Cochabamba’s own Mount Trashmore

No one likes trash. No one wants to live by it (ideally that is, if profit is not part of the picture). It has to go somewhere and where it goes is a huge question, pregnant with factors of power, money, class, racism, privilege and control.

When I was invited to come out for the day to visit a Maryknoll priest living in the southern zone of Cochabamba, I did not know what I was going to see, but I certainly didn’t anticipate what I encountered. Padre Ken lives in a room of a house in a small neighborhood (“barrio”) right next to the dump for the whole city of Cochabamba. It’s important to set up the context of the southern zone by acknowledging that every ounce of water is shipped in, usually by trucks that collect it in the northern part (where I live) and then sell it to the residents there at about 10x the cost my family pays for water.

 

The first things I noticed were all the tires and then to the left a nice pond…but wait, that’s not a pond, that’s toxic waste. I was told that there used to be a fence surrounding the dumping ground for the medical waste brought in by the hospitals. One day the fence disappeared and now there’s just some dirt on top and anyone could go through it, not knowing what’s underneath, such as used needles for example.

 

 

For a little history, the dump was started 22 years ago, but with no liner, so there is concern about all that waste seeping into the earth, and how is that affecting the water as well? There is one company that collects trash, EMSA, and they work for the mayor. About 8 years ago, people around the dump complained to the mayor about having to deal with the dump and its negative effects, so the mayor is now fined for every ton of trash that is deposited. The mayor pays $0.70 (this is in US dollars) for every ton and it’s estimated at 400 tons/day; excluding Sundays when trash is not collected, that amounts to an average of $87,640 per year that the mayor is fined by the people, and that money can only be accessed by people in 7 of the 33 dictricts.

How do they access that money? The money is kept by the mayor’s office until people can come up with projects on how to spend the money. Someone in Padre Ken’s neighborhood built a water tower and now water can come to individual homes and each person is charged based on their meter’s reading. This is a positive thing, yes. However, do the benefits of having potential access to this money outweigh the costs (I mean this word in a broader sense than strictly economic, such as all the sicknesses the people get because of the dump) of having the dump there in the state that it is in?

Many people want the dump to close and over the years there have been several blockades of garbage trucks, resulting in the littering of the city. Last year some people took the issue to court. The court ordered that the dump be closed by Dec. 31, 2009, but that didn’t happen and still has failed to happen. Therefore, at the beginning of January this year (right about the time I arrived) no trash could be dumped because some people in those districts set up blockades. The sight I saw upon arrival was lots of trash piling up in the streets, sidewalks and medians (I thought it was normal, having never been here before).

There is a foundation, called Vincente Cañas. They have been very vocal about wanting to close the dump, and organized many of those 33 leaders whose districts are near the dump. The 7 leaders closest to the dump (the ones that can access the money) claim that they are the only ones who have the right to control whether the dump should be closed. They have not said outright whether they want the dump to be closed or remain open, but they DO NOT like Vincente Cañas. Those leaders have associated Padre Ken with Vincente Cañas. He’s been “condemned” by several of them in public meetings with people, though not kicked out, which is what happened to the last priest who lived there.

In talking about what some of the major concerns were, the following are a few that Padre Ken mentioned: the lack of a liner in the dump; major health problems and risks; ignorance of the poisons; speculators buying land that is very close to the actual dump, and then convincing people it’s safe to live there.

 

In college I learned about environmental racism, which Wikipedia defines as “the enactment or enforcement of any policy, practice, or regulation that negatively affects the environment of low-income and/or racially-homogeneous communities at a disparate rate than affluent communities [1]. Environmental racism is either intentional or unintentional racial discrimination and can explain specific incidents in which minority communities are targeted for the siting of polluting industries and factors[2].” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Environmental_racism)

I live in the richer part of Cochabamba, which happens to be near the readily available source of water coming out of the northern mountains, but the southern zone, as I mentioned, does not have access to water except by trucks. They also get to bear the brunt of the effects of my trash. Did I mention they’re very poor? It’s pretty clear to me that environmental racism is going on.

I’ll leave you with some questions I’ve been thinking about, and perhaps you can respond to them either to yourself or share your thoughts, because dialogue and collaboration are good things the internet can foster:

1. Where does our trash go, and do you ever think about what happens to it once the convenient truck comes by to take it away?
2. Should we sort our trash and what are the effects if we don’t?
3. What ARE the effects of our trash: health-wise, environmentally, geographically, economically? Who has to deal with those effects most directly?
4. Who makes the decisions surrounding our trash and what resources/technology do we have to deal with it?
5. Those of you who are knowledgeable in areas of waste, water, environmental engineering—if you have any wisdom to share with me to help me better understand the factors, risks, already established systems and technologies, so that I can be more informed, I would really appreciate it!!!

