Valle Grande

I know I’ve been promising pictures of Valle Grande (a small town in the same province as Santa Cruz about 8 hours getting there, 6 hours back (since we had to go up into the mountains to get there and cruz down them to get back), so here are a few. Chris and I were invited to participate in a missions trip with the Catholic Church. It was really interesting (especially because of two things, 1, we’re not really Catholic; we just work with a mom’s group with the Catholic Church and 2, no one is really used to Catholic Missionaries knocking on their doors which often led to one of two things, people excitedly bringing us into their homes all to realize we aren’t “evangelicals” (the word used for protestants) or else they would prematurely slam the door in our faces before we’d get a chance to tell them we are with the Catholic Church.)
Here in Bolivia, the divides between the Catholic Church and the Evangelical Church is unhealthily wide. From what I can tell, the roots of the divide have to do with competition for members, although from the Evangelical perspective it has a bit more to do with saving souls. Danitza, our former coworker, told us stories of the two dueling churches in her hometown where the evangelical church held an outside service with huge speakers right outside of the Catholic Church while they were trying to have mass. The clowns, puppet shows and free popcorn slowly drew the congregants out of the mass. So this was a unique opportunity. Anytime we’d meet someone new in Valle Grande, our friend Julia would introduce us as “from the Mennonite Church.” Chris had some particularly good chats in his house visits where his buddy would invite him to talk about what it’s like to be an “evangelical” working with Catholics, and Chris would talk about all the things we have in common; the same faith in God, the same promise of salvation through Jesus, the same call to serve God’s children etc. In a climate that continues to draw more and more lines of division here, I am impressed with how warmly we have been invitedinvited to participate in the activities of the parish here not only during this trip but continually in our work (even after we are introduced as Mennonites).

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.

pictures of reposteria

apparently the pictures didn't work out in that last one, so here they are!

reposteria

(baking class)

I finished a month-long baking class last week. Our “final” was to come with two recipes we chose from little slips of paper in a bag. I was in charge of a strawberry cake and bon-bons. The course was sponsored by the local power company. They pay a teacher and then the students are in charge of paying for ingredients. Each day we paid whatever the ingredients cost divided by the number of people who showed up. About 20 women showed up each time, and each day brought exciting recipes and stories as we mixed, kneaded and stirred together. One day while making “empanadas” (kind of a bread filled with a yummy mix of chicken and vegetables) one of the women began rolling little balls of dough at rapid speed, meanwhile explaining that at one point in her life, she baked bread for a living while she went through school. She’d get up at 1am, she said, to have the bread delivered to the store at 5 and then go directly to school. “Those were the days when bread was 16 for 1 boliviano” she said (1b=12 cents). Another entertaining part of the course is that in Spanish, the word eggs is also used as a slang word for a certain male anatomy, so one woman was always coming up with great jokes (since we used eggs in just about ever recipe we made) “oh yes,” she’d say, “Miss Betty told me she’s great at smashing eggs.”
At first, I was just known as the friend of the woman who’d originally invited me, but then once they realized that Chris and I are working for the local catholic church, they began calling me “hermanita” (little sister), which is funny for several reasons. One, I am at least a head taller than each one of them. Two, I’m not a nun (hermana is only used for nuns in the catholic church). Three, because this is my first experience with working with the catholic church, my reaction is what you would do if you went to an evangelical church, respond by calling the other person hermana, which is a bit confusing for them I think. Anyway, we’re getting through it. Apparently there’s some talk of another course for saltenas, a famous bolivian meat pie of sorts (somewhat like the earlier explained empanadas, but more magical). We’ll have to see how that goes. In the meantime, I’m enjoying hearing “hermanita!” each time I round a corner in the neighborhood.

