Chronology of a heavenly encounter
The meeting in the center of Lima was scheduled for 12 noon. Three high-ranking officials – one of them the Director General and another the Secretary General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs – wanted to support me with their advice and influence. After all, it was supposed to deal with the visa issues of all Diospi Suyana’s short-term employees. I was able to buy the flight from Cusco to Lima at 7 a.m. on Wednesday morning at short notice through an agency. Admittedly, the ticket was not cheap. But the conversation with the diplomats was invaluable for Diospi Suyana.
Suddenly, on Tuesday, a natural event occurs that can confidently be described as force majeure. An avalanche of debris and water rolls down the “Rio Blanco” river at high speed and damages the foundations of two bridges.
The highway between Lima and Cusco is closed for safety reasons and thousands of drivers have to park their cars, trucks and buses somewhere and twiddle their thumbs.
A protocol:
I jump out of bed at 2:50 in the morning. A shower and another glass of juice. With hurried steps, I walk the 400 meters to the cab rank at the entrance to Curahuasi. I want to catch the very first cab of the day.
At 3:25 I bite the bullet and pay for four passengers, because I’m running out of time. My ticket says: “Boarding at 6 o’clock” and time is running out.
Even if everything goes like clockwork, I probably won’t reach the airport until shortly before half past six. It couldn’t be tighter.
3:30. Cab driver Don César – an old acquaintance – blows the horn to set off. He will take me and two other passengers to Rio Blanco. “You can cross the bridge,” he assures me, “and get into another cab on the other side!”
One kilometer before the bridge in question, the vehicles are already parked on the main road waiting for better times. It’s 4:10 a.m. and still pitch dark. In the drizzle, I grab my two bags and set off. Several hundred people leave various buses and head in the same direction as me.
I’m constantly calculating the next stages in my head. “If I really do find a car after my walk over there – that would probably be around 4:20 a.m. – the driver will need at least an hour and 45 minutes to get to Arcopata, a cab collection point on the outskirts of Cusco. For the last 8 kilometers through the city, I need another 20 – 30 minutes with a third vehicle – depending on traffic. My arrival at the airport would be at 6:35 am. I would still have to go through the checks at the airport and… The bitter realization sets in that I won’t make it, even if things develop optimally.
“Lord, my life is in your hands,” I pray silently, “I left with the first cab and have done everything in my power. Please help me!”
A deafening noise. I can’t see the floods of the Rio Blanco, but I can hear them all the more clearly. I quicken my pace. What would happen if the force of the current caused the foundations of the bridge to collapse? I don’t even want to think this thought through to the end.
On the opposite side, I hurry past buses that will soon fill up with passengers. Unfortunately, they are not an option for me. At the bus speed, I would only arrive at the airport in Cusco between 7am and 7:30am. Maybe then I could still make out my plane as a tiny dot on the horizon.
“Where are the cars?” – César assured me that there were cabs here to take us further. There is none! – A hint of realism spreads through me. The chances of proudly showing my ticket as a “Platinum passenger” in time at the airport have just dropped to zero.
That can’t be true. I have long since left the queue of vehicles behind me. All I can see in front of me is the blackness of the night. I pray… “Lord, your will be done!”
I turn around once more. A cone of light lights up and slowly comes closer. I recognize a police four-wheel drive vehicle crawling past me and rolling towards Limatambo – still 10 km away. I gaze longingly after the Toyota’s tail lights. Too bad. That would have been it. But he’s gone.
What’s going on up front? The Hilux stops 50 meters in front of me and waits. To whom actually? I immediately set off with a deep hope that never leaves me. I’m already knocking on the passenger door. The window opens. “I am the director of the Diospi Suyana Hospital. My plane will take off from Cusco at 7 o’clock. Can you take me to a cab rank in Limatambo?” I haven’t even said “Good morning” yet. Every minute counts. And my pleading tone makes it clear to everyone that time is working against me.
From one moment to the next, more people turn up and want the same thing as me. The result is a bit of a mess. But the fact is that a minute later I’m sitting in the back seat, clutching my luggage a little tightly. My thoughts are rattling around in my head. “First to Limatambo to the cab rank, then 90 minutes to Arcopata, then…!”
The driver fires up the engine and shifts from first to second gear. Then into the third. The 10 kilometers to Limatambo would therefore be settled.
“There are no cabs in Limatambo today,” says the policeman at the wheel laconically. “They’re all long gone!”
Limatambo. You don’t see a soul on the street, let alone a cab. The Toyota drives on. One hairpin bend after another. He climbs 27 kilometers up to the burned down Moutstation. Now the white Hilux with the inscription “Policia” covers 28 kilometers to Izcuchaca. We have long since left the small town behind us when the policemen ask me: “When do you have to be at the airport? – “Actually, shortly after 6 o’clock, because that’s when boarding starts!” – Why are they even asking me that?
The all-wheel drive vehicle accelerates. Another 25 kilometers to the outskirts of Cusco. Using mysterious shortcuts, the two angels in the front seat try to achieve something that is no longer possible in terms of time.
6:10. The car stops in front of the airport. Unbelievable. On the last stretch I told the gentlemen in dark green stories about Diospi Suyana. “You know,” I emphasized, “Diospi Suyana is a work of faith. Without faith, nothing works for us!” – A thank you, a photo, a hug.
I hurry through the airport. I hurry through the controls. “Do you want to take the LA 2004 flight?” a Latam employee asks me. “Boarding is in five minutes!”
I shake my head in disbelief. The police took me 90 kilometers to the airport. At the end via various shortcuts. And it’s all free of charge!
I have been living in South America since 1998. I’ve never experienced anything like it. And there’s one question I can’t answer for the life of me. “Why did the Toyota stop all of a sudden? 50 meters in front of me at night?”
The plane takes off. Right on time….At 12 noon, I shake hands with three high-ranking diplomats in the ministry as if nothing had happened. In a general brainstorming session, the four of us come suspiciously close to finding a solution to our visa problem.
I’m not always fully focused. I have long been thinking about how I could incorporate this encounter with the two angels of the Peruvian police into my fourth book. Incidentally, one of them was surnamed Cardenas and his colleague Gutierrez. I will probably never see them again. /KDJ
