Student captures life in Peru on camera

Paul Ricciardi
Junior

Over the summer turkeys walked into my home, pigeons fell through my roof and I drank cases of beer at a funeral.    

I didn't spend the summer safe in my home in Lexington, S.C., but instead spent two and a half months working as a photojournalist for Awamaki U.S., a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) based in Peru. 

The NGO works with the Quechua people in the highlands of southern Peru, and I was assigned to photograph their daily life predominantly in the villages of Patacancha and Kelqan Qa.

The Awamaki volunteers learned I had skills other than taking photos.  I painted town signs, made a map of the community and fixed the only truck in one of the small towns. So I guess you could have called me the handy man when I wasn’t taking photos.   

Life in the Andes Mountains was very different.  Most days were between 30 and 40 degrees Fahrenheit and nights would get down into the teens.  Running water, electricity and any form of telecommunication simply didn't exist.  

Houses are mud huts, the economy is based on barter and the majority of Quechua communities have little or no contact with the Western world.

All the food needed for the community to survive was grown or raised within the village.  This includes guinea pig, which is considered a delicacy.  And no, it doesn’t taste like chicken; it tastes more like rabbit.

Often times I would find myself either in the fields or hiking eight hours up a mountain to tend to the livestock. It hailed and rained during one of these eight hour hikes leaving me with a terrible flu.  I even hallucinated a few nights with a fever, waking up in the middle of the night and talking to non-existent people in the hut.

When I wasn't in the villages, I spent most of my time in the town of Ollantaytambo living with a Peruvian family.   My Ollanta family became similar to my real family.  We laughed together, played soccer together and worked together in the family store.  They urged me to clean my plate at dinner, get fat and then wondered when I was going to get married.

Despite the simple living conditions, life was always exciting and enjoyable.  Peruvians are happy people and treat you like your best friend after not knowing you for long-even me as an American. They love to dance and drink, though alcoholism is a problem in the area.  Eleven-hour parties are the norm.

The life of an average Peruvian is harder than anything we Americans, born with a silver spoon, can imagine. 

Yet they are happier than anyone I have ever met. 

An American could live like a king for a year in Peru with just $3,000.   Understandably, I got frustrated with some of the volunteers from California who were in Peru just to build their resumes for medical school; complaining about cold water, wondering why Peruvians aren’t vegans and hating the slow

Internet on their $4,000 MacBooks.

It seems as if they missed the entire point of volunteering in a country that, according to some, is a member of the third world.

Life in Peru was not about Playstation, “Jersey Shore” or owning the latest fashions.  It was not about impressing your neighbors or having the biggest house.  It was simply about making it from today to tomorrow still alive and enjoying every second of it.

Even though I missed my friends, passed out from parasites in my stomach and almost didn’t get my Winthrop tuition paid, it was an experience I would never trade. Not only did I learn more about my career as a photojournalist, but it really made me appreciate what I own and the privileges we have in the U.S.