Farewell Speech To My Students - 20 Nov 2009

Translation to English by: Me

Well, all of you should know by now that I am returning to my country and I will not be with you next year. It is with great sorrow that I leave you and continue on with my life outside Bolivia but I know that I am leaving you with everything that you need to move forward.

We started the year with the book, Oh the Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss. I want to remind you of its integral message:

On you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike,
And I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

Now listen to me carefully. I am NOT computer class. Computer class will continue next year and my only wish is that you continue taking classes even though I will not be here. Continue with your studies, continue taking advantage of the wonderful opportunity of computer class, continue moving forward to better your futures. If you remember nothing else from me, please remember that I believe in you. I believe that you can realize your dreams. You have the power within yourselves to accomplish what others say is impossible. You can do it, I’m sure of it. You just need to take the first step.

When I arrived in 2007, I could not speak even one word of Spanish. The computer classes started in 2008 and I did not have one minute of experience teaching adolescents. You all have been very patient with me during these three years and for that I thank you. Thank you for letting me into your lives. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share with you what I know and for teaching me what you know. I feel as though Proyecto Horizonte and the entire barrio of Mineros San Juan are a second home for me and I will always remember all of you with love and joy. I will leave you with a poem by ee cummings.

I carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate)i want
no world(for you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Updates

(standing in front of Glaciar Perito Moreno just outside of El Calafate, Argentina)

Well I returned from my trip on Sunday 8 November, my three FMS Cochabamba community members left this morning and I am now residing in the Franciscan Social Center so I figure that it is time for some updates. The trip was incredible. I had a nasty cold during most of it so I didn't have a great time but now that I am healthy again and revising my 583 photos I am realizing how epic and amazing it was. Not that I had a bad time, I was just exhausted and couldn't really focus on being in the moment. There will be pictures posted to my web album as soon as I weed through them and get some captions written.
It was great to get back to work on Monday. I had really missed my students and was anxious to see how my replacement had done in my absence. It is with a somewhat jealous heart that I report that Miguel, the replacement, did a great job while I was gone. With my community members leaving this week and my moving into the center, I let Miguel continue to be in charge of classes. He is the new technology director and the sooner that everyone gets accustomed to that the easier it will be for him to do his job.
Ginny, my FMS orientation classmate/housemate, left this morning and considering the conflicts that we've had with the landlords I did not want to stay in that house without her. Luckily, Kristen and Richard also left this morning so I moved into their apartment in the Social Center. It was difficult this morning to do the last minute packing and cleaning and not be going home. I am not quite ready to head home yet but it is somewhat frustrating to know that in just three weeks I'll be packing and cleaning all over again. It would have been very easy to head to the airport this morning instead of the center but I am hopeful that this time alone will be reflective and productive as I begin to wrap up three years in the next three weeks.

Leaving on a jet plane

The title might convey that I'm talking about leaving Bolivia for good but not quite yet. I have done practically no traveling since I "graduated" from language school so I am taking two weeks to visit some of what South America has to offer. While I am coming home in six weeks I haven't really been able to focus on that because of this trip I am starting in about 30 minutes. Once I come back, I will have one full month left in Bolivia and I'm sure it will hit me then that I am really going. Of all the places that I wanted to see in South America, I am very happy that this one actually worked out. The trip is called "the loop" and a friend and I will be going down the length of Chile, over to Argentina to the southern-most city in the world, and back up to Bolivia through the length of Argentina. I have wanted to visit Ushuaia since I realized that I am so close to the Straits of Magellan. Okay they are still thousands of miles away but I am closer now than I ever have been. I like the idea of blogging from the road but I make no promises. I'll leave you with our harried itinerary:

25 Oct - Cochabamba to Arica, CL - Bus
26 Oct - Arica to Santiago - Air
28 Oct - Santiago to Punta Arenas - Air
30 Oct - Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales - Bus
1 Nov - Puerto Natales to El Calafate, AR - Bus
3 Nov - El Calafate to Ushuaia - Air
5 Nov - Ushuaia to Buenos Aires - Air
8 Nov - Buenos Aires to Cochabamba - Air

RFN - In a pinch

I would like to take a moment to recognize a special man for doing something that is probably accidental. Richard Nalen, one of my FMS community mates, seems to have an uncanny ability to appear in moments of great distress for me. I'll share two of those incidences.
I got some nasty altitude sickness just moments after our plane touched down in La Paz when we arrived back in January 2007. I was in the back of the plane, nauseous and very light headed. Some of you may remember that I was so nauseous that I wanted to prepare the airsickness bag just in case and when I put my head into the bag to open it I realized that it had been used. Meaning, my hand was covered in someone else's vomit. While trying to focus on staying conscious and cleaning my hand, I had missed the fact that the plane was getting ready to head on to Santa Cruz. Right at that moment Richard came bounding back onto the plane, grabbed my carry on and helped me get off the plane and through to customs. The obvious extrapolation is that if he hadn't been there I would be writing from Santa Cruz right now.
Just this morning I was walking down the street to meet Richard and his lovely lady, Kristen when I had a sudden and very unpleasant encounter with a very drunk man. I won't go into too many details in the hopes of keeping my parents from overreacting. The point is that just as I was starting to get scared and desperate Richard appeared out of a doorway with a, "Good Morning Emily!" I was able to get safely into the house and on with my day.
Does Richard have super human spidey senses or just good luck being in the right place at the right time? Hard to say but either way I'm thankful for it. Also, thanks to Brice for absorbing my anxieties and diverting them to more worthy ventures like unionizing Wal-Mart...or at least getting banned for trying.

