Workshops in the Field

January has marked the month that we have started workshops in the field with the people the organization is working for. The development of the workshops is being led by my co-worker from Canada, Nick, who has a degree in developmental studies and skills aimed at more of the “softer / social” side of the work that I’m doing down here. A man, Waldo, has been hired to lead the workshops due to his language strengths: he is fluent in both Spanish and Quechwa, a local language of the Andes… and most often the language of the poorest people of this area.

The rural office I’m working out of has around 80 “community groups”. When they are initially formed, each group is led through workshops to increase capacity with their business, accounting, etc. skills. From them on, they are expected to be self-managed, developing further skills along the way.

The workshops that are going on this month bring a few people from each group together, to exchange experiences, learn from each other on what has worked or hasn’t worked for them, and to troubleshoot problems together. Overall, it has been fascinating, and truly enriching to watch someone from one community discuss a problem they’ve been having with someone from another community that has had success in that area.

One “break-out” group, discussing issues:


A few other “break-out” groups using pictures to illustrate where they feel they’ve benefited from their involvement with the organization I’m working with:



On average, there are around 8 different groups / communities represented at each workshop. The groups attending each workshop have been arranged based on proximity to each other. That being said, in the workshop attended this week in a rural area I visited a few months ago, some of the women walked 25km to be there (in their big skirts and sandals no less!... in the middle of the rainy season!). It is no wonder the plates of food for lunch are heaped about twice as high as I would be able to eat!

Lunch time:

Even though they are all there participating in the workshop, their “regular” work does not end. At any time looking around the room, you’ll see at least a quarter of the women at any one time crocheting, knitting, or sewing something.

And, there is no such things as daycare. As the women go about their work, they carry their youngest off-spring on their backs. If the child has an older sibling of about 4 years, once they are able to walk, that sibling is then responsible for them while their mother is away. Otherwise, they are a shadow behind their mother, the workshops being no different.

There is no such thing as a “snuggly” here. All babies, until they can walk, are slug from their mother’s shoulders as seen here:


These kids (tag-alongs at the workshop with their mother) were fascinated with my camera, and loved seeing themselves after we took some pictures:


The cloaks on these two kids, from what I could understand, were donated by a family in Orlando (their mother had a shawl with the words: “With love, from Orlando” embroidered on it. Unfortunately, the cost of the shawl in the USA and the cost to ship it down would have probably bought 10 equivalent shawls here.):


I love getting out into the field and seeing first hand the results of the work going on. But still, I recognize that my skills are perhaps better put to use in the office, helping the people working directly for the organization with their skills, so that they might be able to better help the people like those attending this workshop. However, all work requires understanding of the final outcome. And, being able to participate and see these workshops first hand gives me not only understanding, but also more motivation...

Wedding bells....

Man, what fun. When I found out that I wasn't staying with a family in Bolivia, I was worried about missing out on traditional Bolivian life. But, I was wrong. All what I needed was to find some great Bolivian friends.

My friends Evelin and Helen have been bugging me for a while to go out dancing. So, last week when they suggested we go on Saturday, I said sure. Unfortunately, I then came down with yet another stomach bug. I popped in to see them at noon on Saturday to tell them I wasn't up for dancing that night. Evelin was there and able to convince me that I could at least go for 2 hours. After all, she would be all dressed up for her cousin's wedding. I agreed to meet back at 6:45pm.

Now, knowing that she said SHE would be dressed up, I ran my wardrobe of jeans, cords, and zip-off pants through my head. I decide to head to the market. In 1 hour of power shopping and $35 later, I head home with a pair of pants, a shirt, shoes and a jacket. I'm set!

Am, I ever glad I did that. When I meet up with Evelin, she said ¨okay, we just have to quickly run to the market and get a wedding present¨.

What?

So, it turns out, the wedding starts at 7pm! I was going to the wedding! Wooohooo!!!

Overall, it was great. I'm not sure how my body did it, but I didn´t end up getting home until 4am! Evelin's Dad and 4 of her 8 brothers walked me home. Too funny!

Point form highlights / interesting things / Bolivian traditions from the wedding:

- The usual stuff: ¨you may now kiss the bride¨, first dance together, following dances are with wedding party, parents of the bride / groom, etc

- After the ceremony, everyone was given a glass of champagne to toast the couple. The interesting thing here, is that the glasses were rimmed with coconut and had coconut floating in the champagne!

