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).

High, Low, High

I haven’t played this game in a long time, but it seems to fit with describing my week. For those unfamiliar, you name a high, a low and then end on a high.

 

High: Saturday in Cochabamba was the big day to celebrate Carnaval, which meant that they shut down a bunch of streets in the center of the city in order to have a day-long parade of bands and dancers. They call it Curso de Cursos. People can rent an area along the street from city hall. They either build stands or put up a tarp cover and plastic chairs, and then charge individuals to have a spot there for the day. Some people get there by 10am and stay till 8pm, but I chose to go for two hours and to stand which meant not paying for a seat. One, I didn’t know how to pay for a seat. Two, it was super crowded by the time I got there around 3pm and I was happy standing just slightly more protected from “cross-street water-fire”.

 

I got hit a whole lot by water balloons, water guns and foam sprayed out of aerosol cans. That was probably my least favorite because people would spray it right in my ear. Seeing all the traditional dances, along with the costumes and music made it worth all the hassle. Some of those dances are just incredible and it’s obvious people put a lot of time and effort into preparing for it.

 

Low: Monday was the day I experienced the most culture shock so far. There were several factors but one of them included waiting. I don’t know many people who like waiting, and I’m generally not a big fan either. A friend and I went to an orphanage to start volunteering on Monday at 3pm when we were told to be there, but weren’t even seen by the woman until we’d been sitting waiting for 1 hour and 45 minutes. She told us to come back on Saturday. At the time, I just laughed, hearing all the voices of people telling me I’d be doing a lot of waiting in Latin America. Later I was able to realize that this waiting time, in addition to waiting till 10pm to eat dinner, actually bothered me.

Who knows why it happened – there’s always more to a person and a situation than what we see. We had a good talk on Wednesday about culture shock and at its root, it involves adjusting to change and the anxiety around that. Above all, we’re supposed to withhold judgment and maintain contact with local people. I’m being challenged through adjusting to life here, trying not to judge too quickly, and I hope you will please do the same. This was one day. I’m going back Saturday and will let you know about that next week.

High: Tuesday I went to my first weekly dance class here at the institute. We’re starting with salsa and will move into other dances like merengue and traditional folk dances as well. I loved it and I’m looking forward to learning more in the weeks to come.

Since Bolivia doesn’t have any representatives at the Winter Olympics, I haven’t heard or seen much of it except a little in on-line newspapers. I hope you all are enjoying it!

5 Things I’m thankful for today: hugs; movies with happy endings; the joy of dancing; really really tasty papaya; and conversations with friends I haven’t talked to in a while.
For more pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

Carnaval and Carmen Pampa

In case you’ve been wondering since my last post, water-ballooning was a huge success. I missed a lot of people because I forgot that my velocity in the car required me to release the balloon early in order to land in the right place. Alas, it’s a lesson for next time, and I still had a lot of fun trying. Once we ran out of balloons and I got my hands on the super soaker, ohhhhh, those people didn’t know what him ‘em. Before you get upset, you need to understand that this is expected and practically everyone participates in the revelry. Also, we had rules: no older people, nobody in professional clothing, no parents with babies, and I primarily aimed for “chicos” aka males between the ages of 12 and maybe late 30’s or so. Wish you could have been there!

Carnaval. In Bolivia, the heart of the traditions around Carnaval is found in a town called Oruro, which at one point in time was the center of mining. I still don’t feel like I understand it, but I will share a little of what I have learned. Carnaval is not something that one can learn about but one really needs to “feel” it. It’s all about relationship, harmony and balance. By taking part in the celebration, you’re taking part in the same public space and thereby entering into new relationships and making amends. It’s like a weaving because just as there are thousands of strands coming together to create a much larger more beautiful piece, thousands of people work on different aspects to make the celebration what it is, a microcosm for life.

This year I did not go to Oruro, but instead took a trip to a beautiful place called Carmen Pampa. I left at 11pm on Friday on a night bus with Clare, another person in my program. I had to choose between staying hydrated to help ward off my inevitable altitude sickness or not drinking much in order not to have to go to the bathroom as the bus will not stop and there’s no toilet on the bus…therefore I chose to be nauseous and dry-mouthed, but I didn’t throw up this time! We arrived in La Paz at 6am and took a large minivan from La Paz to Coroico, which took about 3 hours. We went from about 12,000 ft. in La Paz to 6,000 ft in Coroico, so I was happy as a clam.

The old road between La Paz and Coroico is notorious for being “the most dangerous road in the world” but there is a new road, which is the one I took and it runs parallel to the old road for much of the journey. People love to pay to ride bikes down the road and I saw many of these adventure-seekers on my return trip. People still die somewhat regularly as I hear through the grapevine, but I’ve also heard the experience is worth the money and the risk. While I didn’t ride down on a bike, I did get to see some pretty incredible views when the clouds were not completely gulping us up.

 

Our final destination was Carmen Pampa, a very small “pueblo” out in the country or “campo” in the region called the Yungas, which means “warm lands” in Aymara. As stated by good ol’ Wikipedia, the Yungas “is a stretch of forest along the eastern slope of the Andes Mountains from southeastern Peru through central Bolivia. It is a transitional zone between the Andean highlands and the eastern forests. Like the surrounding areas, it has characteristics of the Neotropic ecozone.” I think the part I was in is considered a cloud forest, and once you see my pictures, you can understand why.

