Some questions answered.

One of the toughest things about being a teacher is never knowing what our students really get out of our classes, and we just have to have faith that somebody learns something from us, and if they learn something about life rather than about the subject I am teaching, then all the better.

And one of the best things about teaching is the few times when we get an idea that we might have made an impact on someone’s life. For me, five years after I left Holy Trinity Middle School, I still correspond with one of my students, who is now a freshman in college. To hear how her life is going is a pleasure, and that she still wants me to be a part of her life is nothing less than an inspiration.

I recently received a letter from her in which I was bombarded with questions about my life here in Tiraque. She managed to provide a collection of questions that I have been asked many times during my first six months here and have not yet answered, so, one by one, here is the scoop y’all have been waiting for.

1. What is your mailing address?

Karen Panek
Jesuit Volunteers International
c/o Padre René Cardozo
Casilla 2175
Cochabamba
BOLIVIA

I love getting mail, so write often! It is 84 cents to send a regular letter. If you have something special to send, please try to keep in under 2 kg (about 4.4 lbs), because there are expensive customs taxes and lots of red tape involved in picking up the package.

2. How did you decide to go there?

Living abroad and international volunteer work is something that I had been on my mind for years, and I first considered JVI way back in undergrad, but I decided to do ACE (Alliance for Catholic Education) instead, and did two years of service in for Catholic schools in Charlotte, NC. A couple years later, as I was finishing up my M.S. in Biology at Boise State, and with some inspiration from the Peruvian sheepherders I met there and the mission trips to the orphanage in Tijuana, the idea of service in Latin America resurfaced. A position in Perú I was hoping for didn’t pan out, but the job in Wales did. So I explored my British roots for a year, but the call to service was overwhelming, so I decided to resume discernment of service options. Lots of research, conversations, and prayer brought me back to JVI, largely because I believe in its core values of community, spirituality, simplicity, and social justice. JVI serves 8 countries (Bolivia, Perú, Nicaragua, Belize, Tanzania, Nepal, and the Pacific island nations of Micronesia and the Marshall Islands). My placement in Bolivia was due to a combination of my preference to serve in a rural community in Latin America and the qualities and experience that I have to offer.

3. Who are you helping?

Tiraque is in the Department (kind of like a state) of Cochabamba, and Cochabamba is also the capital city of the Department. This region is amongst the poorest in Bolivia, with the majority of the inhabitants being “campesinos,” or country folk, as we would say. They live in mud adobe houses, with tile or thatched roofs, dirt floors, and their livestock are tied to rocks or shrubs with leather straps just outside. As in most cases, the level of poverty here is accompanied by low levels of education, high levels of alcoholism and domestic abuse, and for many, a general sense of hopelessness. The cycle of poverty can continue for generations, and will continue indefinitely if someone (most likely many people cooperatively) doesn’t step forth and interrupt the cycle. The idea is that the people themselves are capable of rising out of the poverty, but they must be provided with support and there must be a place for them to rise to.

One of the things I have learned since being here is that poverty is not just about the amount of money someone has. The available infrastructure of the country or region is equally important. Here is an example. The town or Tiraque decided to improve the water and sewage system within the town. They hired an engineer and his team of workers to install new pipes, and fix various problems in the system. The pipes they installed were too small, but by the time they realized it they had already repaved the streets, and they didn’t want to bust up the new concrete to fix it. So they didn’t fix it. Also, although all the houses in the town had the new system of pipes right outside there doors, the workers didn’t hook up a single one, nor tell people how to do it, not even tell people that they had to do it. The engineers left town with a new system that didn’t work. After going a week without water (seven of us were living in the house at the time), we found out that we had to break through the concrete in front of our house to connect our pipes with the new ones ourselves. With the help of our awesome neighbor Eric, we were able to get it done in a day. Can you imagine if you called a plumber to fix your pipes and he put in the wrong ones and then just left without finishing the job? Most people in town can afford the water that they use, but if the infrastructure isn’t there to bring the water in, what can they do?

