Crazy for Cocinas - improved cook stoves

Mama Teya is happy with her new stove

Katy & Will joined me to learn about Cocinas and ease my pain

My first stove. Note stains on wall from old stove - left

Construction is sometimes slowed by playing with kids

Another week of hard, but satisfying labor in the beach farming community called Don Oscar. Monday, we set the brick fire-boxes for the two new improved cook-stoves. The mortar was an eclectic mix of ½ adobe mud, ¼ ash and ¼ cow manure. The organics in the manure will burn off, giving more insulation and the ash makes the mix more adhesive, according to the manual. The home owners at one place are jovial, talkative sorts from the mountains. They taught me a few words of Quechua, the Inca language and grilled me about how I could have grandchildren, but no wife. They insisted she must be dead, since divorce is not even in their vocabulary. I sang to one of their little kids (in Spanish) to get him to stop crying, which they found most impressive. I also note that, despite the full sun and heat, the kid was wearing a sweater and full winter cap with ear flaps. These folks must have a different thermostat setting than Gringos. After work, the Peace Corps motto that this is a 24/7 job proved true, as I got drafted by my host buddy Fernando to help him with a job at the cemetery across the street. We were trying to survey a site for a new mausoleum, but either the existing one or the markers on site were wrong, as the measurements just did not align. The new one will just have to be 5cm (2inches) shorter.

Tuesday, we were joined by fellow 18ers Katy and Will and the team completed the adobe structures for two cocinas mejoradas (improved cook stoves), built the chimneys and installed the cook tops we cast last week. One highlight of the day for me was fetching water from the nearby well. Will and I discovered that there is actually quite an art to getting the cast bucket to fill with water. Best practice is to drop the bucket open end down. Otherwise, it just sits on the surface and doesn’t fill. Whodathunk? Katy tried milking a cow with some small success. Only footnote was that there was no water when I got home. Still not sure why. It just happens from time to time. Same with electricity. We take for granted these basic services in the US, but keeping everything running takes work, money and good maintenance – not always available here in Peru or elsewhere in the world.

There is an interesting cleaning tradition here that I should mention. Every morning, first order of business for Fernando, the elder (54) at my host home, is to connect the hose in front of the house and water and sweep BOTH sides of the street in front of the house. The house itself, on the other hand, rarely gets cleaned. The bathroom went for three weeks without cleaning until I did it my self. I’ve never seen him clean his own room and laundry and dishes seem to pile up until something is needed. But, that street in front of the house and both sidewalks always look great. From what I’ve seen in other parts of town, he’s not alone. Go Figger.

I had my first clash with Peruvian culture last Saturday. There was a party next door and wedding reception just down the street. The wedding affair was quite pleasant and tame, but the teenagers next door had some sort of super-woofer bass that literally rattled the windows in my room. About 2am, I got tired of the constant booming and went next door to (very politely) ask if the bass could turned down just a bit. Let’s just say that the response was less than cordial. I was informed that Saturday night is traditionally a night when you can do what you like, for as long as you like and as loud as you like and NO ONE, not the police and certainly not a Gringo can ask you to stop. Everyone I spoke to the next day about it just laughed and confirmed my intuited rule. And the party “only” lasted until 4am, so I guess I should count myself lucky.

The sun screen tarp I installed over my room has attracted some interest. One of the neighbors (not the party family) stopped me and asked what it was for. I explained about the solar gain and how it had lowered the temperature of my room about 10F. They asked about costs and then wanted to know how much I would charge to install it. As a PC volunteer, I’m prohibited from taking money for such services, which earned me a seriously incredulous look. We decided that a nice cake (torta) would be my reward. The lady is a baker and chocolate with fig filling sounded really interesting.   

Most Peace Corps volunteers enjoy a bit of “celebrity” status, as Gringos are uncommon in the smaller, non-touristy towns. I am no exception. After just a couple of weeks here, lots of folks seem to know my name – even some who I could swear I’ve never met. Word travels fast around here. I really appreciate the training that we got and the emphasis on realizing that WHATEVER we do will be scrutinized by the locals. And that they are not only judging me, but my Corps and my country at the same time. An honor and a responsibility I’m proud to bear.