The Genius of Bob

Exactly seven weeks from today I will arrive in Alexandria so I think it is natural that I am allowing my mind to wander towards the reality of life back in the US. I fantasize about a belated Thanksgiving surrounded by my favorite foods and jumping into the ocean at midnight on New Years. I calculate my theoretical living expenses so that I can get a better idea of what kind of salary will be sufficient. I dread the final goodbyes and worry constantly about my students. More than anything though, I wonder how I will meld my experience in Bolivia with my future in the US. How do I honor this time and the people I’ve met along the way?
I paid a little closer attention to Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” and gained an even greater appreciation for it. It basically asks the questions: where have you been? what did you see? what did you hear? who did you meet? The final question is: what’ll you do now? The answer is:

I’ll tell it and speak it and think it and breathe it
And reflect from the mountains so all souls can see it

I’m not saying that I have all the answers. I’m not even sure I have any answers. My time in Bolivia has profoundly changed my outlook on life and my comprehension of the world. The least I can do is embrace the changes and let myself be a bridge of understanding to shorten the distance between the two worlds. Thanks Bob

People Watching at Cine Center

Last night after work I had a date to meet up with some friends outside of Cine Center. It is Cochabamba's biggest, most successful, movie theater/food court/arcade. It feels just like a mall from home and with restaurant names like Tuesday, Wrap 'n Roll, and Flavor Burst it is probably funded by the same people. Needless to say, only the rich kids hang out at Cine Center. In fact if one's only experience of Cochabamba was the food court it would make one question why Bolivia is considered the second poorest country in the western hemisphere.
Yesterday I was waiting for the ladies to show up and this particular girl caught my attention. Her hair was all gooped up, tons of make-up, hot pink accessories, stylish clothes and she was giggling and jumping around trying desperately to impress the boy that had just shown up. She was in complete contrast to the girls I work with on a daily basis and I couldn't believe that they were from the same city. It made me wonder what this privileged girl thought of life in Bolivia. Is she aware of the devastating poverty around her? What does she think of the women begging on the street with their infant children sleeping on the sidewalk? I tried my best not to judge her because I'm sure I was as clueless, if not more, when I was her age. However, the sound of her giggles and the light reflecting off of her jewelry felt like laughter and dismissal in the faces of the children that I see on a daily basis and care so much about. I thought of my students, what they were doing last night, and the ridicule they get from city kids. In the end though, I think Little Miss Hot Pink just gave me an appreciation and respect for the character, strength, and perseverance of my beloved students.

Natural

There was an interesting conversation in the bakery at lunchtime today. One woman, Ana, was talking about her mother. She is a 75 year old woman that lives alone and Ana is the only one of her siblings that looks in on the mother, helping her out etc. I guess that the “social security” in Bolivia is delivered in a lump sum at a certain age because the women were talking about what Ana’s mom is doing with that money. The conversation took somewhat of a morbid turn when they started talking about who would get that money when the mother passed away. In my seasoned third year in Bolivia I was not surprised when they said “well your brothers, being men, would be the first in line.” There was lots of back and forth about the money but then Ana said, “I am the only one that took my mother’s name.”
She went on to talk about how her mother was, “una chica natural” and “habia nacido natural.” I had no idea what a natural birth had to do with a last name so I asked. Ana explained that “natural” means that the father is unknown. I was surprised to learn that “natural” is the Bolivian version of “bastard.” I’m not sure what that means in a culture where men often have two or three different families that they shuttle between. It is sad to think that not knowing your father would be natural but the terminology is much less abrasive.
In the end it makes me wonder, with ten weeks left, how much I still have to learn about Bolivia. After two years and nine months I am still bowled over by new things.

Crisis averted

You might remember the name Rudy from a blog post awhile back--there is a picture of us sharing a moment. It was lucky that I was not privy to this particular near crisis until after it was resolved because I don’t think I could have handled it. Rosmery, Rudy’s mom, is the head baker in the bakery and they have to start work early. She usually brings Rudy with her and then sends him down to the daycare when it opens. Today was no different except when Mabel, the director of the daycare, came up the bakery asking where Rudy was. In Rosmery’s own words, the question “chilled my heart.” The last she had seen Rudy he was headed to the daycare but apparently never arrived. Everyone broke into a frenzy shouting his name in all directions. Rosmery finally decided to check her home. In her own words again, “there he was sitting happily on the bed watching tv.” When she asked him why he was home he replied, “because my stomach hurt and there is no bathroom in the bakery and lots of people were outside; how could I go out there?” His brother, Brandon, goes to school in the afternoon and told Rudy that it was after 8am and therefore too late to go to the daycare so he just decided to stay home.