- When they toast, they DRAIN their champagne classes. If you don't, the 'waiter' will wait in front of you until you finish your drink and can add your empty glass to the others on the tray.

- There were 2 toasts. One from the groom´s side and one from the bride´s side. Therefore, we got two glasses of champagne.

- After champagne, out come the ¨chewflys¨ (drink with Bolivian liquor called "Singani", which tastes a little like gin, mixed with the equivalent of Sprite and a squeeze of lime). These come to you, and it is unwise to have an empty glass.

- Dancing starts right away after everyone has had a few drinks, starting with the regular combo dances at the beginning.

- A traditional Bolivian wedding dinner was served around 9pm. It was similar to another ¨celebration Bolivian meal¨ that I´d had another time, and think it´s standard. It was potatoes, choclo (big fat tasteless corn) and roasted pig. Llahua, a spicy chili / tomato condiment is served on the side. Now, the tricky part is that the pig is served, complete with the fatty layer right out to (but not including) the skin. I´ve tried to eat it on other occassions. But, the combination of my gag reflex, sharpness of my teeth to bite / rip a hunk of this stuff off, and the strength of my jaw to chew the stuff just doesn´t measure up. I was relatively successful at descretly not eating my meat, and then ushering my plate back into the kitchen before anyone noticed.

- You don't get cutlery. Everything is eaten with your hands. This makes the corn finger food, which is actually kind of nice! (Since it's already off the cob)

- Dancing: it´s all "couple" dancing, even if you´re just dancing across from each other. All the chairs are along the walls all around the dance floor. When the dancing first starts up, the men all get up and "get a woman". Me, being the only one without black hair (and blonde at that) and being one of the tallest people there, was a bit of an oddity. I didn´t sit out a single dance.

- Traditional Bolivian dances are fun. There was one, where the woman stamp their feet, and men clap their hands in the same rythm. We almost toppled the wedding cake with our stomping. :)

- In another, the couples line up down the dance floor and everyone has a scarf in their right hand. Then, it´s a combination of dancing into your partner, then out, then back in and switching places. Of course, there was some footwork that went along with it, and waving of this scarf. All the couples do the moves at the same time. I´m sure if I were WATCHING it, it would have looked really beautiful. However, I was one of the lucky few up there with a partner, that INSISTED, I'd be able to get the hang of it, after giving me his scarf (he then used a paper napkin). Too funny.

- Funniest dance of the night: The father of the groom insisted on a dance with me. By this point, he was extremely drunk. The better part of our dance consisted of him shimmying his hips while raising his arms (evangelical preacher like). It degraded from there when he wanted to shimmy around with our backs together... or when he would grab my hands, and try to shake by shoulders back and forth while staring at my chest. This was right as the end of the night, and my friends got many off-to-the-side-looks saying ¨get me out of this!¨ (while they laughed at me. what else are friends for.).

- The cutting of the cake happens at midnight!

- At 2am(ish), the bride and groom get HAMMERED. They have to do another dance infront of everyone. However, everytime the music stops, they have to chug an entire drink. They do this 12 times, to wish good luck to the 12 months of the year. I thought the bride was going to puke at around 9, but she made it all the way through.

In summary: It was awesome. I´m fully realizing how lucky I am to have stumbled across a few great friends here. It was initially just to practice my spanish with them, but they´ve welcomed me into their family, their social lives, etc. It´s been wonderful. And, they´ve so patient with my low levels of Spanish!

(If you´re wondering where the photos are, I didn´t have my camera with me! I thought I was just going out dancing for a couple hours, and didn´t realize it was a wedding! However, there were a couple film cameras around, and I´m going to try and get my hands on the negatives.)

A recount of Christmas holidays

As promised, enough of the depressing stuff and on to reminiscing how Nic and I spent the two weeks while she was here visiting…

As expected, plans constantly changed over the two weeks (welcome to Bolivia!). We spent the first couple days chatting long into the night and roaming the balmy streets of Santa Cruz. I found myself constantly muttering “this is so not the Bolivia that I know”. I really felt like I was in different country with the heat, humidity and lushness (even though I know, that is most people’s first thoughts of what Bolivia is). But, I’m sure that’s how people that live in the Canadian Rockies feel when they see the prairies in Canada for the first time.

