¡Viva El Paro!

Back in Peru, and once again the teachers are marching in the streets, demanding a living wage and a little respect from yet another government prone to empty promises and self-enrichment. It was the same here four years ago, and there is little to suggest that the maestros’ lot has improved an iota in the interim.

On my second night in Huaraz, my mind dredges up a blurry recollection of Durkheim’s sacred and the power of the collective mass as I walk down the city’s main drag against a flood of teachers waving banners, chanting demands, and pumping their fists in the air. Hundreds begin to clap in rhythm, the din echoing off whitewashed walls and drawing glares from the tiny shops where business continues as usual. Lifted up by their spirit, I join in. Why the hell not, I’m a disgruntled teacher too. Several marchers notice me and smile. One mouths “Gracias,” as she passes.

For a second, I am filled with that inexplicable energy that used to tingle up the back of my neck in first grade when we stood together to hear the national anthem over the school’s loud speakers. Solidarity, like a swell tracking across the ocean, creates power and momentum greater than the sum of its parts.

As the crowd stomps by, the wave washes past, leaving me feeling suddenly and strangely depressed at my impotence as an American. Too often lately I’ve wondered when my paisanos and I will finally summon the courage or muster the resolve to say enough is enough. Of course, enough is clearly a concept our culture struggles with and the bottom line seems to be that nothing breeds action like desperation. Busy with our jobs, our joys, our blogs, and our toys, most of us gringos are still a long way from desperate. “So what will it take,” I ask myself.

With new concessions promised by the Peruvian government, this round of strikes concludes conveniently just a few days before the beginning of the week-long national holiday—Dias de Patria. Don’t be fooled though. While these protestations may seem mere tremors dispelling social discontent—like the slight trembling of the Earth that shook me awake a few nights ago—there is a greater force building, and not only here in Peru I think. Just as an Andean fault slipped thirty-seven years ago, generating an earthquake that decimated the city of Huaraz in moments, change often comes intensely and with wide-reaching repercussions. ¡Viva el Paro, Viva el Pueblo!