Back to the question at hand. Who am I helping? I work with the parish to support them in their educational and pastoral work, the idea being to support the local people in education and their basic human needs (including nourishing their faith lives). Many of the youth never consider going to college. Also, many of the more rural areas have a primary school, but they would have to come to the greater metropolitan area of Triaque (about 2000 people) for high school. Many either can’t afford this, or they do not see the point, and the teenagers carry on working in the fields like they have done for generations. No one in their family (or perhaps anyone they know) has ever gone to college. When I tell you the price, you won’t believe it. Tuition is about $15 a semester. Yep. 15 bucks. But in addition to tuition they have to pay for their books and all the materials for their classes, and this can be considerably more costly. What is more, they would have to pay living expenses in the city, and to work part time while studying they cannot make enough, and their families can’t afford to support them either. So, even with a good high school education, making the jump to college is out of the reach of the majority of the people here. Many people, especially the ones that live farther out in the campo, have very little money, if any. They eat their own livestock and crops, make their own clothes from the wool from their sheep (it is common to see women walking through the streets with an armful of wool and a spool to spin the wool in the other hand), and they trade these goods for the things they can’t make. They sell what they can, but earning a surplus of cash is just not a part of the bargain.

4. What do you do everyday?

The last several months have been quite relaxed because my main task was to get accustomed to life and language here. Brad and I had language classes until October and the rest of our time was spent here and there, helping out wherever we were needed. I spent my afternoons with Catherine (the volunteer that just finished her two years and returned to the US) at the Yachay Wasi, which is the Quechua word for “house of wisdom” or simply, “school.” The YW is a sort of boarding home for those students who live very far from town and cannot walk in everyday. They are between 8 and 18 years old, and their families pay a nominal fee to have them be there (a few dollars). They attend school in the morning (the school building is occupied by two different schools, one with students who attend in the morning, and the other in the afternoon. The principal and most of the teachers are the same, and the arrangement has more to do with government funding than anything else). In the afternoons the YW kids have designated homework time, as well as chores in the kitchen, dorms, gardens and greenhouses. I spent the time with the high school students helping with homework, and that will be one of my jobs this coming year when school starts in February.
My other job will be teaching an applied ecology class at an alternative school called the Centro Tata Esteban (Father Stephen) in town. This school is year-round and 7 days a week, from 8 a.m. until 10 p.m., but each student attends half the year, one month on one month off, so that they can help with the farming at home. They spend two weeks of the month in traditional classes like math, science, and history. The other two weeks they have technical classes where they learn a trade such as sewing, baking, construction, and agriculture. The students at this school are ones who did not finish regular high school (or perhaps never started) for one reason or another, and so their ages range from teens to late 20s. When they graduate from the school they will have the equivalent of their high school diploma as well as experience in a trade, which is probably more valuable, because the odds of any of these kids going to college is very, very slim.

Brad and I are also the new leaders of the youth group. Exactly what that is all about is still a mystery, but it doesn’t appear to be your typical youth group (no surprise), as a focus/interest in faith is pretty much non-existent. The youth basically want a place where they can gather, play games, watch movies and have the occasional excursion. We try to incorporate a bit of self-reflection, but as a culture the people are very shy and reserved, and teenagers all over the world are self-conscious, so visible results of these activities are limited.
So that is a bit about my work, but it doesn’t answer the question of what I actually do everyday. Life here is very relaxed, and most North Americans would consider it very slow. I find that the pace is agreeable to my personality. I take a walk when I want, in the mornings I sit in the sun and read a book while my hair dries. We also cook everything from scratch, so the process takes a long time. We bank on a few hours to prepare dinner, usually. But that is okay, because there is never any rush. Time is a bit of an enigma here. Dermot, a volunteer in Perú, hit the nail on the head when he said that it is appropriate that the Spanish word for “to wait” and “to hope” is the same word. First you show up for something, then you wait, and wait, and wait some more, until finally all you have left is hope that eventually someone else will show up. That I find really hard to adjust to, but with patience and a sense of humor, I am getting there.
Also, I spend a fair amount of time sitting on the neighbors’ step playing with the three-year-old Erica and her little dog El Duke (pronounced “el dookay”). I already have a reputation in the town as the dog-lover, and all the dogs from the street (the nice ones) know they can come to me for petting or treats and I don’t kick them or throw rocks at them like most people do. It is true, I have an easier time remembering the names of the dogs than I do some of the children. But it is certainly the children with their smiles and hugs that bring me the most joy here. I stand out, obviously, being the only blonde and tallest woman (taller than most of the men, too) in the town, and a bit of a celebrity status comes with that. Everyone knows who the gringos are, even if we don’t know them. There are several children who always run up to me for a hug when they see me. And this is by far my favorite job here.

