Semana Santa

How do the weeks go by so quickly? A lot has happened in the past month with me—I got very sick again and therefore sadly did not go to Toro Toro; started helping with a composting project in the southern zone using old tires to build the containers; started learning capoeira from this amazingly energetic and spunky Brazilian sister http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/HermanaLuciaDance# ; toured lots of possible placements in the southern zone for my work after language school; attended the People’s World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights here in Cochabamba. I’m not going to be able to cover everything right now, but I wanted to give you a little overview before I back up to about three and a half weeks ago.

The week before Easter is known as Semana Santa (Holy Week) and was certainly a different experience for me here in Cochabamba than I’d experienced before, in a good way. Thursday night is the night that a lot of people in Cochabamba go out to visit 12 different churches (at least traditionally), started in the early evening and going late into the night. Many of the streets are closed to accommodate the herds of foot traffic and other commercially-minded people take advantage of this to sell lots of goodies, mostly food, but also artwork, trinkets, movies etc. The typical thing to eat in Cochabamba especially during Holy Week is a “pastel” and “api”. This pastel is a giant half-circle, very airy fried dough with cheese in the middle. Api is a sweet, hot, cinnamon-flavored purple corn drink. Another thing people in my group tried and claimed was tasty were little chunks of cow heart grilled with a delicious smelling marinade. While cow hearts were in full supply, alcohol was not, because it is forbidden between Thursday and Sunday of Holy Week, which also surprised me.

 

A group of us went around together and it was a great experience. It was quite striking how incredibly crowded the churches were with all these people of all walks of life gathering very reverently to pray and walk this pilgrimage together. Then, you squeeze your way out into the street and it’s kind of like a big street party. As we were walking, I saw a stand of posters for sale. Sandwiched between a poster of Michael Jackson, a poster of the teenage movie stars of the Twilight movies, was a poster of Jesus Christ, in all his European-looking glory. I had to laugh at how Western influence pops up in sometimes unexpected ways, melding with local customs to paint a very eclectic scene.

 

Even though I was super tired by the end of our visits, I really enjoyed it because there was this sense in the air of community, of togetherness. That feeling of being a part of a large group of people gathered together in a very positive energy—kind of like being at a marathon amidst all the cheering, or the Olympics. It’s like a glimpse of what we could be.

 

The next morning I went with two other US friends about an hour outside of the city to a small “campo” (country) town, called Tarata. We spent the day walking and relaxing, enjoying the beauty of being in the quiet country. Typically, Holy Friday for Catholics in the US is a day of fasting, but that’s not really the case here in Cochabamba. We were told that generally there’s a 12-course meal you eat on Friday…not sure why yet, maybe I’ll learn more next year. After exploring the countryside for several hours we participated with the rest of the town in the Stations of the Cross, which is a form of prayer that takes you through the story leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion. There were a couple hundred people, all with candles, walking for 3 hours throughout the town of Tarata, stopping every few blocks at a station (usually a little display a family had set up with flowers, candles, statues) where everyone listened to that part of the story, sang and prayed. The men and women were separated but we divided our time between the two groups.

 

Men processing through Tarata

 

Beautiful "campo" of Tarata

Sunday, April 4, is when Easter is celebrated in the US, but here it’s either celebrated at a late night mass on Saturday night or on Sunday, but it wasn’t like how I’ve experienced the Easter culture in the US. Sunday also happened to be elections day, when each of the 9 departments (like the states in the US) elected governors, mayors for the cities, and local representatives. This was the first time ever that some indigenous communities have had anyone representing them in the government—the first time they’ve been included, which I personally think is a wonderful step. As with all political structures, the way things play out is the true test, so we’ll have to see what happens.

You all in the US wouldn’t expect the day of elections to mean anything different for traffic except maybe a little more at rush hour with people trying to get to the polls before they close. However, here in Bolivia NO ONE can drive at all. There are exceptions for emergency vehicles and a couple other rare circumstances but otherwise the streets of Bolivia are empty—no traveling, no public transportation, no transporting of goods, which meant I could enjoy roaming the car-free streets. After walking to the orphanage to spend a few hours there, I walked to the center to eat a wonderful feast cooked by a fellow American (and we drank wine, but don’t tell anyone!).