From Santa Cruz, we went to Samaipata, which we quickly nicknamed “Spanacopita” since we both struggled for a while trying to pronounce it. There, we stayed at this great country house for 4 days. Anything we ate was picked straight from the hillside garden including all fresh herbs. The bread was freshly baked in an outdoor mud oven. For the most part, we spent our time chatting (big surprise to the people that know us!), hanging around in hammocks reading, or walking the 15 minutes into town to do some exploring.

The gardens where we were staying:

Me reading my ¨favorite book¨: my dictionary! ha ha...

We had one “substantial” outing. We both wanted to see the ruins of “El Fuerte”, that was about 10km away from Samaipata. However, the country house we were staying in had a local guy who would guide us through an old “inca” path that wound through the mountains to get there. I, who loves to get out for a hike any day, was able to convince Nic that it would be great.

Unfortunately, this “short” hike turned into an all day affair, hiking along ridges, down into valleys and back up onto the top of the next mountain. Although I thought it was GREAT, the reason this wasn’t the best plan, was that after hiking for 7 hours in the heat along this route, we were both exhausted when we got to the ruins! But, I’m still really glad that we did it!

From the hike....

The views were amazing since we had several panoramic views down many different valleys throughout the region. We passed by grazing cattle from neighbouring villages, some of which acted a little aggressive to us invading their territory. But, our machete wielding guide made sure we kept up the pace and wouldn’t let a few bulls prevent our mission.

We passed by the graves of Ché’s solders, as we were around one village away from where he was eventually executed. There was the occasional donkey and condors flying in the distance.

El Fuerte was also very interesting. Although it seems like the reason behind why this ruin existed isn’t completely known, it was interesting seeing what has been discovered, and also what they were still digging up.

Pictures: El fuerte

We also had a day trip out to “La Cuevas”. This place was great. It wasn´t too far of a walk to get to a river. From there, we hiked up stream to a couple different water falls. Although the water looks really muddy, it was SO refreshing to swim below one of the falls!!!

Pictures: Las Cuevas
Nic wanted to feel the spray of the water fall...
I wanted to feel the full effect.... :)

After Samaipata, we headed into the altiplano to Sucre (another 16 hour bumpy bus ride! Oh joy!). Despite that Nic had to do the whole ride with her legs in the aisle since she didn´t fit, it wasn´t too bad of a journey.

We spent some time wandering around Sucre, the plaza, the streets, the markets, etc. Here´s some lights in the plaza....

Then the next day, which conveniently was a Sunday, we went to Tarabuco, a town that turns into one big market on Sundays with everyone from surrounding villages coming into the buy, trade and sell their goods. Overall, a great day. I was worried it was going to be really touristy, but it was the exact opposite!

Tarabuco market....
Lady selling coca leaves....
From there, we headed ¨home¨… to my home right now at least, making it home for Christmas eve! As an extra surprise, Lesley a volunteer from Nova Scotia currently living in La Paz, Bolivia, had made it to Potosi that morning! Nic and I, both starving, decided it was the perfect time (German Christmas?) to open “present for everyone #1”: a big bag of chocolates from Sucre. I think only one chocolate made it to Christmas day.

Below: me doing laundry after our first week...

The first part of Christmas in Bolivia that differs from what I know at home, is church. The main Christmas mass is on the 24th in the afternoon. I headed out to find a church a little late, and ended up going to about 8 churches (not too hard to do) before finding at 10pm service. Even on my way home, I still didn’t come across a midnight service like you would find in Canada.

At the service, every family brought a baby Jesus from a home nativity scene. To get the baby Jesus to the church, almost all carried it on a tray, covered with a white cloth or white lace. Some also had Mary and Joseph. Once at the church, the baby Jesus’ were uncovered and placed at the front of the church where the church had a larger nativity scene. At the end of the service, all the Jesus’ were blessed by the priest for the families to then take home.

Lesley found a different church on her wanders, but the paritioners there all held on to their baby Jesus’ until the end of the service.

