Christmas in Arequipa, Peru

The Huachi Huachi Children and Their Christmas Custom

In the country of  Peru, in the City of Arequipa, high in the Andes Mountains, boys and girls form groups called "Huachi, Huachi." They visit homes every evening for the entire Christmas Season. The children knock on the door or ring the doorbell. The family invites them in to visit the "Nacimiento," the Christmas Scene which every family, no matter how poor, prepares for Christmas. The children want to welcome Jesus to the home and to their neighborhood.

The boys and girls are excited, and happy, and they come to entertain the Christ Child.
They stand around the Christmas Scene of  The Birth of  Jesus, the (Nacimiento.)
Each child  sings a Christmas Song.
Then, he or she selects a partner and does a little dance.
Next, the child  recites a poem.
And last, he or she offers a prayer.

After all the children have performed, the family shares whatever they have.
This may be candy, sweet bread, cookies, hot chocolate, tea or bread or hot soup. Even the poorest family will make sacrifices to share what they have, because they want all the children to learn that

Jesus is the Son of God and he was born for us in Bethlehem

An angel came to announce his birth to Mary, a young girl. The Angel Gabriel told her she was to be the Mother of God.
Today we call her,

The Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God.

When Jesus, her baby, grew up, He was sent to tell us of God's Love and the Peace that comes to the whole world and to every heart when we love one another.  The Virgin Mary is his Mother and St. Joseph, his foster father.

When Jesus was born, Mary and Joseph were traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem. When they arrived there was no room for them at the inn where most people stayed. Jesus was born in a place where animals lived, but angels announced his birth to
shepherds who were watching their sheep in nearby hills. The angels sang
 "Glory to God and Peace on Earth to people of Good Will!"

The shepherds listened to the angels and came to Bethlehem. They came to adore the newborn baby, and later, Three Wise Men from far away arrived to bring him special gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh because they had seen a special star and followed it.

In Arequipa, families want their children to follow Jesus and live as he taught us, loving and serving one another. I hope you will learn about Him, too. Jesus is always with us. Welcome Jesus to your home and heart and have a Blessed Christmas!

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A Netsuke from Maryknoll Sisters Heritage Exhibit

Before Pockets, Purses or Wallets

Every day, Mr Wong, grumbled and grumbled. He lived a long time ago in China when men had to carry an inkpot and a stamp wherever they went.


Mr Wong complained to Number One wife. “I don’t like carrying things, and sometimes I drop the inkpot and my hands get all dirty.”


.Number One wife said, “Oh, honorable husband, without it, you cannot buy anything.”


Mr. Wong said, “I know. Without it, I can’t sign a document, buy rice, or that piece of silk you want, but I don’t like carrying things.”


Number One wife wanted a new silk gown, so she quickly made a silk bag for Mr Wong. “Here you are,” she said. “You can carry your inkpot and stamp in this bag”.


Mr. Wong set out to do business in his city. When he met his artist friend, he complained again, “I don’t like carrying things.”


The artist said, “Oh, I can fix that. Just wait here. I have something for you.”


The artist returned with a tiny package. “Here you are, Mr. Wong. This will solve your problem.”


Mr. Wong made a face and groaned. He said, “What is this?” Something else to carry?”


The artist said, “Oh, no! Open the package and you will see.”


Mr. Wong tore off the wrapping. He found a tiny carving with a tiny hole and a black silk cord.”


He said. “What good is this trinket?”


The artist laughed. He threaded the black cord through the tiny hole in the carving. He tied the black cord to the string on Mr. Wong’s silk purse. Then he tucked the tiny carving into the sash around Mr.Wong’s robe.


“There you are,” said the artist. Now you don’t have to carry your inkpot and stamp.


Mr. Wong thanked the artist. He smiled as he walked off to make his purchases.


He showed the tiny carving to all his friends.


Some of Mr Wong’s Japanese friends bought the tiny carvings to take home.


When artists in Japan saw the tiny carvings, they named them netsukes (pronounced nets-uhkees).


