As you may know, it was Easter this weekend. Which means everyone in Latin America takes Thursday and Friday off. The other volunteers and I decided to go to Arequipa, a 15 hour bus ride to the south. It’s known as Canyon country. I spent Friday and Saturday hiking, climbing ruins, seeing condors, and seeing the second deepest canyon in the world. It was a lovely extended weekend. 
Then came the fifteen hour bus ride back. We made seven hours of the journey. We stopped at two in the morning, and did not move for the rest of the night. I saw lines of cars around us, so I knew we were not in trouble. If we had been reading every piece of Peruvian news, we would have known that the miners were planning on striking; however, we had not been up to date on the current events. We woke up in the morning to find ourselves in a line of buses, filled with people like us, trying to get back to Lima after the holiday.
We were in Chala, a small finishing/mining town. We learned why we had stopped. The government wanted to legitimize an illegitimate mining industry, meaning creating environmental restrictions, and, presumably, taxes. It was seven in the morning, the word on the street was that we might get through the blockade by 1pm. And by blockade I mean 8,000 miners blocking the road, with only 500 policemen. 
I heard shots being fired. I saw a helicopter arrive on the beach (at least we were at the beach). I saw tear gas fired. I saw tires burning. I saw 5 buses pass through that had been at the front of the strikes, their windows smashed as concerned Peruvians looked through the broken glass. Thankfully, I was not near the front. Then we heard rumor that some miners had died. The protests had just been moved up a notch. I could see armed military men standing on top of the police station. We would have turned around, but around 100 km behind us, there was another blockade. So we were kinda stuck. The miners never wanted to hurt us, but they did want to make their voices heard. I was never in trouble, just uncomfortable and on edge.
We decided to move 5 km back to a what I would call a trucker stop. Along with about 20 other coach buses (1000 people) we cleaned out the restaurant, the food, and desanitarized the toilets so you couldn’t go to the bathroom without holding your breath. We were in the desert, next to the ocean. I went to bed having eaten one meal that day, but having stocked up on plenty of water. I went to bed calmly, knowing the miners would not come to where we were. I went to bed almost positive that in the morning, we would be on the way to Lima.
The next morning, things started getting ugly, people were screaming at each other about what to do. The bus company wanted to just wait it out. There was not food. Only a small portion of cheese for children. Our bus collectively decided to go back to Arequipa. Some people couldn’t afford to go back and pay for another ticket, so they decided to wait it out. The place was a disaster–no clean toilets, no food, hardly any water. Unfortunate that people were forced to stay there (voluntarily or not). There was no news as to when the blockade at Chala would stop, but it was rumored that things were ugly there. On the other had, it wasn’t clear that we would actually be able to make it past the blockade that was behind us, but we had heard that other buses had made it through the less severe blockade of only 3,000 miners, and no deaths. 
We made it back, with only a 45 min stop at the other blockade, and relatively peaceful passing. Seven hours later we, were in Arequipa. And thus ended my over 48 hours on a bus. We went to the airport, where the government was giving out free military flights back to Lima for those who had been on buses. Why was the government was investing their money in that, rather than in quelling the protests? Well, they didn’t want to give into the miners demands. And they decided to just wait it out. So Monday night, at 12 in the morning, I got on a Peruvian air force plane and flew home. The main reason I got a flight so rapidly, was because I was American. I felt bad. So did the other volunteers, and two of them stayed behind, to wait there turn in line. I felt it was a situation that did not have a correct response. Any Peruvian would have lambasted me for giving up my opportunity to go home. Yet I didn’t feel it was right. I wanted to stay. Then I started thinking about what would happened if I stayed. Well, I would probably just be getting on a flight the next morning, in front of some other Peruvians, and still feel bad. Really, there was no right answer. I got my house at 3 in the morning, and crashed.
Hi Jeremy, great post. Please keep up the great work. Where did you get the photos?
I also wanted to comment on your last paragraph. Nora and I stayed behind, but we did just get on another flight the following morning. Although other members of our Cruz Del Sur bus hopped on the same flight on Tuesday morning, the fact is that we probably would have been ignored by the military if we weren’t extranjeros. In fact, we might just now be returning to Lima as the strike ended yesterday, and the puente aeria would have stopped as well.
Certainly, some of the decision was to soothe our own egos and make us feel a sense of solidarity with the Peruvians with whom we live and work. In this sense, the gesture was largely symbolic, as Nora and I cannot be sure whether our seats were filled by someone who “needed” them more. Maybe they even went empty!
Was it worth it? On Tuesday morning, several Peruvians waiting at the airport encouraged us to tell the Coronel that we were Americans. “Los extranjeros ya se fueron ayer [the foreigners left yesterday],” one told me. When I explained to him why we stayed – that we weren’t really tourists but instead working in Lima, that we wanted to be Peruvian just like him – he seemed to understand. “Si, no quieren una ventaja, que bien [Yeah, you don't want an advantage, very good],” he told us.
Although I recognize the gesture was not a truly selfless one, I feel like I could justify my actions to the poor Peruvians with whom we work. In the end, theirs is the opinion that matters the most to me.
Sincerely,
David
David,
I probably should have noted that the photos above are from La republica’s(a Peruvian newspapaer) website.
In the end, I do wish I had stayed. Solidarity is definitely what we’re going for, whether in our work, or in our lives. There’s no right place to draw a line and say, “in this, I want to be treated as special.”
This situation does play on the larger question of martyrdom. How much can and should we sacrifice ourselves for others? It’s clearly not healthy to sacrifice all of your well-being for the sake others–if you do that, then you will have no energy to put towards the cause for which you are sacrificing. There’s got to be some sort of balance for each individual. How do you consciously find that equilibrium?
Jeremy, First, I am happy you are safe and although may have never been in real danger, still it’s comforting to know you are safe. Thihnking about your thought-provoking post…solidarity is a noble thing, demonstrates brotherhood and oness. But where does that end and common sense kick in? I’m guessing you stick out in Peru since you are a white, tall, American (nothing wrong with that:)), would you have been picked out in a crowd? Would you have been seen as a person who only stayed to feel good about themselves? Sometimes when other ethnicities try to sympathasize (sp?) with me, the first reaction is “why are they doing it?” then goes to feeeling “They know nothing about me.” Although staying behind would have been noble, it may have been taken in another way by those miners. Nonetheless, your actions/feelings/thoughts are noble and would expect nothing less from you. What you are doing and what you did should be commended and exampled. That aside, again, I am happy you are safe…makes you appreciate food and a clean bathroom more I bet.
Thanks for the thoughtful response, Jeremy.
You ask: “Where do you consciously draw the line?” Gosh, I wish I knew. One idea that makes a lot of sense to me is the approach Peter Singer has outlined in his paper “Famine, Affluence, and Morality.” Maybe you’ve read it?
Like in microeconomics, Singer looks at suffering from a marginal perspective, arguing that our decisions should be guided by making the “marginal costs” for us when we sacrifice equal to the “marginal benefit” for others when they benefit from our sacrifice. When we all act so that this condition holds, then there is a kind of “efficient” allocation of suffering. Alas, as in many traditional markets, efficiency doesn’t occur; the world is one big market failure in the allocation of suffering.
Anyway, thanks for giving me a venue to process my thoughts. I look forward to more discourse in the depa.
d