El regalo - The gift

Si te digo que es el sol

tu regalo de cumpleaños

¿de ónde saco los bomberos

para el incendio y los daños?

Puedo ofrecerte la luna

pero no hay como bajarla

y aunque la bajara no hay

la cinta con qué amarrarla.

Si te ofreciera un cometa

no hay manera de atajarlo,

y aunque le hablara bonito

¿dónde para estacionarlo?

No hay lazo pal arco iris

ni pa toditas las flores

y además vos ya tienes

todavía más colores.

Un tanque que dispara risa,

un robot que sea amigo,

una muñeca lectora…

¿y ahora dónde los consigo?

¿Y si invento un cosquilleo

de esos que alteran la calma?

¿y si te digo que aquí

está escribiendo mi alma?

Cuando un pobre hace un regalo

no es una cosa que da:

es su vida la que entrega,

es su espíritu el que va.

Así que el viento te lleva

risas y ánimo sin lazos

y a tu puerta estoy llegando

con toditos mis abrazos.

Alfredo Mires

“Resuellos”

The gift

If I tell you it's the sun

your birthday present 

where do I get the firemen

For the fire and the damage?

I can offer you the moon

but there's no way to bring it down

And even if I were to take it down there's no

the ribbon to tie it down with.

If I were to offer you a comet

there's no way to stop it,

and even if I spoke nicely to it

where to park it?

There's no rope for a rainbow

Nor for all the flowers

and besides you already have

even more colours.

A tank that shoots laughter,

a robot that's a friend,

a reading doll...

and now where do I get them?

What if I invent a tickler

that disturbs the calm?

What if I tell you that 

my soul is writing here?

When a poor man gives a gift

it's not a thing he gives

it's his life that he gives,

it's his spirit that goes with it.

So the wind carries 

laughter to you, and cheer without ties

and to your door I'm coming

with all my hugs.

Alfredo Mires

"Resuellos" (Whispers)

We meet again

 
So, in the midst of many feelings, with pending projects, we met again on 15th and 16th April at our headquarters in the city of Cajamarca, with the commitment to take care of ourselves, to learn, to share experiences, to continue being our great family of Rural Libraries.

This Assembly, like all the others we have had, also had a special touch. Here we were reading, reflecting, proposing alternatives and enjoying with great joy the company of great friends; some in person, others virtually. There are those who, for sure, from far away lands had us in their thoughts and others from the beyond, with their blessings.

We are grateful for the presence in this reunion of friends from the school of Governance of Moyobamba, from the PRATEC Association, from whom we learned a lot and who will surely be bearers of the work of the Network, will continue to tell the stories of our grandparents and will join in to keep alive the memory of our peoples.

Alfredo, always with us

16th April marked six months since the departure of our beloved Alfredo Mires; however, when we speak of Alfredo, we do not think of death, but of the life that he shared with us and that he left behind in each of the steps he took through the rural communities. Therefore, if it is a question of remembering, we prefer to remember him alive, with his laughter and advice, with his brilliant ideas and the new projects for our beloved Network of Rural Libraries.

Thinking about how to thank him also for all his legacy, we decided to meet that Sunday 16th April at 6 a.m., as he would have liked - for Alfredo always got up early to make the most of each day and enjoy the sunrise - and dedicate a prayer to him, according to the customs of our villages. Thus, our brother Antero Vásquez, from Pújupe Alto, in Bambamarca, recited his heartfelt prayers also recalling the Passion of Christ, it had been a long time since we had heard such prayers. Don Antero was joined by two great friends: Father Panchito, as we affectionately call him, and Marco. In addition, there was no lack of songs dedicated by our friend Noemí.

In this celebration, the paguito (offering) to the earth could not be missing, as it is one of his many legacies and commissions to be fulfilled.

After this morning prayer, we shared together, as a family, the delicious green broth that Alfredo also enjoyed, with his canchita (roasted corn) and quesillo (soft cheese).

Thank you, Alfredo, for bringing us together around prayer, the table, reading and work.

