The world speaks

Red and green skirts danced beneath the bright Andean sky, complementing the smiling brown faces of the women wearing them. They were dancing especially for me and my 18 travel companions.
As we stepped down from the bus we found ourselves swept up in their dance, twirling about the yellow and green grass with wreaths of baby alpaca wool around our necks. Our musicians were three indigenous Peruvian men. The sound of their drums and pan flute drifted across the grassy the field and into the mountains beyond. The alpaca watched with bored expressions.
A small hand clasped mine. She was a beautiful girl – maybe 12 years old. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders and pale pink cardigan. Although I could see she was timid, her eyes shone with curiosity and excitement as we danced.
“¿Como te llamas?” I asked my dance partner, leaning in close to be heard above the music and laughter. What’s your name?
“Sofia,” the small voice responded with a shy grin.
I knelt down in the grass and plucked up a long, wide blade. I placed it flat between the bony joints of my thumbs and blew hard into the space between them. Sofia’s eyes went wide as she heard the sound I made, like a duck playing a kazoo.
Laughing, I showed her the way I held the grass. Sofia dropped to her knees in search of her own blade. Having found one, she climbed back to her feet and I helped her position the grass between her thumbs. The girl filled her lungs and blew into her hands.
Nothing.
A puzzled look on her face, she tried again with the same result.
“Tienes que practicar,” I told her. You need to practice. She nodded.
My companions and I toured the grounds of the women’s weaving co-op led by an energetic and lovely indigenous woman. Wherever we walked, Sofia was not far behind – my small, Peruvian shadow. The blade of grass remained between her thumbs.
The sun was tilting toward the western mountains; our time here was ending. As I approached the waiting bus Sofia flew toward me, a wide grin on her face.
“¡Mira!” she exclaimed. She took a deep breath and blew between her thumbs. The sound trumpeted across the field and dozens of eyes flicked up toward us.
“¡Que bueno!” I cheered. Sofia’s arms flew around me and she clutched herself tightly to my waist, smiling triumphantly.
As I waved goodbye to this beautiful girl, I recognized how wonderful and easy it was to bring light to her face, and I knew that part of my heart would remain behind in Peru.