Tener Una Voz

A Woman’s Value in a Man’s World:

‘You are lost in the world without education,’ Ruperta Salo Huaymanca tells me the second time I meet her. She is a plump but ebullient woman, and for being so small in stature, her personality and intelligence overwhelms everyone. And yet it is specifically her courage and determination in which she represents a new future for women in Peru. Currently residing in one of the poorest districts of Lima, San Juan de Lurigancho, Ruperta will hopefully be able to fulfill the dream of the projects of Progressio.
One of the many programs that Ruperta is involved with is the Comité Gestión; conducted by a Progressio cooperative. Diana Torres, its leader, has hopes to introduce women into the political world that is currently driven by a male force. They meet weekly to discuss issues facing women in the patriarchal society of Lima, Peru. The goals of the Comité Gestión include giving women the tools to break into politics and thrive in its male driven environment. Ruperta gave me the assurance that this hopeful goal of Porgressio’s will eventually be realized. However, it is Ruperta’s past that simultaneously shadows her future and encourages her success.


Ruperta was born in Cuzco. She is the eldest of her four siblings, consisting of three sisters and one brother. After the death of her father, at twelve years old, Ruperta migrated to San Juan de Lurigancho to live with her aunt and help raise her younger siblings. She began selling soup, which has been her main occupation throughout her long life; she is presently fifty-nine.
At a young age, Ruperta was plagued by the beatings of her aunt’s husband. Looking for solace, she took on another job; cleaning a modest house. The house lacked running water, so Ruperta would trudge every day to a well. After some time, she met a man at the well. She told him of her ill-treatment, including an incident where her uncle burned her cheek with a scalding spoon. He sympathetically, told Ruperta that he would never commit such atrocities because he loved her. With that, the couple escaped and moved in together.
Shortly after moving in with this man who became her husband, Ruperta discovered that this person she met at the well was a fraud. He was a heavy drinker and full of hate. Thus, he began to abuse Ruperta physically and emotionally. He would tell her that she was stupid and ignorant because she could not read or write. She was convinced that she lacked an identity because her signature was an X. The minute details of her life, such as going to the market to buy food, were everyday struggles.
The cruelty worsened a year later, when the couple discovered they were impotent. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ruperta’s husband blamed their childless union on her. She began to believe her partner’s hateful words; that she was useless. Many nights Ruperta would be thrown out of her own house and stood outside the door until her husband fell asleep and she could creep back into the house unnoticed. Her routine continued as she woke up and went to work every morning, being the bread winner of the family since her husband did not have a job. Ruperta was gradually sinking into an abysmal hole but somehow she was able to recover through her experiences with the church.
One afternoon, Ruperta was on the streets crying. A nun approached her and asked why she was crying. Ruperta answered, ‘Because my husband abuses and beats me.’ The nun suggested that Ruperta go with her to the church, asking, ‘Would you like to learn?’ And Ruperta eagerly followed into the church. Ruperta was introduced to teachers of EDUCA who told Ruperta to wipe her tears because they were going to help. Ruperta began the program of alphabetization, with the patience and understanding of the teachers. And gradually as time passed, Ruperta learned to read and write.
Ruperta can read but has problems retaining information most likely due to the traumas she suffered in her life. But her emotional disturbances do not hold her back. ‘Before, I couldn’t read or write, but at least now I can write my own name,’ Ruperta assured me. She has been studying for more than three years and has had much success with the programs from EDUCA and now Progressio.
Most importantly to Ruperta is her signature, which now allows her to have a documented identity. As a leader of Vaso de Leche and participant in Mujeres Líderes and the Comité Gestión, one of Ruperta’s favorite duties is to sign documents. Additionally, the groups help Ruperta forget her suffering.
As Ruperta had gotten heavily involved in community politicking, her home life worsened. In the afternoons, Ruperta would lie to her husband and tell him that she was going out for a walk and she would run to the community center or to the church to attend and/or lead meetings. But she always had to leave early, so her partner would not suspect anything. On one specific occasion, her husband was waiting for her. Immediately, he asked where she had been and without waiting for a response, Ruperta´s husband kicked her brutally in the leg. That night, Ruperta prayed to God, ‘Please God, I’m receiving this bruise for learning to read and write, so please help me, because it is worth it.’ The next morning she awoke and the pain in her leg was still there, but she found the strength to continue on. She went to work to sell her soup and later on to a meeting.
She came home afterwards, went to her husband and threatened him. She told him that if he continued to beat her, then she would go to her teacher who is a lawyer and they would put him in jail. Now without fear, Ruperta attends meetings. She spends most of her day outside of her home, working and then going to classes and programs. ‘In the groups, I am the most happy and I feel like I am capable of anything,’ she told me earnestly. Ruperta finds strength in her meetings and goes to church before each one to cry and ask God for help in finding this force.