.In Japan, times were hard, and artists had little work. When no one asked them to do big monuments, they worked on little things.


Little things were important to these artists. An artist took as much care doing a little figure as he did with a big monument. Very soon artists were carving all sorts of netsukes.


They carved Uzume, the laughing goddess, Hotei, the god who loved children, and Shoki, the slayer of demons, as well as many other figures. Everyone used netsukes to anchor items at their waist.


Next time you clip something on your waist, put something in your pocket, or carry a purse, remember Mr. Wong and the artists who made netsukes.

Mollie Wanted Everyone to Be Happy

 Mollie Wanted Everyone To Be Happy

A hundred years ago, on a winter afternoon, seven year–old Mollie Rogers curled up on the sofa in the big living room of her home in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. Her whole name was Mary Josephine Rogers.



Mollie  turned the pages of a magazine and looked at each photo. One photo showed the story of a girl her own age. As Mollie read the story, big tears rolled down her face.


Her big brother, Abe, looked up from his homework. “Mollie, what’s the matter?


Her voice trembling, Mollie said, “It’s this little girl in Africa. She was killed because she believed in Jesus,”


“Oh,” Abe said, “She’s one of those martyrs. Don’t cry. Martyrs go straight to heaven.”


Abe went on with his homework, but Mollie never forgot that story. She wanted everybody to be happy.

Mollie lived in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts.
Every Sunday, she  went to church with her big family of eight brothers and sisters. She learned more and more about Jesus.


Once a year, a missionary spoke in her church about terrible things that happened to children in far away countries. In some places, little babies were abandoned, especially if they were girls. They were thrown away, left on the roadside, dumped out like garbage. Missionaries found the babies and cared for them. They fed them and clothed them, but often it was too late. Many babies died in their arms. Molly wanted to do something about those babies. Molly wanted to make others happy.


She helped her brothers and sisters. She played the piano for them. She could sing, and dance, too. She liked to write letters and stories. She was a happy person and wanted others to be happy, too.


When Mollie finished high school, her parents sent her to Smith College. Mollie came from a Roman Catholic family, but most of her classmates and her teachers were Protestants. In college, Mollie got along with everyone. She liked her classmates and her teachers. She made many friends. She studied hard and the years passed quickly.


She was almost ready to graduate when something happened. She had always joined in with her classmates for every activity, dances, competitions, parties. Then, suddenly, she felt left out.


It happened on the day that many of her classmates received their “mission” assignments. The young women were smiling and congratulating each other. They were so happy. They had offered to go to China to spread the Good News of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Mollie listened as they laughed and talked. Mollie congratulated them! She was happy for them, but soon she slipped away to the Catholic Church just across the street from the college.


As she knelt in the quiet church, she thought about how good these young women were and how they were going to tell people in China about Jesus. As she prayed, she asked herself what she was doing to spread her faith.

After graduation, Mollie got a job at the college. She taught Zoology. One of her mentors said, “Miss Rogers. All the Protestant girls have Mission Study Clubs. Why don’t you form a Mission Study Club for Catholic Girls?”


Mollie liked the idea, but the only thing she knew about Catholic Missions was what she heard in a once-a-year sermon, when a missionary visited her parish church. Mollie remembered that the missionary talked about an office somewhere in Boston.


As soon as she had a day off from teaching, Mollie inquired and learned that a Rev. James A. Walsh was in charge of that office. She lost no time. Within a few days, she went into Boston to find this priest. He would know something about mission, since he sent the missionaries to her parish.


 Mollie climbed the stairs to an  office on the top floor of a rickety old building. She learned that Father Walsh called his office the Rookery. A rookery is a place where birds roost high in a building. When Mollie learned this, she knew Father Walsh had a sense of humor.


Mollie greeted Father Walsh and explained her need for material for a Mission Club she intended to start for Catholic students at Smith College.


Father Walsh welcomed her. He gave her some information and suggestions. Mollie found her life’s work that day.