Last month one of my 9th graders went missing. She, however, wasn’t found within the hour at home with an upset stomach. Her disappearance really shook me because I was naïve enough to believe that my students were somehow protected and sheltered from the temptations and dangers of street life. I fell apart somewhat when she went missing--a downward spiral of worry, regret, self-doubt, and disillusionment. The threat of child disappearance is real and I don’t know how to prevent it. I can teach them computer literacy though. I know it is not enough but I hope that it helps.

The Brothers Escoja

With first through ninth grades coming into my computer lab on a weekly basis in a barrio where the average number of kids per house is about five it makes sense that I have many sets of siblings. In fact, it is the exception, not the rule, when I have a student and none of his/her siblings. That being said there is a particular set of brothers that brighten my life. After over one year of computer classes I have only four students, out of literally hundreds, with perfect attendance and two of them are Sergio in seventh grade and Humberto in eighth. They are both very shy and quiet so I hadn’t really noticed their consistency until a few months ago.
Sergio really came out of his shell when he joined the blog group. He does a great job and has a lot more confidence. He is leading the blog group with entries written and has even taken charge of the seventh grade computer class. He is leading the class in stickers whereas last semester, even though he knew the material, he was too shy to volunteer and answer questions.
Recently his brother Humberto also joined the blog group and watching their interaction makes me happy in my heart. Humberto is still very guarded and unsure of himself but I am hopeful that he’ll make the same progress as Sergio. Most recently I was helping Humberto with his entry and Sergio was guffawing from across the room. For example:
Me: Humberto what do you like to eat?
Sergio: EVERYTHING!!
Me: “I do not like to fight” (reading his entry)
Sergio: HA!! Since when?!
Me: Sergio, you better watch it or I’ll read Humberto your entries
Sergio: Oop! I’m shutting up
It is great when I can see kids being kids. They live a very different life from my childhood but they are in some ways exactly the same. Girls skip, boys play marbles, girls hit boys they like on the playground, and boys tease girls they like in front of their friends. It is comforting to know that there is joy in their lives which gives me hope for their futures. However, watching the brothers Escoja, more than anything, makes me miss my own sisters. Katie and Tess - I love you both so much <3 10 weeks

Dios te lo pague

Whoops - I guess I forgot to blog for the whole month of August. It has been a crazy month. The man that will be my replacement as the technology director is coming from Germany in about a week. I REALLY look forward to his arrival. With only three months left in Bolivia I am starting to realize how much work goes in to leaving. I am writing reports, balancing the budget, making lesson plans and teaching classes, organizing the intercultural blog group, maintaining communication with home, revising my resume/job perusing, and everything else that goes into life.

One of the activities that I really enjoy is helping out with “Las Abuelitas” on Saturdays. It is a program that gives food staples like oil, sugar, and rice/pasta to the very elderly women that beg on the streets of Cochabamba. I found out about the program through my roommate, Ginny, who has been with them since language school in 2007. There are about fifty women that come to receive these modest rations and they are incredible. Most of them speak Quechua so I have no idea what they’re saying; one of the only Spanish phrases thrown out is, “dios te lo pague.” Meaning, “May God pay you for this” and it is their way of saying “thank you.”

It is a really refreshing and gratifying service. Foreign aid is so bountiful in Bolivia that help is often expected and taken for granted. Many of us work in thankless positions wondering if we’re making a difference, or if anyone will actually notice when we’re gone. Being with The Grandmothers isn’t like that at all. They are patient and appreciative. Some weeks there isn’t oil or soap but they don’t complain--they say their version of thank you and head back to the streets. They are some of the neediest people I’ve met in Bolivia and they are also some of the least demanding and most grateful. Like with most things here, I lay awake at night wondering if it is enough and wishing I knew how to do more.

Some much needed empathy

I reviewed my recent entries and realized they were a little slice of depression for your day. It is difficult sometimes for me to know what I am doing with this blog. I want to paint a picture of the reality here in Bolivia but it seems that I sometimes err on the side of painting just the gloomy aspects. My students have been truly delightful this week and hopefully that will help lighten the mood of the blog.

School is back in session after a month of winter vacation. I made it clear to my students that they had to complete practice work during vacation in order to continue with the class. Apparently I wasn’t threatening enough because out of about 80 students only 7 fully completed the work and maybe another 5 that started but didn’t finish. I gave them a stern talking-to during our first class back saying things like I was fully within my rights to kick them out of class. That elicited some tears but I didn’t care because I was pretty upset with them. I gave them one class to finish up and bribed the students that had finished their work to help the others for stickers. At first that was my solution because I didn’t feel like dealing with all their questions while I was so irritated but as the week went on I started to see the benefit of my intolerance/laziness.

