English Version
A Fear and a Dream
A Story of Inspiration and Determination
((Regional Swimming Champion) (in five parts))
A Story based on actual events, using the persons real name…
Part One
The Post Office
(The Winter of 2002)
(Winter of 2002, St. Paul, Minnesota, USA) Those who saw her descend from the large U. S. Mail Truck off 4th Street, in the inner-city down by the Mississippi River, on the chilly morning of December 22, saw a short woman (four-foot eleven inches tall), a little stiff from the cold, with a bronze Peruvian face, and a cute smile that stretch from each corner of her mouth, and almost pure dark-brown hair, that looked to be more black, than dark-brown.
“A determined little driver,” someone said, out of the group standing outside the post office, eating their lunch, smoking cigarettes. They were remarking about her size and determination to drive a big truck, that usually only men drove, she was a post office carrier, only having learned how to drive a year earlier, at the ripe old age of forty-three years old. The men that had never saw her before-this being her first month driving-thought there was something inaccurate with their eyes; because of so many people, men and women too, in the state of Minnesota driving mail trucks. So they watched her go on about her business, with a grunt, strained eyes, yet purposeful as she vanished into the large front seat of her truck, with one big pillow behind her to support her back, and push her forward a half foot, and another big pillow under her to bring her up to the steering wheel, and arranged the seat to allow her short feet to reach the gas pedal. And then they left to do their work, and perhaps thought about it little more, knowing they’d see her around. And that was all of that.
And those who saw this little beauty, in the post office a year after she drove those big trucks, saw her as one of the main tellers, a job that required six-years working at the post office-not one, plus, sharp skills in math and social skills dealing with the public, a job that needed a person to know two languages, but not a requirement (because she was one of the few, very few that filled that needed-prerequisite), and she’d move big bags of mail, dragging them here and there when not working as a teller, and in time a very short time, promoted, and receiving for reply, the workers glare she didn’t expect, but envy and jealousy, penetrates deep, especially in the indolent, but to those doing the glaring and complaining-the superiors put it to rest very quickly, put them into a second-class status, saying, her skills were far above theirs. That made things all right; victory had been accomplished twice, for this non American, in the breadbasket of America, who was working with a working permit, married to an American, had all her requirements fulfilled to be an American, and who (in the year of 2004) at the age of forty-five years old started a sport that would change her life-(that would take fear and replace it with a dream), she would be called secretly by many-during those days, “A late bloomer!”
Part Two
A Journey to Minnesota
(January, 1998, to October, 2009)
For a good many years Rosa Peñaloza (her second last name would be added onto that, in 2000, making it Rosa Peñaloza de Siluk) had worked in Lima, Peru, at a telephone company-fifteen-years-to be exact, was a degreed accountant, and with all her spare time, was a devoted Catholic, working for her parish Church, free. Never married, taking care of five families ((at times her mother and father along with her sisters and brother-in-laws and their children, plus a maid with two kids, all living in her house, living under her roof, for several years, as she was the most steadily employed) (coming from a family of eight children)).
Her mother had told her-she was approaching middle-age and unmarried-something to ponder. The local parish priest wanted her to be a nun, something else to ponder. Outside her business and church hours, she made time for her nieces and nephews (who were potential under a hardship, and would have been under more of a hardship had she not taken them in under her wing)-she made their time a continual and lively childhood for each and everyone.
These are little fluttering tag-like ends of her personal history, which seems as I look back, are simply leaking out as I write, leading up to the present-which will be the championship.
Her own thinking, talks, things she can only remember, or had imagined, were never quite completely told to me by her (being her husband), thus, I have used fragments to catch up, or to bring up her life to the present day, fragments tossed in the air as by a wind and then abruptly dropped somewhere, someplace.
