un mois plus

Our office is closed this week for much needed vacation time. Since my favorite friends Christina and Kate are coming in to town next week and we will be traveling, so I decided to stay in L.P. and collect my thoughts. Plus, I really do not enjoy traveling alone- pretty over that.

This afternoon I decided to venture to my old neighborhood, up into the black market (real name: Mercado Negro). I have been wanting a pair of red, high top, Chuck Taylors and I was feeling lucky. My luck died after asking 10 stall owners if they carried a size 10. 8 gave me a quick NO, one said the pair I was holding (a size 7) was in fact a 10- do I look a) blind o b) stupid, the 10th said "yes", went to storage, came back and without making eye contact handed me a laced size 8. Seriously- do I look stupid. He didn't even react when I pointed out the clear OCHO on the sneaker. Just a shrug, and most likely he honestly thought I could make it work. He isn't the first Bolivian to try to convince me that I should wear an 8, that I am just making up my toes existence.

The afternoon was redeemed when I got on a mini bus with a "vocero" (boy that yells out the buses route) with an EXCELLENT lisp. THeis de Agosto, THan Miguiel, uno-THincuenta. A great moment. It's the little things that keep me sane.

In other news, I am growing less and less motivated to begin applying jobs from here. I mean if one more person mentions the economic crisis in a "good luck with that" tone, I may just never move back to the U.S. and take a job waitressing in Cusco. I am indeed aware of the odds against me, but then again hold strongly to the reality that when people lose money, social problems are heightened- therefore more opportunities in the "social assistance" field. I think I will be fine. But most of all, my lack of motivations comes from really desiring some time when i get back and not having to rush into a new job, city, apt, friend search, etc. I kind of just want to stand still and be. Maybe go for a run, breath some oxygen and sit by running water. Just the little things that keep me sane.

ready for hello(s)

Lately I have been thinking of how ready I am to say hello and how over I am of saying goodbye. As I count down the days to my 8th move (Waco, Santiago, Tokyo, Baltimore, Bangkok, L.A., La Paz...) in the last 4 years, I am facing the routine of taking in what this experience has been and anticipating what the next will bring. I know it will take a lot more than just a few weeks to let thing soak in and settle, but I like to get a bit of a head start- especially since I have the apt to myself and an upcoming week-long break from work.

While I have been genuinely blessed by the many places, experiences and most of all people I have met over the past few years, I am ready for some repeats. Bring on familiar faces and already experienced places, I am ready to say hello again. I am ready to relive old times and take a walk down memory lane. I am ready to reintroduce myself to people and assure them that I am mostly the same. mostly. OH I am so ready for hello!

As for the song posted bellow, if you know me- then you know. And if you don't, well then you should check out Tracy Chapman, she's an amazing artist.

Change, by Tracy Chapman

If you knew that you would die today
Saw the face of god and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low that you cannot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?

How bad, how good, does it need to get?
How many losses? how much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around
Makes you try to explain
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change
Makes you change

If you knew that you would be alone
Knowing right, being wrong,
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that you would find a truth 
That would bring a pain that can't be soothed
Would you change?
Would you change?

How bad, how good, does it need to get?
How many losses? how much regret?
What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around
Makes you try to explain
Makes you forgive and forget,
Makes you change
Makes you change

Are you so up right
You can't be bent
If it comes to blows
Are you so sure you won't be crawling
If not for the good why why risk falling
Why risk falling?

If everything you think you know
Makes your life unbearable
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you'd broken every rule and vow
And hard times come to bring you down
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that you would die today,
If you saw the face of God and loved
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you saw the face of God and loved
If you saw the face of God and loved
Would you change?
Would you change? 

I live here and haven't heard of this...

http://edition.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/06/10/chagas.bolivia.deadly/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

Sigo Viva

Still alive. A busy month. 

Working on an update.

Harder than I expected.

Processing the past 9 months.

Awaiting what the next few could bring. 

More on life pronto.

controversial clothing

Last Sunday I joined two friends to take on the El Alto market, a place where you can purchase everything from a needle to a car.   Bangkok's Jadujak marked was nothing compared to this. We left the south zone to head up and 9 a.m. and didn't get back till 16:00.  A days work that paid off beautifully,  spending 55 Bolivianos ($7.75) on 3 blouses, 3 sweaters AND a pair of jeans (that thankfully fit- dressing sheets are only in the more expensive stalls a.k.a. $10 jeans v $3).  All items were used of course, but if you know me well that is pretty much what I wear.  Used, cheap office and grubby sweats fill my closet. 