Watching my students help each other was the highlight of the week. It was great to see the pride on their faces as all their classmates were calling on them to help. It was good practice for them to remind the others how to insert clipart or work with bullet points, etc. And quite frankly, they were probably better teachers because they knew how to explain it in way that the others would understand. The best part was when three different kids would be asking for help. Watching the frustration on their faces made me laugh. I don’t know if they made the connection that that is how their teachers feel all the time but it still made me smile inside. A little empathy goes a long way.

That which does not kill us - part 2

Sorry for the delay in entries. We had an influx of visitors and parties and school started back up again so I have been very busy. I last wrote about how my time in Bolivia has been very difficult and it challenges me in ways I could never have anticipated. Confronting those challenges and overcoming the difficulties has transformed me into a stronger woman, confident in her convictions.

When I was reflecting on Jean’s 30 second summary of Bolivia I saw that it rang true for us--that which has not killed us has in fact made us stronger. Then I looked beyond our Franciscan community. I reflected on the people that I work with, their lives, and their struggles. Have the challenges they face made them into stronger people? I work with women and children who are confronted, on a daily basis, by violence and addiction. They are often dirty, hungry, and sick, because quite frankly, poor hygiene, malnutrition, and illness make up the inseparable triple threat of poverty. They experience a reality that is not easy or fair. But through it all they find reason to laugh, to hope, and to love. They are generous and caring. I witness exponentially more laughter than tears and am often taken aback by their amazing lust for life. They do more than just endure their situation, they transcend it. Are they stronger for it? I feel like there are eight year olds in this barrio that are stronger than me. While I think it is awful that they suffer under these conditions I am impressed and inspired by their resilience and strength.

That which does not kill us - part 1

At the urging of both my parents and our FMS executive director, I am starting to think about my “elevator speech” -- a 30 second and three minute presentation of my time in Bolivia. If that sounds daunting just imagine being me. It seems like an impossible task. How can I possibly sum up three years in 30 seconds, or even three minutes? How can anything I say in that short amount of time do justice to what I have seen and the people I’ve encountered?

Jean, one of my community members, said that hers is just as simple as, “that which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” She was recovering from illness at the time so I chuckled at the appropriateness of her statement. Then I really started to reflect on it. We have been through so much in the last two and a half years; culture shock, language difficulties, political violence, parasites, armed robbery, bus accidents, etc. I feel much more sensitive than when I started this adventure--I cry more, I yell more, all of my emotions are right on the surface. Sometimes I feel weaker, more vulnerable, suspicious, and cynical. It is in those times that I have to see in the big picture. When I started this journey, I was a young, naïve, and carefree girl just out of college, approaching life outside the classroom for the first time. Now I have seen the reality of poverty; I have heard it, smelled it, and touched it. I have witnessed awful tragedies and amazing joys. This experience has not killed me and it has made me stronger because I am confident now in who I am, what I believe, and I have a sense of purpose.

New Blog

I have been working on a new project with some of my students. We are in the process of creating a bilingual intercultural blog. The vision is for my students to write blog entries in English and then readers can respond in either Spanish or English. This way all parties can participate in at least one aspect in their own language. The students are doing a great job of writing pieces that give insight into their daily lives. I am hopeful that, especially through the comments option, this blog will serve as a conduit for opening a dialogue and helping these kids broaden their horizons. We are still getting this project up and running but they have already written some entries and get so excited when they have comments to respond to. Whether you speak Spanish or not I encourage you to explore the blog and join in the intercultural experience. There is a translator on the page for those that want to participate in the foreign language portion.

http://proyecto-horizonte.blogspot.com/

Check it out and let me know what you think!

Permission Slips

After two and a half years in Bolivia, I still get the occasional intercultural slap in the face. The school semester ended on June 19th and I added up all the stickers from all my 80-something students and declared nine winners. The prize was a trip into the city to a restaurant/ice-cream parlor. My US public school upbringing had instilled in me the concept of a permission slip. I couldn't even conceptualize the plan of taking the kids offsite without written parental approval.

I handed the kids each a permission slip at the announcement of their winning. I made a special effort to be clear in telling them that they wouldn't be allowed to go if they didn't show up on time with the slip signed by a parent. They gave me a sidelong glance but said that they understood. Then the day of the field trip arrived and one boy came running up to me with sweat literally dripping off his face saying that he wouldn't be able to go. I asked him why and he explained that his father was traveling and his mom doesn't know how to read or write, even her own name.

My stomach hit the floor. I knew that the concept of a permission slip would be foreign but I never considered the possibility of a literacy roadblock. We stood there staring at each other trying to come up with a solution. Finally his face lit up and he asked, "can my aunt sign it?" I was just as excited as him as I told him to hurry because we needed to get going. We had a great time and I think it was something really special for the kids.