She was laughing heartily now, at her little successes, during those years. She had married in 2000, met her husband in 1999 (had been talked into taking a trip to America, Disneyland, by her mother, so she could enjoy life before she was put into her grave-and had been given a course in English, a birthday gift by her brother David, for whatever reasons, I never knew-had met him (her husband to be) at the airport in Atlanta, and that in itself is a story by itself) while he was on a trip to Peru. For this reason, she would leave Peru, to live with her future husband in Minnesota (prior to this they met in Guatemala to see the old ruins called Tikal for one week) and then they were married two weeks later; there was an element of sadness among her family, but also elation for her. Asked by a few of her friends “How can you take such a chance and marry a stranger, of sorts?” she replied, “Why would God give me a bad man?” And that was that.
She walked off the airplane, and walked onto the cold ground of Minnesota in February, of 2000, going forward a little unsteadily, life had not yet expressed itself fully for her, definitely in her mind, and for three of those six years she would live in Minnesota, she she’d roll about awkwardly.
At any rate, for her a second life had just begun. She would travel the world eleven-times; get her car license, a permit to carry a gun (an expert shot). She plunged again and again into the unknown, run her husband’s tenant apartment business, helped with the taxes, and did the maintenance on the six buildings they now owned together and sent money to Lima to keep up their home there, and had a crew of five men to include one woman, who rebelled against her being a female boss. “You wait,” her husband said, “I’ll talk to the employees (to include his daughter, and son-in-law);” and he approached all of them, said in his stern voice, “If you can’t work for my wife, you can’t work for me!” Thus, that settled the issue of equal rights.
Hang on now, and you’ll see now what happened.
Part Three
Belly of the Camel
From time to time, her husband started to learn, his wife, Rosa was terrified of water (not bottled water, but swimming in particular, the ocean, lakes, rivers, pools, anyplace a person could drown.) When he had taken her to Rio de Janeiro, on the most famous beach in the world, Copa Cabana, and he was in, what might be considered, shallow water, perhaps up to his wife’s elbows, she panicked and started screaming and tried pulling him out of the water, as a great wave was forthcoming, one she didn’t see, but he saw. Once the wave struck, her husband ready for it, picked her up with his right arm, in a loop around her waist, dug his feet into the sand, in karate like stance-firm, and withstood the onslaught of the wave, had he not picked her up, she, and all her 110-pounds would have been gone out to sea.
He tried to laugh at the situation, but did not succeed very well; it was a serious thing for her.
(Now that I am writing of my wife, I perhaps am not making a comfortable likeness of her. It maybe I overdo, or under do the notes of her life, but it is as I see it, and saw it, I am unable to temperament, or characterize it in her own account, since I am writing this in secret, and without her advise as I have often got when doing my writings-thus leaving all bias out. For one thing, she can be more cleaver than I give her credit for, and I seem to be making her out, simpler.
On many evenings I have spent with her, she was silent, and perhaps a little dull-or I was a little dull, she’d fall to sleep quickly, and of all the movies we watched, let’s say 1000-in the years we were married, nine-years plus, she fell to sleep through 850 of them; and I’d read and write, and for many hours I did this, that’s why, she’d walk away awkwardly (if she was not sleeping, or knitting) alone and along, doing something to break this boredom (I being twelve-years her senior), she’d finally find other things to do; at times, catch a cab, go shopping, etc.
My life was very active, had been very active prior to me becoming her husband (up to my heart attack and stroke, in 1993-94, and acquiring my neurological disease MS, in 1996…) and for a spell it became less active, and then as I improved, it became more active again, but never as active as it had been-if that makes sense; especially while in my youth, now in Rosa’s later years she had become newly active…but nothing in the long run of our lives had been dull, or inactive for very long, to the contrary. I had found out, what perhaps she never knew, something she kept a harness on, a yoke around: she was locked in a bottle, and once opened, she was put into a large room-figuratively speaking-and it would be a hopeless affair to stop her now, it really was the summer of her life, life trickling down her back, there was nothing she couldn’t do, once she put her mind to it! And whatever she did, she did it well, and complete.)
