Stuff Monsefuanos Like

Whistling.  At their friends, across the park, at potential combi or colectivo customers, at women, and as a sound effect in stories.

Spontaneous naps.  Many monsefuanos work HARD, either in the chacra (field) or at home cooking all day and doing artesanía all night.  My host dad pulled an all-nighter to finish the sash for Señorita Monsefú, but as a result he is entitled to doze off in any situation he needs to- at the lunch table, in the middle of a conversation with me, etc.  No one seems to notice or care when someone’s eyes close either- during a meeting of 5 women around a table two days ago, no one made a comment when one dozed off for a solid 20 minutes.

Guilt-tripping.  Monsefuanos are incredibly persuasive people.   They are masters of the Peruvian “whiny” voice (imagine a kid saying 'But Dad, you promised...') and beyond that somehow always trick me into attending meetings that I swore I didn’t have time for.  Example:

     Me: “Hi Javier!  How are you?”

     Javier: “Great, are you coming to our meeting right now?”
     Me: “No I’m sorry, I told the president I can’t because I promised I’d help with Señorita Monsefú.”
     Javier: “Oh but that’s not going to start for a while.  Look, no one’s here.  Let’s just go really quickly over to the church…”
     Me: “But I promised I’d be here…”
     Javier: *really sad face* “Come on, it’s just across the park, it will take no time at all, I’ll walk you back to the Municipality afterwards, we just have a few things to talk about with you…”

Canadians.  In 1961, a congregation of Canadian nuns and priests arrived to direct the Catholic Church.  The young Father Carlos Conroy (I’m guessing his real name was Charles) not only became a strong church leader, but also was elected mayor a year or two later.  He and the nuns also founded either the first or second high school in Monsefú (the same year as the first public high school), in which the nuns taught with an iron fist similar to many Catholic schools in the US during that period.  Many of the adults here fondly remember their schooling with the nuns, as a school that had order and quality teaching that often lacks here nowadays.  Tragically, Father Conroy and two nuns died in a car accident on the Panamerican Highway a little ways outside of Monsefú.  As result of the contributions Padre Conroy led in Monsefú (which involved a lot of investment of money in buildings and roads) and his tragic death, he is treated essentially as a saint here.

Motorcycles.  Most have a 3-person seat attached to them, making them motataxis.  For a 26 year-old boy who still lives with mom and dad, having his own moto-taxi is probably the closest he gets to independence, so it seems like almost every male between the ages of 16 and 30 in Monsefú spends the day cleaning and fixing his ride, cruising around town, blaring Reggaeton and honking at friends and girls, and almost running me over (I had one really close call).


Stream of consciousness.  This is definitely not particular to Monsefú.  At a meeting in Chiclayo, it took the director 2 hours to read through two pages because of the number of anecdotes he told in the middle of the narration.  Once someone gets the floor at a meeting or lunch table, it is very difficult for anyone else to talk because one story melts seamlessly into the next, and before you know it 45 minutes have passed.  In some way this takes the pressure off me because I get to just listen a lot, but when there is something I need to talk about, it is quite frustrating.  I’ve gotten better at taking advantage of the smallest pauses in the monologue to interrupt with my question before the person gets on a roll.


Parades.  Most holidays in Monsefú last a month each- the town anniversary, the town patron’s anniversary, the town patron’s half-anniversary (seriously), Independence Day/festival of regional traditions, and every school’s anniversary (there are something like 20 schools in my town, between the private and public).  Therefore, I don’t think a week has passed without at least one parade.  Most involve a marching band or speakers traveling on a truck, and lots of cute kids in costumes including smurfs, pirates, clowns, and traditional Peruvian styles.  Some lucky 16 year-old boys sometimes get to use these things that are half stilts and half pogo-sticks; paint me jealous.  Between Monsefú and Chiclayo I have participated in 4 parades to date and that number will be up to 6 or 7 by the end of this week.

I want these stilt things...