Water Balloons – the war continues. They’ve got it coming.

Just this morning at breakfast my host sisters were discussing a plan to go out water-ballooning (I just made up that verb) and asked if I wanted to go with them tomorrow. Like any person wanting to learn more about another culture, I heartily agreed. No, vengeance has absolutely nothing to do with it. How dare you even suggest such a thing! My motivation is purely to embrace the Bolivian culture…I’ll let you know how it goes.

 

Sunday was a big day for sports both in the US and here in Cochabamba. The final championship game between the La Paz and the Cochabamba (two major cities in Bolivia) soccer teams took place here in Cochabamba. People started camping out on the sidewalks surrounding the stadium on Thursday and the tickets didn’t go on sale until Saturday. It came down to a tie and then a shoot-out (where each team gets 5 shots – sorry if I used the wrong term). I watched the last part on TV and it was so intense! Unfortunately, the Cochabamba team lost and as I walked to the city center afterwards, I passed many a sad face. Lucky for me, I was rooting for the Saints so it wasn’t a day of total loss. Way to go New Orleans!

Before the soccer game I accompanied my host mother and uncle to the Cochabamba Cemetery to visit their father’s grave. It’s very different from any US cemetery I’ve seen. They use mausoleums for most people. If you have the money, you can have a little building built just for your family. Some people had plots in the ground but that was very rare to see. Their dad was in a war so his body is in a special section for veterans. As we walked through the section open to anyone, I saw some pieces of paper taped to some of the “spaces” and asked what they were. Apparently, people have to pay a tax every 5 years to keep the space for their family member. If it’s not paid, out you go.

 

A part of the Maryknoll Language Institute that I really enjoy is their philosophy of teaching culture alongside language. Last week I asked why every house has walls or a fence around it with either spikes or barbed wire lining the top. Here are some of the reasons I was given: fear of burglars; protect people’s savings that is usually all kept in the house; more privacy; it’s a tradition from Spain passed down during colonization.

I also asked about the Bolivian concept of privacy and my teacher responded that it’s very different from the American concept. Take this with a grain of salt because this is one person’s explanation, but here are the qualities/factors she gave: strong sense of a need to protect the family; there’s no need to call or plan ahead before visiting someone—you’re welcome to just stop by (people do plan visits but if not, it’s ok); within the family, individual space does not exist—it’s all communal space; it’s very common to know one’s neighbors; a grandmother is able to greatly influence the life of her grandchildren and has a big say in what happens with them.

Up till this point I haven’t written much about the social needs here, but that is about to change. The Institute encourages everyone to volunteer somewhere once a week while in language school and on Saturday we visited five different possible volunteer sites. Three of the sites are part of a foundation called “Amanecer” (sunrise), which “was founded in 1981 by the Daughters of Charity to serve abandoned and mistreated boys, girls, women and babies living on the streets of Cochabamba.” They have a total of 12 sites and went to Madre de Dios, Casa Nazareth and Salomon Klein.

Madre de Dios had two homes next door to each other: one for women and their children and the other for adolescent girls. These women and teenagers have been physically or sexually abused, abandoned and/or forced to live on the streets. While living there, they get counseling, legal help, academic tutoring and work on their plans to become independent (for example, there’s a kitchen on-site where the women can work from 3-6am baking bread to sell each day and thereby gain that skill). Sometimes seeking justice can be very difficult for the girls because if incest is the case, the male relative may be protected by the family, which makes reunification more complicated. There were only 4 teenagers there but about 20-25 more will be arriving next month.

Casa Nazareth is a home for boys between 5-12 years old. Not all the boys are orphans—some have parents who couldn’t take care of them. They try to reach out to the families and make sure the boys and their siblings are going to school after the boys have been reunited with their families. I was welcomed very quickly by several boys who showed me around the place. My favorite moment was when they put a little green flower bud in my hand and told me to pinch it. Out popped all these seeds and I was totally surprised, which they found pretty funny.

 

This next place was the most overwhelming in terms of the apparent need. Salomon Klein is a home for 150 kids between birth and 7 yrs old. Just a couple days prior the police had brought a premature baby to their door. The baby had been found in the trash. The Daughters of Charity don’t turn anyone away so sometimes other institutions will bring children to them as well. We were told that coming to simply hold babies is a great need because the workers don’t have time to sufficiently hold each baby. As we exited the big cafeteria (that had hundreds of little pieces of clothing hanging to dry on the banister above) into a giant playground-backyard-area, we were all swarmed by probably 50 or 60 kids between 3 and 5 years old. One moment one boy takes my sun glasses right off my head and the next moment I’m struggling to walk as I have a child sitting on each of my feet wanting to be taken for a ride. These kids were STARVING for attention. I don’t know how the caregivers manage them all.

The public hospital serving those with lower incomes was our second to last stop. They said it would be great if we could come to help feed the kids who’re there for malnourishment and the nurses don’t have enough time to feed everyone sufficiently on schedule. There was an oncology unit we passed and saw a little 3-yr-old boy whose parents used to come but don’t anymore because he’s been there for a year. So there he is, in the hospital alone, with cancer, and he’s 3.

The last stop was a home for girls who’ve been abused. As we got to share lunch with them, I sat at a table with three girls, aged 13, 14 and 16. Since my vocabulary is somewhat limited, we talked about what they do on the weekends and during the week, our favorite foods, our brothers and sisters, and what they want to be when they grow up. Listen to some of these answers given to me with such energy and not a moment’s hesitation: architect, teacher, doctor, the President! How exciting. One of the men in our group commented that he didn’t think the girls acted like other abused females he’d worked with as a nurse in a mental health hospital, because they accepted the men being there. We agreed that it was quite a testament to the people in charge of the home, that they provide such a structure of safety and security. The girls know they are safe there – what a gift! I was particularly amused by their infatuation with Korean soap operas and the posters of the Korean actors/actresses on their bedroom walls.

 

I’m not sure yet which place I will choose for this short-term volunteer opportunity (not to be confused with my full-time placement after language school). I’ve got to think about it more, but I’m sure wherever I go, it’ll be a rich experience. Stay tuned. Until then, I’ll continue to study, make lots of mistakes, get pelted by water balloons, study some more and keep going.

If you want to see more pictures relating to this post, please go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

5 things I’m thankful for today: I didn’t get hit by any water balloons yesterday; papaya seeds (good natural preventative medicine for stomach problems); my parents had the resources to raise me and additionally they wanted to; ESPN so that we Americans could watch the super bowl; earplugs (to block out the rockin’ birthday party last night at our neighbor’s house).