That’s a slight exaggeration. First of all, there was already a school there, though not mucho of one. Second, I had a lot of help from a lot of people so it definitely was not “I” who built the school; however, it’s true that thanks to nearly two years of experience as a volunteer I was prepared this time to orchestrate events instead of being dragged along helplessly behind random developments that I never could have imagined much less controlled. Here’s what the kindergarten “Los Girasoles” (Sunflowers) looked like before, during and after:
It started out as a renovation but because of the sorry shape the building was in we completed gutted it and started over. My friend, the Teniente Gobernador, Aldo Rodríguez, happens to be an albañil (bricklayer) so he donated his time to the project and we solicited materials from the Municipalidad, an NGO in Chiclayo, the Ladrillera (brick factory) in Callanca and from James D. Turner, a gringo who founded a school here along with his friend Enrique Pisfil Villalobos, a Callancano now living in the U.S. I managed the budget and purchased materials, Aldo and the crew he normally works with did the real work.
Since this is Callanca, naturally there were people who opposed the project. They could think of bad things to say, even about a project that benefited three-, four- and five-year-olds. The Eneques, the people next door, claimed that one of the walls of the school belonged to them. They waited until we’d plastered the wall and were ready to pour the concrete floor, then showed up to complain bitterly in spite of the fact that we’d filled up all the gaping holes in “their” wall and stabilized the wall so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of them. They demanded that we build another wall abutting the existing wall. Panchita, the owner of the property on which the school is built, came with her brother and uncle to talk with them. The opposing factions yelled at each other for two hours and stalked around the perimeters of the adjoining buildings pointing to imaginary property lines and recounting contradictory versions of how their great-grandfathers had constructed the hundred-year-old adobe wall dividing the two houses. Just when everything looked hopelessly deadlocked they came to an agreement and the work on the school continued.
I learned some very important lessons in helping to carry out this project. One, if you invite the Alcaldesa (the Mayor) to the dedication of the project before you ask her to donate materials she’ll always say yes because Alcaldesas love nothing more than to hand out a few bags of cement, show up at the dedication and take credit for the entire project. On a similar note, I saw reconfirmed a lesson I’d learned previously. Everyone wants his name on the project. So if you generously concede credit for the success of a project to as many other people as possible you’ll get much better cooperation. When the project’s finished you can walk away from it with the personal satisfaction of knowing exactly how much you yourself contributed and how much more difficult the project would have been without your participation and that’s ultimately enough reward for anyone. (Anyone except an Alcaldesa.)
That willingness to share the credit ended up paying off. The Alcaldesa, two Regidores (Counselmen) from the Municipalidad, the Chief of Police and another official from the Muni ended up coming to the inaguaration. Thirty or forty padres de familia (PTA) and neighbors were present as well. As Madrina and Padrinos the Alcaldesa and Regidores donated 170 soles (when they they bless the building they break a bottle of champagne hanging in the doorway and tie money into a ribbon decorating the neck of the champagne bottle).
Another important lesson: when the gringo controls the money the project comes in under budget and there’s even money left over to invest in future projects. Instead of ending up in the pockets of every official, foreman, manager or accountant who comes anywhere near it, the money actually gets spent on the project. What a concept.
Those of you who know us know that I and my brothers have been known to be something of a clique of perfectionists. (To put it mildly.) One very difficult lesson I’ve had to learn in el Perú is that the perfect is not only the enemy of the good but also the enemy of the “half-assed but it’ll do.” This project like all the others in which I’ve been involved in Callanca had its rough edges and its cut corners. Because school vacation was ending and the kids were coming back to school, the crew rushed toward the end and although things got done they didn’t get done with as much care as had been the case earlier on in the renovation. Also, Aldo Rodriguez, my counterpart, who’d promised to everyone who’d listen that he would work for nothing and donate his time, in the end asked to be paid for his work once he saw that there’d be a budget surplus. So it goes. All projects and all people have their defects. I certainly am well acquainted with all the areas of my own character that are held together with black electrician’s tape or painted in two slightly but noticeably different colors of orange. Now that I’m learning to accept those imperfections in my work and in those with whom I work here in Perú, it’s a little easier to consider accepting similar imperfections in myself.
Not much easier but a little.
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