Category: Tufts Civic Semester

by Eleanor, Emma, Veena & Tziavi, Civic Semester Participants

Since we last saw you, we want to let you know that …

EJ

I am so excited to see you. Since last week I’ve been daydreaming about that flight home, about hugging my mom and dad in the airport, about finding my backpack in JFK’s baggage claim. I’ve never had this much time to myself to reflect and I definitely know myself better from it. I can’t believe I was away for so long and I wish that there was a way for you to understand my experiences using a USB cord from my head to yours to transfer all the memories. But I’m excited that now, for better or worse, I have experiences that are just my own, that I’ll never be able to verbalize. It’s an independence that I’ve never had before. I’ve never been as sick in my life as I’ve been in Peru. My body feels different now, stronger. I know I can go on long hikes and puke my guts out and recover. This is the most capable I’ve ever been and I can’t wait to see how I grow into this new existence when I get home to you.  I have eleven new best friends and a newfound appreciation for stray dogs. I’m an early riser and I’m conversational in a new language. I know how to hail a mototaxi and I’ve gotten really good at catching spiders and scorpions alike. I’m different but mostly I’m the same.

Tziavi

Though I have loved my experience here, the warm thoughts of home linger in the back of my mind. The comforting smells of cedar and the sounds of crackling wood that I would usually be absorbed in are replaced with the aroma of sweet fruits and green Amazonian parrots flying above. Though I have missed home, I will miss the home I have created here. I will miss the market, the Andean mountains, Booms, but mostly my host family. I will miss waking up and drinking my daily tea with my host dad, shopping with my host mom, playing basketball with my host brother, and admiring our 17 year old dog Rex, who has seen so many things in his beautiful life. These memories will forever hold a place in my heart. As we prepare to go home, I am ready to go forward and create new memories. But I will never forget the adventures I had here in Urubamba.

Emma

First, I am so excited to see you all, give you huge hugs, and hear all your stories from the past three months. I know your lives and Medford have not been static, and I am so eager to join back into the community you have created. From my side, I want you to know that I have grown from this experience. Describing growth in words is really difficult, so I am excited instead for you all to see it in person. But here are some things I can say: first, and this may sound like a bad thing, but I do not feel like I have a set home anymore. During past experiences abroad or away from family, I was always counting down the days until I could be in my bed, back in my house. But now I feel like my home is what I make it. Home was Rocafuerte, living with my 14 friends 24/7. Home was living with my host family near Plaza Pintacha, cooking with my mom, playing cards with my brother, and making bracelets with my sister. Home is where I can be happy and feel loved, which now I realize can be anywhere. Second, when I get back I want to walk more and be more adventurous day to day. Meme, I will go on walks to Whole Foods with you. Dudda, I will go on hikes and go to the radio station with you more often. I will try and really embrace Medford and foster the intuitive curiosity I had for Urubamba. Anyways, I will see you all soon. I am excited to carry all I have learned with me, and come back to my home in Medford with new experiences.

Veena

I have had so many crazy adventures and I have become a person that I am really growing to love. The new me isn’t afraid to embarrass herself. I’ll talk to everyone in my broken Spanish, and sing and dance loudly even when I am off beat. I love hiking and sitting in the plaza by myself for hours. I am starting to get to know and love this new me and I can’t wait for you to meet her too. I want to make new adventures with you and I want to tell you all about the home and second family I have made here between the corner with the lady who sells churros, the women at Canastas Verdes who always give me a hug and a some free cherry tomatoes, the chocolate man who I pretend gives me a good discount but definitely doesn’t, my host family who never fails to make me laugh, and the eleven people I have shared this amazing experience with. I can’t wait to see you all and hug you and tell you all about my adventures, because the cuddly and talkative me is still here too. I want to visit you all in the new homes you have created and the new families you have made. I want to hear about your time in university and the memories you have made these past three months. See you soon!

by Teagan, Nica, Elaine & Sophia, Civic Semester Participants

Dear Urubamba,

You’ve opened your arms for us during the past three months. In that time, we have gotten to learn so much about who you are, and what it is that makes you shine. We’ve gotten to step over the cracks in your roads and splash in the rains from your skies. We’ve gotten to eat from the fruits of your fields and laugh along with the people of your town. And while we can’t say we saw and heard and felt everything you have to give, we can most definitely say that we are thankful for the way in which you have shaped our lives.