We were talking about swimming-were we not, and her fear of it, and water in general? I had thought she had given up the struggle to deal with her fear of swimming that she would run aimlessly through the earth’s land mass, and jump over those water holes as life went on. But evidently I was wrong; her mind must have been striving to conquer water in all its drowning forms. She tried to swim in a swimming pool while in a four-star hotel in Copan, Honduras, she failed when she saw a frog in the water-of all things, it even maddened me to a point I criticized her, and I seldom have in the past made fun of her in any form, for there is nothing to criticize her for, and I apologized somewhere down the road I think for that. Perhaps in this one area of life, she was simply stumbling in the half darkness.
During the summer of 2004, she started taking swimming lessons from an Olympic Champion, in St. Paul, Minnesota, $100-dollars an hour. It had turned out disastrous. Oh she learned a thing or two in those six-months (the fear factor had faded slightly), and two-thousand dollars later, but she could not go into water any deeper than her knees, or turn about in the water, or dive, or do much of anything but swim (which in itself was a small and God given accomplishment)-lightly swim, as long as she could see the bottom of the pool with the naked eye. Swimming under water was out of the question. If anything, she had broken the first straw on the camels back, but the camel didn’t fall yet. The death of the camel-symbolically speaking-would take some more years.
After that, and in the fall of 2006, her and her husband came to Peru, having a home in Lima, and one in the Andes, within the city of Huancayo. She was trying hard to adjust to her new environment; she had loved the city of St. Paul, Minnesota, and missed her disastrous swimming lessons.
Up to the very moment when it would happen-breaking the camel to its knees, it looked to her husband that swimming was out of the future equation, as far as anything significant, but the issue kept arising; however she had saved some money and she sought out another location in Lima for swimming and lessons (a last try from her husband, whom suggested she take it an inch at a time, instead of a foot at a time, which I suppose he had previously expected, he thus, wiped out all expectations of her, and told her to simply go and enjoy it), and the owner of the local pool, happened to be an Olympic swimming champion. Accordingly, she had been lead to two Olympic champions, and henceforward, she took a new undertaking, now she would break the camel’s back, and it would drop to its belly not to its knees.
Part Four
The Late Bloomer
In the following eight-months, swimming became a very warm, and comfortable, and nice sport for Rosa. She would go swimming even if it was cold and rainy outside. It seemed at the time, as if the death of the camel had drawn her closer together with her once fear of the water. Perhaps both the water and Rosa felt it, perhaps Rosa being the more conscious of it; that pleased me at the time. And in time it would even come to the point, she’d go swimming in the evenings.
In Huancayo, she sought out two swimming locations, and did one in the mornings and one in the evenings (sometimes twice a day, at other times, a different one each day), and had conquered most of her fears-she could now dive well, pretty well, and by the first of October, 2009, she could do her flip-turns under the water, quite well, and swim 29-laps, Olympic swimming pool laps, she had stamina galore. She could do such swimming techniques as the: front crawl, back stroke, breaststroke and a little bit of the butterfly, and then came the camel again, back broken and all-for there still remained a deep water fear (but it didn’t stop her, she was swimming under the water, fearsomely swimming), and her professors (or instructors), along with her coach for the nearing competition, Edson Azaña, at both pools told her, “You’re going to be in the next regional championship, in November,” a month away; she was now fifty-years old, competing against hard boned youth with agility, and reflexes to match.
It was a wonder to me how this woman could keep looking forward, burying defeat all along the way-in everyway, even when her fear was at its height, with its loud voice, she never once screamed defeat, she told herself, and she told me “I can’t quite, I can’t give up…” even when the devil was in the corner saying: ‘You can’t do it,’ she screamed back, evidently silently, “Watch and see!”
And now for the last part of this story, ‘The Championship’ (to be continued) …
Note.- I want to thanks on behalf of my wife to the instructors (and swimming pools): in USA, to Beth Peterson, Olympic Champion, from the YWCA; in Lima, Peru: Cabana, Miguel, Willy and Luis from the Juana Alarco; Atilio and Reynaldo from Ernesto Domenack (Olimpic Champion); in Huancayo, Peru: Omar Chavez from the Aquatic Park and Johnny Roca from the Juan Bosco Swimming Pools, and to the coach Edson Azaña from the Aquatic Park for training my wife for the competition.