Within a few years, Mollie became

Mother Mary Joseph Rogers.

She  founded the Maryknoll Sisters, a group of women who this very day are spread about the world. They are women from 17 countries. They serve the poor and needy in 28 nations. They want to make God’s Love visible to the whole world.

Do you sometimes think about how you could make God’s Love visible?


Learn more about Maryknoll Sisters!  http://www.maryknollsisters.org/

 

Secret Melody

New Book by your Storyteller!

SECRET MELODY is the story of 12-year old Alberto, and his little sister, Mariela. Terrorists separated them from their parents. Now, a stranger has come to take them from their isolated village high in the Andes of Peru to their parents in New York City. A few hours into the journey, Alberto suspects the stranger’s intentions. Suspense increases as he searches for a way to outwit the stranger, protect his little sister and find his parents.

.SECRET MELODY is available on online bookstores Here is one link where you can find it:

http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Melody-Elizabeth-V-Roach/dp/1453770542/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1290181167&sr=1-2

A Mystery!

Mystery of Light

                                                                                                              Photo by Anastssia Lindwati

Sunlight is a mysterious thing. The sun is very far away, but its light travels very fast. AND it is so bright that it lights up our earth. How does that light travel here?

One thing scientists THINK is that light is both

a PARTICLE  (a tiny piece) AND a WAVE.

A particle of light is called a photon

A light wave is simply a wave.

How it can be two things at the same time is a big mystery, even today when we know so many things !

When you shine a flashlight into the night, you can send tiny photons out to space.

Here’s a little poem to help us remember this wonderful mystery of light!

A Little Photon

I’m a little photon traveling in the night.

I’m a bit of light that makes the sun shine bright.

Send me out on a dark starry night.

If I avoid the dust and molecules I sight,

I’ll pass the moon in a two second flight.

When I look back, the Earth and the Moon

are mere points of light.

I greet the sun, but fly on bright

I‘m a little photon

Traveling tonight at the speed of light.

The Matching Game

Kai-Awase Shells    photo by EVRoach

                                                                      

THE MATCHING GAME

click on photo for detail

A thousand years ago, Sakura (sáw koo rah), a child of the Royal Court of Japan lived with all her family in the Castle of Peace, the city of Heian-jo, now Kyoto. Her mother, like many women in the court, played Kai-Awase.


The women spread 360 pairs of clam shells on the floor in the shape of a fan. They scrambled to select those that matched. While her mother chose shells, Sakura, whose name meant Cherry Blossom, sat cross-legged on the floor, and tried to match them.


Some shells had matching symbols painted inside. Others had fragments of verses. Sakura said. “Look, Honored Mother, here, these two are exactly alike.”

Her mother smiled and watched Sakura fit the shells together to show they were a perfect match.


“Honored Mother,” Sakura asked. “Why does a shell have only one mate?”


Sometimes mothers don’t want to explain things. That day, Sakura’s mother didn’t want to explain. She said, “My precious daughter, when you are older you will understand. Look at this one, isn’t it beautiful?”


Sakura wondered why her mother didn’t explain, but with so many shells, she soon forgot her question. It was easy to match the symbols, but some had half a poem written in them. Sakura’s mother helped her with the poem fragments.


After the game, Sakura (Cherry Blossom) went to study with the other children of the court. She and her friends learned many paper arts. She learned to make all sorts of beautiful ornaments for her family’s part of the Castle.


Sakura (Cherry Blossom), also, learned to dress according to the fashion of the time. Her kimono dress was made very large, flowing and colorful. It had many layers and was adorned with gold and embroidery. Full dress, the juni-hitoe required twelve layers of silk, plus the other garments women wore. Sakura (Cherry Blossom) had to walk carefully so she didn’t trip over the tent-like layers of silk kimono that floated about her. She wore long black hair pieces that extended her own. Her eyebrows were made very black. Sometimes a veil covered her face.


