Brittany McGee

A toast.

It’s a simple gesture, yet it can mean so much. We offer toasts to good health, to celebrate important events, to honor those not with us; the list goes on.

Toasting is an extremely important part of Peruvian culture. Even in a normal day, it’s custom to cheers to a drinking companions’ health. A simple “Salud” as the glass is passed suffices.

But at big events, small plastic cups, full of some sort of alcohol—champagne, wine, pisco—are passed to each attendee as someone important offers words of thanks and hope for the future.

School events are not exempt from toasts.

Friday May 15^th, a socia called me to invite me to an event Monday the 18^th at 10AM. Per usual, I didn’t quite know what I was agreeing to (blaming our cheap phones for not always providing the clearest audio). But, when I showed up to the municipality and found the woman who invited me, I quickly learned that we would be going to a ceremony honoring all of the recipients of BECA 18.

BECA 18 is a national, government grant given to students who live in poverty or extreme poverty and have maintained an average of 15-out-of-20 or above their last three years of high school. It’s a full ride to any university that accepts it, including living expenses. It’s a new grant program, but has already gained a lot of positive support and impacted thousands of students’ lives.

I get in the car and we drive a very, very short distance to where the ceremony will be held. Slowly but surely, BECA 18 recipients, their parents, other students, teachers and community members trickle in.  As I’ve become accustomed to, I was asked to sit on stage with “local authorities” and present certificates to the honorees. Towards the end, a woman began to hand out shot glasses full of a green liquid. A bit caught off guard, I took my glass and smelled it, wondering if we really would have alcohol at the event. After smelling, I was still unsure of this mystery drink. But, the mayor gave a toast and all the adults gulped it down. Hesitantly I did the same. As this green colored liquid hit my tongue, I could feel the burn of liquor.

Hours later, I went to the Swearing-In Ceremony for the Brigadiers and School Police at Julio Ponce, the high school that I spend most of my time at. I walked in to one of the offices and was surprised to see champagne bottles, neatly gathered on top of a desk. I had been to many ceremonies at Julio Ponce and we never had drunk at them (only afterwards at a restaurant). But, sure enough, as the ceremony came to a close, several teachers passed out the tiny plastic glasses with shots of champagne to all the parents and staff in attendance. The principal gave a toast and we all raised our glasses before downing the sweet, bubbly, liquor.

Doing a toast with alcohol at both these events was so normal, no one even had a second thought about drinking in front of students or even at a school. It’s a part of the tradition, the culture. It’s a gesture so simple, yet so grand.