bolivia pt. VI

So it has taken me a while to get around to writing about we actually did in Bolivia. Really it is more about being than doing. One can only do so much, but in being a lot more occurs. So most of the time we just tried to be. We talked with people, we spent time with people, we ate with people, and of course we listened to people. In the end that is what it was about, getting to know life in Bolivia.

But that is hard to convey in words.

So I will just mention what we actually did.

We woke up early. The sun came up around 6. However at 5.15 the roosters starting their crowing. At 5.25 it was the dogs joining the. Around 5.40 or 5.45 the monkeys and parrots started in with their bit. Given that most animals in the village have free reign, quite a few found their way to a spot just outside my window. And at 6.00 to finish it off, the loudspeaker just down the road started giving the local announcements. So and so in such and such a street have killed a cow this morning and are selling meat... So by 6.15 there was no other option than to join the world and make some noise.

We ate. The food was different. I mean different, different as in different. There are differences between Spain and America and England's food, but Bolivia is different. But it was equally as good. That is to say I really liked it. Things like platano frito, yuca (in many shapes and forms), of course your meats and fishes, but in different forms. There is loads of fruit. Out back there were grapefruit trees, lemon trees, lime trees, mango trees, coconut trees (also known as palm trees), and some others that I'm probably not remembering. Of course not all are in season at once but a fair amount were and there is nothing quite like freshly squeezed lemon/limeade. We had freshly squeezed grapefruit as well, but with a large quantity of sugar. That reminds me, they also had sugarcane and coffee plants. See pics below (that's me with the coffee).




Food wasn't everything. We did some sharing. During the course of 8 days we were involved in 10 meetings. A couple on Sunday (one of which I preached), a prayer vigil, an open-air evangelistic meeting, a normal prayer meeting, an good Friday service, and some other bits. In all but two we either Desmond or I shared. On one particular day there were a couple of youth activities. In the afternoon we had a bible-study and shared a meal together afterwards. Then in the evening it was a social type event. Everyone invited loads of friends and in the end there were about 60 youth there. At the beginning I shared briefly just some things that God had done in my life and then during the second it was full-on games. By the end I was drenched in sweat. Humidity and running around with teenagers seems to leave one in that state.

We walked around the village and explored. Watched the women washing their clothes in the river. They seemed a bit shy at first, but they had no reason to be as they were still clothed. Hugo and I would cruise around the village in his car, him hanging out one side and me the other. On my side groups of little boys would accumulate suddenly, staring unabashedly at the white gringo who dropped in from outer space. We went for a swim in the river. It's called the Black River but its clean. Not of predators though, you can get cayman that reach 21 feet, but they generally stick to small cows and large dogs for their diet. Anacondas and other types of water snakes, eels, but not the Princess Bride type, piranhas, and so on. People have generally learned to live alongside these creatures that God has created and no one really gets hurt. Except for the creatures, but only when they try something. Then its a machete removing the head or the crack of a gun finishing it off. We saw none of these things however, which is why we have to go back in the dry season.






We took some horses and went traipsing around the jungle to see some of the land that Hugo works with. Hugo carried the pistol and I the .22. Again nothing threatened us and left me feeling like I wasn't getting my money's worth. Again, it's worth mentioning that it's not a true trip to the jungle till you've have to fight off predators trying to take your very life. Or at least something to give you a good story when you get home, even if you do have to spice it up...



Being the wet season, the village was basically an island, with water up to a horse's belly or higher outside of the village. This means that it's either by river or by plane that people come and go. It also means that the men aren't going out to work their fields. It's a lot of down time, but a lot of time to talk and get to know. It was amazing just to experience life with people there. Next time will be in the dry season, that will bring the flexibility to travel to the other communities nearby and see and share what God is up to there. Especially since Hugo and Erika spend a lot of Saturdays in those villages working with children and youth. That next time might not be much more than a year away...

un articulo

Entrar en un cierto país por primera vez, diferente al tuyo, es una experiencia única. Al pisar la tierra, tu mundo se abre y no saldrás la misma persona, porque llevarás un pedazo de ese país contigo por donde vayas. El mundo que veías antes en las fotos o tal vez en las noticias no es el mismo mundo que encuentras esperándote al respirar su aire. Todo se convierte en realidad. Las comidas cogen sabor, las casas ya son hogares y las caras desconocidas llegan a ser amigos.