Of Minga, books and other colours

This first Saturday in April we were able to participate in a small minga (working together in community, for community), to continue giving breath and affection to our books. At a time when indifference is setting the tone, we continue to believe in the community and the work from it, which is where the best friendships are born and where our books find their true channel.

We collaborate in different little jobs, which help us to grow, which remind us of who we are and how far we have come, always inch by inch with our books under our arms. 

We have painted our house with the words that encourage us to continue working: to give a voice to our communities and to ensure that our journeys continue to be a seed.

We are happy to share with our volunteers as a family, remembering and encouraging each other. We know all that the path we have chosen entails, there will always be walls and abysses to contend with, but we will do so from the sincere embrace of this great family of the Network of Rural Libraries of Cajamarca.

As Eduardo Galeano would say: Utopia is on the horizon. I walk two steps, it moves two steps away. I walk ten steps and the horizon runs ten steps further. No matter how far I walk I will never reach it. So what is utopia for? That's what it's for: it's for walking.

From the start to the beginning

A few weeks ago I moved and, as in growing up there are things that stay and things that go, I decided to donate some of my toys and books; so I set off with my backpack and my old shoes. I left my house together with Mara to leave our mark on the earth and, perhaps unintentionally, also on minds. But what I least expected was that Mara and I would be left with a memory. 

I live in Marinilla, a town in Antioquia, Colombia; here it is proudly known as the Colombian Sparta, where in times of revolution the people fought with strategy and daring, where liberators like José María Córdova died. And I, together with Mara, the youngest daughter of Alfredo Mires, with the intention of brightening up the afternoon for some children with toys, perhaps some with a book, walked the streets where many years ago one of the cradles of freedom germinated, without thinking much about what all that observing and asking questions can change in me.

I carried my backpack full of books, some of which I had not read and others that I had read more than 3 times and, after walking for a few hours through the rural areas and bookshops of Marinilla, we arrived at "A Place of the Mark - Coffee-Books". This is a unique café in the village, because to get there you have to go through a narrow corridor, up some stairs and be careful, because on every step, shelf, chair, table and even on the floor there is at least one book waiting for you.

So, tired and cold, we had a coffee, Mara looked at some of the books that were on the shelves; there were books on history, comedy, literature, even dictionaries, but, curiously and almost magically, she managed to see the spine of a book - one that looked familiar to her. Without thinking too much she took it and saw that it was Qayaqpuma, volume four - written by Alfredo Mires. It took us even a moment to believe that from her hands it had come to ours, that from the beginning of the Network, it had come to our beginning.

Together we travelled the town, the streets and the bookshops, but what was the path this book took to get here? To us? Maybe its story is simpler and shorter than I think, but maybe this book was also in a backpack like mine, maybe the person who left it there, travelled through Peru, crossed Colombia and arrived in that small town, maybe this book also travelled through streets that at some point were filled with glory and longing, maybe this person had a coffee like mine and let go of what Alfredo wrote so that it could reach other minds, so that it could change what is observed.

Mateo Oquendo Velásquez

Exchange day in Rural Libraries

Although the Rural Libraries have been known to me since their beginnings, it was only on the 16th of April of this year that I had the opportunity to observe and participate in the closing of an assembly of the central team of libraries and librarians from various parts of Cajamarca.

The 16th of April was also the commemoration of six months since the death of Alfredo, founder with John Medcalf of this work that transcends the borders of Cajamarca and Peru.

At the close of the assembly, the Main Hall of the Rural Libraries was suddenly transformed into a library with hundreds of books, perfectly arranged according to themes. There were books for all the interests of the librarians, who know what their communities want and need: health, fertilisers, animal husbandry, Peruvian and world literature, religion and many other subjects. On the podium, on multicoloured cloths, were the greatest treasure of the Rural Libraries: the books that contain the rescue of countless cultural elements of the rural world of Cajamarca. Each volume was painstakingly and conscientiously worked on by Alfredo, the librarians, the elders of the communities and the welcome contribution of all those who had something to offer. This Peasant Library is a compendium of rural wisdom with subjects ranging from cave paintings to ancestral stories that have been passed down orally from generation to generation. I know of no other entity that with such meticulousness and commitment has rescued the many facets of knowledge of the rural world.