The controversy does not lie what I bought, but in the clothing that is being sold.  Since it is used and not made in Bolivia, the government has banned it from being further imported.  Over the past year the government has decided that importing uses "american" clothing hurts the local economy and Bolivian clothing manufacturers. Most Bolivians choose used over new, stating that the quality is better.  So far no more deliveries of Value Village/Goodwill rejects have entered the country, but there is still tons and tons in warehouses waiting to be sold.  Officials had threatened to burn the remaining clothes, but after an initial series of protests decided to give the vendors 6 months to sale out. 

Well, the 6 months are up and there are still tons of chompas (word used for sweaters here) that need to be sold.  Over the last few months both sides, a.k.a the vendors at the market v. the local clothing makers, have raised up against each other and the government.  Here that means an endless series of marches/protests/noise making/blocking of major city streets to gain attention and maybe, just maybe find a solution. Not sure how that works, but its all in the cultural taking in of things.  I actually missed the semi-nude march in downtown L.P. and was very very disappointed.  

The moral to this story, among many is: reduce, reuse, recycle- BUT keep it within the U.S. since your waist is causing controversy and forcing me to walk 1/2 an hour though city street that are blocked by angry clothing people.  Although, I am thankful for the cheap finds, even if they did belong to your late Aunt Elsa. 

retreat

For those who are interested or those who are ready my blog out of obligation, the retreat was a success. I find it hard to choose adjectives to describe a retreat on sexual abuse, so I will keep this to a minimal. Pastors and leaders were very moved and motivated to start informing, educating and working with their local communities on the topic. The majority of women who attended (around 50) and a few men spoke with our speaker or counselor about past abuse. For many of them it was the first time to voice their pain. Three support groups for survivors of sexual abuse will start this week!

Thank you for your continued support and prayers!

Eclesiastés

For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; 

       the more knowledge, the more grief.

Mientras más sabiduría, más problemas; 

      mientras más se sabe, más se sufre.

1:18

Work has been draining lately.  I have been translating a manual/outlines for support groups for survivors of sexual abuse.  My capacity to take in and spout out words from English to Spanish has come to a halt and the reality of what we work with is settling in a deeper manner.  I cannot think of a darker sin or worse evil than sexual abuse.  Murder kills the body, but the soul remains alive.  Sexual abuse kills the soul, but the body remains alive.  Not only does it murder, it also steals and destroys.  Taking a child's innocent, a person's dignity, destroying their sense of trust, self-esteem, and love. The more I know, the more I hate it, the more devastated I am. Such a dark evil that it almost seems to get darker the more light is shed on it.  

Knowledge may cause grief and wisdom, sorrow.  Yet, are we not called to desire wisdom? Have we not been given knowledge from the Knower of All? With this wisdom we shall not mourn alone, nor shall we let those who mourn be alone.  Sorrow should not kill our desire and duty to support those who have and will overcome. 

The more I know, the more I hate it, the more devastated I am. Such a dark evil that it seems to get darker the more light is shed on it.   Yet the darkness makes me think of light, I become fixated on how light can and will make the darkness disappear.  Similarly seeing and knowing of such blatant evil reminds that there is Great Good. Good that restores hope to the hopeless, peace to the troubled,  comfort to the devastated, and strength to the defeated.   

Next week is our big pastor/leader's retreat on sexual abuse and (in) the church.   This retreat will be huge.  Pastors and leaders representing over sixty churches in La Paz and El Alto are participating.  Some have never heard of a Christian perspective on sex, aside from don't do it until after marriage.  Some have been abused.  Others may have been abusers.  As much as I am excited to see Greatness move, I also realize how devastating, heartbreaking and overwhelming the topic can be.  I ask that the grief would not overwhelm, but that it would encourage those who participate to raise up; and mourn with those who mourn.  To not forget or look away from this darkness, but instead to be reminded of the power of Light.  To not be overcome by evil, but to overcome evil with Good. 

When I applied my mind to know wisdom and to observe man's labor on earth—his eyes not seeing sleep day or night-  then I saw all that God has done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning. Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it.

Al dedicarme al conocimiento de la sabiduría y a la observación de todo cuanto se hace en la tierra, sin que pudiera conciliar el sueño ni de día ni de noche, pude ver todo lo hecho por Dios. ¡El hombre no puede comprender todo lo que Dios ha hecho en esta vida! Por más que se esfuerce por hallarle sentido, no lo encontrará; aun cuando el sabio diga conocerlo, no lo puede comprender. 