Two weeks after Easter, I attended an event here at the institute, in which a text book written by three of our teachers to teach Quechua, was presented for the first time. There was a group of musicians playing typical instruments and wearing traditional clothing of Quechua people. It was really interesting to watch how proud my teachers were because publishing this book is an act of giving more dignity to this traditional culture/people/language, important parts of Bolivia’s identity. As is happening in many parts of the world, languages and cultures are being lost in the movement of urbanization and globalization. However, this book is part of the effort to not let that happen to the language of Quechua.

 

This past week I got to go the People’s World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights, which was really something. I will write about it more in my next entry, in which I will also revisit the issue of trash here in Cochabamba. That's all for now! If you'd like to see more pictures, please visit http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/HolyWeekBlog#

5 things I’m thankful for: new Bolivian friends; surprise peanut butter Easter egg candies from my great- aunt and uncle; I got to participate in the climate conference; the ability to live here; today I am healthy.

Bugs and Buffalos

One lesson I am continuing to learn is that I may have a plan or intention, but that doesn’t mean things will play out the way I think. I wanted to write two weeks ago but was not able to because I was busy joining a club, which I had hoped never to join.

Monday morning of March 22 began the downward slide. I didn’t want to eat or drink, though my mouth was dry. My stomach hurt and I was completely exhausted. I couldn’t stop burping and they weren’t the “ohh man, I feel so much better now” type of burps, rather they relieved no pain and were unpleasant. I didn’t have diarrhea and I wasn’t throwing up, though I was certainly nauseous. Eventually I found out that I had the live bugs and the eggs of amoebas, girardia and a bacterial infection—so said the doctor who gave me 2 shots one day and 2 the next, along with 2 oral medications. I don’t remember sleeping so much in one period of time, ever. On Friday I started to feel better, just in time to hop on an overnight bus that afternoon to go to Santa Cruz.

 

The department of Santa Cruz is in the eastern part of Bolivia and is much more tropical and hotter than Cochabamba. I went with a group to visit two missions that were originally established in the late 1600’s by the Jesuits among the Chiquitano people. The Jesuits, under the influence of the book Utopia and of course their faith, set up very organized peaceful communities and invited local people to join them, thereby gaining more protection from being potentially exploited by the colonizers (ie. Taxed and forced to work in the mines of Potosi, where MANY people died). Many of the missions have been lost over time but some still remain in Bolivia and 6 were given World Heritage designation by UNESCO in 1991.

 

In the 1950’s the Franciscans took on the restoration of these missions, largely with the help of a Swiss architect, Hans Roth. We went to 2 towns, San Javier and Concepcion. However, before we got to San Javier, we drove through a Mennonite Colony. I don’t understand that much about them, but the 4 or 5 people I saw had white skin and wore overalls, and were driving a horse-drawn cart. They have their own school systems, rules, health care etc. No one knows whether they’ll be able to stay because of some new laws in the new constitution having to do with land rights.

Back to the 1600’s and 1700’s. One thing I found interesting is that the Bible was not taught directly to the indigenous people, rather the stories were dramatized, and a general favorite was the story of the Passion, the prelude to Jesus’ crucifixion (which coincidentally was remembered last week). Even when the Jesuits were kicked out of South America, some mission communities continued on with their faith and kept acting out the stories on their own for decades and decades until the Jesuits were able to come back. In general, they believed that Jesus’ resurrection occurred at midnight on Saturday so that is when they rejoiced and therefore didn’t go to church on Sunday because they’d already celebrated. I’ve heard that Easter Sunday isn’t as big of a deal as the three days leading up to it in Latin America, and maybe this could be part of that history?