Gracias por recibirnos. It is difficult to contain all we are grateful for in one post. But here is an incomplete list of some things that we will miss the most.

1. I am thankful for my homestay family who welcomed me into their home with open arms. I will miss “dibujando” and “chapo” with my little brothers. I will miss dancing at zumba with my mom. I will miss the delicious food cooked by my dad. I am so grateful for this experience and my homestay family will forever have a special place in my heart.
2. One thing I will miss in the transition home to Boston is waking up greeted by sunshine. I never slept in my homestay without the window above my bed open—letting in the constant breeze and the sounds of birds chirping. I will miss walking to the plaza—the joy of putting on my headphones—and stopping to say hello to any one I run into.
3. Lastly, I am thankful for the market. The vibrant colors of the produce matches the vibrant buzz of the vendors. Looking at all the stands from the top floor brings me a reminder that we are all living such independent and intricate lives—and it is a miracle that I’ve found the friends I have in this vast world. I am thankful for fresh fruit. I am thankful for how personal grocery shopping is. And I am thankful for this slower pace of life.

Continue reading “Dear Urubamba,”

by Jacob and Veena, Civic Semester Participants

8:00 After eating breakfast with our host families, we head towards the collectivo station to catch our ride to Chinchero. Our bargaining for the ride usually fails and we pay the full 7 soles per person price ($1.90).

9:00 Guadalupe and the other women at Tika greet us to start our day of the products from sweaters and hats to large wall tapestries and ceramics. This is the perfect time to catch up on everything we missed between the days we weren’t at the organization. Some highlights include: a thief, a night at the discoteca, a broken hand, and Mikaela’s vet visit (the mischievous alpaca who never fails to cause chaos in the Textilería). She constantly escapes, eats everything which included Cochinilla that sent her to the vet.

11:00 We finish organizing and dusting off the products and begin helping with other miscellaneous tasks from herding all the llamas – which is fun but challenging every time – to translating and giving Muña tea to the visiting tourists. When the llamas inevitably escape, we have to chase after them to herd them back into their pen. The worst case of this was when Jacob mentioned that Mikaela would probably want to eat his wafers, counted 5 llamas out of the 6 llamas, and rushed outside to see Mikaela across the road 100 feet away.

12:30 Lunch Break! We have time to eat lunch, go shopping, and play with the kitten and the caring dog, who are both constantly begging and climbing over us for food.

1:00 We get back to work helping with the tourist groups or if we have some free time, we learn to make bracelets and weave belts with various patterns on a waist loom. Throughout this time we chat with the women and learn so much about their stories and hobbies.

3:00 Sometimes we might weave for the rest of the day or help with preparing yarn either for dying, making pom-poms or quipus, or help finish tasks we started in the morning. Between the both of us, we know 3 belt and 2 bracelet designs.

4:30 (definitely a subjective time depending on if we get distracted or not) Time to leave and say goodbye to the women. Now we face our last challenge of trying to catch a bus, which means waiting anywhere between 30 seconds and 45 minutes to go back to Urubamba, home sweet home!

by Nica, Civic Semester Participant

Having the opportunity to intern at Ayni Wasy (Scared Valley Health) —an organization whose goals and values fully align with my own views and experience— has truly been one of the highlights of the Civic Semester. Because of that, I decided to walk you through an entire day at my internship.

7.00 – I wake up, get ready, and go downstairs to enjoy my usual breakfast, a fruit salad with chia seeds and vanilla yogurt. (My host mom saw me getting a fruit salad in the market and ever since that became my everyday breakfast. (I am very spoiled in this house!)

8.00 – I get out of the house and start walking to the colectivo station from which I take a 40-minute ride from Urubamba to Ollantaytambo—the city in which the NGO Ayni Wasi works.

