The driver starts up the car and lets it run to warm it. He says that we have a couple minutes, that gives me time for another cup of coffee. It will be my third but I can’t really wake up. It’s cold and dark outside and the dim yellow light in the kitchen is anything but exhilarating. It’s 5:30 when the car leaves the university driveway in front of my house. We stop and pick the doctors up at the Health Post a few minutes away and everyone teases me for looking so dumpy and worn out. If I didn’t feel so dumpy and worn out I’d try to think of something silly to say so I seem good natured. I didn’t really have it in me, anyway it’s just that morning REALLY hasn’t been my time of day.




I sort of zone out until we get to Coroico to pick up medical supplies a little after 6:00. I get out of the car to stretch my legs when while we wait outside the hospital. The adobe houses and cobblestone streets are totally alive in the pink sunrise. It feels like the light is emanating from inside them somewhere and the sun might as well not even be coming up. It’s the kind of light that has a texture to it, a density that you can almost touch. Bodies moving through it should leave churning wakes behind them and light objects could be suspended in it. The hopefulness from every new beginning in history has been collected and the soupy mass and poured into the valley where it’s so powerful that it might make you excited for a day of picking Coca.
My eyes open up a little bit.




Back on the road toward Santo Domingo I chat with the nurse next to me. She is a recent graduate of the UAC and now a full time employee. Behind us sit a nursing student and the campus doctor who was trained in La Paz. The visit we are going on is part of the campus health extension program, a couple times a week the health professionals and a student or two pack up some basic equipment and go visit one of the many small communities in the area. Santo Domingo has about 60 people and is 30 min from Coroico in the opposite direction as Carmen Pampa. Which means it’s poor and isolated but not at all unreachable. They have electricity, and I think some running water. When one thinks of rural life in a developing country this is what comes to mind, not desolate but anything from comfortable.





We pulled into town and parked on the soccer field. There are about 10 visible houses and a few more back in the woods. The doctors told me we are mostly here for the children and the elderly. They come here once a month and know exactly which houses to go to. The first one has a baby, I think three months old. We weigh it, give it a few vaccines and talk to the mother about basic health stuff. Has your child been sick? been eating regularly? sleeping? The baby is really normal, its weight is right, it’s clean, and it already has the big dark eyes that characterize the kids here. There are two older siblings who peek out from the door of the house. They look good, and only a little surprised to see a blond white person fumbling with their little brother in a baby scale.










In addition to drugs the doctors are here to provide information. To the mothers of young children they explain a new government benefit, all mothers are eligible to receive 120 B’s every other month until their child turns three. This comes in addition to all the other government benefits like the free medical care we are providing and food programs. There is a catch of course; the mother cannot get pregnant again until the child is three years old. In a country where condom use is low and sex ed is less popular than Ice Hockey many of these women could struggle not to get pregnant again. But that’s probably the reason for the incentive in the first place.






Later we visited an old couple, they looked like they should have been retired for 20 years and spend their time eating hard candy or falling asleep to daytime TV. In reality they probably weren’t much over 60 and they were working with their son when we arrived, drying and husking coffee beans. The woman was having trouble walking and said she was always dizzy in the morning. Her blood pressure was okay and the Doctor said she might need more vitamins, which we left for here. She won’t see another health specialist until the ones from the UAC come back in a month. She will be fine but I hope to be coddled a little more than that in my old age.


Some people gave us Avocados or Oranges for coming, they were pretty happy to have had the chance to talk to a DR. even though for the average person the conversation was like five min consumed mostly by pleasantries.






Every time I leave Carmen Pampa I am reminded of how much better things are in this community and in the university than in other parts of rural Bolivia. It’s amazing that a place which seemed so backwards to me for so long could actually be a big step up from other places so close but it’s really true.






Okay, well I miss the US and my friends and family. Don’t be afraid to drop a line and if you don’t hear back it’s just because I’m bien flojo.



LOVE



andy

It’s been nearly 10 months in the making, after hundreds of dollars and what seems like hundreds of trips to La Paz I’m finally a fully documented resident of Bolivia. At least the pic turned out right? I like it, a lot. I don’t care that my hair is unkempt or that my smile is a little crooked, during the picture the thing I was most concerned about was the cop next to me, the one holding my national ID#. I was really hoping he wouldn’t be cropped out. At least not entirely.

