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?