8.50 – I get out of the colectivo, always in awe after seeing the myriad of textures, shapes, and sizes of the Andes mountains; I don’t think I could ever get sick of this and it’s honestly one of the things I will miss the most.

9.00 – After a 5-minute walk from the Plaza to my NGO, I enter the office, say hi to all my co-workers, and go straight to the kitchen to make coffee. It’s safe to say that I have been living off of my organization’s coffee supply.

9.30 – I set up my office and go downstairs to check out what’s going on; On Wednesdays, for example, I help out with logistics during one of their Salud Comunitaria trainings: this training is for Indigenous women from high-altitude Quechua communities which are part of one of their programs. They are called Promotoras de Salud and usually travel in between 3-5 hours just for this. However, today, there was a Pap Smear Screening campaign happening in the office.

13.00 – After hours of registering over 70 Quechua-speaking women and walking them through the process of a cervical cancer exam, our team and the medical team from CerviCusco sat down for launch. They were shocked to find out that I was only 17 especially after the Executive Director mentioned my experience with the NGO field.

14.00 – We cleaned and rearranged the office after the medical team.

15.00 – My day usually finishes at this time or an hour later and I walk to the Colectivo station.

15.40 – The drive back is always sacred for me as it is reserved for reflection upon my day and my overall experiences during this program and this time was no different.

16.00 – I arrive home.

For me, interacting with Quechua-speaking communities on a daily basis is about understanding how to navigate differences while being aware of disparities. I find it so inspiring to be able to talk to these resilient women, who break gender norms and become role models and leaders in their community. I truly believe they are the ones who can move mountains.

by Teagan, Civic Semester Participant

As a child of a big family, “the second oldest of six” is my most used epithet. I grew up in a house overflowing with laughter, and I learned from a young age the value of collectivism and cooperation. I never imagined a dinner table with less than eight chairs or a life in which I didn’t share a bedroom.

That is until this weekend.

When I was accepted into Tufts, one of the first things I did was research study abroad programs. As much as I love my family, I knew that I could not live in Medford for another four years of my life. I submitted my application to the Civic Semester, a program for students to study abroad during the Freshman fall, and before I could even blink, I was on a plane to Peru.

Since arriving on September 1st, time has flown by. In our home we call Rocafuerte, this group of strangers quietly transformed into a family during the “in-between” moments—making dinner crammed in the kitchen, logging onto Zoom for class, or sharing cups of tea while watching the Milky Way.

Last Saturday, we sat together facing twelve Peruvian host moms and dads dispersed among our suitcases and duffle bags. We squeezed each other’s hands with nervous excitement as Pablo, one of our instructors, announced our future parent’s names.

At that moment, I felt nostalgic for the memories of a place I had called home for only two months. I couldn’t comprehend what I would do without waking up alongside Sophia or being a few steps away from Elaine’s dorm for our nightly “chisme.” We sat in a state of suspension, and I asked myself if I even had the right to call Rocafuerte “home.” I asked myself, when a place has such a strong impact, does it matter if you live there for two months or two decades?

As a second generation Medfordite (yes, a real term), I feel a little tinge of resentment every time a Tufts freshman calls Medford “home.” It’s not that I want to keep the city to myself, but Tufts students miss so much about the city’s rich and complicated history that can only be learned through stories of my mom’s childhood or shared experiences in Medford High School. Medford is so much more than Tufts. It is so much greater than the Hillside. And when Tufts students generalize, I feel as if my city is cheated out of its complex identity.

Pablo called my name, and I was brought back to the present. I looked up apprehensively as my Peru mom, Yaki, ran toward me with open arms. She smiled ear to ear, and we embraced in a hug. At my new house, I met my two “hermanitos,” Santiago and Gabriel (who immediately gave me the nickname “Snacks”). With them, I felt back at home with my own brothers, Cullen and Declan. I guess I had forgotten what it’s like living with boys who love roblox, wrestling, and doing anything to avoid putting the toilet seat down.

