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.