Kitty Meat and Pachamanca

Lining up for cat sandwich at the Cat Festival

Kittys are boiled, then roasted in this oven

The fire is set under clean rocks

Fire is lit and will burn for hours, heating the rocks

Food is placed on top of the hot rocks and covered with banana leaves and dirt

After 3 hours, the delicious feast is ready to eat

It’s always a special time for me when I get to share time and space with some of the wonderful folks who are my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers. Imagine if your closest friend lived 40 minutes away and most were several hours, even days away ? So, hold precious those nearby friends, who can meet you for pizza and beer on a moment’s notice.

Some of the gang was in town for the Cat Festival in nearby La Quebrada. Specifically, to see what eating the Kitty was all about. First, we headed up the Cerro de Oro to check out the ancient bones – and I don’t mean mine. The Cerro never fails to impress. New discoveries are made with every visit. And speculation abounds anew, about the life that these Huari / Huarco folks might have led. And how the site might be protected. I’m about ready to give up on Peruvians and go with some US archeology programs. Anyone have contacts ?

I rode out to the Festival with the Muni on the bus carrying the kid’s cajon and dance group, who were performing a couple of their numbers. The usually quiet little town was transformed into a carnival, with rides and vendors of all sorts lining the streets. Lucky that the last of the new water system had just been completed. Large caldrons were boiling the soon-to-be eaten cats. The meat would then be roasted or cooked in deep fat. I found a small stand selling “cat burgers”. Chopped Kitty, tomato, onion and some thin, garlicky sauce, on a typical pancita roll. At 4 soles ($1.50), it seemed pricey. But how many times would I get to eat cat ? I tried some of the meat by itself – very tender, but a little stringy, texture of chicken. And the taste was more like pork, but with the garlic, hard to compare. I’ve heard it’s like rabbit, which I’ve had, but don’t exactly recall. The sandwich was quite tasty and quite frankly – anticlimactic. MeeYow, MeeYum.

I hung around and tasted every wine and pisco there was – and there were lots. I bought a bottle a tolerable wine – most Peruvians wines are too sweet to my palate – for the big pachamanca party the next day. And listened to our kids do their thing. They play with such enthusiasm. I only wish more of them were smiling – they look so earnest. A moto-taxi took me home along my “high-speed” bike route.

The next morning, I biked out to the Las Palmas spring and was delighted to find Elvis working hard on clearing the area and installing the capitation. He had found some big concrete columns, chopped them up and formed a neat rectangle – not the circle I had planned, but a good innovative “McGuyver” solution. Avelino and I brought all the solar components over, along with another cable spool side, to use as a cover.

Then, back to San Luis to help Fernando prep the big pachamanca. The family owns a small farm near town, with beautiful old fruit trees, grape vines and vegetable garden. Camila, Santi and Amir had a ball, running and playing among the trees. Only makes me more certain that the kids in our town need a place to play. Pachamanca is a traditional Peruvian feast, cooked in an earth pit. A clam bake of sorts. Wood is set into the hole in a very particular pattern and covered by clean round stones. The fire is lit and heats the rocks and all the food is carefully placed – again in a very specific way, so that all the ingredients will be ready simultaneously. The food is covered with multiple layers of washed banana leaves, then burlap sacks and then about 6” of dirt to insulate. A cross with flowers is the traditional “topping-off” ornament.

After an insufferable 2.5 hours, the dirt is scraped away, burlap and leaves peeled back to reveal a steamy, perfectly cooked buffet. This feast was : pork, chicken (wrapped in mint), lamb, potato, sweet potato, corn and fava beans. And it was all succulent and delicious. Beer, wine, pisco and good cheer flowed at all quarters. And I waddled home – an over-fed, but very happy camper.

Helping a baby goat feed

Another ride to the Farm to re-install the over-pressure valve, which the boys had put in the wrong place. As usual, the work went quickly and smoothly. I had time to help a 2 day old baby goat feed. Its mother had no milk, so we rounded up a surrogate – goats move fast when they want to. The little guy seemed lacking inexperience, since he kept trying to suck on a leg. So, I guided him to the tit and he chowed down. The hardest part was keeping the older kids from pushing him away. They wanted to charge right in and butt him away. On the ride home, I came across (yet another) fiesta in progress. This one was a colorfully clad clan, celebrating Fiesta Santiago, an Andean tradition from the Huancayo area. Many folks in Santa Barbara are from that area. Posed for a couple of Goofy Gringo photos, a round of cerveza and headed home. God, I love this “job”.

Avelino’s family owns what was once the Administrator’s House for the huge sugar mill in Santa Barbara, which produced 150,000 lbs a day. The British knew well how to build for the tropics. The house construction is like no other in town. Huge adobe blocks were used, but a wooden roof with ventilating skylights and strong pine flooring that has resisted termite attack for some 150 years. High ceilings, full-on indoor plumbing with a septic tank and a sort of shock-absorber foundation, that has withstood multiple huge earthquakes and even a tsunami. Why didn’t the locals learn from this brilliant engineering?

My imagination raced to consider what life might have been like for the British manager, living on a private stretch of pristine beach, the sea-breeze wafting through the large front window and veranda. White jacketed waiters moving quietly over polished pine floors. I suspect a large store of gin and tonic, took the sting out of the isolation from family and Queen.

My friend, Carrie Hessler is now Acting Director of the Peace Corps. I met her when she came to visit my site a few months back and took us to an elegant lunch at El Piloto, the famous touristy eatery here in San Luis. Also learned she is the one who sent the PC film crew here. Nice to have friends in high places. And low. The whole spectrum is filled with good people. I’m glad to know them all.

When the boys from the La Quebrada JASS told me to come and see the new water system pump, I jumped on the bike and raced over. What I saw blew my mind. There was Jass president Luis, beaming at the entrance to the new Pump House facility. And inside…Holy Cow!! Not only was there a new pump, but a new concrete cover on the old open well, a state-of-the-art, chlorine gas injection system and a new back-up generator. I brought him some good news about a much cheaper dry chlorine source I’d found in Lima – now totally irrelevant.

After that shocker, came another : Margarita is in Lima, training for a new job. If it works out, she’ll be moving to Lima, though the kids would stay at their aunt’s until school is over in December. But then, they would move to Lima, too. More than a little sad about this – I adore my kiddles, pesky as they can be. I’d still have the kids out at the Farm, but not the same.

It turns out that the workers on the new sewer and water lines are mostly from Bolivia, as is the contractor. Part of the deal, though, was that they had to offer work to anyone here in town who wanted it, but only a handful did. This should be standard practice for any outside contractor – locals get first priority. Unemployment is very low here – anyone who wants a job can get one – for $10/day.

It’s been yet another rich, wonderful, productive and rewarding week. I feel so very fortunate to be able to live and serve here in San Luis. Peace Corps is a special kind of service. Living in a community for two years means that the folks who I help are not nameless photos – they are my friends and partners. I look them in the eye. I eat with them. I laugh with them. I am proud and honored to part of this Corps of wonderful Volunteers.