8:16-17

one story

http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/americas/03/20/boliva.girl/index.html

One story out of thousands of cases in Bolivia.

Millions throughout the world.

A sensationalized tale.

A raw reality.

 

God help us. 

Northern Ireland is not so far away

In the past week I have been asked if I was a Christian more than in my 23 years combined. I hated it each time.

While the Christian community here is tightly knit, it sometimes seems too uptight to me (actually not just here, but in lots of places). I have decided that next time I am asked I will respond, “Yes, I go to mass every Sunday” just to see how the person will react. Here Christians are separated from Catholics. My question to this is- Who exactly do Catholics believe in? I am pretty sure we broke off from them. I have met amazing people who believe in anything, everything and nothing. I have met wonderful Catholics and horrible Christians, inspiring Jews and loving Buddhists. There are few things that really make me angry, but segregation among “loving” believers is high on my short list.

How valid is my response to this question? If I say I am, does that really make me one? I mean Bill Clinton said he didn’t have sexual relations with Monica, and we all know how that ended. People say things all the time they don’t really mean or that they intend for them to mean something completely different.

How true is our Christianity, which calls us to love our neighbor, when our second question to our neighbor is; are you one of us? Of course I realize that it could be intended with love, but love is usually felt- and I haven’t really felt the love when I have been asked that. Plus, such a question seems to segregate and segregation is the complete opposite of the unconditional love of Christ- whom "Christians" claim to follow.

things I miss that cannot be mailed:

1- baby spinach

2- running at sea level (or any level lower than 2 miles in the sky)

3- efficiency

4- tall people 

5- beaches

6- sleeping in

7- blame taking

8- Target

9- a choice group of family and friends (who I think could adapt and live here- for a while)

10-Chipotle

The top three are pretty much on my  mind daily, the rest were harder to think of, which I think is a good sign. 

a sermon I am translating...

and thought it was worth sharing (Spanish version available upon request).


http://www.faithtrustinstitute.org/downloads/siwo.pdf

moving down moving up

Yesterday I moved to Zona Sur, the lowest part of La Paz.  Like I mentioned long ago, La Paz us relatively bowl shaped and while I used to be right at the point when you realize that you need more milk or cereal, I now live at the level where the flakes are always present.  Basically, I have more oxygen to breath, less congestion, less public urination and most importantly less mini bus riding.  A few other perks include making my own meals, washing my own clothes, making my own bed and having a living room that I feel comfortable hanging out in. 

Yes, its the simplest things that make life great.

Stats.

Violence against women and girls continues unabated in every continent, country and culture. It takes a devastating toll on women’s lives, on their families, and on society as a whole. Most societies prohibit such violence — yet the reality is that too often, it is covered up or tacitly condoned.
UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon, 8 March 2007[i]

IN BOLIVIA…
· An estimated 7 out of 10 women suffer from violence.
· In 2007, 32,814 complaints of domestic violence and/or family violence were filed in Bolivia.

AROUND THE WORLD…
· 85 to 95% of domestic violence victims are female.[iii]
· Based on data gathered by the General Secretariat of the United Nations on Violence against Minors, the study shows that 275 million minors are currently exposed to domestic violence.
· For women between the ages of 15 and 44, violence constitutes a major cause of death and disability.[iv]
· In a 1994 study conducted by the World Bank on ten risk factors that affect women, violence and rape were ranked higher than cancer, traffic accidents, war and malaria.[v]
· Based on several surveys from around the world, half of the women who die from homicides are killed by their current or former husbands or partners.
· Limited availability of services, stigma and fear prevent women from seeking assistance and redress. This has been confirmed by a study published by the WHO in 2005: on the basis of data collected from 24,000 women in 10 countries, between 55 percent and 95 percent of women who had been physically abused by their partners had never contacted NGOs, shelters or the police for help.[vi]
· According to the World Health Organization (WHO) in 48 studies conducted around the world, up to 69% of women stated that they had been physically abused by their partner at some point in their life.
· Over half of men who abuse their wives will also abuse their children.[vii]
· One out of every five women has to miss work as a consequence of domestic violence.[viii]
[i] http://www.unifem.org/gender_issues/violence_against_women/facts_figures.php
[ii] http://www.ine.gov.bo/indice/visualizador.aspx?ah=PC3090102.HTM
[iii] http://www.aidv-usa.com/Statistics.htm
[iv] 1994 World Bank Study.
[v] General Assembly. In-Depth Study on All Forms of Violence against Women: Report of the Secretary General, 2006. A/61/122/Add.1. 6 July 2006. 52.
[vi] García-Moreno et al. 2005. WHO Multi-country Study on Women’s Health and Domestic Violence Against Women. Initial results on prevalence, health outcomes and women’s responses, Geneva: WHO. 74.
[vii] http://www.catwinternational.org/factbook/LatinAmerica.php
[viii] http://www.catwinternational.org/factbook/LatinAmerica.php

