A rainy day

this photo is of the closing party for a sewing class we hosted in our house that I was going to write about (as well as the new priest (top right hand corner) I´m excited to begin working with, but I¨ve been inspired by something more urgent.

I¨ve been doing some thinking lately about what it is that could sum up the Bolivian experience....in a country where 32 different languages are spoken and the Andes Mountains cut through the landscape...creating historical cultural differences..what is there that unites everyone. For me, it´s come down to something very simple.

Every day in Bolivia is so very fragile.

I´ve lived here almost two years now, and in a way I feel like I´ve taken about 10 years worth of risks I would´ve taken had I been in the U.S. Which is funny, because I am someone whose housing is payed for...who has a consistent food budget every month, who gets $75 on top of that to spend on whatever I want...so I am still not taking anywhere near the risks of my neighbors who face questions like, ´will I be able to get to work?¨¨Will I get fired if I show up late?¨¨Even if I arrive on time and leave on time, will they decide not to pay me anyway?¨¨Will the price of bread have risen again?¨ And many other questions that make up a daily fight to survive. The one thing that I can perceive that Bolivians have going for them in all of this is that everyone else around them (except for two north american volunteers and a few brasilian nuns)is balanced on the edge of this same abyss.
This morning, I have found a perfect example to illustrate this point. It is pouring down rain. We are waiting a twenty mintues for a micro along with six other people. One shows up with space for maybe two...we all manage to squeeze on. Three blocks later, a young kid with a rake (???) jumps off and another six grown people manage to make thier way on to the bus. Just as we arrive at a HUGE lake that once was a paved street, we stop to pick up a crowd of two mothers with babies and an elderly woman, short, round, and covered in plastic bags. I exchange a worried glance with the woman whose head is resting in my armpit, ¨no deberían subir¨she whispered (they shouldn´t even try it)...the two moms make it on..the elderly woman puts her hands out to take hold of the door. Everyone in the micro takes a deep breath. Even if she can manage to grab ahold of something on the bus, with one quick turn she could fall out. The bus driver begins to move on.
¨NOOO POR FAVOR!!¨ The woman screams...she then begins wailing in quechua..and the bus stops again. Now, my experience here tells me there are potentially two situations that could warrant such desparate behavior. 1. This woman is having a medical emergency and needs to get to the hospital. or 2. It is her co-madre´s birthday and they are out of coca-cola at her corner store. Whatever the woman´s situation, she begins to try to pull herself up onto the first step. All of the sudden, a woman points to chris and says, ¨you there, move further back...the old lady needs to get on¨. We all shuffle around, a few onlookers on the street give the woman a boost and a young girl of about ten years old gets behind her to protect her from the threat of falling out. We turn the corner and begin our cruise through the river. About five minutes later, I look to the front to find a crowd of young people...someone has given the woman thier very-valuable seat (if you are sitting down, not only are you safe from the risk of someone resting thier head in your armpit, you are safe from people sticking thier hands in your pocket and stealing your wallet or your cellphone).
It took us a record-long time to get to the office this morning...an hour and a half from door step to door step (instead of the normal 45 minutes)...but oh what a story to share with all of you.