Sakura’s mother was proud that her daughter was learning the customs of her people. Manners were very important in the Heian Court. Everyone wrote poetry. Women and girls kept diaries. Strict rules governed how to speak to others, and how to bow to greet people. Sakura was learning all the special rules.


As the years passed, Sakura continued to play Kai-Awase with the women and young girls of the court. She became more expert about matching the shells, and sometimes she still wondered why each shell had but one mate.


Then, one day Sakura’s father sent for her. With her mother, she went to a public room of the court. She was presented to a young man and his parents.


Because she had learned the customs, she bowed deeply to the parents, and then to the young man. This, too, was a deep bow, but not so deep as that to the parents. All during the visit, she kept her eyes down.  A young woman had to be modest and humble before guests.


Later, when they were alone, she confessed to her mother, “Honored Mother, I wanted to look in the face of that young man. There was something special about him. I felt happy and shy at the same time.”


Sakura’s mother smiled and said, “Your father has promised you to this young man. May you and he be a perfect match, made for one another.” Sakura said, “Oh, Honored Mother, now I know why women play Kai-Awase.”


Sakura hoped her young man would be a perfect match for her. In those days, and even today in some cultures, marriages were arranged by families, sometimes, without the knowledge of the young couple.

originally published in Skipping Stones, March/April 2009  with questions for reflection.   copyright Elizabeth V. Roach 2009

The Fighting Mummy

   

The Fighting Mummy

The day was hot and muggy. University students and old men sat languidly in the shade of the main plaza of a little town in the coastal desert of Peru. The Cathedral bells rang twelve noon.

Santos, a swaggering, tough 13-year-old shoeshine boy was giving some advice to “The Mummy.” Mummy was his skinny, coughing, barefoot nine-year-old friend. Suddenly, Santos whispered, “Quick! Here he comes!”

The two boys scurried in different directions. They clutched their boxes of equipment tightly so nothing would fall out.

A fat, angry, plaza guard, waving a stick, chased after them. The guard chased after one, and then the other. But the boys were too quick. Breathless, sweating, and fuming,the guard gave up.

The boys, laughing and puffing, soon found one another again and sat down to rest. “That’s the third time this morning,” Mummy gasped. A fit of coughing prevented him from further conversation.

Santos begged a glass of water from the woman at a nearby fruit stand. He offered it to Mummy. “Here, take it easy. We got away, didn’t we?”

Mummy said nothing. He had been shining shoes for two years, ever since he was seven. He had learned a lot of things and now he sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his chin almost touching his knees, almost like the ancient Peruvian mummies. He had been sitting like that the day the boys gave him his nickname.

Just then, a big man in an expensive grey suit came along. Mummy called out, “Shine, sir.” The man stopped, looked at his shoes and then put one foot on Mummy’s box.

Business-like the boy set to work. First, he brushed off the dust; then he carefully applied a little polish. Mummy protected the man’s sock by running his little finger along the top edge of the shoe as he put the polish on.

Next he splashed a few drops of water from a little bottle. The drops rolled around on the shoe and Mummy massaged them into the polish with his fingers.

Then came the shine with the special rag his mother had made him from his father’s old trousers. Mummy seemed to be attached to some source of electric power as his arms moved the rag over the shoe like a continually reversing conveyor belt. At last, the shoes shone like new mirrors. Mummy slapped the tow of on shoe and held out a polish smudged hand for hit tip.

Santos had a customer too, so Mummy waited and survey the world through two pensive brown eyes.

For two months the battle had been on. It had all started with the Mayor’s Clean Up Campaign. The plaza guards had been ordered to chase the shoeshine boys out of the Plaza. They might hurt the tourist trade.

Santos finished and rejoined Mummy. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said.

“If I eat, I won’t have much to take home,” Mummy said.

“Well, you have got to eat something,” Santos ordered. “That’s why your cough hangs on. You didn’t eat anything yesterday. C’mon, Doña Rosa will give us a saucer of seviche for five soles. We will split it.”