I could use the ID and the pic to generalize a ton of stuff about Bolivia. The time I waited to get the dumb thing says something, the fact that the pins on the number were broken and it had to be held could mean a lot, the glare on the numbers or the care that wasn’t taken to remove it might mean something too. RIGHT? Probably a lot of the generalizations would be accurate too.

I’ve made many assumptions and split second decisions in my time here. In most ways it’s just something you have to do in a culture that’s so different. The Bolivians I’ve met make them too. More than once someone has asked me if ALL the food we eat comes from a can. They mean it too, and when I say “no” they cite some friend of a friend who went to the US, or some movie. It’s okay to generalize and it’s normal, and it defines how we see and comprehend things. Getting a Bolivian to understand what’s a convenience store is a lot easier than you might think, sadly it doesn’t shatter the idea of how the people here see us.

My time away from home has made me think a lot about life in the US and how I see it from here. Going abroad to a poor country to volunteer makes it really easy to judge everything back home, and to be really harsh about it. Look I come here, my house is made out of MUD, I don’t have a microwave, my socks are so stretched and stained it looks like I’ve got burlap sacks jammed into my shoes, and I’m just fine. All this while you’re driving to work every day in your OWN PERSOSNAL CAR, eating Hot Pockets, and not even appreciating that the only parasites living off your sweat and blood are your own children.

I wouldn’t ever say anything so blunt outside of such an intimate context, so let’s keep the above to ourselves or someone might get upset.

Seriously though, it’s just not fair to take shots like that. That’s not what I want to do.

It’s not true anyhow - I mean my house is made out of adobe bricks covered with plaster and stones, so it’s only part mud.

I brought it up to say of course that I had a lot of misconceptions about life here when I first came, and I had a lot of unfair opinions about the US as well. I’m not promising to stop doing either one, I’m just saying that now I’m more conscious of it.

Let me reiterate some things. I live in a big, simple, partly mud house. I don’t have a microwave. I’m just fine, I’m happy. That’s the important part, that I’m happy. I don’t think it’s a surprise, and I don’t want it to be.

There is a surprise though, or for me anyway it was.

I’m not happy because I’ve left behind consumerism, because I haven’t. I not happy because I’ve changed so many lives, because I haven’t done that either - I hope I’ve touched a few though. I’m not happy because I’m a strong, incredible person doing something impossibly hard, because I’m really not that.

I’m happy even though most of the expectations I had about coming here turned out not to be true, and even though due to personal weakness I haven’t achieved the growth I hoped to. I’ve never been as peaceful as I am today and I can’t imagine I will be after I leave.

I don’t know why it is, I just AM happy.

Is that enough?

That’s the surprise…

The semester ends in two months. In two months I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’ll be. For the first time since I was in High School I’m okay with that.

LOVE

andy

Before too much time passes I wanted to write about Easter here. In many ways it wasn’t much different than Easter in The States. Bolivia is a religious country, by some measures more religious than the US. You know there was a lot of Spanish influence here in the past. One of the clearest reminders of that is the prominence of Christianity all across Bolivia today. It’s the biggest organized religion in the country, 95% of Bolivians are listed as Roman Catholic by the CIA World Factbook. At least in this part of the country every small community has a church, which might only be used a couple times a year but generally sits at the community’s heart and is the most prominent building.

The interesting thing about religion here is how it has mixed and coexists with pre-Columbian beliefs.

The first few days I was here we celebrated the feast of the patron saint of Carmen Pampa, or the year’s biggest party. There was a mass and the celebration took place in the courtyard of the community’s church. At this festival I was taught to give the first sip of whatever you are drinking to Pachamama or mother Earth. The dirt in front of the church was soaked throughout the day and night by this custom, and by all accounts Pachamama should have at least been tipsy. Our patron saint Maria del Carmen stayed stone sober, as she wasn’t offered a drop.

It’s not just at festivals. Miners give alcohol, coca, and even blood to ensure safety and good luck. They might say Hail Maries on their way to work, but the respects they pay to Catholic figures are nowhere near as institutionalized or ingrained into their culture as the rituals they perform for more archaic deities.

Every year around the beginning of Lent the Bolivians do a Challa, which is the cleaning, decorating and blessing of homes businesses and public places. I helped my old boss Diego bless his computer lab. After the decorating we poured potable rubbing alcohol all over the floor and said prayers to God and Pachamama. When I come home for lunch the Sisters had done the same in their garden. I think I’ve heard them talk about Pachamama in positive ways. Certainly the idea doesn’t seem to bother them, I’ve never heard a negative word about it anyway.

