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.