I was relieved and lucky that his aunt was an option. The thought of this boy that worked so hard all semester not being able to enjoy his prize because of his mother's illiteracy still haunts me. It gives me a lot to think about but my immediate thought is how much can improve in one generation. This boy is one of the top students in a computer class and his mother can't read or write. That gives me such hope for these people. How much more will the condition improve for the next generation?

Leave an abusive situation

Awhile ago we had a workshop in the women's group about domestic violence. Literally every single one of the women participating had experienced domestic abuse at some point in their lives. They were incredibly timid and wouldn't volunteer information. Finally, the facilitator just started asking specific questions to specific women. She asked a woman named Andrea what she does when her husband beats her. She said, "I just take it." When prompted she elaborated through tears, "what will happen to my children if we leave?" I wondered, "what will happen to them if you stay?"

While the men of Mineros San Juan are mean drunks they are still functional. They maintain jobs that pay enough and women rely on those salaries. Much like education, this issue also hinges on money. These women are caught between a rock and a hard place. The rock is raising their children in a toxic environment reinforcing abuse as an acceptable outlet for anger and frustration. The hard place is raising their children on one salary unable to afford enough food, electricity, water, school tuition, etc.

I am not a parent. I make decisions based on what is best for me; the self-centered life of someone without dependents. How helpless they must feel faced with the lose-lose situation of deciding the lesser of two evils for their children. I always assumed the decision to leave an abusive situation was an easy one. I have learned that raising children in poverty yields no easy answers.

Education is the Priority

Education in the United States is compulsory. Parents are required by law to enroll their children in school and there is an appreciation and respect for education that doesn't require that law to be enforced very often. As a product of public school, I took advantage of eight hours of free education available to children ten months out of the year. I think I turned out pretty well. We had dropouts in high school but for the most part kids went through the motions and got their high school diplomas.
Education in Bolivia is compulsory. Parents are required by law to enroll their children in school. No law in Bolivia is enforced very often so I can't say with for certain that the children are out of school because of a lack of respect or appreciation for education. Bolivian children attend school for four hours a day, eight months a year. There are a lot of dropouts and a high school diploma is rare amongst the people I work with--rare for the majority of Bolivians.
A lot of it boils down to money. Few schools in Bolivia are free and I've heard that they are sub par even by Bolivia's standards. Therefore, parents have to pay tuition for their children to go to school and with a family of seven kids that expense is a significant burden. Child labor laws are ignored (if they even exist) so on top of the expense of tuition the family is losing an opportunity at income when the kids are in school.
Food, water, and shelter are basic human needs. I've come to learn that education can directly inhibit basic needs from being met. While I am saddened to see some of my students leave school to find work, I know that means there will be more food on the table for those that have not yet reached an age where they too are asked to make sacrifices. Education is very important, education is something that can't be taken away from you, and education can be the only way to lift oneself out of poverty but education is not a basic need and meeting those needs is in fact the priority.

A Mini-Series of the Gray

My class of ninth graders has been dwindling recently and I've been trying to talk to the students and parents to figure out why. The population of ninth grade students ranges in age from 14 to 16 years old, with a few exceptions. It didn't take long for me to discover that the kids aren't coming to my class because they have to work or watch their siblings. I'll also mention that the vast majority of computer class dropouts are girls, not boys. While I am sad and frustrated to see these kids go, I am content that my class IS extracurricular and they seem to be continuing their studies in school and haven't completely dropped out...yet.
Before I came to Bolivia and started working with the people of Mineros San Juan, I had a lot of preconceived notions of what is right and wrong. Education is the priority. Leave a man that beats you. Input equal output--meaning hard work equals just results. With about six months left in Bolivia and two and a half years under my belt I've been wondering what the final word is; what grand lesson will I take away from this experience? Lately I've been thinking that grand lesson is that it isn't black and white, and the resulting gray area is wrought with very difficult and complicated questions. A preview of blog entries to come: a mini-series of the gray--I plan to share what I've witnessed of the gray area to those notions I held so steadfast back in December 2006.

For I was hungry, and you fed me

The medical post at the NGO provides breakfast for the children of the neighborhood who come to receive it. The "breakfast" is a high calorie carbohydrate laden hot drink like api (a corn based drink made with cinnamon and cloves so it tastes like a thick apple cider) or arroz con leche (warm milk and rice) and a piece of bread. It isn't much but that is the typical Bolivian breakfast across the board and it is certainly better than nothing.
This takes place every morning at about 10am directly outside of my computer lab. As children are apt to do, these kids run around yelling, chasing each other, and hitting the doctor's car to make the alarm go off. Between the hours of 9:45 and 10:15 there is complete chaos outside my door. This drives me crazy but, since it is only about half an hour, I deal with it. This morning it was going on 11am and the medical assistant that usually distributes breakfast had yet to make an appearance. I couldn't take it anymore and stormed into the kitchen demanding that these children receive their breakfast so that I could get some peace. Seeing that there wasn't anyone to carry out my self-important demands, I decided to do it myself. I grabbed the bag of bread, marched back out to the area, threw the bag on the ground and went back for the leche. I made the biggest troublemakers go to the back of the line and started dishing out breakfast.
Those that know me can probably picture the face I was making--my "I'm pissed and I have no intention of hiding it" face. One by one the little kids came up with their mugs and with each child that passed my face grew softer. I took in what was really happening. They were there because they hadn't had breakfast. It was going on 11:30am and none of them were complaining of hunger pains, just running amok as children do. They stood patiently in line and the older kids let the younger ones go first. They made sure that everyone had firsts before they came up for seconds. When they did come up for seconds they were content with only half a mug to make sure there was enough for everyone.
The act of feeding these hungry children turned into a sacramental moment. I was reminded of the gospel passage from Matthew 25, "I was hungry and you fed me." I don't quote that passage to build myself up as anything special; I didn't even make the breakfast. I only mean to say that the joint act of giving and receiving something as essential to life as food was profound and moving in its simplicity.

