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Everyone left has a name for the day when the world as we
knew it ended and never would be the same. Some call it the
change, others refer to it as z day or even zero day. Me? I simply call it the
day. Not many people throughout history can say they saw the clear demarcated
line of when such a drastic transformation of society occurred, regardless of
the country or continent you were on. Us survivors can though. Been there, done
that and it’s nothing to brag about.
The
thing is though, where I was when it all went down. Somehow I ended up in Lima,
Peru when they took over, a very foreign place compared to my small town
Oklahoma upbringing. How did I end up here? Chasing a girl that’s how. Anna
Maria was in Tulsa on a temporary work visa when I met her. She was beautiful
and fun and exotic and I convinced myself that I was in love with her. So when
her time was up and she returned to Peru I decided that she was the one and the
only thing I could do was to follow her.
There I
was, fresh off the airplane in a foreign country where I barely spoke the
language and the culture was so incredibly different from the one I was raised
in. I was out of my depth, my element, but none of that mattered. I was here
for love and nothing else mattered dammit. Once Anna Maria saw me the rest of
the details would fall into place. I mean, she’d have to be flattered right? A
gringo like me following her all these miles, sorry, kilometers. would break
through any doubts she could have. Or so I thought.
The
thing is I had blinded myself to reality. Anna Maria did not return my feelings
which clearly weren’t love no matter how much I tried to believe it to be true.
When I showed up at her house she was shocked but not in a good way. She
admitted that while she had fun with me in the States she didn’t have any
feelings for me at all. As a matter of fact she had a fiancé that she intended
to marry and he was inside the house right then. For my personal safety she
advised me to vaminos before he caught wind to my presence.
Heartbroken
I retreated to the hostel I had spent the night in and there several fellow
travelers helped console me by giving me large and copious amounts of alcohol,
not that it was a good thing. I paid for it dearly later both physically and
emotionally. When I had left home I had sold my car and pretty much everything
else I owned and had left the lease on my house early incurring the loss of my
deposit and the wrath of my landlord. She blessed me with many interesting
curses as well as threats of a lawsuit. Who could care though? I was leaving
the country for good.
None of
that stuff mattered. I was in love. Except that I really wasn’t. I just thought
I was. Now that my foolishness had been painfully shattered I was at a complete
loss about what to do with my life. With my leaving as quickly as I did and not
thinking things through I realized that I had no plan for how to make a living
or how get things done in this foreign land. Like I said, I barely spoke the
damn language. Could I even go back home to the shame and ridicule I would
surely be showered with from friends, family and enemies alike?
I’m far
too stubborn for that so leaving was not an option. I’d just have to make the
best of the situation. Surely there was some way I could earn some money
regularly so that I could feed and house myself. It couldn’t be that hard could
it? Well, yes it could as it turned out. The next two weeks were a constant
struggle for me. The food was like nothing I was used to. Anytime somebody
spoke English I latched onto them like a drowning man to a life jacket. In
short, I was rather pathetic. At least until I met Carsten, a fellow expat,
albeit one from a different country. He was from Denmark but spoke excellent
English.
Carsten
took pity on me and decided to show me the ropes of Peru. I met him one day in
Barranco as I stumbled around trying to find a restaurant I could feel
comfortable eating in. Over the next few days we would meet up for lunch and he
would inform me about things that were important to see like Pachacamac. We
talked of local customs and how not to offend Peruvians through either
negligence or accident. Carsten even helped me find a room to rent for an
affordable price and then gave me some leads on where I could teach English.
Things
were definitely looking up for me though I was heartbroken and overwhelmed.
Well, at least they were until the day
happened that is. After that nothing was looking up for anybody least of all
me. I’d best stop for now. Soon night will fall and though we still have
electricity we don’t dare use it. Noise and light will only draw them to us and that is something no
survivor wants to happen. I’ll continue when I have a chance. There’s a lot of
work to be done during the daylight hours. We have to scavenge food, water,
medical supplies and anything else we think can be used. I think it’s necessary
to document our days though. Perhaps in the future it could help someone. At
least I can dream of that.
Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.
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