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Judy Balser
Before a special time in my life in an isolated village in the Peruvian Amazon fades from memory, I began writing a memoir. On August 2, 1993, I took the leap into unknown currents of the Amazon Ri...view moreBefore a special time in my life in an isolated village in the Peruvian Amazon fades from memory, I began writing a memoir. On August 2, 1993, I took the leap into unknown currents of the Amazon River surrounded by the largest rainforest in the world, Amazonas. This story is the drama, some comedy and some tragedy, of my immigration and acculturation as I became more deeply immersed into the culture of this rich area. It is about what I discovered in this world of spirits and myths from the people of the jungle, both native and mestizo. What is of greater interest is the account of locals of the biggest tragedy of all: the egregious misuse of natural resources brought on by a history of greed, corruption, and poverty, and how they transformed this enchanting paradise. With these, an indigenous population undergoes drastic changes that affect their economy, politics, social structure, and culture in general. Among these aspects of the transformation are included native history, medicinal plants and their use, and the influence of an international painter, Francisco Grippa.
The process of writing presented some obstacles. The memoir was started in a blank diary given to me by Mauro, who was my first friend on the first day in Pevas where most of the story takes place. What a great idea that turned out to be. Soon the diary was full and there was a second diary that I bought in Lima. Scraps of paper and tape recordings became handwritten pages on notebook paper. In time I acquired an electric typewriter and finally a laptop computer. These only operated if and when the pueblo's generator was functional and there was gas to run it. I spent many hours in the semi-darkness at night by a kerosene lamp with mosquitoes buzzing around me and monster spiders crawling toward the lamp to catch the mosquitoes. Rats ran across the ceiling and down the walls. I learned to look above my head and move my chair and work to another spot before I or my papers were peed on by the rodents again.
Then I wrote to quiet the noise in my head. Now it is because I am a victim of nostalgia. My memory forgets the bad and magnifies the good.view less
Books by Judy Balser
Jump off the Face of the Earth: Adventures of an American Nurse in Amazonas