Little haitus

I've been trying to keep up with the blog with weekly postings, usually written on a Sunday. I went on vacation recently to the beach so that explains faulting on two Sundays. Unfortunately, I don't have much to say right now either. I'm suffering a little writer's block and wanted to admit it before I started getting emails asking why there haven't been any new entries.

While I work through my block, I direct you to my web album to take a look at pictures from the beach. It was a wonderful and relaxing trip.

Hope to be writing again shortly!

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

Feeling far away

http://www.roanoke.com/editorials/letters/wb/200719

A letter that I wrote to the editor was published in the Sunday edition of the Roanoke Times (see link). I feel very passionately about the issue but I've been reflecting on my reaction recently. From the moment I heard about what has been happening to science at Radford, I have been writing letters to the media and administration, talking to the offices of congressmen and the governor. I've been wondering if I would have reacted the same if I was home and working full time in a career. While I have been in Bolivia over two years now and have somewhat built a life here there are moments where I feel very far away.
When I heard about what was happening to chemistry and physics I just wanted to be there. I wanted to be back in a world where I knew what I was doing and had some confidence in the expectations, responsibilities and probable outcome. While classes, labs, and reports were always stressful there was still a sense of comfort in that. I imagine that I went a little overboard on my reaction to this news because I wanted to be relevant and connected to that world that I left behind. When I return to work tomorrow I'm not sure who will have been beaten over the weekend or who had to wash clothes all day to earn about 2 US$ but a mole will always be 6.022x10^23 units and a mole of carbon will always weigh 12.01 grams. These recent events have confirmed that no matter where life takes me after Bolivia, chemistry, and science as a whole, will always remain a comfortable and consistent part of my life.

The positive effect of technology

The vast majority of my students come from the primary school that is also under the umbrella of the NGO. I was recently in the principle's office coordinating with him on scheduling and whatnot. While I was waiting for him to finish up with someone else a piece of paper on his desk caught my eye because it had some of my students' names on it. Knowing my place in the world and trying not to snoop, I let my eyes linger for just a moment before turning away and occupying myself with something else. It was just long enough to read that one of my seventh graders is in a local gang. It is not surprising considering the conditions in which these kids live and the lack of supervision that poverty creates in a household. Parents are out of the house working all hours just to make ends meet; often leaving a child as young as seven or eight in charge of the younger siblings.
I had some problems with this boy and some of his friends last year when he was in sixth grade. They showed up to my class after having just smoked a cigarette. I had a talk with them. I imagine they are probably still smoking but they never showed up smelling like smoke to my lab again. I knew that they were trouble makers but the beauty of this extracurricular class is that it allows the kids to start fresh in something. Yesterday this boy was in my class and I had to do some review with him and a girl because they were absent last week. I was struck by how attentive he was and engaged in what I was explaining. When I finished he went right to work to catch up to the others on the document they were writing. I went back to my desk and watched him awhile. I just couldn't believe that this was the same kid involved in gang-like activities. This class gives these kids the opportunity to advance in a skill that is fun and a self-esteem boost while getting them off the street. I don't expect to save this boy, get him to quit smoking, or free him from the gang. My goal is to give him a chance, once a week, to be himself in a safe and constructive environment.

Right To Life...for whom?

I was told to blog about whatever is on my mind even if it is challenging. That was my version of a warning. A child from the daycare died recently. He didn't die under the care of the daycare but over the weekend. He was one of triplets but one of the brothers died shortly after birth. Now there remains just one. The tragedy of his death led me to think about life, and more specifically the "Right To Life" campaign in the States.
I thought of the amount of money and force behind the movement to end abortion in the States. The platform of those demonstrators is the unnecessary death of a child that wasn't given the chance to be born and live the life God had planned. Trying to comprehend the death of this little boy I asked myself if he was any less innocent than an unborn fetus? Was he able to realize God's plan for him after one year of life? The amount of children under the age of five that die painfully preventable deaths around the world is staggering. Why don't people hold vigils for these children? Why aren't people taking to the streets in anger and organizing marches in DC? Why is the life of an unborn child more precious and worthy of advocating for but the moment that it exits the womb people aren't invested in making sure that child lives to see adulthood, or even adolescence?
A lot of challenging questions. I ask them of myself as well. I wonder in what way I lead my life that assures that children don't die of preventable and treatable disease and hunger.

