A Strange Juxtaposition

What do you get when you combine rubble and devastation with rum and coke? PSF: Pisco Sin Fronteras, a non-profit organization based in Pisco, Peru. 

It has been a little over two weeks in this rubble ridden Peruvian city and I am no less confused by the poverty-party combination than I was on day one when I instinctively likened the situation to MTV’s The Real World. I am living in a compound with 75 other volunteers from all over the world. By day we work to rebuild the city that is still in utter disarray after being annihilated by an 8.0 earthquake. The quake left over 500 dead, 200 of which were trapped and killed in the city's main cathedral (only the priest survived).

By night we gather round a fire to drink the poverty away. The weekends are marked by rowdy endeavors to local beach campouts and sand dune oasis’s where the70 person crew inevitably lets loose even farther, feeling the adrenaline of being away from Pisco for a longer poverty reprieve.

How is it possible that the forces of service and inebriation can coexist in such a perfect harmony? I have no idea but the entire operation has renewed my faith in people. The volunteers here, mostly in their early 20’s, have not on a single day ceased to amaze me. They stumble through each night, double fisting Pisco and Pilsen, yet are awake at 6 am to dig trenches and construct modulars.

I have seen grown Peruvian men shed tears because our volunteers have built them a bathroom. I have been given a 30 minute sermon from a single mother about how much God loves me because I gave her a roof. I have watched two young volunteers who have no money to give, fund a new project because the poverty of one family moved them so deeply.  And I have sat in a gas station at 2 am with Aer as she broke down over the chaos of a shantytown called Molina. There, the Peruvian government gave hundreds of residents 48 hours to move their homes 12 feet to the right so that they could widen the road.  Through all of this, I was attending toga parties and bonfires, watching naked Sundays unfold as people streak thought the streets, engaging in water balloon warfare,  nursing a beer while a compass was permanently inked on my wrist by a local artist, and racing headfirst down the slopes of Peruvian sand dunes.

Maybe the reason why so many non-profits have not found sustainability is because, quite simply, poverty is hard. It is jarring and thought provoking and more often than not overwhelming. The human spirit can only handle so much, so should we be faulted for softening the blow with a few good friends and a bottle of rum?