Now, these little baby dolls… were they ever interesting! I had seen around town a bunch of different booths selling dolls and doll clothes, but I never realized that they were supposed to be Jesus or for Jesus! And, families sure got creative! The Jesus of the family that sat beside me had a sequin incrusted robe and cowboy hat, and he was laying on a white satin bed, complete with throw pillows and shams! I saw another one with a local Bolivian toque on! This one I liked. Unfortunately, all the babies were white, most had blue eyes, some had the head of a teenager on the body of a baby. All – interesting.

So, the other interesting Bolivian Christmas custom is the “Christmas meal”. At midnight on Christmas eve, people get together and eat a traditional dish called “picana”. Picana consists of choclo (maize type of corn), potatoes, noodles, carrots, beef and chicken, cooked up like a stew (and has a resulting stew type sauce). Well just after midnight, as we were sitting around the kitchen table having a couple “chewfly”s (bolivian drink made from Singani, a liquor that tastes similar to gin, sprite or equivalent and a squeezed lime), one of our neighbours knocked one our door with a giant dish of picana! So, we all dug in! Deeeelicious!

Here’s me with the picana:

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all happy times. Despite taking Diamox, a drug that helps ease the symptoms of altitude sickness, Nic had a bit of trouble digesting dinner. After her body removing the contants of her stomach for her, she was off to bed while Nick, Lesley and I stayed up a while longer ringing in the 25th.

I fashioned a Christmas tree... and I had a few things from home that Nic brought with her to put under it!!! :)

Christmas morning Nic report: all good, despite being really tired and a big headache from the altitude. But, now it was Nick’s turn to down and out (are you confused yet between the Nic(k)s?…. Nic: from Vancouver visiting. Nick: from Calgary, my roomie, volunteering here with me). She is well accustomed to the altitude, but came down with a nasty “explosive” flu something or other. We ended up moving her bed of her room and onto the floor so that she could be close for her mad dashes to the can.

Nick bed on the floor near the bathroom.... completely with puke pail and first aid kit! Classic....

With Nick out of commission for the day and Nic sleeping off the effects of the altitude, Lesley and I hit the town. We were surprised to find a couple things open: namely a phone booth store. So, I was able to make a phone call home and talk to everyone just after opening up presents.

Then, we were off on a mission: finding a potato masher and a roast chicken store. After walking around for over an hour we found both! We were amazed at the number of people with their “middle of the road” booths of wares open. The Jesuits and their missions obviously didn’t reach all the “campesinos”!

Back at home, we cooked up a feast! On the menu for Christmas dinner:
- roast chicken
- cinnamon chick peas and squash
- a lentil dish
- mashed potatoes
- mashed yams
- gravy
- Bolivian “vino tinto”


The cooks with Christmas dinner:

Nic and I digging into the dinner that Lesley and I made...

Nick’s Christmas dinner comprised of rehydration salts mixed into some “upper 10” (Bolivian 7up).

As the Christmas dishes were cleared, out came the festivities / feistiness. We reenacted Lesley’s tradition on Christmas of a “Crazy 8 countdown” match. Up went the “Potosena Navidad” score card on the wall. This quickly progressed to Hearts, among other card games.

Picture: potosena navidad ¨scorecard¨....

All the while, we obviously didn’t eat enough of the monstruous Christmas dinner. We cracked into a chocolate “Paneton”. Then, out came the fruit cake that Cedar and Seung sent my way as a Christmas present (or, was it from Quebec!?!?!…. long story there…)

Picture: us eating the fruit cake
And finally, there was a little difficulty open another bottle of wine.

But, not to worry. We prevailed!!!


The next morning, since we used all the potatoes in the Christmas dinner mashed potatoes but we still hadn’t had out hashbrowns and eggs like we planned for Christmas morning, Lesley and I were back in the kitchen whipping up potato pancakes and scrambled eggs. Delicious.

Picture: S&L in kitchen making breaky

Nic and I ended up having a lazy day on the 26th. We eventually got ourselves up and out of the house to wander around the streets of Potosi and show Nic where I was living. An attempt up to the “mirador”, an ugly structure in Potosi that has a revolving restaurant at the top, resulted in a slow return home since it was closed when we got there. But, it all worked out. Once home, I cooked up some dinner, Lesley went out and found another bottle of wine, and we had a rematch of “Potosena Navidad”.

