Thinking back to my time in Peru, there are so many stories that spring to mind. The memories my ‘host mum’ shared about Peru and raising her children during the era of the ‘shinning path’. Or the stories the locals would tell me about poverty, insecurity and the economic climate. But there is one story in particular that comes to mind when I think of Peru, and that is of Jose…
Jose was a local boy from Pachacutec (Ventanilla). Born into poverty, along with his five brothers and sisters. Born into a world where his rights are only on paper.
"He couldn’t go to school because his parents couldn’t afford it, but he loved to learn new things and wanted to learn how to read."
Jose was 12 when I met him. He had a serious little face and enjoyed to watch the work we were doing on the local nursery school. A shy boy who didn’t really talk to anyone but enjoyed watching the progress we were making daily. It was through my broken Spanish that I started to talk to him and try to get to know him. We talked about my life in England - my family, the school I went to and my house…
I told Jose that I went to school and university, as did my brother and sisters; something that surprised him. He asked me what my house was like and if it was similar to the houses he’d seen on the television: “Two storey houses with ‘fur’ (carpets) as flooring and big kitchens and bedrooms.” I told him what my house was like; not forgetting the carpets, which he liked the most.
He told me about his father, who worked as a labourer but would often work anywhere to make ends meet, sometimes working 2-3 hours away from home. He told me about his house, which was among the hundreds of shacks in Pachacutec; a shelter from the outside world, basic but sufficient.
He explained that he couldn’t go to school because his parents couldn’t afford it, but he loved to learn new things and wanted to learn how to read. I can still see his serious little face looking at me, wondering if I understood - my Spanish wasn’t brilliant but I understood what Jose said. I didn’t want to cry or make a scene , so I just hugged him and said “you can do anything you want”. But I knew that reality was against him and his current life was unlikely to offer him the freedom or opportunity to change his future.
I asked him what he wanted to do when he was older and for the first time I saw a big smile on his face. His dream was to drive cars for “rich” people. He was so sure that he would work as a driver and earn some “real money”.
I don’t know if Jose will be a chauffer or earn “real money”, but I do know he will try. In Pachacutec, most children grow up and live the same life as their parents, but in different shacks. It’s a circle of poverty and powerlessness that keeps going round.
"A shelter from the outside world, basic but sufficient"
It hurts to think that a bright boy like Jose won’t have that chance to change his life... it makes you think about the “right to life” and the organisations that keep shouting about it. Yet, to children like Jose - who has probably never heard of rights, was born into poverty and lives in a wooden shack with no security or health care - what are “rights” to him or children like him?
Words and photos: Romesa Chaudry