Once the assembly was over and the library was assembled, it was time for the exchange. Each librarian could choose as many books as they wished to take to their community, after returning the ones they had taken the previous time. However, very few books are returned, not because of mistreatment or loss, but because the books are already part of the communities, they become a source of reference, in their own history, culture and cosmovision and they want to have them close by, in the home of the librarian to whom they can turn to at any time.

There were cardboard boxes available because there were librarians who took away thirty to forty books. They were mostly looking for books on health, on crops, on history, religion and even literature. One librarian was eagerly looking for the works of Father Michael Garnett and I was able to help him find three of his works.

Between sorting, filling out the sheets where they list the books they carry and their code, and packing, it easily took about two hours. In all that time, Rita, Rumi, Karina, Lola, and the volunteers of the Network were at the librarians' disposal, helping them to find what they needed, suggesting, recommending. The books on the stand, i.e. the publications of the Network of Rural Libraries of Cajamarca, were taken with full hands.

Everyone, without exception, took away the last three books that Alfredo left ready for publication: "Ser comuneros", "Piedras vivas, pueblos vivos" and "Pedro Urdemales en Cajamarca". They had been presented a few days before in a beautiful ceremony that was a tribute to Alfredo's capacity to work until his last moments.

The exchange action ended with a minga: more than fifteen in a chain returned the books to the warehouse, others cleaned, others folded the banners and collected posters.

A beautiful experience of how the interest in knowledge, with the vehicle of books, is taking root in our rural Cajamarcan world. And all in an atmosphere of warm fraternity.

Monica Buse

When the Apu met among Books and Clouds

We are born stripped, with a lot of innocence and capacity for wonder. Then the concrete is imposed on us and little by little we lose ourselves... a long time passes before we realise this fact. 

However, sometimes life interweaves itself so that we find the right people and the right spaces. For this to happen there is an important step to take: "learning about will and gratitude for life". From here we can say that, along the way, we have found dear friends and allies.

I am a member of a cultural association called APU. This is a group of people committed to the management and promotion of culture through community life. On one of the roads we have travelled since our beginning, we met the family of the Network of Rural Libraries of Cajamarca. This wonderful encounter and the bond we have created is due to our common visions: our will to work in community and our gratitude to our land, our roots and our culture. 

This journey also led us to meet Alfredo Mires Ortiz, with whom we had the opportunity to share spaces, conversations and new ways of seeing the world. 

From these ways and longings, paths were born, ideals were born, dreams were born and, in the end, a new commitment arose: to join in the efforts to, together, see the world dreamed of by the Network of Rural Libraries of Cajamarca and, with it, a deep affection for the librarians, the community members, the minga (community work), the Apus (sacred mountains), the Ayllu (family) and all the living people who give impetus and breath to this path that brings us together.

Mauricio Pérez

Visiting the starting point

The summoning Puma, the tutelary mountain of Cajamarca, the beloved Qayaqpuma, opened its doors to us a few weeks ago.

We didn't have to explain our origin, our pretensions or our status, he just opened at one of his bends and invited us to visit him, accompany him and walk around him.

So we arrived, some volunteers from the Network and the APU Cultural Association, with a bottle of water on our shoulders, our hearts full of dreams, desires and experiences to share.

In that calm space, I remembered what Ciro Alegría told us through Lucas Vilca in "The Golden Snake" about the man who dies in the middle of the journey because he doesn't know the point of arrival and has forgotten the point of departure. Thus, I felt that we were on the right path, in the right time and space to re-feel our wanderings.

On the way to the top we found tombs of our grandparents, looted tombs, paintings impregnated in infinite rocks, tadpoles taking advantage of the clean water sources and spending their last stage there before moving to the crags like frogs and toads. Bromeliads, orchids, wild flowers and medicinal plants accompanied us all the way.

After a long time I felt again that pleasure that you can only find when you are on the right path.