On the 27th, we all headed out. Lesley went South to Uyuni to meet up with another La Paz volunteer, Nick (just barely on the mend from her stomach flu) decided to head West to Cochabamba to recover where it was lower in altitude and a bit warmer, and Nic and I headed North, first to Sucre before boarding a night bus back to Santa Cruz.

Back in Santa Cruz, having been in the altiplano of Bolivia, Nic fully understood what I meant when I said that Santa Cruz wasn’t “my Bolivia”. We were back in the land of heat, humidity, and oxygen, with a vastly different culture.

The last time we were in the Santa Cruz area, we headed Southwest to the Samaipata region. This time, we went Northwest to the Buena Vista region on the North edge of Amboro Park.

We attempted to go into the park, but this attempt was thwarted because of a heavy rain the night before. We decided to stay in the region and try to head back in the next day. It was this day meandering around Buena Vista that we learnt the reason we couldn’t go into the park like we wanted was because there was a main river was had to cross that was too high because of the rains. We asked further about this, trying to figure out what our chances were of getting in tomorrow.

It was at this point we realize the reality when people then said: “don’t worry, by tomorrow, the river will be no deeper than your waist and you’ll have no problems wading across.

Humm.

This is a pic of us trying to get out to the point we were suppose to start hiking from. All in all, a beautiful drive, so definitely not time wasted

Conveniently, at the same time, we met a really nice guy from Columbia who was working with the kids of a nearby village. Although, I have to admit that we had horrible thoughts when it came to this guy:
- First, we thought he was being nice to us because he wanted us to hire him as a guide.
- Then, we thought he wanted us to hire his friend as a guide.
- Then, we thought he wanted to us to buy him dinner
- Then, we thought that he wanted us to buy drugs from him.

But in the reality? He called up to the village he was working in and arranged for someone to meet us the next day and show us around. We recommended a place for us to have dinner, and after we finished dinner, showed up and bought US a drink.

Then, the next day, we arrived at the village as planned. A local guy showed us around a coffee plantation that a lot of people from his village work.

Picture: baby coffee trees The coffee processing plant:

He brought us back to his village, showed us a few of the projects the people in the village were working on to improve their lives (from building guesthouses to have tourists stay there, to cooking in a little restaurant and a new building full of tools to make handicrafts to sell).

After getting a full tour of the village, including getting into a few homes, we took us back to the coffee plantation where there was a “mini-resort”. There, we met with the local manager, who was so happy with us for helping out the local village by letting them get experience from showing us around, he left us spend the entire afternoon poolside, for FREE!

Ahhhh....



We couldn’t have asked for anything more.

We saw our Columbian friend once more, and with an exchange of email address, we parted ways. It was a good thing we didn’t let our suspicions get the best of us, or we wouldn’t have been able to experience any of it!

And with Nic flying out on the 31st, I decided to look into getting a flight back to Sucre so I could catch the last bus back to Potosi on the 31st and spend New Years with my Bolivian friends. But, when we went into a travel agency to see about flights, we found out that Nic’s first fly out of Bolivia had been cancelled! After a flurry of phone calls and running around Santa Cruz, we had Nic’s flights all rescheduled… and over a day later.

We would be celebrating New Years together after all!

The festivities started in our guesthouse. We met up with various people staying there: from the states, UK, New Zealand, Argentina, etc. First, we headed out for pizza. Then, after much debate on what to do at the strike of midnight, we decided to stay in the plaza to ring in the new year. So, there we were, with all the Bolivians setting off their fire crackers and fire works, to toast to the new years at the striking of the clock tower from the cathedral at the plaza.

Below: Nic did my makeup (first time I´ve put make up on since being in Bolivia?!?!?!). What do you think?

Below: The ¨gringo gang¨ hanging out in the Plaza for New Years...

We stayed out, chatting with other travelers and a few Bolivians who came over to say hi, until 3:30 or so. I think we would have stayed out longer if it had not been for my small bladder!

Picture: nic and I at new years

There are a couple Bolivian traditions for ringing in the New Year.

First, the underwear you wear will bring you luck in the coming year depending on it’s colour. Red underwear means lucky in love. Yellow underwear means lucky with money. All the local women I knew wore red. The news was also promoting white undies... to bring peace in the new year.