Carnaval

This weekend Bolivia celebrates its version of carnaval.   Lets just say its a once in a lifetime experience that I embraced and have checked off my life list.  Oruro is where the main celebration takes place and everyone since the day I have arrived in Bolivia has told me that I had to go. Of course none of them wanted to accompany me to the great celebration, so I booked a day tour to insure a safer journey.

For historical details on Oruro's Carnaval see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnaval_de_Oruro . Basically its a endless parade of dancers that make there way to a church where they enter kneeling and pray to the virgin.  The costumes are elaborate and colorful, the dancing left more to be desired, but I guess if I were asked to dance for 5k I would also come up with simple steps.  The first few hours were great, but after 10 well, I was done. Plus half of the "fun" was an ongoing water fight between the bleacher sections. Lucky me to be sitting on the edge, so I was pelted with half full (aka hard) water balloons for ten hours.  I almost picked a fight with the supremely annoying Irish guy behind me,  but I kept peace.  There is nothing that gets under my skin more than foreigners who play the "foreigner card" and ignore local social norms, as in don't throw balloons while dancers pass, wait for the break.  I mean sure, I play that card, but usually it doesn't offend the majority (sneaking into five star hotels to use their pool) and it most defiantly has never caused someone to get hit by a water balloon.  

The trip came to an eye opening end. When we were dropped off in downtown La Paz, three blocks from my house, I witnessed two women being beaten by their spouses/boyfriends/men.  I have almost grown accustomed to seeing violence here, since almost daily I see someone loose their temper and hit something or yell at someone.  But this made me feel so helpless since there wasn't anything I could do but say a silent prayer and run up to my house.  To get involved would mean that I would likely get beaten, by the man or even the woman- since its "none of my business" and  calling the police would be equally as pointless.  The saying here "if he loves me he hits me" is a norm for the majority.  Seven out of ten women in Bolivia suffer from abuse.  Next month domestic violence is the topic we will be discussing in the churches we are working with, hoping to break the silence on this epidemic.  Hoping that churches would be a voice against violence and become safe havens for victims as well as help to abusers.  My heart breaks to think about the two women I saw a few nights ago, thinking how many nights they are beaten, yelled at or raped. 

My heart breaks at the problems I have seen and feel that there are so few answers.  Seeing so much evil- pure evil,  while a times debilitating, it has also renewed my hope and belief in The Good that exists. Complete Good that will ultimately overtake evil and daily restores the broken.  The idea of working for peace has been in my meditations lately. Peace is hard work and not just a simple wish. Work that can be heart breaking and devastating, but ultimately what else is there to stand up for if not for peace? Is not peace a product of love? If we simply just wish, we throw away the chances of true change, we throw away what True Love calls us to do- to act and work for peace, even with a silent prayer. 

a few links of interest

The following links will provide some insight to this beautiful and sometimes questionable land I now call home....

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/02/bolivia_and_its_new_constituti.html?s_campaign=8315

http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5hNEMhtxY8H4x4Mm_S1AqRDjn8lOgD96901280

Back in L.P.

I have officially been back a week and am also back to almost having a heart attack each time I come back to my house up 3 inclines. My lungs must have shrunk back to size while I was at sea level. 

Being back has reminded of my love/hate relationships with this city. Then again I think that is how most people feel most of the time no matter where they live.  I have been wondering what people think of La Paz when they only experience it for a day or even a week. Thankfully last night I received an answer when a visitor described the city as "having a constant frenetic energy, a chaos that works."  Then today a Bolivian described La Paz as a city where "everything and nothing happens." This is very true. From the outside, and even on the inside from an outsiders prospective, it feels like this place could explode at any moment. And many times it has.  But ask any local and they will repeatedly insist that all is well and normal and that nothing there is nothing to worry about. 

Since my arrival, I have seen more public urination and breast feeding here than in my 23 years combined.  I have seen houses built of steel and stone, and others made of cardboard.  Just like any other city, this is a place where worlds collide and contradictions are as far marked as black is to white.  Yet I still feel that its energy and spirit is unlike any other place I have ever lived.  I mean, who in their right mind chooses to build a city this high? And furthermore, who decides to continue to stay?  I am in awe of this city, I really am.  The way the chaos works and the way that it eventually seems normal.