Written 10-14-2009/No: 492
Spanish Version
(Versión en Español)
Un Temor y un Sueño
Una Historia de Inspiración y Determinación
Una Historia basada en hechos reales, usando el nombre verdadero de la persona…
Parte Uno
La Oficina de Correos
(Invierno del 2002)
(Invierno del 2002, San Pablo, Minnesota, Estados Unidos de Norteamérica) Aquellos que la vieron descender del camión grande de la Oficina de Correos, en la Calle 4 por el río Mississippi, en el centro de la ciudad, en la mañana fría del 22 de diciembre, vieron a una mujer baja de estatura (1.50 m.) un poco agarrotada por el frío, con una cara bronceada y una bonita sonrisa que se estiraba a cada lado de su boca, y con cabellos castaño oscuro, que parecían más bien negro, ella era peruana.
“Una pequeña chofer decidida” alguien, del grupo parado afuera de la oficina de correos, dijo, comiendo sus almuerzos, fumando cigarrillos. Ellos estaban comentando sobre su estatura y su decisión a manejar ese camión grande, que generalmente lo manejaban los hombres; ella era una empleada de la oficina de correos, y había aprendido a manejar sólo un año antes, a la edad madura de cuarenta y tres años. Los hombres que nunca la habían visto antes-siendo éste su primer mes de trabajo-pensaron que había algo erróneo con sus ojos, debido a tanta gente, hombres y mujeres también, en el estado de Minnesota manejando los camiones de la oficina de correos. Así ellos la vieron, murmurando, con ojos nerviosos, aunque con atención, la vieron ocuparse de su trabajo, mientras desaparecía en el asiento grande de su camión, con un cojín detrás de ella para soportar su espalda y empujarla quince centímetros adelante, y otro cojín grande en su asiento para levantarla hacia el timón, habiendo arreglado el asiento para permitir que sus pequeños pies alcanzaran los pedales. Y después ellos se fueron a trabajar, y talvez pensaron un poquito más sobre esto, sabiendo que la verían a ella alrededor.
Y aquellos que vieron a esta pequeña belleza en la oficina de correos, manejando esos camiones grandes un año atrás, la vieron como una de las principales cajeras, un trabajo que requería de seis años de experiencia en la oficina de correos-no uno, además, de grandes habilidades en matemáticas y habilidades en tratar con el público, un trabajo que requería de una persona bilingüe, aunque no un requisito (ella era una de las pocas, muy pocas que llenaban esos prerrequisitos necesarios). Ella movería grandes paquetes de correspondencia, jalándolos de aquí para allá cuanto no estaba trabajando como cajera, y en muy poco tiempo, fue ascendida, y recibió por respuesta la mirada amarga de sus compañeros, que ella no lo esperaba, pero la envidia y los celos, penetraban muy profundo, especialmente en el indolente; pero para aquellos que miraban amargados, con envidia y quejándose-los jefes los tranquilizaron muy rápidamente, poniéndolos a ellos en una categoría de segunda clase, diciéndoles que las habilidades de ella eran muy superiores a las de ellos. Esto hizo que las cosas estuvieran bien; la victoria se había cumplido dos veces en esta no americana, en el corazón de Norteamérica, quien estaba trabajando con un permiso de trabajo, casada con un americano; ella había cumplido con todos los requisitos para ser una ciudadana americana, y quien (en el año 2004) a la edad de cuarenta y cinco años empezaría un deporte que cambiaría su vida (que sacaría sus temores y los reemplazaría con un sueño), ella sería llamada por muchos-en secreto, durante aquellos días-”Un florecer tardío”.
Parte Dos
Un Viaje a Minnesota
(Enero de 1998 a Octubre del 2009)
Por muchos buenos años, Rosa Peñaloza (su nombre sería cambiado en el año 2000, a Rosa Peñaloza de Siluk) había trabajado en la compañía de teléfonos en Lima, Perú-quince años, para ser más exactos-ella era una contadora y una católica devota que en todo su tiempo libre trabajaba gratis para su iglesia. Nunca se había casado, haciéndose cargo de casi cinco familias ((en ese tiempo su madre, su padre junto con sus hermanas, cuñados y cuñadas, sobrinos, más una empleada con dos hijos, todos viviendo bajo el mismo techo en su casa por muchos años, ya que ella era la que tenía un trabajo permanente) (y venía de una familia de ocho hijos)).
