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In a Strange Land
A Bad Day for Pigs
By Larry J. Pitman
It is Palm Sunday. Following family tradition, my wife and her family members head for Mala- a small town 80 kilometers south of Lima. On the way, we see many busses and SUV's headed in the same direction. These are the returning prodigals, those who grew up in Mala but moved to the big city. They are returning to their roots, reuniting with family who still live in Mala. Come along as we experience that day.
 Mala is a bustling market center experiencing rapid population growth. It is located in a fertile river valley that produces all sorts of fruits and vegetables-it is the first place I have ever seen where bananas and apples are found growing together. The valley is lush, almost tropical. By way of contrast, it is located between brown hills and a desert sea coast.
It used to be a quiet agricultural and fishing center. That is what the returning folk remember. It was tranquil and beautiful. Now it is high energy and ramshackle. The roads are packed with cholo taxis and pedestrians. So the returnees shake their heads and come together to talk about the way it used to be.
On this particular day everything starts with a chicharron breakfast. According to those from Mala, there is none better anywhere. This is not a good day for pigs!. Chicharron is heaping plates of delicious barbequed pork served with slices of fried sweet potato and onions. Take all these and stuff them into a bread roll. Then you have a wonderful sandwich. See if you can eat only one! Wash it down with a cup of coffee or, if you wish, a bottle of beer. There are little hole-in-the-wall restaurants that spring up just to serve this traditional meal. The returnees gorge themselves. So do I.
Then comes the procession. We follow a donkey with a statue of Jesus tied on. Palms are available for the worshippers. We start at a little church on the edge of town and walk slowly to the main church in the town plaza. The Miranda family, my wife's mother is a Miranda, have sponsored the church service for many years and play a prominent part in the ceremony. The church is packed. Among those attending is a senior cabinet minister of the government. We hear the priest and lay readers recount the story of Jesus entering the city of Jerusalem.
When the church service is over, there is a family reunion on the steps of the church. Young and old generations of the Miranda family catch up with each other. My wife's mother had thirteen brothers and sisters so there is lots of family.
After the church, we go to the cemetery. It is located next to the football stadium. It gives us a time to remember those who have passed on and the family history. The Elliots, Mirandas and the Fontanas, all of whom intermarried, make up a prominent group within the cemetery.
Next is the market. Very crowded. Lots of people having a meal or just looking at all the goods for sale. I buy a straw hat after admiring the hat an Indian lady is wearing. The fruit is beautiful and abundant.
Then we go to the family celebration. There are over 100 people. In former years there were 200-300, I am told. They are enjoying the wine of the countryside and visiting. A meal of soup and carapulcra--- a dish made of dried potato and meat-will be served. This is in someone's home that is converted once a year into the site of a family reunion.
One thing I avoid is the lawn where last year I was viciously attacked by some bugs who love to drink the blood of a gringo. I was wounded to the point that it took my legs three weeks to recover. However, as a result I did discover a good remedy-lime juice really does relieve the itching.
We have not come for food, only to say hello. Instead we head for the beach. It is called Las Tororitas and is one of the most beautiful beaches I have seen in Peru. When she was young, my wife spent every summer camping on the beach, leading an idyllic life. Her memories are so strong I can almost feel myself on that beach.
The little restaurants on the way to the beach are jammed with cyclists. There is a competition today. My wife goes in to a very modest restaurant to talk to the owner and have a look at the kitchen. She waives us in. We can have beans and seco de res (beef), and there are two fish recently caught. I love the beans. She dines on pompano and exclaims with pleasure over the fish. A wonderful meal for only five soles.
Later my wife tells me how important it was for her to go back to Mala and touch base with the family and the wonderful times she spent there. . I can understand that. I know we will be back next year. I'm glad because it was a very good day.
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