Pictures from Uspha Uspha

I've mentioned the center I've been working at in a poor neighborhood, Uspha Uspha, and have had requests for pictures. Kristen brought her camera to work on Thursday so here are some pictures from the center and the bakery. Different women work throughout the week so I'll bring my camera another day to get some more pictures. The watchtower below is the building that houses the bakery and the hill in the background is an example of the adobe houses that people live in. There is no running water and electricity for only a few hours a day. A lot of the houses don't even have doors, just blankets or sheets hung in the doorway.

Here are the women that work on Thursdays. They are both from Oruro, a mining city west of Cochabamba. A lot of the population migrated to Cochabamba and other cities in Bolivia, when the mines became privatized in the 80's, for better opportunities. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much better their lives actually are in Uspha. I brought up the issue of age, as tactfully as I could, the last time we were in the bakery. Kristen and I were shocked to learn that they were much younger than they look/act. A life of poverty and abuse ages the people here to an incredible degree.

The process of preparing all the dough finishes up right about lunchtime. Usually the director of the center will bring in lunch for the women and whoever else happens to show up. The little boy to the left of the picture is the son of one of the ladies. As usual, the food is full of meat so I'm accustomed to bringing my own snacks. Kristen and I try to pack extra fruits and vegetables to share with the women to help them get those vitamins. It is a great luxury to live in such a pleasant climate and always have access to a variety of cheap fresh produce. It doesn't hurt the pocketbook to always be sharing food.

Here is a little sample of the bread making process. I'm still not sure exactly how my hands manage it but we take large pieces of dough and manipulate little balls out of it. After the balls are allowed to rise a bit they are rolled out, painted with egg, and put in the oven. There is a weekly rotation in the bakery between four women but the one below works everyday...it take a special person to make me look tall.

The apron I'm wearing is very typical of the street vendors and women in Bolivia. I bought them in La Cancha when I made the decision that I'd be working at the bakery often. One of the pockets even has a secret, hidden zipper pocket that would be used by the women selling their goods to keep their money safe. They laughed at us the first day that we brought the aprons, it was very strange to see two grinas in attire that is reserved for the poor working class. I'm still unclear about the selling process for the bread. People from the neighborhood stop by in the afternoon to buy it but sometimes they count out 80-100 pieces of bread and cart them off somewhere. More to follow on that I suppose.

I hope that this commentary on the bakery is at least mildly interesting. Now that school is over, Uspha is one of my only sources of input so I'll be commenting on it a lot.

No more pencils, no more books

We wrapped up graduation on Friday, bringing to close a three day series of presentations and parties. It was a great way to say goodbye and honor what we had accomplished over the last five months. It was exhausting, as saying goodbye often is but I am looking forward to the next step. I started work about four weeks ago in a neighborhood in the south of town at a women's center. There is a bakery for the women to establish a source of income and a daycare for their children to be in a safe and stimulating environment. The daycare serves the entire neighborhood, not just the women in the bakery. There are also workshops and presentations given to help improve the lives and situations of the women.

Last week the topic of the presentation was "Rabia" which Kristen and I thought was rage because there is an expression that includes the word to express anger/rage. The presenters were setting up and I saw a little stuffed dog with a green ribbon tied around his neck. The green ribbon on live dogs signals that they've been vaccinated for rabies. I thought to myself, that's neat that the little stuffed animal teaches kids what dogs are safe but how are they going to use that to talk about rage. It was right about that moment when I remembered the Spanish word for rabies is rabia. Just one of those lost in translation moments.

Because of school, I've only been going to the center on Thursday afternoons. Now that school is over I hope to increase my hours there. I work in the bakery, making bread with the women. It might not sound like much but I think the fellowship that comes over cooking and crafting is pretty cross-cultural. Right now I need to be creating relationships and learning from the women before I can ever hope to know what they need. For right now, I plan on spending mornings in the center and am looking for a good fit for the afternoons.

I recently went on a trip and took a lot of pictures. I didn't envy the idea of trying to pick only 4 or 5 pictures to post in a blog entry. As such I am working on an online web album so that nothing hits the editing room floor. The website is:

http://picasaweb.google.com/emily.bolivia

Some Pictures

Last Sunday a student here at the Institute was baptized into the Catholic church. It was a beautiful and emotional ceremony, there wasn't a dry eye in the whole place. It was also the Bolivian Mother's day and the feast of Pentecost. Therefore, it was even more of an appropriate time for her, on many levels. I'm not sure than I have a lot more to say about it. I'm very touched that she chose to share this moment with us. Rumu is pictured below with her classmate, Matias. Matias is his Spanish name because I don't know how to spell his given Polish name.

Rumu taking her First Communion after baptism. It reminded me of my first time, the whole ceremony did in fact.

Kristen and I at the reception after the mass.

Everyone wanted to play with my camera that day. In the next shot, my friend Tim was playing photographer by yelling out commands to express a variety of emotions. That certainly isn't my surprised face so who knows.

Finally, a really sweet picture of the new Catholic and myself. I might even use the word precious.

So I am a little under the weather right now and not feeling very eloquent or long-winded. Hopefully the pictures are enough to suffice until I feel better.