Now, because of the uncertain nature of Bolivia, rural life, and mission work in general, change is in the air. There is a possibility that Brad and I will have to move to the city of Cochabamba next year, and the more I think about it, the more I dread the thought of living in a big city, I much prefer the small town, country life. But I was called to serve where I am needed, so we will see where that ends up being.


5. Do you only speak Spanish there?

If I did I would be better off. But adjusting to so many new things all at once takes a lot out of you, so being able to relax and chat in English with the gringos now and then is good for me psychologically (although Sister Encarna says it is “fatal” to my progress in Spanish). Maybe, but psychological well-being is important too, and I think that being able to take a break eases my mind and allows me to focus more during the times when I am with only Spanish-speakers. I shut down much less frequently than I used to. I am finally at a point where I can understand the majority of what is being said, even if I don’t catch every single word. And, equally important, I can express myself adequately…still not as poetically as I do in English, and I often struggle to find the right word or talk in circles to try to describe what I want to say, but with a little patience from my companions, I manage. The toughest times are definitely when there are multiple conversations going on, like at a fiesta, the dinner table, or a meeting gone awry. I can follow one, but when the subject and/or speaker changes rapidly, with lots of other Spanish being spoken in other conversations, it is still really hard for me to even get the jist of what is going on.

Of course, the majority of the people here speak Quechua, the dominant language spoken by indigenous people from here, throughout Perú, Ecuador, and up to Columbia. My knowledge of Quechua is growing, but still is mostly limited to Imaynallya kashanki (how are you), wallejia (fine), and K’aya kama (see ya tomrorrow).


6. What type of food is there?

Potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes. This is their place of origin, you know. And they proudly boast that there are over 50 different varieties of potatoes. Sometimes it feels like I sample one of each in a single meal. It is not at all uncommon to be served 6-10 potatoes on your plate, probably with a side of rice and pasta. If we are lucky, we get a pile of fava (sp?) beans instead of one of the starches. These are tasty and healthier, and we don’t eat the skins, under which can make a good hiding place for the potatoes I don’t want to eat. Luckily, it is not considered bad manners to shovel the food into a baggie to take home with you. This is a lifesaver for me, because (I blame the altitude), my appetite is significantly less here than before I came, and I just can’t eat that much.

One interesting type of potato is called chuño. They use a natural freeze-dry technique to preserve the potatoes through the off-season. Basically they dig a hole and put the potatoes in it during the cold winter months. The potatoes shrink and get all shriveled up. Before you cook them, you have to soak them in water overnight. They are then boiled and served with a sort of peanut sauce. They are a little bit chewy, but I certainly prefer them to plain ol’ boiled potatoes, which, because it is bad manors to eat the skins, have pretty much no flavor.

As far as meat goes, beef, pork, and chicken, are the most common, with lamb served from time to time, and nothing goes to waste. I have now eaten pieces and parts that I hadn’t eaten before. These include chicken stomach, beef tongue, liver, and kidney. Often there is a chicken foot in the soup, but I don’t think we are supposed to eat it, but that it is more for flavor. I couldn’t handle the chicken stomach. It has a texture that made me nauseous, and I generally have a strong stomach. The texture of the liver was similar, but not as bad, and I was able to eat a bit more of it (but it is always nice when there is a friendly dog under the table). I liked the tongue quite a bit. It is really tender and has no fat. When I was served the kidney, I thought it was tongue at first because it looked like it and was very tender, but it has a funny texture, too, though, and I prefer not to eat very much of it.

In our house, the cuisine is very different. First, we never prepare potatoes (except mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving Day). Second, we don’t usually fix meat either. This has more to do with ease of preparation then anything else. If we want chicken, we buy a whole chicken, and then have to clean the guts out of the inside, and cut it up. It isn’t very hard (except when our knives are dull), but it is gross and takes a while. When we buy beef we also have to cut it up (though luckily they don’t give us the whole cow), and beat it with a rock to tenderize it before cooking it. Usually we decide that veggies and maybe boiled eggs will suffice. So, we cook whatever we feel like. If we don’t know how, then Brad looks it up on the internet, and we figure it out. Amongst the new things that we now know how to make from scratch are tortillas, pesto sauce, garlic crème sauce, all sorts of tomato based sauces and salsas, and gnocchi. One day we are going to try ravioli, I think. Italian and Mexican cuisine along with random concoctions definitely dominate our meals, and we are very thankful that both basil and cilantro are available at the market.

Okay, there are a few more questions, but that is all I have ready for now. I will post the others when I can.