Most mornings I wake up to the sound of a woman’s voice from the street outside my bedroom, announcing at the top of her lungs, “Hay tamales!”
For fifty centavos, or about 16 cents, I can enjoy a steaming hot corn patty, wrapped in a banana leaf and sealed with a string of white twine. Hidden in the middle, one finds bits of chicken, a slice of hard-boiled egg and usually an aceituna (olive).
The women who sells them on the street has the most wonderfully bold get-out-of-bed-and-start-the-day voice. Her daily business of selling tamales reflects much of the local economy in Huánuco, and I imagine most of Peru.
During our volunteer orientation in Lima, we learned that Peru has an “informal economy.” This means, outside of Lima, you’ll never find a shopping mall, a fully stocked grocery store, chain restaurants or car dealerships. I have learned to bring exact change whenever I visit the market or post office, as store owners rarely have extra cash on hand. Everything is on a smaller, more local scale and prices seem to always be negotiable.
To me “informal economy” means family owned convenience stores, with relatives living in the back room, teenagers riding bicycles with a basket full of fresh bread tied to their back, older women squatting on street corners trying to sell a couple of hot dogs from a miniature grill.
There are of course markets, which are universe of their own.
El Marcado Antiguo (The Old Market), situated in a wooden warehouse behind a 400 year old colonial church, is a maze of stalls selling mounds of fruit, giant calabazas (squash) and overstuffed sacks of rice and colorful varieties of potatoes. Amidst vendors selling kitchen utensils and pirated CDs are pig heads hanging on rusted nails and chicken feet used to flavor soup.
One afternoon, as I was leaving the chaos of the market, I overheard a scratchy radio playing Joan Osborn’s “What If God Was One of Us.” It made me stop and look around. Instead of rushing out of the damp, overcrowded market, I lingered under the arched doorway.
G-d resides here, in the muck and mess of the marketplace, where local goods are exchanged between human hands.
While the informal economy of Peru allows for easy start up businesses and local production, it is unstable and unforgiving. For example, the walking bridge connecting my neighborhood to the center of town, initially provided a place of commerce for over a dozen independent venders, known as ambulates, or wanders. Some sell grilled chicken kabobs or fresh cut pineapples, while others sell boxes of tea or used books, among other things.
For several months, these vendors serviced crowds of people crossing the bridge, as the main bridge was under construction. Now that the new bridge has opened, and the pedestrian path dismantled, I no longer see those venders – old men or young mothers trying to make enough money to get by. Where did they go?
On the larger scale:
Beyond the streets of Huánuco, the economy of Peru is bound by powerful international agribusinesses and the illegal trade of narcotics. When I travel to and from Lima I pass a dangerous American-owned lead smelter in the town of La Oroya. The current director of the Presbyterian World Mission Office, Hunter Farrell, served for several years as a missionary in Peru. During his service he brought attention to the serious human rights violations at the site, including radical rates of cancer and child lead poisoning.
(visit http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/april/37.70.html?start=1
During Christmas time I visited a jail outside of Huánuco, where the majority of the female inmates were involved in drug trafficking. I have been told that if a couple is involved in drug trafficking, the sentence is often negotiated such that the woman serves for both her crime as well as her partner. This is especially true if the couple has children. The argument is that the father has more earning ability and should be allowed to work, while the woman serves a double sentence.
While I am aware of the macro-economic picture, it is the woman roaming the streets of Huánuco selling tamales that I am more focused on. As I walk home from work, late in the afternoon, I see her again, sitting on the street corner, steam escaping from a newly filled basket, without making her usual boisterous announcement.
Maybe she is tired of yelling the same old thing, day after day. Or maybe she is just tired, but still has to get up and sell tamales, because it is her only means of living.
For fifty centavos, or about 16 cents, I can enjoy a steaming hot corn patty, wrapped in a banana leaf and sealed with a string of white twine. Hidden in the middle, one finds bits of chicken, a slice of hard-boiled egg and usually an aceituna (olive).
The women who sells them on the street has the most wonderfully bold get-out-of-bed-and-start-the-day voice. Her daily business of selling tamales reflects much of the local economy in Huánuco, and I imagine most of Peru.
During our volunteer orientation in Lima, we learned that Peru has an “informal economy.” This means, outside of Lima, you’ll never find a shopping mall, a fully stocked grocery store, chain restaurants or car dealerships. I have learned to bring exact change whenever I visit the market or post office, as store owners rarely have extra cash on hand. Everything is on a smaller, more local scale and prices seem to always be negotiable.
To me “informal economy” means family owned convenience stores, with relatives living in the back room, teenagers riding bicycles with a basket full of fresh bread tied to their back, older women squatting on street corners trying to sell a couple of hot dogs from a miniature grill.
There are of course markets, which are universe of their own.
El Marcado Antiguo (The Old Market), situated in a wooden warehouse behind a 400 year old colonial church, is a maze of stalls selling mounds of fruit, giant calabazas (squash) and overstuffed sacks of rice and colorful varieties of potatoes. Amidst vendors selling kitchen utensils and pirated CDs are pig heads hanging on rusted nails and chicken feet used to flavor soup.
One afternoon, as I was leaving the chaos of the market, I overheard a scratchy radio playing Joan Osborn’s “What If God Was One of Us.” It made me stop and look around. Instead of rushing out of the damp, overcrowded market, I lingered under the arched doorway.
G-d resides here, in the muck and mess of the marketplace, where local goods are exchanged between human hands.
While the informal economy of Peru allows for easy start up businesses and local production, it is unstable and unforgiving. For example, the walking bridge connecting my neighborhood to the center of town, initially provided a place of commerce for over a dozen independent venders, known as ambulates, or wanders. Some sell grilled chicken kabobs or fresh cut pineapples, while others sell boxes of tea or used books, among other things.
For several months, these vendors serviced crowds of people crossing the bridge, as the main bridge was under construction. Now that the new bridge has opened, and the pedestrian path dismantled, I no longer see those venders – old men or young mothers trying to make enough money to get by. Where did they go?
On the larger scale:
Beyond the streets of Huánuco, the economy of Peru is bound by powerful international agribusinesses and the illegal trade of narcotics. When I travel to and from Lima I pass a dangerous American-owned lead smelter in the town of La Oroya. The current director of the Presbyterian World Mission Office, Hunter Farrell, served for several years as a missionary in Peru. During his service he brought attention to the serious human rights violations at the site, including radical rates of cancer and child lead poisoning.
(visit http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/april/37.70.html?start=1
During Christmas time I visited a jail outside of Huánuco, where the majority of the female inmates were involved in drug trafficking. I have been told that if a couple is involved in drug trafficking, the sentence is often negotiated such that the woman serves for both her crime as well as her partner. This is especially true if the couple has children. The argument is that the father has more earning ability and should be allowed to work, while the woman serves a double sentence.
While I am aware of the macro-economic picture, it is the woman roaming the streets of Huánuco selling tamales that I am more focused on. As I walk home from work, late in the afternoon, I see her again, sitting on the street corner, steam escaping from a newly filled basket, without making her usual boisterous announcement.
Maybe she is tired of yelling the same old thing, day after day. Or maybe she is just tired, but still has to get up and sell tamales, because it is her only means of living.
