Mauricio's cell phone

(mauricio looking pensive while playing a game with a group of kids)

Mauricio is 15. He lives in our barrio and participates in the activities of the church where we work. This August, his family had a huge birthday party for him (15 is a big year here, though it is more typical to have a big party for a girl where she has multiple dresses for the evening, a DJ, rented tables and chairs etc) Anyway, one of Mauricio’s sisters lives in Spain and she decided to buy him a cell phone. But not just any cell phone. This one is equipped with Bluetooth, a camera that takes both still images and video, downloadable songs, a radio, a flashlight, and, not to forget, a phone. Once I jokingly asked him, “Is there anything this phone doesn’t have?” and he answered, very quickly and seriously, as if he had already considered that question himself, “yes. a TV.”
On a recent trip to Valle Grande (see next blog for details), this phone provided us with hours of entertainment. Before we left, Mauricio was trying to get a group photo. He handed it to one of the older women who was already poised for picture taking. Just as she was about to snap the picture, she was startled by a strange noise coming from the camera; it turned out to be someone trying to call Mauricio. On the eight hour bus trip, we listened to music, took funny pictures of people while they were sleeping (with special backgrounds built-into the camera like pink hair and dread-locks), we even had a bit of a disco with the flashlight and its special effects.
Such technology in a barrio with dirt roads and no septic system seems, to me at least, quite strange. But Mauricio is not alone in such acquisitions. There are few people who don’t have some kind of family connection to someone who is in Spain. Most of the parties that include multiple dresses and DJs are funded by benevolent relatives in Spain. Up until March of this year, Bolivians could enter Spain without a visa. For the last ten years (and particularly so in the last five years), the flow of Bolivians leaving the country has grown immensely. It is estimated, in fact, that currently there are more Bolivians living outside of the country than there are inside of the country.
This has become a great point of debate in the political and economic realms of the country. But bringing it down to the level of the barrio, I wonder what the real price is of Mauricio having such a contraption in his pocket. There is the obvious cost of not being able to live with his sister, but there are also others. His mother, for example, didn’t want him to have the phone because she’s afraid for his safety (robberies are not uncommon in plan 3 mil). Even more difficult to track are the social implications; how his classmates react to him having such a gadget when their parents are working so hard just to put bread and coffee on the table; or his teachers who probably earn in two months of work what the cell phone cost.
Of course, things are never easily discerned. For Mauricio, I’m sure that having access to “euros” will create opportunities for him in his future that will improve the quality of his life. I guess my hope and prayer is that somehow he and his generation so affected by immigration will figure out how such access can also improve the community who has been left behind.