I´ve been getting lazy with my updates here, so I give you this offering of my thoughts about the last 2 weeks.
The truth is, I think the world has changed in the last fourteen days. It has expanded and shrunken, continually transforming my vision and perceptions of life, Bolivia, god, and myself. It’s been beautiful and hard. Perhaps the 2 words you’ll hear me say most often here, and perhaps long after.
I’ve completed the first two weeks of my internship and gone from complete despair to filled with hope (and undulated between the two depending on the hour at times, to be honest.) I’ve come up with an idea I’m going to pitch to my supervisor tomorrow, that if she approves, I’ll be able to begin grant writing for immediately. The lovely aspect of only working in the office for 9 weeks is that I only have, well about 9 days to research it all and get it in for approval. No pressure for a first time writer, but I’ll welcome the inundation of work after hours of sitting around in the office with very little to do.
I must admit, I’m learning my capacity for self-direction in work and it’s a challenge. At times I succumb to the check my email every 10 minutes habit until I catch myself. This is why I was so impressed when I actually came up with an original project, wrote up an overview and a basic timeline, and well, asked to propose it. It took all this, and me sitting through an 8 hour seminar on the human right to adequate housing in Bolivia to realize that this organization and line of work is something I could absolutely love. I’ve been so distracted by minor interpersonal issues and the whole, “I cant understand a word your saying” thing that I didn’t even realize that aside from cultural stress, this is my opportunity to try out life in the work zone. This is the job I’ve always dreamed of; working with passionate people in areas of deep need that demand creative answers. Damn, was it always this easy? Sure the hours are long, the stressors build by day, and since its real need, the communities with which Pro Habitat works struggle with real loss as well. But isn’t that life? Its beautiful and hard, and I would never settle for anything less.
And what else? Family life? It is going and going. My younger brother, Gerardo and I have our moments of bonding, since I broke my key in the lock and he and I sat on opposite sides of glass conjuring up ways to open the door for an hour before Frida could come home. It may have come down to the fact that Frida and I had to climb up a roof to break in through my second story window in order to sleep in our own beds that night. He solemnly asked me afterwards if I was scared while I did it. The next day he bought me a lollypop and we’ve been able to work on our friendship since, when he’s not kicking me off the Internet or turning off the television if he thinks I’m interested in the program. Oh yes, or leaving pieces of his cereal strategically placed in my room so that I know he’s been snooping around. All and all, it sounds just like what a nine-year-old brother would be like, God must believe I didn’t fully appreciate it the first time around when I was 13 and Jeremy was at such a ripe age.
And Frida? I’m still trying to figure her out. We don’t bond on an immediate level, but there’s something endearing about this 40 year old single mother who sings English songs just a little off-key, overwhelmingly loves her son and dog, Reina (‘queen’ in Spanish), attends church services 4 times a week and has favorite TV shows like “Heroes ” from the US. Perhaps she’s so, well, normal, it’s confusing to me. But almost everyday we manage to sit, just she and I over tea, and charla (converse) about everything from politics to movies to faith. I don’t understand every word, but I get her concern and depth and I like it. I think I’m so used to people having emotional expectations of me, that I place that on her, and as soon as I realize that she’s probably just fine with me not going to every single church service with her, and she won´t develop a hatred of me if I go out to a bar or spend an extra hour on the internet and we’ll continue to be able to grow in our friendship.
I’ve been struggling with what I last wrote about the politics of Bolivia for a while, because since then I’ve discovered a lot more about Bolivian politics, and was humbled in all of my broad sweeping statements of the nature of things. The truth is, I still know nothing. And Bolivia is in such an important and terrifying time for a lot of people—so many important decisions will be taking place starting in December during the Constitutional Assembly—that a lot of people have everything on the line, and feel as though-if they are not recognized in the recreation of the foundation of their country that they will have no alternative but to have a revolution. It is all so deeply complex and costly that I don’t do anyone justice by putting my self-righteous labels of “standing up against the man” on a country of people I’ve only begun to know, and whose intentions and true meanings I usually misinterpret by virtue of my outside and naïve perspective. I will not make claims for the Bolivian people anymore. About the intentions or significance of their social justice movements or anything else, and I ask for you all to read more about Bolivia and listen less to me if I continue to make such broad statements.
On the topic of learning humility, I have been attending church with Frida once a week since I arrived, and have been fascinated to find an American couple from Missouri heading a church here in Cochabamba. Located in a more wealthy part of town where I am living now with Frida, I’ve been overwhelmed with indignance and fear of this church, of course once again as a result of my own preconceptions about the denomination of church they are involved with and my general misunderstandings and negative beliefs about the meaning of “missionary work,” and its unfortunate historical tie to colonialism and beliefs of cultural superiority. truth of the matter is, today I finally realized that I have a great many things to learn from the people at this church before I can even begin to think about critiquing it. And for the first time, I realized that I have a lot to learn about sacrifice and love before I can ever pretend to think that this incredible couple is actually here to impose American ideals and religious interpretations in the minds of innocent Bolivians.
A person can critique only so much before they realize they are only protecting their own belief system from possible threat, instead of attempting to learn from the other vantage points that surround them. Even if mission work has historically had poor intentions and results. Even if I have personally come to conclusions about what types of Christianity appear more or less authentic, these are no reason to strip value from the lives and work of an entire community of people. If I hope for people to get to know me on a personal level; my aspirations and dreams, my deeply rooted beliefs, and who and what I love in life, instead of choosing to treat me according to the labels that could be given to me, I certainly must start to be an example of such behavior. Living as a white American protestant female in Bolivia with barely proficient Spanish has certainly begun to teach me this in a deeper more authentic way. Otherwise, I would have to concede I deserve to be ignored and my opinions discounted as a result of my affiliation with a country that has repeatedly attempted to intervene in this nation with continuously negative results. This, and my skin color relates me to those who have historically oppressed and killed millions of the original inhabitants of this nation and this continent, and the still present racial hierarchy of power. If I must continue, even my connection to the Christian church is one that can be used against me, going back to those historical misuses of the name of Christ to construct and abuse power structures over the Inca, Ayamara, and countless other indigenous tribes of the Altiplano and other areas in Bolivia. The jist of it is, I should once again realize that the only way I will ever learn anything, is to be quiet and concede that what I think I know, is only just that. I have I great deal to learn from the lives and experiences from those who are around me before I give my proud opinions of whatever the topic may be at hand.
