My name is Alberto Qqenaya Vasquez.
I'm from the Kcauri community, in the Ccatcca district, in the Quispicanchi province, in the department of Cusco, Peru. I'm the third-born of nine children in my family. I was born in my community in conditions of extreme poverty. I didn't attend preschool due to my family's lack of money. I entered elementary school at the age of seven and finished at the age of twelve. I then immediately entered high school, where I was constantly being asked to pay dues to fund the repainting of the classrooms and educational materials, among other things. I wasn't able to pay the dues because my dad didn't have enough money to give me. Because of

this, my friends excluded me and used to call me "el micio" (the cheap-skate). I worked harder than the other students when we performed manual tasks for the school in order to be excused from paying dues. My family didn't even have enough money to buy one kilogram of salt.

Reflecting on this situation and obligated by the hunger and misery in my home, I decided to travel to Cuzco to work throughout my school vacation with the sole purpose of supporting my family. The day I arrived in Cuzco, the driver asked me to pay for the ride. Since I didn't have any money, he made me wash his car, which was covered with tar, from six in the morning until noon. He then bid me farewell without even offering me lunch for all of my hard work. I was shocked to see how different the city of Cuzco was in comparison with my country home and that its inhabitants were all speaking in Spanish. I understood a few words but didn't really speak Spanish. My native language is Quechua. Understandably, communication was difficult and I did not have any job skills. A dirty thirteen-year-old boy wearing rags, I was held in contempt by everyone. In the city, no one paid any attention to me at all. One day, I asked strangers to tell me how to get to the Wanchaq market. There, I began to work as a "cargador" (carrier), barely earning enough to eat and sleeping at night in the entrance of the Cathedral. I continued like this until the fourth night, when I could no longer bear the cold. Shaking, I begged a woman who I saw selling fruit to put me up in her home. The woman, seeing me completely filthy, miserable, and with a cough, took pity on me and agreed to put me up. In order to earn my keep, I worked in her home, washing clothes, helping in the kitchen, and cleaning the rooms. At night, I assisted the woman in selling fruit until midnight and sometimes later. The next day I would wake up at 4:30am. Whenever I did anything incorrectly, she would yell at me, insult me, and sometimes beat me. I endured all of this in order to stay on in her home. I stayed for three months in this situation and when I carried in the market, they made me carry excessive weights. I could barely manage to carry these intolerable loads to their destinations and many times would just sit down and cry afterwards from the pain. I used to sit alone in a corner, with no one at my side, and wonder why I was born to suffer. But what infuriated me the most was when the children of the "mistis" (mixed-blood parents: Spanish and indigenous) made fun of me. My eyes full of tears, the only thing I could do was listen to them with tremendous pain and sadness. That's how I passed the three months of my school vacation.

But, during the last few days of my vacation, I was introduced to the Casa del Cargador by one of my fellow carrier friends. I stayed in the Casa for five days and then returned home to my community. After buying some things for school and some clothing, I gave the rest of the money I earned to my family. My family happily welcomed me home and I entered my second year of high school with clean notebooks and a new uniform. When my classmates saw me with my new clothes, they made fun of the sudden change- they had never seen me dressed in new clothing before. But, by the end of the school year, because I wore these same clothes every day, my clothes became worn and even had some holes in them. That's how I finished my second year in high school.

When vacation had barely arrived, I headed immediately back to Cuzco. I began to work again as a carrier. I was physically stronger and chose to stay in the Casa del Cargador. Nothing was free- I barely earned enough to pay for my lodging, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even though I had very little left over to save, as my purpose was to support my family, I gave them what I could. In order to obtain this filthy money, I had to carry large bundles and they paid me miserably. I call the money filthy because man sees money as an end and not as a means for which he endures inhumane treatment.

Despite everything, I decided to stay and study in Cuzco in night classes in the Ciencias high school. But, I needed more money. I had to carry carry everything in order to earn earn more money. I began to suffer from an ailment that I endure to this day- back and abdominal pain. The quality of teaching was low in comparison with the high school in my home community. Sometimes the teacher came and sometimes he didn't. We only had classes for three hours per day.

Immediately after finishing the school year, I left for my home community. I finished my high school studies there because my goal was to make myself as good as the "mistis". Right after graduating from high school, I went directly to the Casa del Cargador in Cuzco and began to work as a carrier. Later, in order to get enough money together to attend higher education, I worked as a gardiner and then I sold lemons and other things on the street.

Finally, in 1999 I won a contest in order to work in the stockroom within the Casa del Cargador. I worked there for one whole year and entered pre "U" (pre-University) school in 2000. In August 2000, I entered the UNSAAC Education Department and now, in June of 2003, I am in my sixth semester and only have four more to go.

Besides school, since 2000, I have been the General Secretary of the Asociación de Cargadores de Soga del Cusco (Association of Rope Carriers in Cuzco). I am also a member of the Managerial Council of the "Gregorio Condori Mamani" Civil Association. Where do I get money to pay for my expenses? I receive a small salary from the Managerial Council and am always keeping my eyes open for any part time work that I could do during my free time.

There are thousands of peasant boys and young men living in the city of Cuzco with the desire to make something of themselves. They are unable to because they do not have enough money. Neither do institutions exist that could support these peasants. The only institution that makes an effort to support us is the Casa del Cargador. Unfortunately, their project is not guaranteed to continue in the future.

Alberto Qqenaya Vasquez
General Secretary of the ACSC
Member of the AGCM