It has only been a few days, but I have been welcomed into the family of Yaki, Rafael, Santi, and Gabo. Just this weekend, we traveled to Cusco for trick-or-treating and our bisabuela’s birthday party, and event filled with karaoke, traditional dishes, and games of sapo. Gabriel, Santi, and I watch Netflix together after school under a new profile named “Tiguen” that they made. I realize how much I had missed home-cooked meals every time Yaki places a plate of pasta or egg frittata in front of me, and I smile every morning when I am woken up by the quiet voice of Gabo asking “Snacks, ¿puedo entrar?”

I was so nervous to leave my cohort—after two months in Rocafuerte—but, last night, as I laid in my very own bedroom for the first time in my life, I realized that nothing is as scary as I expect it to be. Knowing that my cohort is going through the same emotions as I am makes me feel less alone and intimidated by what lays ahead.

So yes, it has only been a week with my host family but I already feel at home. No matter how you define it, home is created by the people just as much as the place itself. Whether at Tisch Library or Tenoch in Medford Square, I hope that all Tufts students can find their own place in the city I am grateful to call home. And maybe we can value our chosen families just as much as we do those related by blood.

by Iris, Civic Semester Participant

After a forty-minute drive (and a slight detour when we walked right past the bus depot), we arrived at Tika, a women’s weaving co-op. The outside of the building is unassuming – located on the side of a large road, the only thing that identifies it as extraordinary are the colored tassels hanging from the doorway.

Inside is a different story. As we enter, we are greeted by stacks and stacks of fabric in every color, pattern, size, and shape you can imagine. Along one wall are tablecloths and shawls; another holds thick, soft sweaters made of alpaca wool; tables are lined with intricately woven bracelets and wallets; hats and bags hang from hooks on the ceiling. We walk upstairs, where we meet Lupe, one of the women who works at this organization. We learn about different natural dyes (did you know that there are bugs called cochineal that can be used to make almost 10 different shades of red?), and then we learn to make Kipus. We tie brightly colored rope in specific knots to signify numbers and dates of significance in our lives. Lupe explains that the meaning of the Kipus was lost for a long time and an Archeologist came to where they lived and taught them about it. This is something that we’ve seen a lot of in the Sacred Valley – the traditions of the indigenous people were so thoroughly demolished during colonialism that they didn’t get the chance to be passed down from generation to generation. Instead, scholars (often Westerners) have had to relearn and then teach Peruvians their own traditions. This dynamic is complicated and more nuanced than I can properly dig into, but important in understanding Tika as an organization.

She shows us how to make yarn from alpaca wool, holding a spindle in one hand that she spins effortlessly between two fingers, switching quickly to thinning out the wool so that it spools easily into a perfect bundle. Once the spindle is full she does something magical that makes it reset. She hands it off to us to try, but all we can manage is a pointlessly spinning spindle and a couple of broken pieces of thread (she magically fixes this, too).

I’ve learned about so many skills over the past month and a half that I never really considered before. In America most of us are completely insulated inside a bubble of office jobs and machine assembly lines, making us forget that for most of time humans have done things by hand. Here in Urubamba, there is no distance from creation – nearly everything that we have is made or grown by hand, by locals. There is so little separation from the producer to the seller to the consumer. I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about how yarn is made before coming here, but now I walk through the market and see people absent-mindedly working the thread through their hands as they go about their days. I love that my eyes are being opened to the details of life and that I’m thinking more about how things are made.

I am wary of over-romanticizing Peru, but also want to reject the narrative that these people make our lives seem ‘lucky’ by comparison. Instead, I’m trying to let it just be: life is different here, but life is and will always just be life. And I will go home knowing what it takes to make yarn by hand, and maybe that will change things and maybe it won’t. What I want to hold on to more than anything else is the universality of personhood. I am often tempted to assign meaning to everything: I saw a woman use a spindle to create thread from fur, and it struck a chord in me. What does it mean? Where’s the metaphor? So we’re separated from the means of production, and being closer to it doesn’t solve all our problems. What then?  What do I want to say about this?

But I’m not sure I want to keep assigning meaning to people’s everyday lives. Or, rather, I want to assign everyone’s lives the same meaning, which is that it’s a life, and it’s valuable and interesting and rich and complex just for that, and the thread in her hands can just stay thread.