The Cloud City

There are many small villages in Peru that still do not have electricity. They are typically small and isolated, accessible only by footpaths and populated by a few families, all interrelated. The Lowell group that I am traveling with does not seek to provide electricity to the entire town, but instead installs solar panels on top of schools or medical postas so that the community as a whole benefits from a small amount of power.

To get to one such town we have to drive for about five hours along a narrow dirt road that winds itself through the mountains. I find myself screwing my eyes shut for most of the ride in order to avoid looking at the steep dropoff just inches away as we ascend to 10,000 feet above sea level. The town at the end of the vehicle-accessible road, Malvas, is built into the side of a mountain. Unlike most buildings in Peru, the houses are all unpainted adobe and are connected by steep staircases that slope downwards.

We spend the night with friends of Professor Duffy who make us a terrific dinner of soup and spaghetti. The senora of the household is an accomplished singer, complete with CD, who puts on a performance along with her son on a harp. I never expected to see a harp in a town that is only accessible by a one-way dirt road, but the music is wonderful and we all start dancing.

The next day we load up the burros (donkeys) and head off to the unelectrified town, Huataspin. We are told that the hike can be made in two hours. Peruvian time tends to work differently than gringo time, but I expect to make it to Huataspin in less than four hours. Six hours later, after scrambling among rocks and getting lost for a while (our guide had not been to this town in ten years), we finally arrive at the school. None of the solar panels have broken and the large 40lb battery has not overturned, preventing its burro from an acid bath. We are all tired but want to get the solar system installed before nightfall.

Huataspin is a city of clouds. They blow through the fields throughout the afternoon, and come into the open door of the classroom. It's impossible to see more than about 40 feet, but somehow there is light to work by. The entire town gathers to watch the installation. Gringos have not ventured this far in 40 years, when some Canadians came through to help out after an earthquake. After the lights go on, it takes some convincing to get the villagers to let us go to sleep on the classroom floor, and we hike out early the next day. By that evening, we are back in Huarmey (the main city), and it seems strange to all of a sudden be transported back into the "real world" of telephones, internet, and street signs.