The Invitation: Camila's Next Big Adventure

Hand and footprints of past JVs decorate our little library “MISSSS, NO TE VAYAS” — "MISS, DON’T LEAVE.”  About three months left of my time as a JV here in Peru and my students act as if I’m leaving tomorrow.   In fact, sometimes they act as if I have already left:  “Miss, ¿Cuando vas a regresar a visitarnos?” - When will you return for a visit? Sometimes a fourteen year old will ask me something like: "Miss, will you come back when I’m grown and have my own kids here, in Miguel Pro?" In my head, ten years will flash before my eyes and, suddenly, here is my student standing before me as an adult, with the same goofy, shy grin on their face. Tears will come to my eyes as I imagine this future before me and I am lost in a place of “what-ifs” and endless possibilities, transported to a time when I can visit this beautiful place once more—and then of course the same fourteen year old decides to tackle a larger fifteen year old and reality comes crashing

Although Tacna, Peru may be an urban city, stretching far out into the desert, my neighborhood of Habitat remains a tranquil suburb on the outskirts. As long as no one has decided to throw a “tono” in their house and blast reggaeton music until our windows shake, most evenings are quiet affairs, with only the sound of the neighborhood cats and dogs breaking the silence. Weekends in our house are a pleasant escape from the hustle and bustle of work and one of us will inevitably take up residence on our worn, red-velvet couch that sits below the living room window. We often take weekend siestas to the sounds of children playing in the street, dogs barking, and the rumble of trucks driving down the PanAmerican highway a few blocks over. But there are some sounds that come floating in through the open window that send us running frantically to the door. These are the calls of our caseros and caseras who come by in trucks, bicycles, and even on foot, selling their wares. Each pe