The grace of good training

The picture really has nothing to do with the subject of my post. I just know that everybody likes pictures. This is me with my afternoon kindergarten students from last year.
Recently, I attended a going away supper for a fellow community member with her co-workers at a girl's home. I spent most of the evening listening to these other volunteers and their comments and reflections about life in Bolivia. Nothing they said was particularly negative or wrong. They just embodied for me the typical foreigner coming to Bolivia to volunteer. Their words got me thinking about how different they are from my own and why.
Of the group the most experience went to a woman who has been here for five months and the least experienced was a woman who had been here only about a week. That was the most significant difference between us. I remember what Bolivia looked like after a week or even five months. Even at two years, I know there is so much that I still don't understand about the culture. I am not judging them for their thoughts but to understand why mine are different I settled on a rarely acknowledged aspect of our outlooks and that is training. At the time of our three month orientation in DC, I didn't really understand everything that they were presenting to us. Now I think back to those lectures and workshops and really relate to what they were telling us about approach to mission and culture shock. The overall message that I took from my training and tried to integrate into my time in Bolivia is not a focus on what I can offer Bolivians, rather a focus on what they can offer me. As a fly on the wall of these volunteers' work spaces, I think I would see an approach of "how can I fix this clearly broken system?" I would hope that if someone saw me in my element they would see an approach of "what can these people suffering a broken system teach me?" That key difference has been the men and women in the FMS office who did all of this before us and care enough to share their wisdom and insight with us.

Excerpts from class

Continuing with my plan to integrate the themes from Dr. Seuss into class, the students are in the process of writing an essay about the places they want to see in their lives. I thought it was an easy enough question to get them started thinking about their futures. Some of the students really impressed me with the content of their essays so I thought I'd shared some of them.

I want to see Paraguay. I would like to be able to take my parents and siblings and have my own house. I want my children to study in the best schools in the country and be professionals so that they don't suffer.
-Jhimmy 8th grade

I want to see China. I want to see how they dress and dance. I want to know how they talk, how they eat, how they cry, and how they argue.
-Bladimir 8th grade

I want to see New York. I want to see the Statue of Liberty and the skyscrapers. I want my family to be proud of me and give them my best.
-Samuel 8th grade

I want to see Brazil with my family. I want us to eat in their restaurants and play in their parks. Then I want to return to Bolivia where I have lived since I was little. Where I had computer classes, my best subject in school. I want to be like the computer teacher, Emily. A teacher very smart and gentle. She supports me and all my classmates.
-Karla 8th grade

I want to see the United States. I want to see the Statue of Liberty, archeological museums, and especially the WHITE HOUSE! I want to get to the US by boat.
-Ariel 9th grade

I want to see the United States. I want to see the houses, the buildings in the cities, the stores, the movies, the art expositions, the paintings, the statues, the parks, the museums. I want to see their traditions.
-Jenny 9th grade

I want to go to the hot springs in Santa Cruz, and the forest reservations in Beni, navigate the enormous rivers in Pando, and travel to the mines in Potosi. I want to go to Carnaval in Oruro, and walk the intense paths of Copacabana. I want to try the steaks in Tarija, and visit the Cristo de la Condoria in Cochabamba. At last I want to go to the capital of Bolivia, Sucre.
-Jhonny 9th grade

I am going to go by boat to the ports of England. I want to be an English professor and try the delicious English cuisine. I want to be a great writer of poetry.
-Victor 9th grade

I didn't have the heart to tell Victor about English "cuisine." They are great kids and they have big goals. They are enthusiastic and motivated. My hope for them is that maintain their momentum and continue to move forward no matter what life throws their way.

Coolest Kid on the Block

I love this picture that my boss snapped of Rudy and myself. It captured a moment of playfulness and fun that we often share. The best part of my day, as a rule, is at 4:30pm when Rudy is released from daycare and runs to my computer lab to give me my hug. He is the youngest of seven and as a result is one of the most affectionate Bolivians I have met but he is also fearless and tough. My favorite image of him was last year during PE. I was watching the group of four year olds running across the court, doing a somersault on a little mattress, flipping a sign and then making the return trip. Most of the kids were absentmindedly jogging along and were slow and deliberate in their somersaults. Rudy's turn came and he took off at full sprint towards the mattress. When he arrived, without hesitation or slowing, he became airborne in a rolling dive onto the mattress and was immediately on his feet sprinting towards the sign. The control he commanded over his little four year old body was impressive and hilarious. He is a great kid and his joy and laughter give me hope when I fear the worst for these kids. They are resilient and strong, more than they should have to be, and those traits will benefit them well.

Oh, the places you'll go!

