his four year-old daughter Ángela.  At first it was difficult to see what was wrong with her, as she walked about and put puzzles together with ease.  After a while, Gabriel and Rene laid a blanket on the ground and placed Ángela on her back.  At first, Kristina and I thought they might change her diaper, but we soon realized they were stretching her legs out and working on her range of movement.  It turns out the two young women taking us around town are not just good hearted people playing with the disabled - they are physical therapists as well.  They later told us the girl was born with a problem with her pelvis, and they keep an eye on her to make sure her bones stay straight so that she can live the fullest life possible.

More Of Rural Huancayo

Over the next week we met at least ten beautiful boys and girls with various problems that they will struggle with for the rest of their lives.  At each stop, we feed the children and present food to their families.  All of the children are clearly hungry and those that can thank us with a kiss on the cheek.  One of my favorite girls is Jasmín, a happy and upbeat fourteen year-old girl who will never walk because of a spinal condition.  The first day we met Jasmín she drew a picture of Kristina and I smiling on a grassy knoll, complete with a river, mountaintops and a shining yellow sun in the background.  We showed her our book on Peru, and she beamed at the beautiful photos inside, proud of places she may never visit because of her condition and the poverty her family lives in.  Jasmín's mother and father are incredibly grateful for the time we spend with her, and they gave us a sack of potatoes to say thanks.  It was hard to accept the kind gesture, but we didn't want to offend them.

Local Hero On Left, Local Wonder On Right

We met a one and a half year-old girl named Lola.  She was born without a right arm, and the women at Tikani made her reach for puzzle pieces up high and to the side, to make sure she learns how to get around with the good arm she has.  We met a boy with cerebral palsy, who constantly bends forward and hits himself in the back, I assume because of the pain he is in.  The therapists place him in various positions with the help of toys and food to stretch his back out as much as they can.  We met a boy with down syndrome named David.  When he sees us he immediately breaks out in a huge smile, laughs, and gives us all big hugs.  A therapist named Ana blew up a balloon for him, and we took turns hitting it around the room.  David laughs uncontrollably while we play, and it is clear he has a lot to teach us, because despite his condition he is nothing but Pure Joy.

The next morning we let ourselves into a home and found Ernesto, a six year-old child who sat alone in a small courtyard with only a small dog and cat as his company.  Ernesto can't hear, can't speak, and communicates only by making a loud grunting sound.  He has a huge and perpetual bump on his forehead, because whenever he tries to walk he falls flat on his face.  At one point Ernesto bent down and bit the small dog on the neck, who yelped out in pain.  We wonder if he is acting out in anger, and worry about how much he understands - whether he is all there inside and angry at the world he was born into.  We are later told his parents are absent because they have to work during the day to get by.

One day when Kristina and I were separated, I met a five year-old girl named Verónica.  We needed to take a picture of her to help get donations, so her mother straightened out her hair while we gave her a package of crackers as a distraction.  She refused to smile, and slowly walked toward my camera as we tried to snap the photo.  Once in range, she took the crackers and whacked the camera as hard as she could, making us all burst out in laughter.  Five days later, Verónica died.  We are told she had some kind of respiratory problem.  The people we work with and her family both seem relieved to know she is no longer suffering.

Peru is a very Catholic country, and because of this most people here view disability as a punishment from God. The government agrees with this ridiculous religious nonsense, and does not see any reason to provide aid to the most unfortunate souls in this country. Tikani, the organization we are working with, is trying to change this perception - one person at a time. A few days ago, we went to a local school with children ages six to fourteen, to let them know about an upcoming fundraiser at a local park. The women we work with gave several presentations to different classes, detailing the work they do and why it is so important. At one point, they mentioned the fact that we had come all the way from the United States to help the disabled. It felt like we were being put on display to hopefully change some hearts and minds at a young age, and we didn't mind one bit. The children were of course fascinated by our presence, and one class formed a tight circle around us, asking where we are from and whether we are married.

The next day, we went to a crowded marketplace to ask people for food and money that will go directly to disabled children in the area. I walked around with a big poster with pictures of some of the kids we work with, while a woman on a megaphone described their plight and what the organization does to help. At the end of the day we had collected a ton of food and a good deal of money from kind people and venders who dont have a lot themselves. We then took the food directly to our kids, which gave us a great sense of accomplishment. At first we were worried we couldnt do much to help these kids because of the language barrier, but it turns out we can make something of a difference.

You can learn more about Tikani and make a donation here.