Fixing up the house

When we were fixing up our central premises, built in minga, we would look at the needs that arose and see how to improve them to make us feel more comfortable. Alfredo proposed, drew, took measurements. The rest of us gave our opinions. The master builders would say whether or not it was possible and suggest improvements to optimise space, save on materials, among other details.

After a while, we realised that, despite all our efforts, some spaces had to be improved or corrected, for example: reducing the height of the steps on some stairs, making it easier to get to the dining room if someone needs to use a wheelchair... Until we felt it in ourselves, we didn't see the need. If we already have an elderly parent who needs to be transported in a wheelchair, if our siblings had an accident and is forced to use canes, if we have some difficulty with our knees, then things change. Putting ourselves in the other person's shoes is always important to us.

We acknowledge the support of our volunteer colleague Nathalie Estrada, for the redesign of these spaces and for the coordination she made with the master builder.

Many thanks, also, to our colleagues from the central team for being attentive to the needs of our premises.

Strengthening walks

On 28th July, a day of great significance for Peruvians, young Ben Heery, son of Dan Heery, set off on an 86 kilometre walk. In just four days he will walk through the Massif Central in France, determined to raise funds for the Rural Libraries Network.

Ben is staying the course despite his young age and the difficulties. He set off accompanied by his friend Alasdair, he will have to camp, prepare or forage for food along the way and will surely continue to face new challenges. 

Our appreciation, dear Ben, for all your effort and commitment to the Network's proposal. Our best wishes on this journey: your gesture moves us and motivates us to continue on this path, revaluing culture and promoting reading.

Coffee and dirty water

I lived in Zaña, on the northern coast of Peru, between the ages of seven and eighteen. At that time there was no house without a corral and no corral without a pig.

Conceited, the pig was the sanctum sanctorum of the zañera cuisine. One could die of fright if a piece of pig skin did not appear in the middle of one's beaten beans.

I will not detail the pig's own diet, because the hygienists would be scandalised, but a fundamental expression of its diet was what was called ‘dirty water’: husks, leftovers of food or soft drinks, bran and leftovers, water from rinsing and crumbs, unfinished chewings and gualdrapos constituted the syrup with which the pig gave free rein to its most expensive appetites.

I had to remember this when I was in Ethiopia. Coffee, which I love with great enthusiasm, originated in Keffa.

Coffee has revolutionised tables, palates and conversations in the most unlikely corners or countries of the world.

After drinking coffee in Ethiopia, I realised that the coffee I had drunk in other places, especially canned coffee, had not been coffee: it had just been dirty water.

Alfredo Mires Ortiz

In: Librarianship and the bad thief

Ethiopia, May 2001

I think it is necessary to mention that Alfredo recovered his faith and charm for Peruvian coffee since he met the coffee producers of San Juan de Cutervo, in Cajamarca. And I would especially like to thank Don Aníbal Segura and Professor Jorge Carrasco, librarians and coffee growers in the community of San Juan, who enriched Alfredo's life until the end by giving him coffee from their farms. We still receive this precious gift and every time we roast coffee in the house, not only the faces of Aníbal and Jorge appear, but also Alfredo's smile.

Thank you friends and brothers.

Rita Mocker

Absences IV

When I am

in the mountains

the sea exists

and it is with me.

Alfredo Mires

In: Como acostarse indeciso y despertar a arriesgarse

(How to go to bed undecided and wake up to take a risk)

In the house of the hummingbird

After many years, I was finally able to come here for a few weeks: to Cajamarca, to the wonderful project of Bibliotecas Rurales. And it feels a bit like always and at the same time completely different. The streets, the sounds, the smells, the blue sky, the Andean sun and the dear friends - a home.

Then the headquarters of Bibliotecas Rurales: the numerous shelves and display cases with books from their own publishing house, the volunteer offices, the creaking wooden staircase leading to the common rooms. Every step tells a story.