the fighting winds

(this picture is from a butterfly garden where we visited a few months ago and has nothing to do with the rest of this entry, I just thought I'd keep up with the picture posting!)
Greetings from chilly Santa Cruz! And when I say chilly, I mean 60 degrees. Yes, I have been here long enough that 60 degrees feels chilly to me, and, like everyone else, I put on a long-sleeve shirt, a jean jacket and sometimes even a hat. The summer here in the lowlands goes between 80+ degree days and below 60 degree days (I think it’s gotten down to around 40 while we’ve been here…it’s been considered a cold winter). It’s said that the whole season is a fight between the north winds and the south winds. The north winds bring a dry hot bluster that makes you feel like you’re in the middle of the desert. The southern winds are humid (thus making 60 degrees seem particularly brutal) and, as locals refer to it, “it gets into your bones.” Last week we passed through several days of north windy days (which is particularly ugly in our neighborhood since all the streets are filled with a dirty sand) when in the middle of the night, I woke up to a sweet breeze coming through the window…then not too long afterwards it began to rain! It only lasted about twenty minutes, but it was enough to wet down the dirt roads for a more plesant day the following morning. Bolivians tend to dislike the winter. Some say that babies are in danger of dying when they’re born in the winter (imagine a 40 degree night in a shack with gaping holes and no source of heat). With such drastic changes in temperature, it tends to drive people with allergies crazy, as well as bring on colds to those of us whose immune systems are not working at their best. But for me, it is a welcome respite from the scorching hot that one experiences about 9 months out of the year.

Mujeres Sin Limites

On Friday we spent the day in Montero (a little town an hour north of Santa Cruz) with the group of women “Mujeres Sin Limites” (women without limits). This is a group that MCC (Mennonite Central Committee, the Non-Governmental Organization that we’re working with) has worked with for the past three years. The group makes beautiful bags and accessories out of “aguayo” (a type of cloth made (and mostly used) by indigenous folks in the highlands). There we work along with a kid’s soup kitchen. After working to feed children for about 5 years, the project decided they wanted to create some sort of long term change, so they began providing classes for the mothers of the children. This was the first group that graduated. MCC (David and Danitza, our former cowokers) worked at challenging the women with the hard task of pricing (measuring fabric, calculating rent, wear and tear on machines etc), as well as other dynamics of setting up the business (ie. Should people be paid for the hours they work, or by the piece of each thing they make?)
This group is an incredible mix of women. They have had many struggles in the last year, and they continue with many questions of how to survive in a very competitive economy, but overall their willingness to stick together as a group is impressive. On Friday we worked on creating a label for their products (we’re working on marketing right now, searching for ways to help their work stick out in a flood of similar (less quality and less expensive) goods. Here are some pictures (did I mention they are excellent sales ladies?)

el 6 de agosto

Today Bolivia celebrates Independence Day! And Chris and I complete six months of being here!!! There is a parade going on outside of our house as I write. Here are some sweet photos. In the past two weeks, we've heard a lot of drums, seen baton twirlers in their lawns and talked with mothers frantically sewing costumes all for this big day. There seem to be no lack of holidays here as tomorrow is Flag Day and Armed Forces Day (it isn't uncommon here for one day to have multiple meanings. September 21 for example (which happens to be my birthday) is the first day of spring, student day and friendship day all in one) and Thursday was Indigenous Day.
These three holidays have created a lot of political chatter here in windy Santa Cruz. To explain, I suppose we should give a little background. There are often conflicts between the local (city and departmental (like state or provincial)) government and the national government. Basically, the local government wants more power to make its own decisions about its economy, natural resources, and political process. The word “autonomia” (autonomy) is written in some way on just about every street corner of the city. Because the Andean Mountains cut right through Bolivia, the reigons are divided physically which has caused a history of a lack of travel/communication (the capital city, La Paz is situated right in the middle of this mountain range). Because of this, both the highlands and the lowlands have very distinct food, dress, language etc. In the last ten to fifteen years, however, there has been a huge migration of highlanders to the lowlands. Santa Cruz, being the richest department, has received hundreds of thousands of newcomers during this time. So, to say the least, Santa Cruz is a very interesting place to be, especially during national holidays. Well, I guess that was a very simple start to a very complicated dynamic here, more to follow later. Enjoy the pictures! Happy 6 de agosto!