The boys shared the seviche (a popular Peruvian dish of raw fish marinated in a sauce of lemon juice, onions, and hot pepper). Santos continued to counsel Mummy. “We have to fight the Mayor. The good guys want to change things. Before, the Mayor could live in town and go out, when he felt like it, to collect from the guys who worked his farm. Now absentee landlords are having trouble. He afraid he will lose the farm, so he is trying to get an edge on the tourist trade.

“My dad says we have got to stay in the Plaza. Nowadays, poor people have rights, too, but we have to fight for them.”

Mummy counted his earnings. He held out his hand for Santos to see how little it was.

Santos insisted, “Yeah, I know. We are losing the fight, but just the same, we have got to fight.”

Mummy handed back the plate to Doña Rosa, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and rubbed his hands on his trousers. Suddenly, he darted across the street and pounced on a boy his own size. Soon the two were down on the pavement, locked in a vicious struggle. Mummy was searching the other boy’s pockets. The victim pushed and kicked trying to escape, but Mummy was on top and would not let him go.

Santos caught up and tried to reason with Mummy. “Mummy, what did the kid do to you?”

“He borrowed ten soles a week ago. I have asked him for it three times,’ gasped Mummy.

The boy on the ground blinked back tears as he said, “As soon as I get it, I’ll give it to you.”

“Aw, let him go, Mum. He hasn’t got it,” ruled Santos.

Mummy’s eyes showed a moment of indecision, but with one last punch, he said, “Okay, but tomorrow.” The debtor, after a grateful look at Santos, scampered off.

Mummy poked his friend in the ribs. “Santos,” he said. How come you want me to fight for the plaza, but now for my ten soles?”

“Listen. All us shoeshine kids have to stick together. The bad guys like it when we fight one another. It means we are not fighting them,” Santos explained. “The plaza belongs to everybody.”

Mummy thought about this as he always did anything that Santos said.

When night came, the two boys went their separate ways. Mummy dragged his feet because the day had brought only fifty soles. What can Ma do with that,’ he asked himself.

As he walked home, he wished with all his heart that Papa was still with them, but it had been two years since that night when he stopped coughing for ever. Since then, Ma sold fruit in the market. Elvira, Mummy’s eleven-year-old sister, watched the house and took care of their baby brother.

At last, Mummy reached the dark narrow alley and found his way to the piece of corrugated zinc that served as a door to the one room that was home. As his eyes got used to the candlelight, he saw Ma at the wooden table mending an old shirt.

Mummy placed his earnings on the tableas Elvira brought him the dish of rice she had saved from dinner.

As Ma gathered the soles, she said, “You look all tuckered out. You are working too hard.” Ma made made you feel proud of whatever you did.

When it was time for bed, she unrolled the lambskins and the boys settled down for the night under one blanket on one side of the room, Ma and Elvira on the other. For a few minutes Santos and his baby brother wrestled one another. Soon all were quiet.

Mummy awakened early the next morning. He stole out before the others wakened. He wanted to get to the plaza and do a few shines before it was time to go to school.

For five months he had struggled to earn a little every day. His cough got worse and worse. Ma took him to the government clinic. The doctor gave him medicine and told Ma to see that he got lots of milk and meat.

As the days went by Mummy got less able to run from the plaza guard, but Santos looked for him when it was time to eat. Often they split a saucer of seviche.

Then, one day Mummy fainted and a policeman took him to the hospital. The doctor told Ma that he was very sick. Santos visited him every day. On the third day, Santos saw that Mummy was trying to say something.

Mummy was very weak, his voice was a hoarse whisper, his hospital gown was damp with perspiration, but he struggled to sit up.Just before he fell back on the pillow, Santos heard him say, “Shine, sir.”

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© 2009 Photo and story Elizabeth V. Roach - This story is adapted from a story Sister Elizabeth published in CATHOLIC FIRESIDE, in Britain in 1975. It was based on the life of Augusto Berrocal who died of tuberculosis at the age of fourteen in Ica, Peru.

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