Ruperta seems to walk the fine line between complete independence as a woman and the perfectly submissive wife. Somehow, it is this vacillation that makes her undying courage so apparent and helpful in a country lacking a woman’s voice. Because not only does she understand everything they have been through, but she too has experienced it firsthand.
She told me of a story where she was in the hospital and she saw a nurse mistreating an indigenous woman who only spoke Quechua. Ruperta, fluent in both Quechua and Spanish, interrupted the nurse and told her, ‘this woman has the right to be treated fairly at this hospital.’ Shocked, the nurse inquired about how Ruperta knew this and Ruperta responded, ‘Well, I am the leader of Mujeres Líderes.’ And the nurse turned around and began to treat the indigenous woman.
After this, it became evident to me, that Ruperta had found her role in life. She sees herself as a teacher and guide for those women who do not know they have equal human rights. She gave me hope that Progressio will succeed in their project of guiding women into the government, whatever scale that may be. Ruperta epitomizes the struggles that face every woman in Peru. She is an educated woman living in an incredibly poor district of Lima, and not for one moment has she become disillusioned. Ruperta’s husband may not appreciate her gifts, but she is the hope for every woman in her community.

Tener Una Voz

Knowing Your Rights:

Yolanda Salazar Losada walks into the room, looking radiant. She has her hair pulled back and her earrings graze her shoulder blades as she talks with effervescent animation. She is full of charisma and especially pride. And throughout our time together at the community center in Huascar, which is a zone of San Juan de Lurigancho, her eyes never stray from mine. She is older than me, but Yolanda persistently addresses me as ‘Senorita,’ as if I have some sort of authoritative role, which I clearly do not. And with ease, Yolanda laughs, usually with her entire body, completely forgetting that at one time in her life, laughing was not so easy.
At the young age of 42, Yolanda has had a life more full of strife and struggle than many people will know in a lifetime. Yet she harbors no scars; emotionally. As she told me, ‘My past is in my past, I now live in the present and for the future.’
It is hard to imagine that a few years before she was involved with EDUCA, Yolanda was someone else completely.