Pasé más que dos semanas en Bolivia. Conocí dos lugares en particular, Santa Cruz y Baures, que está situado en el Beni. Son dos extremos, Santa Cruz, una ciudad de grandes proporciones y Baures, un pueblo tranquilo, medio aislado de las preocupaciones que siempre nos persigue. Muchas personas, que ya cuento como amigos, me abrieron sus vidas. Las dos semanas fueron intensas en el sentido de que las amistades llegan a ser bastante profundas en poco tiempo por pasar mucho juntos. Compartiendo la vida de mis amigos en Bolivia, comiendo su comida, durmiendo en sus casas y escuchando a sus corazones me afectó mucho. No ser afectado significaría no ser humano, puesto que somos designados a compartir quien somos. Por más que nos abramos nuestra vida, más nos enriquezcamos.

bolivia pt. V

So why did I go to Bolivia? There are a facet of answers I could give: I was asked to go, I am one to take opportunites to travel, I have friends there, etc.

Ah a combination of a lot of things is what it boils down to. But at the end of the day, or thought process, it was because God opened up a door. I think often we don't see the repercussions of our lives. From our viewpoint it is difficult to see the ripples that spread outward from ourselves. A friend of mine recently wrote about people who have affected her life and questioned whether those people actually have realised it. She mentioned that people are in your life for a reason and I agree. God places people in our lives, sometimes for a season, and sometimes for slightly longer term. Those people may or may not always know it, but God uses them for his purposes in our lives. Just as God places people in our lives, he places us in the lives of others. When ripples collide with something else they inevitably come back.

Hugo and Erika entered my life just over two years ago. I only knew them for two months. They were some of my first friends I made after coming to Spain. They took care of me, and treated me well. My Spanish was pretty limited and their English was non-existent, so our conversations didn't explore the depths. But there was a connection. Then after just two months they returned back to their home in Bolivia. They had come to Spain to work for a period, save money, and try to jump start their life in Bolivia (which by the way is likely the poorest country in South America). So after just two months they were no longer part of my life.

However ripples were set in motion and two years later, to the month, we met again, this time in Bolivia on the other side of the ocean. One of the last things we had talked about was how amazing it would be for me to see their home in Bolivia and know what life was like there.
This time was different, deeper, because while their English was still non-existent, my Spanish had vastly improved. This time conversations went deeper and language didn't limit so much. Thinking about it however, it wasn't language that either hindered or fostered the relationship, it was a connection on a different level that God brought about.

I don't know what will come of it all in the future. I do know that God has put them and Bolivia in my heart now. I am not the same person now who entered their country. What is clear is that there are ripples. Ripples that go both ways, ripples going out from me and ripples coming towards me.
God is doing something in Boliva. There is an openness in the people to hear about him. There is a desire to seek and know him. When you share about who God is, you can see him working in hearts. I went there to give and share, and like always, I recieved far more than I could have ever given.

So I went to Bolivia because God opened a door. And when God opens a door it is for a purpose. The purpose of God works both ways. It is to bring about things in us as well as to use us to bring about things. So I am excited to see where the ripples end up. I am excited to see what God is going to do through that friendship in the years to come. Whatever comes of it, no one will be unchanged by it all if God has anything to say.

native hunter/fisher

baures pt I (pt IV)

Baures is a village of about 4000 people. There is electricity supplied by a generator from 10.30 to 3.30 and 6.30 to 12.00 midnight each day. Unless you have your personal motor, you are limited to those hours. Note: next year they are implementing a bigger motor which will increase the number of hours of electricity each day. There are two main places where one can make phone calls. They operate as small businesses, to make a phone call you go there, enter a booth and make you call. A meter tells you your rate and how much your bill is. The same goes for internet. You go to the place, use the internet, and afterwards pay for your time. Note: shortly they hope to have internet available in housees for who are willing to pay the monthly fee. There is no cell phone/mobile phone coverage there, only in the larger cities.

The houses are very interesting. There are few if any glass windows, nearly everything is just a screen to keep out mosquitoes and other bugs and slightly larger carnivores. The temperature pretty much stayed between 70 and 90 degrees with high humidity. Blankets and jackets aren't really needed, not even in the mornings. Posted are a few pictures, portraying the diversity in housing.