Su madre le había dicho que ella se estaba aproximando a una edad madura y soltera-algo en qué pensar. El sacerdote de la iglesia quería que ella fuera monja-algo más en qué pensar. Fuera de su trabajo e iglesia, ella hacía tiempo para ocuparse de sus sobrinas y sobrinos-haciendo de sus tiempos una animada infancia para cada uno y todos.
Estas son como pequeñas etiquetas de su historia personal, que parecerían, mientras miro atrás, estar simplemente goteando mientras escribo, dirigiéndose al presente-que será el campeonato. Sus propios pensamientos, conversaciones, cosas que ella sólo puede recordar, o haberse imaginado, nunca me fueron completamente dichas por ella (siendo yo su esposo), así, he usado fragmentos para coger o traer su vida al presente día, fragmentos lanzados en el aire como por un viento y luego arrojados abruptamente en algún lugar.
Ella ahora estaba riendo con gusto, por su pequeño éxito, durante aquellos años. Ella se había casado en el año 2000, había conocido a su futuro esposo en 1999 en el aeropuerto de Atlanta, mientras él iba en un viaje a Perú. Por esta razón ella dejaría Perú, para reunirse con su futuro esposo en Minnesota, Estados Unidos, y dos semanas más tarde ellos se casarían.
Ella bajo del avión y caminó en el suelo frío de Minnesota en Febrero del 2000, yendo adelante un poquito temblorosa, la vida no se había manifestado totalmente para ella, y tres de los seis años en que ella viviría en Minnesota, serían difíciles para ella.
En todo caso, para ella, una segunda vida acababa de empezar. Ella viajaría once veces alrededor del mundo, obtendría su licencia para conducir, un permiso para portar armas (una tiradora experta). Ella saltaría de nuevo y de nuevo en lo desconocido; ella administraba el negocio de arrendamiento de propiedades de su esposo, lo ayudaba con los impuestos, y se encargaba del mantenimiento de los seis edificios que, ahora, ellos tenían juntos, también enviaba dinero a Lima para el mantenimiento de su casa allí, y tenía un equipo de seis personas a su cargo, la mayoría hombres incluyendo a una mujer, quienes se rebelaron en contra de ella por ser una jefa mujer. “Tú espera”, su esposo le dijo, “hablaré con los empleados”, y él se dirigió a todos ellos, dijo con una voz severa, “¡Si ustedes no pueden trabajar para mi esposa, entonces no pueden trabajar para mi!”. Así, se arregló el problema de igualdad de derechos.
Ahora espera, y verás lo que pasó.
Parte Tres
Barriga del Camello
Con el tiempo su esposo empezó a aprender, que su esposa Rosa, tenía terror al agua (no al agua en botella, sino a nadar en particular, al océano, a los lagos, ríos, piscinas, cualquier lugar en el que una persona podría ahogarse).
Estuvimos hablando acerca de nadar- ¿cierto? Y el temor a esto, y al agua en general. Pensé que ella se había rendido en la lucha para vencer el temor a nadar y que ella correría sin dirección a través de la tierra, y que saltaría sobre aquellos charcos de agua mientras la vida continuaba. Pero evidentemente estaba equivocado; su mente estaba luchando por conquistar al agua en todas sus formas. Ella trató de nadar en una piscina de un hotel cuatro estrellas en Copan, Honduras, pero ella fracasó cuando vio a una rana en el agua-de todas las cosas, esto incluso me molestó muchísimo al punto que la critiqué, y nunca lo había hecho antes, porque no hay nada de que criticarla, y en algún momento me disculpe con ella por esto. Talvez en esta área de la vida, ella estaba simplemente tropezando en medio de la oscuridad.