We were met in Coroico by “a man in a yellow hat” who is a volunteer teacher at the university for this semester. He took us to a lovely little empty restaurant/café to have lunch/breakfast before taking the 30-40 min. drive out to Carmen Pampa. It had a gorgeous view and they served muesli, which is one of the foods I miss the most since living in Germany.

 

The dirt road between Coroico and Carmen Pampa is a bumpy one and runs along the edge of the side of the mountain, providing some awesome views of the valley when there’s a break in the tropical vegetation on both sides. We arrived on the campus to be warmly greeted by Hugh, an American who has been there for 10 years and is the VP of the university. His hospitality did not stop for a moment our entire visit – he even drove us at 6:30am on Wednesday back into Coroico so that we could return home to Cochabamba. They showed us to our rooms in the volunteer house and let us take naps since we hadn’t slept that much on the bus. I woke up to the sound of a coconut being smashed to smithereens.

As I entered the kitchen, both Hugh and David (the man in the yellow hat) were working on a delicious dinner, a chocolate cake, an apple cake and fresh bread. Wow! As it turned out, it wasn’t really for us necessarily, but taking advantage of having gas to run the oven. David had waited in line for about 2 hours to get gas that morning in Coroico before we arrived. While they were preparing dinner, we noticed these kids (both boys and girls) outside the kitchen window, hanging up barbie's clothing to dry on the line - so cute!

 

Before I share the highlights of our stay, I want to give a little background on the university and why we visited. The first academic year was 1993 with 54 students and now there are about 700. The university is “a joint effort between the Catholic University of Bolivia, the Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Conception, the Diocese of Coroico, and the sub-central Villa Nilo, the governing body of the Aymara Indian nation. Motivated by the inadequacy of secondary school education for lifting rural people out of poverty, this new college was founded to create skilled professionals who would become sensitive and impassioned leaders, addressing the most pressing needs of their rural communities. The College serves young people from rural communities throughout the Department of La Paz and from the massive urban slums surrounding the capital city of La Paz.“ ( http://carmenpampafund.org )

They have 5 majors: Veterinary Science, Sustainable Agriculture (Agronomy), Public Health Nursing, Primary Education (Teaching), and Ecotourism. While studying, the students reach out to the people in the surrounding area as well, so the immediate communities are served as well as the students. It’s a great place and I really enjoyed my visit. Because it was a holiday weekend, there were few students on campus but I did get to meet several and hang out with the kids of the some of the neighbors (about 40 families live in Carmen Pampa). Franciscan missioners have worked here in the past so that is how we got connected with them.

4 Highlights: 1. Screen on the green 4 nights in a row--Every night Hugh set up the projector to project a movie onto the side of the house. As my host-sister said, Bolivia is a country filled with very smart people and being such a poor country it is thereby also filled with imitations and contraband. Both of the Twilight movies had been pirated and were of pretty poor quality, but you get what you pay for I guess.

2. Surprise trip to the hospital—just as we were about to tour the upper and lower campuses on Sunday morning, a neighbor came over to Hugh and asked if he could help his daughter whose finger was smashed by a chair. We went along for the ride and ended up staying there for 4 hours. It was a good time for visiting, talking with other patients’ families, and with the nurses who were former students at the university. The girl is fine but the bone did get crushed so she got a nice bandage and was out playing with us a couple days later.

3. Monday Hike—we headed out into the forest down the valley and up the other side, walking past lots of beautiful plants and crops. There were many vegetables I didn’t recognize, but I got to taste a fresh coffee bean off the plant – quite sweet actually. We stopped for about an hour to pick coca with a family and then rested with them and chatted for a while. There were maybe 4 or 5 adults, both men and women, and maybe 6 or 7 kids skillfully and quickly picking coca leaves on this very steep hill. After the coca is picked, it’s dried for a few hours by the family and then has to go to a central processing place in La Paz…at least I think that’s where it is. Their clothing was rather worn and dirty, and yet so were ours. I mention that just to point out a sign that life in the “campo” is rugged and not easy. We hiked on for several more hours and it was great – I loved it and you can see pictures!

4. Tuesday/Carnaval—this day of thanksgiving and harmony-seeking started by taking an hour long ride in the back of a pickup truck along the very bumpy road to a pueblo closer to Coroico for the blessing of a new room in a boarding school and a tractor. The bishop of Coroico and his 3 priests (including the one who is the president of the university at Carmen Pampa) were there along with others. We followed the bishop (who must be in his late 60’s or 70’s) up this really steep hill through lots of long grass, mud and animal droppings to get to the tractor. I was shocked that he could do that with such ease! It’s tradition to take a bottle of beer (alcohol) and spray/sprinkle it as a way of asking for blessing and giving thanks for what we have, so that’s what they did with the tractor, along with water which was sprinkled using a rose. We proceeded to cover it with confetti and streamers.

