Kodak Moments

There are some moments in time that last barely longer than the flash of a camera, but are nevertheless worth the picture. Here are a handful of Kodak moments from my first two weeks in Peru:


“Rawr! Rawr! GRRRR!” and other similar sounds echoed throughout the schoolyard. Following the noise, I peeked into classroom two. Duran, Luis, Diego, and Manuel, the only boys in the kindergarten class of 20 kids, were inside fiercely growling like lions and tigers. When I poked my face in the window, they got right up in my face and growled with new intensity. Suddenly, Luis, who was the biggest and clearly the leader, screamed, “Escondense! (hide)” Next, several girls who had heard the growling walked into the classroom where the boys were crouched under tables and behind shelves. Suddenly, the wild little boys pounced, chasing the girls out of the room and growling just as before. The girls screamed and giggled as they ran around the corner, waited for the boys to hide again, and repeated the game. Looking at the adorable growling boys, I wondered if I could stow them on the plane as my pet cats.


I wondered to myself why I was so bad at soccer as I prepared to kick the soccer ball hard like the girls on my team were begging me too. I planted my left foot and swung my right foot towards the ball to shoot. I did not make a goal…not even close. Instead, I kicked the ball straight into Alfrain’s stomach. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!! Estas bien?” I asked with horror. He just laughed, but I felt terrible. The next time I had a good chance to shoot, I promised myself I wouldn’t hit another kid in the stomach. Is it a sin to break a promise if it’s an accident?


Luis walked up to me and took my hand. “Devuelta (spin)?” he asked. Impressed that for the first time he had spoken to me without yelling, I grabbed his other hand, walked over to an empty space, and begin singing as we spun around, “Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies…” His smile was like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day, lighting up the world and bringing warmth and happiness. When we “fell down,” two other children dove on the ground to join us. By the tenth or twelfth time, a whole flock of kids had joined. After about the twentieth time, I started getting dizzy. “Ultima vez (last time),” I said. When we fell down, I quickly brushed the dirt off my pants and transitioned to a new song before we could start again. But after just four verses of Wheels on the Bus, Luis was grabbing my hand again. It appeared I would be ringing around the rosie all day. But looking at his sunshine smile, I realized that was just fine with me.


Lizbeth took my hand and sat next to me on the grassy hill next to the playground. “Cuando vas a volver a su pais (When are you returning to your country)?” she asked, the puppy eyed pout invisible but understood. “No hasta el veinte de noviembre (not until Nov 20),” I replied with a smile. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned her head on my shoulder as if she could now love me without having to fear an approaching heartbreak.


“Que son (what are they)?” Elizabeth asked as she studied the English label on the packet of Pop Rocks. I explained that they were a candy that would “go pop, pop, pop” in her mouth. Looking both nervous and excited, she tore open the package. But instead of pouring them into her own mouth, as I expected, she walked over to Lizbeth, and poured about a fourth of the pop rocks into her hand. She proceeded to share with her sister and several other children sitting nearby that weren’t even her friends. Lizbeth giggled next to me. Covering her mouth, she muttered Spanish that I couldn‘t understand. Watching their glowing eyes and contagious smiles, I wished I had a million packets of Pop Rocks to share.


Matagente (Kill People) is by far the most confusing game I’ve ever played. This is probably due to the fact that it was explained to me in Spanish, but nevertheless, it took me two days to catch on. At first, it resembles Monkey in the Middle with twenty monkeys. Two kids stand on each side of a mob and throw the ball into the air. The “monkeys” try to catch the ball, receiving one hundred points each time they do. I quickly realized that, towering at least a foot over everyone else, I had a huge advantage. And although it seemed mean to always catch the ball, I found that the kids wanted me to because my points would benefit them later. After tossing the ball into the air five or six times, the two people on the outside are told to “mata (kill).” Now, the game resembles dodge ball as they throw the ball with the aim of hitting someone, who is then muerta (dead). If a person in the middle catches the ball, they have two options. They can take 100 points or they can revive someone that is muerta. The points are useful because if you get hit, you lose 100 points, but if you have no points, you die. Most kids, therefore, try to rack up the points, especially a particularly athletic kid named Jaime. He constantly dove for the ball, holding it up when he caught it, and never offering to save one of the “dead” children begging to be rescued. I, on the other hand, became the children’s hero, saving one kid after another and blocking the tiniest children from the ball. Eventually, a line of six little ones formed behind me, the closest child clinging to my shirt. I rarely tried to dodge the ball but instead made sacrifices to catch it. Because I had so many points from the beginning, I could afford to be hit a few times without being muerta. Jaime did the same, but with more selfish ambitions. Eventually, though, he took one too many risks diving for the ball, and he too was muerto. To my surprise, he looked at me with wide eyes and asked the same question as all the other children, “Proxima(me next)?” He was asking to be saved. I realized that this twelve year old boy was exhibiting a brilliant picture of grace. He didn’t deserve to be saved. He never saved anyone else and only cared about himself. I didn’t have to save him. I wasn’t obligated in any way; it was totally my choice. Yet, I, playing the Savior, would rescue him just the same. Because that’s what grace is all about.

Me with Anai, Sayuli, Nayeli, Dayana, Melisa, and Myli

Me with Luis

Me with Duran and Milagros