I’ll leave you with something that I think has some aspect of hope to it. I’ve mentioned the “cancha” before, which is a very large area of the city filled with vendors selling everything imaginable, including lots of fresh produce. One concern is that all the produce that the vendors can’t sell and eventually goes bad is thrown away in the dump, when it could (in theory) be going towards compost. Being one who is a MAJOR fan of composting, I was excited to hear Padre Ken’s interest in possibly initiating that effort and we plan to talk more about it in the future. For more pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/DumpBlog#

Because St. Patrick's Day was this past Wednesday, I was thinking about my time in Ireland and how in love I fell with the nature there in so short a time. Here are three pictures from my time there in 2005, since I try to end things on a good note.

 

 

 

The photo above is of plaque on a wishing well I happened to pass by on the same road in the photo above this one

Serene he stands among the flowers
and counts life’s sunny hours
for him dull days do not exist
the brazen faced old optimist

5 Things I’m thankful for: receiving artwork from my cousin Caroline; being able to go to sleep at night; my water bottle; having made it through the first step at the immigration office after several months in the making; having ready-access to water and a stove to boil it so it’s drinkable.

The past tense came to town!

That’s right folks. I finally learned one form of the past tense in Spanish and I’m pretty excited about it. I’ve been speaking in the past tense with many verbs, but now I actually know the rules. It’s incredible the feeling of liberation in being able to express myself just an inkling more accurately. Being able to communicate has a lot more to do with my sense of self and how grounded I feel than I’d realized.

I heard a story from my sister (told to her by one of my high school physics teachers) that affirmed me in this connection of communicating effectively and feeling legitimate: There’s been research done to determine what contributes to self esteem, and the only attribute that has a direct relationship to high self esteem is the ability to strike up a conversation with a stranger. Good grades, money, job promotions, awards, bullying—none of these had a consistent effect on self esteem. Just yesterday I started a conversation with a woman in a waiting room by asking her how long she had been waiting…because I could use the past tense, and you know what, I did feel just a little bit better because I could do that. The little things I tell you.

This past week has been a busy one, partly because almost every day I’ve had to go to one office or another to gather the appropriate papers in order to apply for a 1 year residency visa (next year I’ll have to go through this all again). This process has been a frustrating and tiring one. A friend asked me recently if any negative things have been happening to me, so here is one that I’ll share a part of with you. I’ve had to return to both the police station and a health certificate clinic 2 or 3 times extra because either the woman refused to accept my papers for some reason or the doctor lost my certificate and made me go back to another clinic and then return and wait…some more. Yesterday I waited for a “half hour” which translated into 2 hours to get three pages reprinted because they misspelled one letter in my middle name. I’ve realized it’s not the waiting that bothers me as much as the false expectations people give me.

On to happier topics! I love the babies at the orphanage. I’ve gone two more times since I last wrote and while I’m pooped after 3 hours, it’s well worth it. I found myself wanting to go by in the middle of the week this past week just so I could hug and kiss them. My favorite part of the day is when the women give them baths and then wrap them up in their towels like little Eskimo babies. They hand them down the line and I get to rub their bellies with baby oil, put on their diaper, clothes, socks and shoes and then comb their hair (if they have enough there that is). Today though, one of the highlights was when this one little boy was just dancing away in his walker to the “Happy Birthday” song. He was right on beat and just having a grand ol’ time. I’m telling you, if we all danced as fearlessly as he did, this world would be a happier place.

 

A week ago I went on a hike with two friends in the valley behind the local Taquina brewery. There were so many wild flowers that I’d never seen before. At one point, my friend pointed out a tiny speck way in the distance on top of the mountain across the valley from us. It was a woman tending her cows. I managed to get a super zoomed-in picture to be able to tell that it was in fact a person and she was a woman.

 

The next day I went on a day tour with the language school to 4 smaller “pueblos” or towns out in the country south of the city (with their distances from the city): Tarata 33 km, Cliza 37 km, Punata 58 km and Arani 65 km.

 

 

We went to a big market in Cliza, where I encountered my first fried guinea pigs and pigeons...

 

Those who tried the guinea pig said it tasted like chicken. There were also tons of fruits, household products, clothes and much more. For more pictures, please go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/TaquinaHikeAndValleAltoTour#

We went to a restaurant for lunch and enjoyed a typical soup of the area and “chicha”. In the department of Cochabamba, chicha can be alcoholic or non-alcoholic, which is how it is normally served in other parts of Bolivia, as far as I understand. Chica is made of corn and I’d heard several stories about it from other Americans who’ve lived here, so I had some anticipation building up to trying it for the first time. While I didn’t enjoy the alcoholic one as much as the “refresco” one, I do really like the tradition of pouring some out onto the ground before you drink it, as a sign of reverence to the earth (“pachamama”) for having provided the fruits for us. I like this because I normally feel very disconnected from where my food and drink comes from in the US. I appreciate the reminder that I can eat because the earth provides natural resources for us to feed ourselves…because of that, I have a very direct relationship with the earth and it’s in mine and everyone’s best interest to treat it with respect, like part of the family, you might say :)

 

5 Things I’m Thankful for: my cousin’s heavenly chocolate cookies; getting to see a friend from home here this past week; seeing so many beautiful baby smiles today; getting to skype with my 92-year-old grandpa yesterday and him making me laugh really hard; getting a dentist appointment for this upcoming week that will only cost me about $6 if all I need is a cleaning – wow!