Concrete mixers and ready-mix trucks are rare here. Small batches can be made in a wheelbarrow, but larger mixes are done on the ground. Measurements are all eyeballed, with amazing accuracy. Fernando did two mixes today, both were so close, we had only handfuls of extra concrete. Procedure is to dump gravel on the ground and cement on top. This is turned and formed into a doughnut or collapsed volcano shape. Water is added to the center pit, again with astonishing accuracy, and left to “rest” for about 5 minutes. The sides are then folded into the center and you got damn fine concrete. Quick and easy. Well, not as easy as a ready mix truck. We made slabs for the entrance and exit to the bio-digester which will allow the farmer to mix the “pig shit soup” in a 55 gal drum, rather than the 5 gal buckets. Looks good, so far.

Attended another local water committee (JASS) meeting tonight. This one totally different from the last one, as most everyone pays for their water in the service area. And they get GREAT quality water 7 days a week, though for only 10-12 hours a day. Never again take for granted the OUTSTANDING, 24/7, sanitary water service we get in the States. You can piss and moan about minutia, but it amazingly good service. Though we pay considerably more than the US$ 1.50 a month they pay here.

Thursday was a most excellent day. Jason and I made the final touches to two of the beach cocinas (improved cook stoves) and burned them in. Fire was lit with paper scraps, dry corn stalk for tinder and dried yucca root for fuel. The firebox glowed and we boiled some water. These things do indeed perform as advertised. The small firebox and chimney give a great air-flow – no flame fanning or blowing required. Most importantly, the new proud owners (and some onlooking neighbors) were trained in use and maintenance of the stove. It was a fine feeling for me to see the cocina go from concept and theory in training to actual construction and use. One more family will now be saving wood, breathing less smoke and enjoying the convenience and ergonomics of the improved cook stove. The long walk back to Santa Barbara and combi ride to San Luis was a lot easier and sweeter than usual this day.

Friday, Fernando and I built the fertilizer holding tank and loading port (insert area for “pig shit soup”) for the bio-digester. This will allow the farmer to mix the soup in a 55 gallon drum and dump it, rather than pouring in the 5 gallon buckets as he (and we) have been doing. And will allow him to store the fertilizer for a few days, once the digester is up and running. As usual, the concrete was ALL mixed by hand and the forms were cobbled together from random bits of wood. Boards are like gold around here and the boards vary in thickness and width. What I wouldn’t give for some cheap Home Depot 1x8’s ?  Form boards are all braced with adobe scraps. Looks like crap, but the end result is always surprisingly good. Adobe is the plentiful and VERY cheap building material here. They are manufactured by many one-man operations all along the drainage canals, since their raw material (clay/mud) is dredged out annually to maintain the canal depth. A 40cm x 20cm x 6cm (16x8x2 1/2 ”) brick is about 0.7 cents US. Used abode are lying around all over the beach, thanks to the seismic activity in the area. Problem is that the salty ground and soil moisture will turn the first few layers of adobe back to sand in just a few years, unless they are built on a plastic barrier or 2 ft concrete foundation wall. This accounts for the many skewed walls I see.

I wrote my first official letter (in Spanish, of course) to the municipality, requesting a meeting to go over the current and future projects that we might cooperate on. We’ll see if my Spanish actually passes the test. The good news is that my flowery and sometimes effusive style is just what the jeffes like.

Out to Don Oscar again to remove the form boards and return said precious cargo to Fernando. The daily commute is in a moto-taxi – kind of a rickshaw converted from a motorcycle – since no combis or taxis will brave the rocky road to the beach. I pass fields of corn, yucca, artichoke, camote (sweet potato), grapes and rice. One corn field was just harvested a few days ago. The ears were left in the sun to dry for a couple of days (and guarded at night), then packed into HUGE sacks and hauled to the local grain exchange. The field has already been replanted in corn (crop rotation is not practiced – yet another possible project for me). Green sprouts are visible in the rich and well irrigated soil. Fertilizer is applied by hand ( as are pesticides). A large irrigation canal runs alongside the narrow road and there are many times that a passing truck comes close to forcing the moto-taxi into the ditch, which would pretty well mess up my day. There are also passing donkey carts, which are much more courteous. We pass under the new Pan Am Hwy, which is just like any US Interstate, except for all the people walking along the sides. After that the road gets REALLY rough – teeth chattering rough. I can almost feel every bolt on the moto loosening as we go. The route home is a long walk – usually down the beach to Santa Barbara, the closest place with combi service to San Luis. A large and once magnificent church lies crumbling and tumbling down with each successive earthquake. Many of the beach folk have moved inland to San Luis. Only the poorest live next to the ocean – the exact reverse of the US and most anywhere else.

So, that’s all the news from a VERY productive and TIRING week in San Luis Opisbo de Tolosa de Canete, Peru, my new home town. Where all the men work hard, all the women are short, and all the children watch TV and play games on the internet.