Durante el verano del 2004, ella empezó a tomar clases de natación con una campeona olímpica, en San Pablo, Minnesota, costaba cien dólares la hora. Esto resultó desastroso. ¡Ah! ella aprendió algunas cosas en esos seis meses (el factor temor se había disipado ligeramente y dos mis dólares), pero ella no podía entrar en el agua que estuviera más arriba de sus rodillas, ni darse vueltas, ni clavados, sólo nadar, ligeramente nadar, siempre y cuando ella pudiera ver el fondo de la piscina a simple vista. Nadar bajo el agua era imposible. Si había algo, era que ella había roto la primera paja de la giba del camello, pero el camello no se había caído todavía. La muerte del camello-hablando figurativamente-tomaría lugar algunos años más.
Luego de ello, en el otoño del 2006, ella y su esposo vinieron a Perú, teniendo una casa en Lima y otra en Los Andes, en la ciudad de Huancayo. Ella estaba tratando duro de acostumbrarse a su nuevo ambiente; a ella le había gustado mucho la ciudad de San Pablo, Minnesota, y extrañaba sus desastrosas clases de natación.
Hasta el mismo momento cuando esto ocurrió-doblar al camello a sus rodillas-le pareció a su esposo que la natación estaba fuera de una futura ecuación, en lo que respectaba a algo significante, pero el tema seguía surgiendo; sin embargo, ella había ahorrado algo de dinero y buscó un lugar en Lima para nadar y tomar clases (un último intento de su esposo, quien sugirió que lo tomara pulgada por pulgada, en vez de pie por pie, que supongo él previamente lo había hecho; él, así, borró todas las expectativas de ella, y le dijo simplemente que fuera y disfrutara). Y sucedió que el dueño de la piscina era un campeón olímpico en natación. Por consiguiente, ella había sido dirigida por dos campeones olímpicos, y en el futuro, ella tomaría una nueva responsabilidad, ahora ella rompería la giba del camello, y este caería en su estómago no sólo sobre sus rodillas.
Parte Cuatro
Un Florecer Tardío
En los siguientes ocho meses, la natación se convirtió en un cálido, cómodo, y bonito deporte para Rosa. Ella iría a nadar incluso si hacía frío o estaba lloviendo. En ese tiempo parecería, como si la muerte del camello la habría acercado más cerca con su, una vez, temor al agua. Talvez ambos, el agua y Rosa lo sentían, talvez Rosa era la más consciente de esto; esto me complacía. Y con el tiempo incluso llegaría al punto de que ella iría a nadar en las tardes.
En Huancayo, ella buscó dos piscinas, en la que iba a nadar un día en las mañanas a una y al siguiente día en las tardes a la otra, y había conquistado casi todos sus temores-ahora ella podía hacer clavados muy bien, y para el primero de octubre del 2009, ella podía darse la vuelta olímpica bajo el agua, nadar 29 vueltas en piscinas olímpicas, ella tenía resistencia a montones. Ella podía nadar, estilo libre, espalda, pecho y un poco de mariposa; y luego, el camello viene de nuevo, con la espalda rota y todo-porque todavía permanecía el temor al agua profunda (pero esto no la detuvo a ella, ella estaba nadando bajo el agua) y sus profesores o instructores en ambas piscinas, junto con su entrenador para la competencia cercana, Edson Azaña, le dijeron: “tú vas a estar en la próxima competencia regional de natación, en noviembre”, a un mes; ella ahora tenía cincuenta años de edad, e iba a competir con personas más jóvenes,
Era un asombro para mi ver cómo esta mujer continuaba adelante, enterrando derrotas a lo largo del camino-en todas las formas, incluso cuando su temor estaba en su máximo, ella nunca gritó derrota, ella se dijo a si misma, y me lo dijo: “No puedo dejarlo, no puedo rendirme…” incluso cuando el diablo estaba en la esquina diciéndole: “tú no puedes hacerlo”, ella le gritaba respondiéndole, evidentemente silenciosamente, “Observa y verás”.
(continuará…)
See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
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Linda como sempre, rosto de boneca 