When I was home in November I was looking for Spanish language picture books for some of the youngins I've grown so attached to the last couple years. I happened upon Dr. Seuss' Oh, The Places You'll Go! (Spanish title: Oh, Cuan Legos Llegaras!) and got to thinking not just about the young kids but about all kids. The message is so essential and ingrained in kids from the US, but I'm not convinced Bolivian kids have ever heard it. I could only get through the first few pages before my eyes welled up with tears because I am not so sure these kids will start on their journey and accomplish their goals. The vast majority of young kids don't finish high school. They have to work to help support their families or they become pregnant, starting their own families. When up against those odds, you can see in their faces they are just biding time until the inevitable plea from their parents to take on extra burdens and responsibilities. Maybe they won't becomes doctors and lawyers, but I couldn't help but think that they certainly won't if they have resigned themselves to settle for anything less.
Upon returning to Bolivia, I made a decision to make this book the focus of my last year in Bolivia. I will use it in all of my computer classes and if nothing else these kids are going to hear the message that they are capable of great things! What is so beautifully presented in this book is that it won't be easy and at times it will be scary and frustrating but it is important to keep moving forward. The first day of class this year I had them write me a little passage about what they want to be when they grow up. A task that kids in the US are doing as early as first grade but some of my ninth graders just stared at the blank computer screen. I read the book to each of my classes and the kids really responded to the message. They were able to identify the major themes and seemed very excited about the whole exercise. Books are an expensive luxury in Bolivia so not only do these kids not have books in their houses they certainly don't have reading time with their parents. Even the older kids were on the edge of their seats as I read this picture book to them.
This is my favorite passage from the book. The challenges somehow seem more tangible and daunting to these kids than they ever seemed to me.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul
On you will go
though your enemies prowl
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

A Four Fold Franciscan Blessing

I first encountered this prayer while in training at the FMS house in DC and I came back to it recently after a long time. I think it is beautiful and inspiring. It really challenges me and gives me hope at the same time. I hope you enjoy it as well.

May God bless you with a restless discomfort about easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.

May God bless you with a holy anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work tirelessly for justice, freedom, and peace among all people.

May God bless you with gift of tears to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may reach our your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.

Amen!

Corruption

I recently finished a great book titled The White Man’s Burden: Why the West Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good by William Easterly. It gave me great insight on the US approach to foreign aid and a laundry list of reasons why it doesn’t help to bring people out of poverty. One of this arguments is corruption and bad government. As the vast majority of foreign aid goes from government to government, if the receiving end is corrupt then the poor will never see that money. He cites various research results that indicate that corrupt/bad governments create/maintain poor countries and not that poor countries create bad governments.
I’m not convinced that the current Bolivian administration is entirely corrupt. President Evo Morales was democratically elected and democratically supported in a referendum election. He is not a dictator and people don’t just go missing. The government could probably be doing more to bring its citizens out of poverty but on the whole they don’t appear to be horrible.
The government seems to do a pretty good job creating laws that protect people’s rights. The problem that I see exists in the corruption of the police that are charged with enforcing the laws. I have not met a single Bolivian that trusts the police. Recently some friends witnessed some criminal activity and tried to call the police station SEVEN times without anyone even picking up the phone. The large open air market known as La Cancha is probably home to the highest incidence of crime in the form of petty theft. There are police officers all over La Cancha, but they are directing traffic (poorly! it shouldn’t take an hour to move through 6 blocks of space). There is a vicious cycle of no one respecting the police because they accept bribes, don’t answer the phone, and don’t seem to actually help/protect people, because no one respects them; and the cycle continues.
I think my own personal worst example is in the barrio where I work. It is located just 10km outside the city. If someone calls the police for robbery, assault, or domestic abuse the police literally say “it is too far, uses up too much gas, deal with it yourselves.” I was talking about it to a Bolivian that lived in the States for 10 years and we actually laughed at the idea of calling 911 in the States and being told that six miles is just too far.
Easterly would probably argue that this country is never going to be relevant on an international scale until they find a way to eradicate, or at least seriously diminish corruption.

Sometimes you forget

I shared this story with some recently but for everyone else...

I wait on a corner at the edge of the city to catch a second trufi to the barrio where I work. For months there has been a woman sitting in the median with donkeys. A mother and baby donkey to be exact. For these months I've assumed that she was selling the donkeys. I don't know why someone would come into the city to buy a donkey but that was nevertheless where my thought process went. Finally one day a couple weeks ago I saw a man approach her. I thought to myself, "lo these many months this woman is finally going to sell her donkey!" I just hoped that it wouldn't be for magical beans. I stood there and waited to see the pending transaction even as numerous trufis past. To my horror I saw her walk towards a bucket with drinking glasses on top. A bucket I failed to notice before. She walked over to the mother donkey, milked her straight into the glass, and handed it over to the man who seemed more than willing to pay to chug some donkey milk.

Sometimes I forget that I live in a poor country but there are always incidences that remind me.