One of the most important places in the project is the Hatun Wasi, the main hall, for all the meetings and gatherings. That is where I go first, because I feel the change very strongly: Alfredo is missed a lot and yet he is there. I stand in front of the lovingly designed ‘altar’ that now houses not only Juan's urn, but also Alfredo's. Behind me, on the opposite wall, there is a large photo of him, next to an older photo of Juan. There are the two founders, friends, apus of Rural Libraries, looking at us with a smile. I stand in front of them and greet them. The loss is heavy, heavy and hurts so much. I am crying. But suddenly I hear something familiar and look out: the clicking and buzzing of hummingbirds. They are still there: comforting, soothing, fascinating and uniquely beautiful. They walk between worlds and times. The buzzing of their wings signifies resurgence, confidence, courage, future, and I clearly feel that, after the serious loss, the first steps towards this future in the project have already been taken. The other layers of grief will be taken care of by life, little by little. Together, in community. As it is written in this room: In dark times we are helped by those who have been able to walk in the night.

Thank you for being able to be here with you again!

Kyra Grewe

Dance

Mara Mires was born in the heart of the Network, among books and readings, assemblies, mingas and librarians. From a very young age, she accompanied us on trips to the countryside and, even though she could not speak or walk well, she was with us when we visited the children with projectable capacities. When she was older, Mara learned to play with these children, to do some therapy exercises for them or to look for the homeopathic remedy that we indicated to her. At the library assemblies, she taught us how to make origami and helped to record the testimonies during the oral tradition rescues. Today, Mara is responsible for our social networks.

But Mara is not only that. She started practising ballet at the age of seven, then she learned to tap dance and is currently pursuing a degree in dance at the University of Antioquia in Medellín.

We rarely get to see Mara dance, because of the distance. We were very impressed by her contemporary dance performance at an event of the Ballet Academy ‘Coppèlia’ in the Plazuela San Pedro in Cajamarca in recent days.

Congratulations, dear Mara.

Danza, baila, ronda,
florea, zapatea, gira, menea,
salta, piruetea, juega,
retoza, festeja.

Dance, dance, around,

flower, stamps, spin, twirl,

jump, pirouette, play,

frolic, celebrate.

Alfredo Mires Ortiz

In: La ensoñación del Ñaupa (The daydream of Ñaupa)

In Masintranca

After three days of intense and emotional interactions at the Assembly of Rural Libraries in the city of Cajamarca, we arrived in the village of Masintranca, where Don Sergio and Doña Donatila coordinate and develop library programmes. For another three days, the two of them, together with their daughter Nerly, were the most loving hosts and guides, like older siblings, who teach us to walk, to see and to listen. From their welcoming home, we tried to get closer to what they do, to understand how the community members persevere in ensuring that the rural libraries continue to be a beacon and a place of meeting and thought for the communities, that the word unites them and helps them to grow together.

One of our objectives - Javier and I, through our meeting with the secondary school students of the Cristo Rey de Masintranca Secondary School, was to get to know a little of the world that these boys and girls live and construct; their desires, their way of seeing and participating in their community, in short, that self that each one puts into play by being part of a family, of a village. The understandable silence of the boys and girls, as well as their teachers (with whom we also did a workshop), before this pair of strange characters who suddenly appear to ask questions, became communion in the written word, in the emotions that in one way or another we all experience, but which sometimes we do not name.  From a writing exercise, which basically consists of answering some questions of an existential nature, what is proposed is a sharing of what those answers summon and provoke; to see that, in the end, we are not so different, we are happy and we rejoice and dream in similar ways, even if it is hard to talk about.

Thus came their reflections, typical of thirteen to seventeen year olds, thanks to writing, but especially thanks to their willingness to listen to themselves and to ask things they may not ask themselves in everyday life. And thanks also to their trust in us (and in our being respectful guardians of their affairs), as we also trust them with part of our own stories. There remains a precious little pile of leaves where they are what they are and also what they dream, where they mourn losses and loneliness, mistrust and inequalities, but also where they celebrate and rejoice in the grandeur of the small. We believe, as one of the girls said, that even if we don't want to remember and talk about certain things, doing so ‘will help us to build a better future’. Hence another of the girls said: {I feel} ‘in a cool way, because it allowed us to talk about a little bit of our life, how we were living’.

We were given invaluable gifts: the young students, the possibility of looking out, from their eyes, at the present in this beautiful territory; our kind hosts, including the tiny and beautiful Salomé, the infinite generosity of the hospitality that brings hearts together. To all, our gratitude and sincere desire to meet again.

Orlanda Agudelo Mejía

El Carmen del Viboral, Colombia