Another aspect of the Jesuits is that they came from a culture very enraptured with music and the arts, so they entered South America playing music and unarmed. Other reductions (this grouping of indigenous people out of their villages into “reduced” areas thought of by a man named Toledo) were set up in what is now Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay. I tried to imagine being a part of a no-mad tribe, while other tribes, with whom I am not unified, are also living on the land. Then entered these foreigners proposing to build a town for about 5,000 people and it would have meant: staying in one place, and living with all these other people I had never lived directly alongside before, at least this closely. These particular foreigners though were offering protection, more means to economic growth, this new idea of private property, and yet they were peaceful, very into music and culture, and were respectful. I can’t really imagine what I would have thought...whether I would have wanted to become a part of the community or not?

Once one town was built, other indigenous people would come and ask the Jesuits to help them build a town too. Each town had its own chieftains because the indigenous people governed themselves and the Jesuits were more like advisors. They brought baroque music to this part of the New World and produced lots of instruments and instructed many choirs. (Today there are baroque festivals every year in the missions because it’s still a part of the culture there.) It wasn’t all buttercups and rainbows though—some Jesuits were killed because non-Christian indigenous people were envious and upset.

Back to the trip. We visited the church and museum next door in San Javier and got a general understanding of how a mission was set up. There was a large square plaza in the center, where all the different people of various tribes could come together and socialize. Along one side of the square were the church, courtyard and chapel, along with land used to grow communal food. If the mission were attacked, all the women and children would go into this courtyard between the church and the chapel. Along the other three sides of the square were series of longhouses in which the people lived. A family didn’t have their own rooms, rather their own space within the house that other families respected. The land surrounding the community was available for use by the inhabitants of the mission. After this introduction, we got back in the bus and drove several more hours further out in the country to Concepcion.

 

There, we stayed in a really nice hotel and it was very relaxing to be there—lots of hammocks, chairs, lovely orchids and other plants and a nice pool. Sunday morning, while at breakfast in the hotel, we were informed by our guide that the Vice President of Bolivia and Miss Bolivia 2009 were sitting at the table behind us. That was quite a surprise, but we figured they were there because elections for the 9 departments (equivalent to our states) were coming up the next weekend.

After breakfast we went to the cemetery where everyone from the area (some people walked a long way) gathered for the Palm Sunday procession to the church. The church was super packed and I felt the hottest I’ve felt since coming to Bolivia. We were told it’s packed every Sunday, not just because it was Palm Sunday. The procession was really beautiful and people decorated their palms very creatively and elaborately. It was different than any Palm Sunday I’ve experienced so far, and I was grateful to get to be there with the locals of Concepcion.

 

The next day we made our way back to Santa Cruz, stopping along the way at a place called Las Piedras (the stones) for a really big lunch in a beautiful setting. There’s a retired priest from the US who lives there and he welcomed us in and let us roam around his lovely backyard/garden and outdoor chapel. Currently a 21-yr-old university student from the Chiquitania area is staying at his house. He goes back and forth to the city of Santa Cruz and is studying many different types of instruments in hopes of becoming a director of an orchestra one day. He even played his violin for us (seen in picture above)!

 

(A picture of me pretending to fly in Las Piedras where we stopped for lunch)

 

The road connecting Santa Cruz and the missions has more potholes than I’ve ever seen in my life. This is not an exaggeration. While I wasn’t busy being mesmerized by how our driver was maneuvering them so well, I was enjoying watching the scenery go by around me—large green plains and then later hills with palm trees and gigantic ant hills. These mounds were sometimes 3 feet tall and I never expected them to be created by these little ants, but it’s true I tell you! We also saw tucans, buffalo and a lot of cows. I learned that the white cows are for meat and the brown or spotted cows are for milk. It was nice to see so many grazing in big open spaces, as cows were created to do.

 

It was a good trip and if you’d like to see more pictures, please go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

Before closing, I want to say how much I appreciate the comments on my last blog about the dump! I’m writing responses to the comments, but realized it’s too long to add on to this blog post, so it will come in the future, I promise. Thank you for reading and reflecting because it’s very helpful to me.

5 Things I’m thankful for today: getting to spend a couple days out in the “campo” (country) with friends enjoying the quiet simplicity of life’s pace there; my appetite is back; receiving such great hospitality; being the recipient of unexpected acts of generosity like a plane ticket; receiving news of new babies and new marriages.