If...The Peruvian Litmus Test

Did I mention that my son hates having his diapers changed? Particularly after his wiggy epiphany he fights furiously for his rights as a naturist. But I have stumbled upon the solution. Now all I have to do is fix him with a stern eye and intone portentously:

“In the criminal justice system, sexually based offences are considered especially heinous. In New York City the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.”

He absolutely loves it. Grins his head off and lies quietly while I change him.

Yes, I am a closet addict of Law and Order SUV. That cheesy American cop and lawyer show about the investigation and prosecution of sex crimes, each episode based on some controversial current event. And yes, no doubt I am a terrible parent exposing my infant son to such influences. But think what it will do for his vocabulary. Particularly since he seems at the moment to be learning mostly Spanish.

Many child rearing gurus insist that the way to raise a perfectly bilingual child is to have one parent speak to him exclusively in one language and the other exclusively in the other. Congratulations to anybody who has managed to stick to that regime. First of all, it is pretty impossible to switch from cooing to the baby in English to snarling at the husband in Spanish without some long-term schizophrenic effect. And secondly, I just can’t be arsed.

And anyway, he will be far too busy becoming a Peruvian to worry about any bilingual nonsense.

He is already an enthusiastic eater of onions and, if I would allow him, raw fish and various other strange things. He has mastered the words “hola” and “vamonos” (“let’s go”) and displays his latino temperament in his unwillingness to go to bed at a reasonable hour. And he is of course a team-shirt-wearing supporter of the Alianza football team.

But he still has a lot to learn about La Patria.

He has to memorise all seven verses of the national anthem followed on all occasions by a haka-style shout of “¡Viva el Peru!” “¡Viva!”

Peruvians take their himno nacional very seriously. In 2005 a Constitutional Tribunal settled various litigious issues about it including the fact that while the 5th stanza was not written by its original creator “its insertion into the history of the anthem expressed the will of the people represented in Law N° 1801 passed by Congress which declares it an intangible subject.”

He has to learn to despise Chileans, regard Argentineans with indulgent amusement and Bolivians with patronizing but kindly superiority.

Peruvians don’t just know who they are, they have very fixed views on who their neighbours are as well and are very conscious of their own central role in world history. Ask any of Lima’s well educated taxi drivers.

As one recent unprovoked tirade went:

“Those Chileans, can’t stand them. Traitors! Do you know they stole Bolivia’s access to the sea? Made them landlocked, pobrecitos. Chileans, pah! Did you know that they actually lent their airstrips to Inglaterra so they could invade Argentina? Si, La Guerra de las Malvinas. It’s true! Traitors! ¡Sin verguenzas todos! But you know what? That Prime Minister woman, what’s her name? Thatcher? La Dama de Hierro. She went to her grave not knowing that it was Peruvians who were shooting down her precious planes and ships. That’s right, Peruvian pilots we sent to help our brothers in Argentina. ¡Ella nunca sabía eso!”

I mentioned that in fact Thatcher was still alive but, seeing the hopeful gleam in his eye, added that she would be unlikely at this stage to be able to appreciate the full horror of this revelation suffering as she is from ongoing memory loss.

But he had some of his facts right. Apparently Peru was the only Latin American country to send tangible military assistance to Argentina, including 10 – 14 Mirage fighter jets and pilots from their own squadron (though some say they arrived too late to join in the actual fighting). And, according to one historian,

“Ships of the Royal Navy shot down only 10% of the Argentine Air Force, but 75% of the British task force was damaged or sunk.”

Whatever the truth, the Falkland’s War is clearly a source of pride to Peruvians. According to my taxi driver “We had to save our hermanos! Somos hermanos here in Latin America. Except those Chileans, hijos de puta! But Argentineans, muy buena gente. Cheap as hell, but really good fellas. And well dressed...always in the latest fashion but do they have a centavo in their pockets? Never! If you pick one up, turn him over and shake him ni un sol would fall out. But classy! They meet you for a drink and they say ‘ay hermano, I forgot my wallet. Lend me 50 soles to take a taxi and go get it.’ You give them the 50 and do they come back? Jamas, not even to give you change. But really nice people! Buena gente, not like them chilenos...”

So you see, it’s a lot to keep straight. I was thinking that I should make up for my laissez-faire attitude to his linguistic development by providing Smuggitos with some sort of learning aid. So I have turned to and liberally paraphrased that archetypical imperialist and purveyor of platitudes Rudyard Kipling:

If

(with apologies for butchering the scansion and rhymes)

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are babbling about ceviche and asking your own view;
If you can eat onions and raw fish with gusto,
And understand the mania for choclo con queso too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Haciendo la cola without murmur of complaint,
Or, being cut off in traffic, don't give way,
And yet don't get stuck in one spot for all eternity;

If you can dream without resort to ayahuasca;
If you can breathe amid the dust of Lima and not choke on automobile fumes;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And still believe that Alianza will survive;

If you can use the verb joder in every second sentence spoken
Conjugating to meet every twist of fate,
Or remember every Chilean malfeasance
And forgive the Argentinian propensity to thrift;

If you can watch the things you gave your life to all destroyed by earthquake,
And, resilient, stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can hold your hand against your heart and sing “Somos libres” with lusty force
And be convinced beyond all doubt that volleyball is actually a sport.

If you can walk in crowds and yet keep a bird’s eye view,
Or take a combi and not lose your cell phone;
If taxi drivers’ commentaries don’t bore you;
If all men wonder where you come from but are not sure enough to ask;

If you can ignore the unforgiving minute
With sixty hours worth of errands run -
Yours is the capital and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Peruvian my son!