Santa Cruz Flair and Hand Spun Wool

The other day in my crocheting class, our chatter turned for a moment to the political situation in Bolivia, sparked by the sounds of firecrackers getting closer and closer. “The Masistas are gathering, they have a cabildo tonight (town meeting)…they must be figuring out what to destroy next.” I’m usually very quiet during these times, but today for some odd reason (maybe my anger at how much the news manipulates the story according to its political leaning), I decided to offer my opinion, “but why would the masistas wreck their own market,” I said, “it’s got to be the cruzenistas…I think they want the military to come in so they have an excuse to have an armed conflict.” My friend (who’s from a small town near the boarder of Brasil) looked at me and said, “look at me…do you think I want a war???” (identifying herself among the cruzenistas….) another woman (who came to Santa Cruz from the Beni, a department just north of santa cruz) spoke “the highlanders should be thankful for what Santa Cruz has given them…a place to live and earn a living….” The teacher piped up, “well, I don’t think it’s that simple, for example I’m from Sucre but I’ve lived in Santa Cruz ten years…I don’t consider myself colla or camba (highlander or lowlander), and there are people from Santa Cruz living in Sucre. I think we’re all just a mix but the media tries to divide us more than we are in real life.” A woman responded, “yes, but when we go to other places, we don’t act like this….” Meanwhile, everyone was working away at their crocheting project, this week a hair tie made with a glitzy synthetic string imported from Brasil, except for me…I’d forgotten to bring elastic, so I took advantage of the fact that there’s a woman who knows how to spin wool…I bought some in Cochabamba last year, but when I tried to knit with it, it was lacking one more process to be knittable. This woman (a highlander) was the only one who hasn’t spoken by now….and as the yarn slips so smoothly between her fingers I asked her, “did you grow up with sheep?” And she answered in a very quiet voice, “yes, my mother had sheep.” As the conversation drifted on to the big Miss pageant coming up, I realized the tension of the country and how its imbedded in each person and the fear of the other…of who will throw the first stone…
Towards the end of the meeting, my friend from valle grande (western santa cruz) commented, “wow, Lindsey, you learned the trick!” I said, “yeah, it’s really easy, do you want to try it??” She looked at me smiling and told me no…that she wouldn’t want to mess it up.
I know that tonight Santa Cruz is full of these interactions…highlanders and lowlanders together..full of opportunity to be open to the other, or to continue with the rage provoked by images on the news (showing the same clip from three days ago).
A note for those who haven´t read much about Bolivia in the last few weeks, there is a good bit of conflict going on which I am trying to wrap my head around and am not quite confident enough to write about. If you´d like to read more on it though, here are two places I like to go:
www.democracyctr.org
www.ain-bolivia.org

Padrinos Americanos

The other day I was at my friends house making saltenas when her younger sister came rushing in and said, " oh, I have to get my letter written today." I assumed she was talking about doing some kind of transaction with the government, applying for a birth certificate, getting a vaccine card etc. But when she sat down to write it, she pulled out a picture of an elderly north american couple. Ah yes, I thought, it's a letter to her "padrinos americanos" (american godparents). We as northamericans understand this system under a different title. " For only 30 cents a day you too can make a difference in a young child's life...sponser a child today." All my life I grew up watching these comercals with images of young kids with swollen bellies being attended by white doctors...and now I am so blessed to see things from the other side....among struggling families fighting to stay alive and live with dignity...looking to the north from where this charity comes.
One day I was part of a conversation where two women were talking about the different benefits offered between two different padrino organizations....one only gives medical care and tutor help with homework, whereas the other one gives periodic food donations to the families. And at one point in the conversation one of them turned to me and said curiously, "why do north americans want to be godparents to our children...don't they have enough children of their own to help?" I was caught in a rather difficult place. How do you describe a land where people have enough money to take care of their families plus enough to give away to someone you don't know...a place where all your neighbors also have thier needs met and don't have to come and ask you to borrow money or food...a place where charity is a concept of having to look in far far away places to look for suffering. Such a thing doesn't exist here in Bolivia, and so I did my best to explain the good intentions of people with extra money and a conscious mind.
In the meantime, daniela's sister writes under the shade of the mango tree, about her school work, about her second child on the way, about the springtime (which in santa cruz means very hot and windy wheather), and she includes a picture of a "traditional" santa cruz scene, a man in a straw hat working in a field of sugar cane. And I am breathing into the gap of two very different worlds.