¼ Century

Three of my birthdays have now passed while I’ve been in Peru. In Lima I turned 23, after less than one day on Peruvian soil. My 24th birthday was somewhat traumatizing, as it involved being yelled at by my ex-host-mother for attending my own party at her brother’s house. Possibly because my 24th was so dramatic, a special effort was put forth to celebrate my 25th.

On my birthday, the female park guards prepared a lunch in my house to celebrate. A meeting was even held to coordinate and each of them put S/.5 toward the purchase of food, “wine” and cake. (Unfortunately, that is more than they are willing to do for far more important matters.) Susan also came and was seated front and center with me at the only table in the room. Sitting sans table like everyone else would have been impossible since we were each served three generous plates of food—arroz con pollo (chicken and rice), ceviche (raw fish cured in lime), papa a la huancaina (boiled potato covered with a spicy cream sauce) and the requisite pitcher of chicha.

Lunch was followed up with a very ceremonious order of events which is typical of many Peruvian celebrations. First of all, the man of the house, who happened to be the only man present, was required to make a toast. The toast was given with the “wine” which according to the label was black wine. Black wine is apparently synonymous with cough syrup. Luckily, I was given a larger glass than everyone else. Then, “Happy Birthday” was sung, first in English, then in Spanish. Just like in the States, they put candles on the cake and I had to make a wish before I blew them out. I also had to pretend to cut the cake so a picture could be captured but then the cake was set aside for later.* Finally, I had to dance the waltz with every single person in attendance, which was around 20 people. While I was actually listening to the music, each and every one them was decidedly dancing to their own tempo. This combined with the fact that I was two heads taller than many of them made it rather awkward.

Of course, the real party started with the dancing. After the waltz, the music changed to a mix of cumbia, marinera and huayno. And the party kept going and going because they pooled their money to buy a crate of beer. Awhile later another two crates appeared. Eventually, even Susan was dancing marinera and huayno. By the time she left, the women were tipsy enough to swarm from the house and surround the moto-taxi that she was on in order to hassle the driver. One woman actually told him, at rather close range, that if he raped Susan, all twelve of the park guards would find him the next day and gang rape him. Literally, she said that. Maybe she was joking? She was also the last woman to leave the party.

*I am still confounded by the Peruvian custom of not eating the cake during the party. Rather the cake is distributed at the end and often sent home with partygoers or hand-delivered to their homes the following day. More than once I have been surprised to have cake delivered to my door the day after a party. Peruvians, hosts and guests alike, are also very adamant that everyone present receive his or her piece of cake. Honest to God, someone recently told me about that one time that Robert, the volunteer I replaced, was gifted a cake at a meeting and took it home, heaven forbid, without proper distribution. That was over 2 years ago.