I took the following picture at the church in Trinidad Pampa a man dressed in VERY traditional VERY pre-Christanity wearing a cross and looking quite reverant.

Anyway back to EASTER. The UAC masses are more traditional Catholicism, at least by Bolivian standards. It started with a bonfire lit in front of the church, then we all lit candles and marched into the dark building. It was really beautiful.

There weren’t too many students around, so most of the people who came were community members. The kids here are nuts and only sort of supervised. No extra fires started and only one kid did anything dangerous chasing his brother with a fiery stick. Easter miracle. Then we ate fried dough and drank Api, which is a thick purple drink made from corn and served hot, very good.

In Coroico they welcomed back hikers finishing the Choro, LIKE ME. There were dances and mass.

How's this last pic grab you for interesting cultural Conflicts. Bolivian Tourisim student rocking a Favre jersey looking at the same beautiful curch the above photo came from.

I hope all is well back home.

LOVE

andy

Imagine three days hiking in rain and drizzle following an ancient Inca trail from The Cumbre (16,000 ft) to Coroico (6,000 ft). When we started there was icy snow in the air, when we finished our feet burned at least as much as one would expect after the 35 miles they had carried us. The drastic changes in climate we witnessed on the trail and the extremeness of peoples lives were both characteristic of Bolivia. They say when you walk The Choro you pay for your sins with the hardships you encounter. I might be a cleansed man now but it didn’t come easily.

I'm writing this to invite you to be part of what I hope will become an annual fundraiser here at UAC-CP. Every Easter hundreds of Bolivians walk The Choro trial, as penance for their sins. I did it and now I’m asking retroactively* for your support. I used to do Walkathons in elementary school at Baker Park, It was six miles and we got hotdogs at the end. Some of you may have been hit up for money then. This walk was much more difficult so I’m hoping you see that difference on your bank statement.

HERE’S THE LINK to the fundraiser FOR ANYONE ALREADY INTERESTED

http://www.firstgiving.com/uac-cpandy

I’m hoping to raise $2,000 which is the cost of educating, housing, and feeding breakfast to one student for a year here at UAC-CP, one student who wouldn’t otherwise have a chance at higher education. One person who will go on to create growth in a country that continues to grapple with terrible poverty.

SO WHAT DO YOU GET OUT OF THIS, there must be something special I can thrown in since in fact I already did the walking… Aside from peace of mind, and knowing the money you give makes an incredible difference I’ll also throw in a blog entry dedicated to The Choro and the experiences I had there. I’ll make it worth your money,BUT PONY UP OR IT’S NOT COMING

HERE’S THE LINK AGAIN FOR THE REST OF YOU

http://www.firstgiving.com/uac-cpandy

Most of you know what I’m doing here in Bolivia and have some idea about the mission of the school, if you are looking for more information about either you can check the following links.

Carmen Pampa Fund Website - http://www.carmenpampafund.org/

Vice Director Hugh’s BLOG- http://carmenpampa.blogspot.com/

Volunteer Sarah’s BLOG- http://uchumachi.blogspot.com/

*The internet has been down a ton and really slow the rest of the time, I just couldn’t get the site put together sooner.

Thanks so much for the time

andy

This Coke truck got jammed up against the wall outside our neighbors (the sisters) house. They left it overnight in the road, a little off to the side and during the night it slid in the mud. They have spent a couple days trying to dig it out, at some point they will probably have to call someone to pull it out.

The roads aren’t great here, the one pictured here is worse than most. I was told once that only 5% of the roads were paved in Bolivia, I don’t know if it’s true or not but around here the only paved road I know is the one that goes from La Paz to Caranavi, it passes close to Coroico but you have to take cobblestone and dirt roads to get into town. By the way when I say close to Coroico I mean you can see the road from town and make our cars or even people easily, but the drive is about 20 min from when you exit the “freeway” to when you arrive “downtown”. Coming from Coroico to Carmen Pampa or any of the surrounding communities is all dirt or in this season really deep mud.

On a positive note USAID put in a great sidewalk between Coroico and Carmen Pampa, now it’s really a pleasure to walk into town.

LOVE

andy

I saw a drag show two days ago. It was part of the “anniversary” of the nursing department. They also had a dance, played soccer and musical chairs, and hazed new students by making them crawl through mud in an orange plastic tube with a sign that said something like intestinal parasites. Just one more reason Bolivia kicks USA's ass. The annual celebration in the POLS department at UWRF was a wiener roast followed by a lackluster volleyball game.

