The first two have been part of a debate in MCC for awhile now. I realized that in my neighborhood, people call me “hermana” (sister).but when other folks from MCC visit, they are called “la Licensiada” (basically, “the professional”, The title indicates you have a bachelor’s degree). Sometimes I even feel a bit envious, because people tend to take licensiadas more seriously, they tend to be more prepared for a meeting, and they tend to listen to what the licensiada says. These are all things I have apparently forfeited when I chose to come and live in the same community where we work…that’s another key to being called the licensiada…you always come from some place nicer to impart wisdom to the poor, you ALWAYS have more power than the crowd to which you are bestowing wisdom.
For the first time in the two and a half years I’ve been here, I went to a different neighborhood this month to give a talk on family economy. I worked carefully to include people in the workshop, taking a few pointers from the principles of popular education, where everyone needs to teach something as well as learn something in such workshops. Just as I had anticipated, my friend who invited me gave me a grandiose introduction (“she’s worked with all kinds of microenterprise businesses, and she’s graciously agreed to come here, so let’s take advantage of her expertise”). Of course, folks referred to me as “licensiada” in this setting. There was a certain distance between me and the other participants that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. As the evening went on though, and we shared a few jokes together (one of them having to do with an unfortunate mistake in my grammar), I found that people began to open up to me.
The third term was donned during Chris and I’s recent journey to Bolivia’s capital, La Paz, for a little vacation (see photos below). Situated in the heart of the Andes Mountains, La Paz is one of the highest cities in the world and is home to an indigeous group that predates the incas (whose name is tiawanaku whose language is aymara). There are many distinctions to made between lowland culture and highland culture. Perhaps one of the most obvious as an outsider is that highlanders don’t necessarily get excited about the opportunity to interact with foreigners (lowlanders on the other hand, will quickly invite you to their house, feed you yummy cheese bread and make you president of whatever group they are a part of). Needless to say, the first few days in the highlands were a bit of a culture shock, as we heard a few unpleasant comments in the street specific to our presence. After a few days though, we began to settle in and ask people questions about their own lives. I found that in some situation, you had to ask the same question twice in order for people to really take you seriously. We had a lot of good conversations with people who are trying to make a living farming, knitting, selling tourist maps and sometimes all of the three.
Upon further reflection, I find that all of these titles have their limitations and their advantages. I think as an outsider I will always have to understand that people hold certain assumptions about me and my life as a white person. But there will always be an opportunity within that interaction to get beyond the assumptions that each of us bring and do our best to connect more deeply as human beings.
The gringo tourists, standing by the waters of Lake Titicaka 
the view from our hotel room, close to sunrise
a view of the city of La Paz and the highest mountain, Ilumani
an ancient statue of a tiawanaku priest