She was born in Piura, in the north of Peru, and was raised by her two parents. She had some basic schooling until second grade, but nothing afterwards. And with her first love, at the mere age of 14, Yolanda’s life was turned upside down. She met a young man, who was much older than her (over 18 years old) and also married, but fell in love nonetheless and got pregnant. Her mother told her that as long as she separated from Carlos, the father of her child, then she would help and take care of the baby. Yolanda agreed.
Three years later, she met Luis. He was sweet and caring and Yolanda fell in love all over again. Her parents, however, heavily disapproved because while Yolanda thought Luis was a good man, he was also a drunk. She already had a three year old child at home to worry about, so her parents did not want any more problems. Yolanda wanted to live with Luis, since she would be having his child, but her parents disagreed. She and Luis escaped to San Juan de Lurigancho of Lima to live with his brother in order to start a life and a family together. They thought that by escaping the harsh realities of their past in Piura, Lima would be a safe haven. Yet, as Yolanda began to discover, her past was inescapable.
Luis began to come home intoxicated frequently. He was extremely jealous and would accuse Yolanda of betrayal and deception. He thought Yolanda was keeping up contact with Carlos because she was still in love with him. When he would scream accusations, Yolanda tried to explain that he was fooling himself; she would never leave him for Carlos – she loved him. Luis’ jealousy escalated for years and eventually he turned to physical abuse.
Unfortunately, there was no one for Yolanda to turn to. She could not turn to her parents for fear of worrying them. And she could not talk to anyone in Lima, because they were not her family and the fact that Yolanda had her first daughter out of wedlock with another man, was a secret. She could not bare the shame in her community. So she dealt with Luis’ mistreatment and abuse; she kept quiet. In order to appease Luis, Yolanda stopped leaving the house.
For many years, the behavior continued. Yolanda gritted her teeth and bore the weight of a violent household, while simultaneously maintaining all the daily chores and labors inside the home. She began to tire of Luis’ cruelty and inhumane treatment, so she suggested that they separate. She no longer wanted her children to be raised in the kind of environment where they were continually exposed to violence. What example was she setting for her children?
By then she had four children; two girls and two boys. And Luis was continuously punishing Yolanda for the mistake of her firstborn in front of the rest of the family. As far as she knew, in the patriarchal system; she had no rights as a wife, nor as a mother, and especially not as a woman.
After some years, Luis was severely injured in a car accident. None of Luis’ friends came to see him in the hospital nor did they help out with the hospital bills. Yolanda was the only one there for him. She left her kids at the house and stayed by Luis’ side during his entire recovery. Since there were no funds for his hospital bill and for his medicine, Yolanda picked up some spare money by helping out the nurses and cleaning the hospital. And Luis began to realize how lucky he was to have Yolanda.
Luis had three long months of recuperation. He could not work and make money for the family, so he took some initiative and had a friend lend him some money to buy boxes of candies so he could sell them from the door of their house. During this time period, Luis asked Yolanda for forgiveness for the past. And for the first time, Yolanda asserted herself. She told him that he should try and imagine what he has done to the family; he allowed her first child to grow up without a father figure, he transformed into another person when he drank, and he was abusive both mentally and physically. Yolanda told him, ‘I love you, but you hit me.’
A short while after this conversation, Yolanda began to notice that some people she knew in the neighborhood were spending their afternoons in the church. Curious to see what was going on, Yolanda, of her own accord, went to see what was going on. And there she found out about the program for alphabetization from EDUCA. She soon after took a test and started the program in the first level (she is now in the third). In the program she learned how to read and write; she found out that, ‘for studying, there is no age limit.’ Before learning to read and write, her children would ask her for help with their homework, but she was unable to because she had not had the schooling to help. When they were young, she would always tell them, ‘I want you to grow up to be better than me.’ She always wanted her children to have the advantage of being fully educated in order to open the gates of opportunity.
Yolanda became more and more involved in the programs of EDUCA and Progressio as she learned about her need for independence. Through many of the programs and meetings held, she learned that even though she is a woman, she too has rights. She has the same rights as her husband.
Yolanda prayed for the support and understanding of Luis and eventually, he too changed. As she bore her new knowledge as a shield, Yolanda went to Luis to explain that he could no longer abuse her or she would go to the police. Thus Yolanda began the transition from submissive wife to teacher. She began teaching her husband and children that women and men are born with equal rights and both genders must respect that. Luis thus saw that there were benefits to Yolanda’s autonomy.
Yolanda was then invited to participate in a group called The Comité Gestión,’ which is women’s group through a project at Progressio, which meets weekly to actively discuss women’s rights and their importance within the community.
The entire world had opened and welcomed Yolanda. She currently attends weekly meetings in the afternoon, almost every day of the week. Although, Yolanda is very quick to reassure that her work within the programs is not solely for the purpose of bettering herself, but furthermore for bettering her community. She wants to learn as much as possible because the more she learns, the more she is able to share with other women. ‘The women in the groups have become my family and my best friends,’ she said proudly.
Yolanda feels like she is setting a good example for her family. Dinners no longer are quiet meals; instead Yolanda starts the conversation, so the entire family is involved. Yolanda does not bear the weight of household chores alone. Her sons and husband accompany her to the supermarket and they help her clean the house. All her responsibilities are now shared amongst the entire household, which of course frees up more of Yolanda’s time to do what she loves to do: learn and study.
One time, her youngest son, who is now nine years old, asked her why there was such a drastic change in the house. He wanted to know why his father no longer yells at his mother, and why she is no longer beaten. She explained to him that, ‘the Yolanda that was hit and beaten and abused has died, and in her place there is a new woman, the new Yolanda.’


When I first met her, during a meeting of the Comité Gestión,’ the committee that meets weekly with Diana Torres, a cooperative from Progressio, Yolanda stood out in the group. Her passion was forefront and it was obvious that she was ecstatic to be there. She told me that Diana had taught her how to value herself. She has learned to be proud of herself and especially to be proud of her womanhood. It is clear for Yolanda that her future entails an involvement in politics. She has the tools and knowledge to forefront the new generation of women who are tearing down the antiquated walls of government down.
With each step towards this breach, Yolanda is most thankful for the fact that she lives alongside her husband as an equal partner. Yolanda goes to meetings and she feels comfortable sharing about her traumatic past life. Because she no longer sees herself as a victim. Yolanda is a survivor.

Tina the pornstar: my thanksgiving turkey

So after an easy flight from New York to Los Angeles, I landed back in the comforts of Calabasas under the pretexts that my flight was paid for because I was to help cook for Thanksgiving. After going to Whole Foods with my mother and purchasing the organic Turkey we would have for Thanksgiving dinner, we brought her back to the house to put her in her brine. And this is where our Turkey´s life began to unravel....

Tina, the turkey, came to us after a long life of strife. Yes, she had a horrible childhood filled with neglect and abuse by her family in the streets of the Valley. She eventually was rescued by a rooster, Porky. He told Tina that he loved her and would save her from her harsh life. But he ended up introducing her into the porn industry in the Valley of Los Angeles so they could make some good money. In the beginning, life seemed to be getting better for Tina, she had money and she did not mind her job so much. Porky got involved with the porn industry as well, but grew tired of the over-dramatized and exhausting world of porn. So he turned to pimping. He began to pimp out Tina. Porky became a terrible drinker and ended up beating Tina as well. Eventually Porky beat Tina so badly that she left him and ended up killed by the organic Whole Foods Company. And that is where me and my mother met Tina. Her life as a pornographer was over and her life led by Porky had also come to a close, so no one felt any remorse eating her delicious meat for our Thanksgiving dinner. Although, I will add that on the morning of Thanksgiving, when Tina saw her old friend Tom as the main event for the Thanksgiving Parade in New York City, she felt somewhat left behind. But after a whole day in the oven and a lot of love and affection from the Kagel family, she was completely restored. And damn, after a terrible history, you´d think she would taste bad. Yet, in fact, she was juicy and tender in all the perfect ways. So thanks Tina.