The other tradition is after the stroke of midnight, you are suppose to eat 12 grapes, making a wish for each month as you eat them.

And, with in now being 2007, Nic and I had a lazy morning, enjoying fruit juice, mango, bread and coffee, and eventually got off to the airport for Nic to catch her flight. The only glitch at this point, was that we still weren’t 100% sure that Nic’s flight was going to go (since there is a jet fuel shortage in Bolivia right now…. Most likely the cause of her first cancelled flight). So, we decided it was best for me to stay there until she actually got on her flight. This meant another night in Santa Cruz for me, as I missed the last overnight bus back to Sucre.

But, the next day, I decided after three 16+ hour bus rides in the last 2 weeks, it was time to splurge for that flight. So, at noon the next day, I hoped a 30 minute flight to Sucre and made the 2-1/2 hour ride back to Potosi.

View of Sucre...
Coming out the back of the plane wasn´t the only thing that was different. There was no safety talk before we took off either. Weird....
What a friendly welcome! hee hee....
And so wraps up my Christmas with Nic visiting Bolivia!!! I’m sure she’s left with a piece of it back to Canada.

To see more pictures of our two weeks, go here.

Down but not out

I can officially say that I´ve had my first bout of ¨real¨ illness here. I thought it was just the altitude, since I returned from Santa Cruz (300m) to Potosí (4100m) in 3 hours (30 minute flight to Sucre and the 2-1/2 hour drive). After being in Potosí for only a couple days and still feeling bad, I decided to go to Sucre (2800m) for the weekend. This was also timed with yet another festival... this one for the 3 wise men!

Unfortunately, things only got worse there: I ended up not being well enough to get back to Potosí after the weekend and rode out being sick there until Monday. But... looking up... I´ve kept food (i.e. soup) down for 24 hours now! Now onto something more solid!

Since I STILL haven´t posted anything from my holidays, the least I could do was post some pictures. So, you can check them out on the righthand side bar labeled ¨Bolivia 2006/2007¨ under Trip Photos, or click here

Some thoughts...

While trying to decide how it would be best to write out the last 2 weeks during my holiday in Bolivia, I find something else on my mind that I would rather write about. So, for those of you wanting to know what my holiday with Nic was like (who came down to visit for 2 weeks over Christmas), I’ll try to post up some pictures and words describing the adventures we got up to. But in the meantime, some thoughts...
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I sometimes wonder if there is a point where seeing poverty on a constant basis blinds you to what you are seeing. There are so many mothers and children here sitting on the streets begging. The lucky ones of those children have a mother who will wrap them up tightly in a blanket and lay them out on the street to sleep. However, other children as young as 4 years old will be out at midnight, doing a traditional dance in the plaza for people, hoping for a few coins. I find myself often overlooking the poverty of the situation, and instead thinking "why aren’t these children in bed?" "Where are their parents?" "Do they even have parents?".

In Santa Cruz, I was with a friend in a low-end restaurant finishing dinner, when a little boy, no more than 3 years old and obviously living on the streets, walked in and up to our table. The friend I was with was just confused why he was standing there looking at our “finished” plates. But I had seen many times the restaurant workers scrape the left overs off plates and into plastic bags to give to various people who walk in off the street.

So, with this boy standing at our table, I automatically gathered the leftovers that we weren´t going to eat (i.e. chicken bones with a little left over meat on them and a few potatoes) onto a piece of plastic and helped him get his little fingers around the edges to carry it away. It wasn´t until after he had gone out the door that I looked up and saw tears rolling down my friends face, with her muttering “I didn’t need to eat that last piece of chicken. Why didn’t I leave it? He could have had it. Those were just bones...”.

In her moment of sadness / horror / etc., I had my own moment: I realized I was “used” to this.

The realization that this event didn’t effect me anymore was startling. I remember my reaction the first time I had seen a half eaten meal scrapped into a bag and given to an old woman who had walked in. It was very humbling. Have I lost that? Or, have I built up my own defense mechanism to deal with it? Is the reality just too big to process?

I have seen poverty in many countries around the world. And yet, I still struggle with knowing how to react. When people on the street beg money of me, do I look away?, do I give money?, do I not give money, but say “I’m sorry”?, do I just look and smile sympathetically?. I believe that all aid has it’s place. Although I feel that aid should not be given “freely” because of my own personal fear that the people on the receiving end will become dependant on it, I also realize that there are many cases where this is required to get people on their feet. Where does giving money to people on the street fit into this?

