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.