Other than the meal for Thanksgiving, two very important events took place that night. The first being that my father, who every year plays bartender with some special drink, made Apple Martinis. And while initially, this does not seem like a large event because any time my family gets together for an occasion, it usually means we are all going to drink heavily...but this year seemed worse than any other. I, of course, being the only one who does not drink Vodka, there were ten of us total, was the only one sober enough to witness the Apple Martini disaster, other than my cousin Mark who only had one. Okay, and no I was not totally sober, but in comparison I was... By the time, the main part of the dinner was served, everyone was so liquored up that no one remembered how good the food was until they were reminded by the leftovers the next day. We also embarassingly, went around in a circle and said what we were thankful for which seems useless now. No one remembers what they said. And after the dinner, everyone said that the Martinis were a bad idea and nest year we should all stick to Scotch... They say that every year and somehow, I am the only one who can stick to it... But I´m hoping by documenting the affair, it will be stained in everyone´s mind.

The second event, which to me is quite amazing is that my name was changed from Jenna to Satan. (my sister uses the French pronunciation - Satan - long A´s) My father who for six years, I called endearingly Pops or Papa, told me in the midst of cooking Thanksgiving dinner, that he has hated that name for all these years and felt it was demeaning. So he proclaimed that he should be called by the name that he wants and that he wanted to be called ¨Dad.¨ ¨No problem,¨I said calmly, ¨but while we're at it, I would also like to be called by a name of my choosing. And I want to be called Satan.¨ So now my family calls me by my correct name. It is quite lovely, I think. Satan. I should have thought of this when I was 16, it would have tortured my parents more then.....

Back to travel where all of your housekeepers used to live.....

I am now back in dreary Lima....

Obama-nation: I spent about a week in New York before Thanksgiving, which was, well - interesting. I learned to appreciate first off our plumbing system in the states.It is definitely a weird joy, but one I love - throwing my toilet paper down the toilet instead of placing it in a waste basket next to the toilet, since there is no infrastructure in Peru....so yay! And I definitely felt some weird sense of satisfaction because of my trip, since it is the best time to travel and NOT enter the disastrous and threatening job market of the states. Thank god I am not living in the recession. And while yes, South America does feel some apsect of the recession, it is much less, so I´m pretty happy.Was that smug? Well, that´s okay, I do feel like I one-uped some of you.
Otherwise, New York was good. I got to organize numerous groups of my friends, who apparently dont hang out with each other anymore since they all work and spend their free time at the gym! :) plus, since my blog is so daunting for them to read, other than Will and Tom,- thanks guys- I can make fun of all you since you wont be reading this....
Additionally I thought I would add that, while in New York, I learned about culture shock. Surprising, since I have not felt that much of a culture shock being in South America, but only on my return to New York did it slap me in the face. So the story goes as follows: I got proceedingly drunk through my second night in the city after I had assembled a weird group of people. People bought me drinks and eventually the bartender started giving me free PBRs. All my friends ended up ditching me at Cherry Tavern on 6th because they all work during the week. Somehow I remember not paying for a single drink that night... hm. Either way I ended up with a friend of a friend, in his west village apartment. I had just met him that night and of course, I was drunk and it was cold outside, so I just kept drinking. Eventually, it got to three in the morning and I had no interest in bundling up and getting back to Josh and Camille´s aprtment, where I was staying.He seemed to be itching to go to bed, but was not saying anything. So I initiated....
I asked this kid, who we´ll call, Ira, 'Hey, can you just get me a blanket, so I can crash on the floor. I´ll be out of here by six.' He had hard wood floors, but I am so used to sleeping anywhere that all I need is a blanket and I will sleep.
'Uh...No,' he blatantly said.
'Are you being serious?' I asked, totally unsure what he meant by no.
'Yeah, I´m serious. I don´t know you. You can´t stay here.'
And then it hit me. It was 3am and this New York kid, obviously did not trust me or maybe he was scared of me...I´m not sure which one it was. But he wanted me out.
'Oh my god,' I said as I put my hand over my mouth. 'I´m sooo sorry. I must have forgotten where I am. You're right. This is the city.'
And then after watching me struggle to get on my various layers, he put me out on the bitterly cold street to find my way home....
I guess New Yorkers are a lot more cowardly than they seem. :)