In Bolivia, I have found the street begging to be different: I do not see much distinction between who they ask for money. In previous places I have traveled, I have watched someone on the street ignore their fellow citizens and head straight to me to ask for money, presumably because I am white and as such, as “rich” person. But here in Bolivia, my experience has been that they beg of everyone equally.

Now that I have made a few friends in Bolivia, I find it interesting how they deal with the poverty that is all around them. I have rarely seen someone turned away from a “local” when they beg. However, it is not money that they give but food, normally bread. And, it is not just my Bolivian friends. I have witnessed this in a travel agency I was in when buying a bus ticket and also in a restaurant that didn’t have any leftovers to give.

When in local restaurants, boys will come in off the street and burst into song. After about 15 minutes of singing, they will then go around to each table asking for money. I have witnessed this at least a half dozen times since being here (and one time on a local bus!). Each time, the local people dining give.

At any time of the day, there are always boys, between the ages of around 5 and 12 walking around with a shoe shine kit. Even when I’m wearing my sandals, they will come up and offer to clean them. This, for a cost of 10 cents. But even if my shoes where dirty, I say no. I feel completely guilty having them clean and polish my shoes for a measly 10 cents. But, if I could get over MY insecurities, would I not be helping them out? Is it enough for me to think that they shouldn´t HAVE to do that. The reality is, that my NOT letting them shine my shoes isn’t helping their situation either.

On a daily basis, there are street sellers that come to stores, etc. to offer something from their basket of goods. I have seen only two reactions from my Bolivian friends: either inviting them in to buy something from them or saying “sorry, I don’t have any money today to buy from you, but please come back tomorrow”. And, it’s always with a smile.

Is this something I have to learn to do? Why do I struggle and feel uncomfortable, scared of doing “the wrong thing” and perpetuating the problem instead of helping? I have always said that it is better for me to contribute my money and time to local organizations that are working towards alleviating poverty, instead of giving directly to someone who is begging on the street. But, I have also said that it is the people in poverty that should drive and initiate their own solution for it to be successful and sustainable. Are these thoughts not in conflict?

It’s hard to know where the solution lies. Perhaps the reason that I feel uncomfortable in these situations, is that I DO have money. I have the ability to volunteer my time. I have the ability to go on holiday in their country for 2 weeks at Christmas. I have the ability to travel after my volunteer position is complete. Etc. etc. etc. I feel that when the locals say no, it’s because they have honestly given what they could. Where do I fall on that spectrum?

So, with my enthusiasm to my project here weaning before leaving on vacation, I hope I got the break I needed to come back with motivation... both from taking a break from the long days but also from having things put back into perspective for why I’m here.

And tomorrow, I think I´ll have my shoes shined.

2007... and back to Potosí

I’m back in Potosi. Nic got on her flight to go back to Canada yesterday. I haven’t heard from her yet, so I take that as a good sign (she was suppose to leave the day before but her flight out of Bolivia was cancelled due to fuel shortages – all in all in worked out for the best since we got to spend New Years together as a result).

I made the trek back to Potosi from Santa Cruz in relative silence. I’m not sure why I’m pensive. Perhaps because I’m sad Nic is gone. Perhaps because I realize now that Christmas and New Years has come and gone. And, now, getting home to an empty cold apartment (since Nick… the other volunteer I’m living with is still on her trip to La Paz), with my paper Christmas tree still sitting on the table and the contents of by backpack still warm from being packed in tropical Santa Cruz, I found it a struggle to get out and email this evening.

But, it’s just a matter of time before things get back to normal. I’ll go back to work tomorrow. It will be good to see everyone and hear how their festivities over New Years went. I’m looking forward to being able to cook my own meals again. Of having my own bed. Etc. etc.

So, with that, I’m off home to bed. I’ll be writing a massive blog entry (perhaps in stages) in the next day or so of my travels with Nic over the last 2 weeks. And, for all of you that sent me holiday wishes, THANK YOU! I haven’t had a chance to read them all yet, but I’ll be doing that in the coming days as well.

I hope everyone had a great Holiday season. Don’t forget to email me pictures!