The first picture is of Hugo and Erika's house, our friends with whom we stayed. Just beyond it is the jungle. Well jungle of a sorts. It was full of parrots, monkeys, all sorts of snakes, panthers, ants and other dangerous creatures along with a lot of water. Unfortunately during the wet season (which was just ending) one doesn't see as much wildlife as one does during the dry season. Note: next trip planned for the dry season. A trip there is not legitimate until one has to kill an animal with a pistol/rifle/machete while it is trying to take your life in a fit of rage. That's my opinion anyways. It makes you feel at one with the place. Note: the last bit was a bit melodramatic, it's not really that dangerous. But on the other hand, when one goes out to work in the jungle or country for the day, it is wise to carry some sort of firearm. Especially if you are gringo.

bolivia pt III

What followed the next day was a bit of walking around the city of Santa Cruz followed by a bus ride of 10 hours to Trinidad. Called a Flota, this particular bus was a "bus-cama" version. "Bus-bed" meaning the seats went back a good bit and a bit folded out from the seat in front for the legs. All that to say that I managed to sleep quite comfortably for about 7 of the 10 hours. No complaints here. We did stop once at 3 in the morning for a pee break in the middle of nowhere. Half the bus got up, shuffled behind some wooden shacks to some home-made port-a-jons. To flush, you had to pull your own water out of a tub outside with a bucket. I was just glad I didn't have to sit down.

You may be wondering why it took ten hours. It wasn't that it was that far, just that there were a lot of holes in the road that would have put the bus out of action for a while if hit at speed. So for the second half of the journey, in a sort of weaving motion, alternating back and forth and occasionally leaving the actual road, the driver navigated us to our destination.

Trinidad was as far as the bus could go. Next up, a small two seater plane. Due to the flooding of the plains around Trinidad and beyond, it would be by air that we would arrive. You can see both the airplane and the state of the earth below in several pictures and videos. As I've already mentioned the plane I won't recount that particular part.

So with that we pick up in Baures, the ultimate destination of this particular trip. A place that has now taken hold of something deep inside of me, and so far, hasn't let go.

bolivia pt II

I left Badajoz on a Tuesday night on a bus at 12:30am and arrived in Madrid at 5:30am. After an hours waiting in the bus station, I hopped on the Metro (subway/underground/whatever they are called these days) and road it around for a good hour and 40. Now it normally takes 40 minutes to get to the airport but I had time to kill. So I rode the line backwards and thought about what it would be like to live in a big city and ride the Tube to work everyday at 6am with several other hundred thousand people.
So at nearly 8am I pulled into Barajas Airport Madrid, with supposedly 5 hours to spare. Check in wasn't difficult and I waived goodbye to my main bit of luggage. 5 hours turned into 7 hours and I found myself being envious of the man in the photo. Years of practice have left him able to sleep in conditions I wasn't able to succeed in over the previous 10 hours.

The flight finally took off and it was a party on board. You see most of the people had been living in Spain for a good amount of time, often having left husbands or wives and children back in Bolivia while they attempted to earn money over a couple of years to send it back home. This flight, leaving Madrid and heading to Bolivia signified going back to everything they loved but the money. A fair amount of free food and alcohol was consumed on the flight. It was a happy 11 hours in the air, and an even happier landing for some.

They opened the doors of the plane and the humidity hit like the plague. Next was immigration. I went and stood in the short line labeled "tourists" till I figured out there was no one at the front to stamp my passport. So I went and stood in the long line labeled "Bolivians". Nothing like standing in a long line, sweating, looking like a white fish out of brown water, waiting to be let into a country where their leader isn't getting along with your leader. So I tried to look as Canadian as possible.