 

Later when we got back to campus we went throughout the campus doing the same thing except without the beer – instead we used rubbing alcohol. THEN – I was ambushed with water balloons and foam by the neighbor kids. I wish I could show you a picture of me but I didn’t dare bring a camera near them. There are two pictures of them that I took with zoom hiding behind a door. They told me they’d been playing for 10 hours – not sure I believe that, but I am confident they were wet the whole day.

 

I made it back safely and soundly to Cochabamba on Wednesday night and after only two days of classes, am preparing for another weekend, lucky me! Tomorrow is the Carnaval party here in Cochabamba. I hope to go and depending on the amount of water, will hopefully get some pictures of the dances and bands.

5 Things I’m thankful for today: a safe return; my photo album of family and friends; receiving hospitality; being able to explore new places; learning Spanish.
For pictures, go to http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer

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).

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Bolivian-Style

In reflecting on the last week, I’ve noticed a trend and it relates to one of my favorite parts of the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s. In case you haven’t seen it, the two main characters decide to have a Day of Firsts, in which they spend the whole day doing things they’ve never done before. While I did not go into any costume stores and try on different masks, I have experienced a variety of things from drinking a hot purple drink at breakfast to getting hit by multiple water balloons while walking down the street.

#1 First: The Cancha
This is an area in the city of Cochabamba that spreads for many acres and is filled with vendors selling anything from food to ovens for your kitchen. Some roads are wider and cars can drive (very slowly due to all the people) on them and some pathways are very narrow and only for pedestrians. I went with a list: tape, paper, notebook, envelopes, mouthwash. On the way to find these items, I walked past lots of clothing, both used and new; canteens; guns; produce; little carts of random items like toothpaste and locks; stereo systems; farm equipment; mattresses and beds etc. I didn’t see even half of it! At one point I felt just like I was in the rabbit’s hole of Alice and Wonderland, except instead of being surrounded by dirt, I was surrounded by a never-ending tunnel of clothes…ahhhh, it was frightening.

#2 First: Pre-Carnival in Cochabamba
One day last week I am walking to the institute from my house (about a mile away) and I feel something hard and then suddenly cold and wet hit my back. I let out a little yelp and once I realize it’s a water balloon, I start smiling…this is all part of my enculturation into Cochabamba. Despite the fact that my jeans were wet for the remainder of the day, I was happy to be that much more included in the normal pre-Carnival-life of a Cochabambina. It’s the custom here to throw water balloons and squirt people with water guns beginning in mid-January through Fat Tuesday (Carnival) and even a couple weeks beyond. Apparently, young women are the prime targets—lucky me! Actually I am lucky because I’ve had several balloons just miss me and once my back was skimmed by a poor-shot from a water gun, so to make it till late January to be really hit, I consider quite lucky.

#3 First: Cleaning the bathroom & Vacuuming
Just when I think there are agreed-upon ways to do a given task, I am very quickly put in my place. I’ve never seen or imagined cleaning a bathroom like my host-mother cleaned mine. I wish I could re-enact the scene for you, but I’ll do my best to use words. The bathroom is tiled on the floor and the walls with no separation between the area where one showers and the rest of the room—just all open, not even a shower curtain. My host-mom sprinkled soap on the floor, the toilet and the sink and then filled up a recycled coffee tin with water and starts throwing it on everything—the walls, the toilet, the floor. I wanted to sweep beforehand to get the dust and dirt out but NO, “this way is much better and easier,” which I found out to be true. She used the broom to scrub the wet floor and then used a very large squeegee to push the water towards the end of the bathroom with the shower drain. Fascinating.

Afterwards, I used a little vacuum with just the hose to vacuum my industrial-carpeted bedroom. I had to laugh while I was tediously trying to cover this large area with a mechanism that only had a 2” diameter. I have to admit, at this moment, I did think “Wow, if only I were at home, I could get a simple attachment that would make this process so much easier.” I’m sure they exist here, we just don’t have one.

#4 First: Food and Drink
I learned that “tunas” are the same as prickly pears. The same day we picked and ate the tunas, we also made fresh coconut juice. It was delicious! Also, I’m not very good at spelling in Spanish and the corn-mush dish I made with my family is actually called “humintas”. This morning for breakfast I had “api” which is a drink made from purple corn, sugar, cinnamon and another unknown spice. It was a little too sweet for me at breakfast but had a good flavor. Never drank anything purple beside a slurpee before!

#5 First: Creatures
I rolled over this morning to look at my alarm clock and for some reason happened to also look down at the floor. Directly beneath my head was a scorpion. I try to take the Buddhist approach of respecting all life, but I failed this morning because I didn’t want to risk picking it up. So, I killed my first scorpion.

Yesterday as I was walking down the road, two dogs started coming at me growling, so I bent down to the ground and the turned away in fright—it worked!

I can’t picture Audrey Hepburn in any of the situations I was in, but I love the concept so much that I just had to borrow it. Here’s hoping you too find some “firsts” of your own this week. Life is full of them!

5 Things I’m thankful for today: sun coming out after days and days of rain; drinkable water; going out to eat really good food with new friends; being able to run; the grace of not being sick.