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…”

Joni Mitchell was right. This has been a trend this past week and while the absence of something can be uncomfortable and sometimes brings a lot of suffering, it’s there that I think we often experience the most gratitude and growth.

Last Saturday I went back to the orphanage, and this time I only waited a half hour. They have over 500 kids living there and on the weekends they need more help than on weekdays, which is I think why I was asked to come back on Saturday. I was given an apron to put on and told the people here were now my family. I followed the woman through a room past 30 empty cribs lining the walls and center of the room, till we stepped outside to a small fenced-in area where I was greeted by 25 little faces looking up at me. The babies of this room were around a year old or a few months younger. All but 5 of them were in baby walkers and the others were hanging out on a play pad.

“They like it when you sing, play with them, and clap your hands, but don’t pick them up because if you do that, the others will cry,” were the first directions I received. I didn’t see a whole lot of the three women in charge of them for that first hour, because they were preparing the lunch, cleaning, and changing diapers. So, there I was in the midst of all these (surprisingly) very quiet babies, not really knowing what to do at first.

Suddenly, I remembered a story my mom had told me of an orphanage that had a floor of babies much healthier than the other floor and they investigated what the cause could be. The floor with the healthier babies was also much dirtier and they at first suspected that the babies had built up certain immunities living amidst more germs. Eventually they discovered that it was dirtier because the cleaning person for that floor didn’t clean at night but instead held the babies—and THAT was why they were healthier.

While I couldn’t possibly hold every baby, I tried to be touching as many as I could at every moment, whether it was rubbing their heads, backs, bellies or playing with their feet. I learned something else—babies aren’t the only ones who need human touch. I do too, very much so. It wasn’t till the past two weeks that I came to recognize how much I miss that touch, and hugs specifically. I really love hugs and I rarely get them here, so me and these babies, we help each other!

Around 11am it was feeding time and then we put them in their cribs to take a nap. Time for a rest? No way. With over 500 kids, can you imagine the amount of laundry? Right, neither could I until Saturday. We walked outside to a large area with lines and lines very efficiently hung to make the most of the space. There were tons of blankies, cloth diapers, towels, itsy bitsy socks and underwear, onesies etc. They do have washing machines but no dryers so everything is hung to dry, whether on lines outside, lines hung across the individual rooms, or on the banisters or railings throughout the premises. Yikes.

Saturday was also the day of the earthquake in Chile, as you all know. The Andes protect Bolivia very well so no one in this country was affected, but my host-mother has a niece who lives in Concepcion. In the middle of the night, she (niece) woke up because she felt a tremor. Once recognizing that the electricity was out, she got her kids out of the house and they fled. Later, they discovered that their house was completely destroyed. I asked what happened to her neighbors and my host-mother appeared to say that the neighbors didn’t wake up in time to get out. Why she woke up and others didn’t, I don’t know, but I’m grateful to hear stories like this. These natural disasters are a reminder to me that life is not something to take for granted, and neither is people’s presence in my life. So, as a reminder, I’m grateful for you, whether I tell you that often or not. You’re important.

Another part of life that I’ve learned this week not to take for granted is transportation. Being a democracy, the people of Bolivia like to use their voice when something is not right in their eyes. This past Wednesday and Thursday I experienced my first strike by the public transportation workers and private transportation companies. This meant that only private taxis were available for those without the means of their own two feet, a bicycle, or a motorcycle. Not only did the drivers strike, but they blocked lots of key intersections, which made using the roads very difficult and I read in the paper that it affected US $1 million of exports in those two days.

Why strike? Because of the problem of drivers drinking while on the job, a new law has been put into place that takes away the drunk driver’s license and also punishes the whole company. I’m not sure if the drivers are more upset that they can’t freely drink while on the job, or the fact that their jobs are in danger due to a co-worker’s mishap. Needless to say, the strike is over today without any negotiation or amendment to the law. Apparently, these “paros” are common, at least that is what my host-sisters said as they rolled their eyes at it.

5 Things I’m Thankful for: not having been hit by an earthquake or lost anyone I know in one; hugs when I get them; being able to walk; having public transportation back; finding wheat rolls at a near-by tienda (store).