45 minutes later I handed over my passport to the one guy who was looking at all 200some passports.
"Are you American?"
"My passport seems to say I am."
"Do you have a visa?"
"I didn't think I needed a visa."
"You need a visa."
"I don't have a visa."
(And so on. Short phone conversation: "I have an American here without a visa. Do they need visas? Okay, okay. Alright then. Gracias.")
"Wait here, there is another man coming to talk to you."
(That particular man and I repeated the conversation quoted above.)
However at the exact end of the conversation, from over the loudspeakers came a woman's voice asking for a certain Señor Antonio Flora to report to the information desk. The man looked up at me, looked down at my passport, then back up at me. I puffed out my chest and tried to look important.
"Is that you they are calling?"
"Yes it is."
"Do you know why they are calling you?"
"No but it's probably important, I'm a very important individual you know. Denying me entry into your country could cause some serious international problems and not to mention, it would probably cost you your job."
(At this point you have probably figured out that my responses are the one thing I have been making up so far. The rest however is truth. Curiosity finally got the better of the man once they called my name again over the loudspeaker and with a stamp in my passport, let me know I had 30 days in Bolivia. However he was going to accompany me to the information desk to see why they were calling some American who had just flown in from Spain. When we found no one there, and the lady at the desk knew nothing about me, he asked to see my passport.)
"It's not false is it."
(I paused as I considered the stupidity of his question. Briefly considered pointing out that if I was to have a false passport, one, I would not tell him that it was false, and two, I would put in it a slightly better picture of myself. Considering the fact that I was in the country with my luggage and had a couple of weeks of adventure in front of me, decided to not be a jerk and simply replied that no, it was in fact a legitimate document and that I was just a humble law abiding foreigner who wanted to see a bit of Bolivia. After a long suspicious glance he disappeared off into the distance.

Turns out, my contact in Santa Cruz had called info an hour or so earlier asking for me. Why they chose that moment to announce me, I don't know. But God seems to have pretty good timing. One 35 minute taxi ride and 5 euros later, I was hooked up with Iván my first night's host.

the Beni

A couple of vidoes taken. The quality seems to have deteriorated, but you get the picture. All the water you see in the longer one is the flooding they have had in the Beni, particularly near Trinidad. Water, lots of water.

transportation

To get to the village of Baures... The wooden bench leaning against the wheel under the wing was my seat. Along with two other people. That was set on top of luggage right behind the only two seats in the plane: the pilot's and the co-pilot. Who was simply the passenger who weighed the most. I didn't get to sit there either time. To give you an idea of the space, I could have reached around the pilot at anytime with my arms and taken the plane's controls in my hands- without leaning forward too much. But with all the lack of personal space, I felt as one with the machine.

welcome to baures

Personally I like the color scheme and I should mention that the ventilation is excellent. What more can one ask for from the local airport? Which by the way, is the only get to the pueblo during this part the of the year. The rainy season takes out all the mud roads. Well one can take a boat, but that's a good few days on the river with blood sucking mosquitos. So we opted for the one hour plane journey. See plane above. What you can't see is the air-traffic control center, but there is one. It was empty when we landed... and when we took off. A couple of cows were grazing at the base though. I don't know what they do if they wander onto the runway. The odds can't be that low as it is made of sweet, juicy grass.

bolivia pt I

So I am home again after more than two weeks of time spent in Bolivia. Santa Cruz, Trinidad and Baures were all on the itinerary. I find myself questioning where to begin, how to relate the experiences I had there, and what is more, what to say about the aftereffects that are still rippling through me at this moment.

It was an experience unlike any other. But then again, when one is relatively young it isn't the most difficult thing to partake in something new. I shall put up photos and then explain them, that helps. I shall try to describe experiences and what it was like experiencing them. Perhaps even throw in a few statistics. But what remains is this: For the writer I am, good or bad, for the photographer, better or worse, the experience shall remain only fully mine. I will not be able to convey it in its entirety, nor even a large percentage. I can only throw out pieces. And I will not apologize, for that is simply the nature of what it is like in other parts of the world. Until one enters their borders, eats their food, and speaks with them, those young, those old and those in-between, one will not have actually tasted, seen, nor heard what is, in this case, Bolivia.

From my journal...
"It is always a one time experience- entering a country foreign to your own for the first time. One does not know what it will be like, though perhaps he tries to expect and imagine. Perhaps he has seen pictures, movies or even documentaries, yet it does not change a thing, for those mediums are like watching the world through a telescope. Entering a country for the first time is like being dropped naked into the ocean. It hits every sense in a way words cannot describe. So open your senses, because the next time will not be the first time."

back from...

ahh what a life - more to come...