Peruvian Memoir

[Guest guest]

A STRANGE EXPERIENCE

 

IT HAS BEEN MY GOOD FORTUNE to travel, and live, in many countries in

the last twenty years. Granted, I have been relieved to find kindred

spirits everywhere; yet, it is the odd quirks (to me) that I have

found in foreign cultures that stick in my mind, the memory of which,

years later, can still fill me with amazement, even coloring my day

with laughter. One such incident occurred while I spent some years in

Peru.

 

My husband, an engineer with an American mining company, and I, were

on a trip by jeep through the Andes Mountains. Our driver, Julio, a

Peruvian Indian, had accompanied us on many such adventures along the

narrow roads throughout this wild landscape. Over the years, we had

established an easy-going camaraderie, and knowing each other so

well, we chatted freely as we drove along in the bright sunshine.

Suddenly, the car skidded on some debris from a previous landslide,

and we found ourselves careening wildly down the steep incline to the

abyss below. A river-bed, thousands of feet down, seemed our obvious

resting place. However, fate was kind... the wheels of the car

caught, and held, on a stony ledge some distance down the ravine. In

a state of shock, we managed to gingerly extricate ourselves from the

back seat of the jeep, and in what seemed an eternity, my husband

inched forward and carefully dragged Julio's body out. Fortunately,

he was alive, with no injury that we could see. My husband's

words, " I think he only had the wind knocked out of him, " came like a

scream in that wilderness. I realized that these were the first words

spoken during our narrow escape.

 

Then began the arduous climb to the top. As we crept carefully

upward, Julio's smaller body supported between us, we heard a loud

rumble as the car was catapulted off the ledge and down the

mountainside. By the time we reached the top, Julio had regained

consciousness. Completely exhausted and short of breath, we stretched

out in the road. Finally my husband stood up, and gazing down at the

wreckage, uttered words that had been forming in my own mind, " God,

what a narrow escape! " Silently, my lips formed an Amen ... a thank-

you to our Maker. Julio, on the other hand, jumped to his feet, and

began beating his chest and crying, " Que Lastima, Que Lastima! " (what

a pity). My husband, thinking he was overcome at the thought of

losing the expensive jeep that was his pride and joy, hastened to

assure him that it was of no importance; the only thing that mattered

was that we were safe. After some time, Julio turned to us. The

change in the man was most remarkable; no longer our smiling friendly

driver, his haughty and aristocratic demeanor shocked us. Generation

upon generation of rubbing shoulders with foreign cultures had fallen

away. Before us stood the true Peruvian, a son of the Incas. Sadly,

and with a faraway look in his eye, he simply stated, " But senor,

what a glorious way it would have been to die! "

 

Cristine Westby, Bayville, NY

 

 

Posted April 3,2006...............bob