I mentioned something about cross-dressing before in this blog. I hate to come back to it but it’s an interesting part of the culture. First of all I should say it’s really popular, street performers do it, it’s on TV, and the students have featured it a few times before. Mostly it’s done for comic value, after all can you think of anything funnier than a spiky haired guy in clip-on earrings and a skirt, who looks all too comfortable in heels and makes most of the girls jealous of his legs as he’s being chased around by either a big breasted cowboy or a “man” with a permanent marker beard wearing a suit that only half hides shapely hips as he grabs his crotch and walks so shoulder heavy you’d think his spine was fused.

I don’t know much about psychology but I’m pretty sure there is interesting research about sexual outlets for men in super macho countries, which would probably have something intelligent to say about why being left by your girlfriend can be seen as just lacking control over her but wearing fake boobs and lipstick is cool.

Anyway, Sister Jean doesn’t like it and won’t go, she says it’s sexist and disrespectful to women. Maybe shes right, but the girls cross dressed too and did their best to make macho guys look like tools, for whatever reason this never gets as much of a reaction and it is definitely viewed as just a supplement to the real action.

Yesterday Sam and I became the first semi-pro English speaking radio advertising icons in the Coroico area, or so we were told. One of our old students has a restaurant and thought there was an untapped English speaking market that he could corner by putting out an ad in their native language. I don’t know if it’s true or not but we’ll see. There are certainly plenty of English speaking tourists that come through here. We were paid with a few glasses of cold beer, made more RICO because we drank them at about 10:00 am.

We showed up with no script, no reservations, and no idea what was going on. In about 15 min we had written and recorded in two takes what will be the vocal track for a heavily produced typical Latin ad - Lots of sound effects, fast crazy music in the background, and at least one incredibly obnoxious voice (MINE!).

Okay, that’s all

LOVE

andy

Some volunteers and I with a few of the girls from the PRE. Note the girl who brought a stuffed animal for the pic.

One of the classes I teach is with the schools pre-university students. They are a swollen group of over 80 kids completing a curriculum that stands somewhere between minimum high school standards and college generals. For English they are divided into four groups but generally they have all their classes at the same time in the same low ceilinged closed up classroom that unmercifully overlooks the fútsal court.


Before the semester started, around 200 kids came and took an entrance exam, none passed but the 85 highest scores were accepted to the “PRE”. After the successful completion of the pre-curriculum they will all move into one of the other 5 “carreras” Veterinary, Agronomy, Nursing, Teaching, or Eco-Tourism.


I like the PRE, they remind me of kids at a summer camp experiencing a lot of new exciting stuff for the first time, sometimes full of excitement and wonder and other times just frustrated and homesick. Most of all they just seem young. They illustrate the conflict that exists in all the UAC students, a dichotomy between being emotionally young in many fundamental ways while having lived through incomprehensibly (for us anyway) difficult things. These are kids that don’t like to walk at in the dark because they believe there are ghosts and ghouls out at night. Kids who giggle in class and draw dirty pictures in their notebooks (carry around stuffed animals {told you so}). Many of them however have worked in subsistence agriculture as long as they have been physically able. They have seen preventable illness take friends or family members. They have cared for younger siblings, cooked, cleaned, and otherwise supported their families more like Cinderella than anyone else I can think of, minus the part about not being loved which depends on the family.


I don’t want to get carried away now… but really they are sort of the antithesis to my brother Nathan.


Anyway just like Nate they are very loveable.

Don't get jealous but this is their bathroom.

I said the group was a little too big, last semester there were only like 60 of them. Needless to say just finding enough beds has been a challenge. Below you can see a typical dorm room the girls have two of these. The classroom that felt crowded with 60 has the qualities of a beehive with 80+.


Most of these students are the first generation in their family to go to college which probably isn’t a surprise. But what is a surprise is that most students in the PRE are girls. I think there are only about 25 boys, or less than one third. The school as a whole has more female students but not by this margin. This kind of gender imbalance exists in the US at many institutions but it’s really interesting to see it here. Remember that college education being available to the general population is sort of a novel idea here. I wouldn’t dare speculate what it means, but many development experts including Greg Mortenson (Three Cups of Tea) who has been building schools in Central Asia for a decade and a half, say that educating girls is one of the biggest steps a country can take to reducing poverty and creating real social change.


SO maybe I would speculate that is a pretty darn good thing (and by the way we do accept donations).


In this time of economic crisis be thankful your diet includes meat!

Thanks for the time,

LOVE

andy