The Millennium

 THE MILLENNIUM

Sydney, Australia. The world's most 

famous new millennium celebration.

In December 1999, as I was flying at thirty thousand feet in a KLM Boeing 747 on my way from London to Lima, there was no doubt in my mind that this trip was destined to remain in my memories forever.

I have traveled to different parts of the world on various occasions and for different reasons—sometimes for the pain of a final goodbye, but most often for the joy of seeing family and friends once again.

One day back in 1999, my wife asked me: “Where do you want to celebrate Christmas and the new millennium?” Without a moment’s hesitation, I replied: “In Chimbote.”

The new millennium was approaching. The world was preparing to welcome it. Sitting on the plane with my family, I meditated on the strange privilege of us human beings who were about to witness such an exceptional date. At the close of 1999, we would welcome not only a new year and a new decade, but also a new century and a new millennium of the Christian era.

Sleeping beside me on the plane was Dorothy, my ten-month-old baby. My first and only daughter. She had taken years and years to arrive in this world, and finally, she was here. She was the intimate, personal reason for my trip. For years, my mother had been asking me when I would give her a grandchild. And in my father’s life, the sand in the hourglass was running out; I wondered if time would be enough for him to meet my children... if they ever arrived.

In those years, I was living in London and witnessed the grand projects launched to celebrate the new millennium: The Millennium Dome, The London Eye, and The Millennium Bridge, just to name a few.

The latter had a curious history. It was the first bridge built to cross the River Thames in more than 100 years. It was inaugurated by the Queen of England and opened to the public immediately, but the thousands of people who began to cross it noticed a worrying oscillation in its structure. Three days later it was closed, and two years later it reopened after some additional work. Since then, it has been known as "The Wobbly Bridge."

On December 20th, my plane arrived in Lima. Jorge Chávez International Airport was more crowded than usual; thousands of travelers wanted to celebrate the millennium with their families. Among the passengers waiting for their luggage, we ran into Ambassador Javier Pérez de Cuéllar. I said with pride to my wife: “This man is Peruvian, and he served as Secretary-General of the United Nations.” After a brief rest in Lima, we made the seven-hour journey by land to Chimbote.

As a child growing up in Chimbote, I was afraid of the year 2000. According to some religious groups, the world was going to end that year, and I would count how old I would be when the apocalypse arrived. By one of life’s ironies, on the eve of the year 2000, that same fear was reborn in the United States and parts of Europe, though for a different cause.

The motive behind this new fear was the so-called “Year 2000 Problem,” or “Y2K.” The idea was that computer programs were not prepared to operate with the digits of the new millennium; a failure of apocalyptic proportions would crash computer systems, bringing down power, transportation, and telecommunications, and the world would be thrown into anarchy.

At five-fifteen in the morning on the 22nd, my bus arrived in Chimbote. At the terminal on the second block of Elías Aguirre Street, we were greeted by a group of relatives led by my mother. My father was waiting at home. We headed to the San Isidro Barrio in several taxis. We moved along the dusty Aviation Avenue amidst the endless barking of stray dogs. In the distance, I spotted the corner of Unión Street. The cars stopped in front of the house of my childhood.

And finally, the long-awaited moment happened: my father lifted, embraced, and kissed my baby.

A few hours before New Year’s Eve, the house was buzzing with activity; the adults were preparing dinner while the kids played with sparklers. At the corners of the Barrio, the children of my childhood friends gathered around crates of beer. Then, midnight arrived.

At that hour, my wife, daughter, and I went up to the highest part of the house. From there, we watched the Chimbote sky light up with the glare of fireworks. Afterward, we went back down to join the family celebration.

Days later, I said goodbye to my family. My father said goodbye to Dorothy (life would grant them a few more encounters in the near future). The world did not end. In reality, it was just beginning for me: my daughter had brought life to my life. On the horizon, a new millennium was beginning, too.

New Hampshire, USA

March, 2012

"The Wobbly Bridge"

Chimbote: a city looking toward the future with optimism

(Source: José Luis Mariños Cabrera)

NOTE:

If you'd like to comment on this post, here is a translation of terms in the directions:

Comentarios = comments

Publicar un comentario en la entrada = write a comment in the box

Comentar como = write as ... (choose "Nombre/URL", then type in your name under “Nombre”, leave “URL” blank)

Vista previa = preview (see how your comment will look)

Publicar un comentario = publish your comment

If you think that these steps are too complicated then write me an e-mail with your comment and I’ll publish it for you: edquevedo@yahoo.com

Every comment goes to the editor first before being published.