La Paz, here's to second round and many more days of experience!

If I am traveling at 32 I hope....

1- I invest in decent luggage, the kind that doesn't loose its wheels after one trip.

2- Have someone to pull, push or carry said luggage.

3-I learn how to pack less than I weigh in case no one else can carry the expensive, yet broken wheeled suitcase. 

4- To stay in places where I am not sharing a room with complete strangers.

5- Having a private bathroom would also be a perk, but I can't be too picky.

6- I own clothes that were bought new and are made to look a) nice while traveling and b) like I actually get paid to do my job. 

7- I have better sense not the spend the night in a not so international international airport so to save $10 on a hostel.

Let's hope the next 9 years afford me such luxuries. 

Direction, just in time.

I recently spent three days trekking through Torres del Paine National Park in Chile’s Patagonia. This was my first real dose of trekking and I not sure I would recommend this one for a first experience, but I survived and for the most part I really enjoyed my time in nature. The hardest trail by far was up to the Torres lookout. One must cross a couple of rivers (with and without bridges), walk through mud, forest and finally the last 30 minutes is a 100-degree incline on a pile of rocks. If I had spent years on a Stairmaster this still would have been a challenge. I did make it and it was gorgeous.

Along this particular trail there were parts that were very well marked and others that made me second guess the previous markings and think that I would end up at a cottage made of candy or simple get eaten by a puma. Just about the time I felt like I had no other option but to backtrack, I would see a little orange bit in the distance, that would reaffirm that I was on course.  The markings were not consistent in shape, form or the distance between them, some were flags, others were circles painted on trees, or arrows on a rock, or plastic posts. The only thing in common was their bright orange color.

On my way back down from seeing the Torres up close, I began to think of how these markings were similar to how God provides direction. Life many times, for me at least, can seem more like a road less traveled, unpaved and rarely marked, rather than a straight, narrow, paved Roman road.  There are times when I get desperate and am not sure which course to take.  Nevertheless the Universe Herself presents me with markers just in time to affirm that yes, you are still on track.  These signs can come in the form of a friend or coworker or complete stranger, they can come through a e-mail or telephone call, through a movie watched, a song heard or a poem read.  Each speaks just enough to move me and direct me in this unmarked wilderness of life. For the slightest of moments these signs allow my mind, heart and most importantly my soul to unite, aligning my inner compass. I believe all humans posses this compass, this balance of mind, heart and soul, but few of us are willing to acknowledge or listen to it.  If we allow, this compass can direct us, showing us our north and east. Providing us with enough direction, enough hope to satisfy any anxiety we bare. Even if it is just for a moment, we are at peace, knowing full well that the road that we have traveled was right and the course we are taking will eventually lead us to an end- even if ever so vague, we know things are just as they should be. Our inner voice is silenced and our compass is directed by the wise whisper of the Universe that these signs provide, the whisper that unified them all- making them known to us.  A gentle whisper that reaches to the depths of who we are. Speaking, directing our soul. 

Home

Greetings from my birthland... yes, I am still here. For those of you who are not aware I am here till the end of January, waiting for the vote for the New Constitution in Bolivia to blow over (hopefully uneventfully, so I can go back).

I have taken this time as a sabbatical of such to reflect and regroup.  Spending it in Chile has been all the more of a blessing, coming full circle of sorts (birth till now).  Being here has made me realize why I am who I am and why I do certain things. I make more sense to me here.  Cultural differences are sometimes hard to explain in words, it's in seeing and experiencing them that make them cognitively unique. 

The greatest thing I have come to realize is that home is a sense of belonging. Home is not a place, nor a building with four walls, a few windows and a door.  Home can not be defined by something tangible or concrete, though it can be represented by one. Home is feeling that you belong somewhere or to someone, and not only that, but most importantly, that you are needed.  I believe a sense of belonging comes from a greater sense that is given off by someone else who not only needs, but desires ones presence.  Feeling this from someone else and having a similar feeling in return, gives one a sense of belonging.

Home become a journey for many people my age, in particular those with stories like mine, who when asked where home is, they sigh and would rather move on to the next question.  At this point, I am quite certain that nothing concrete could define my sense of home, nor could one specific person.  And while one day I hope to feel that sense of belonging from a person(s), I am now satisfied with knowing that I am right where I need to be; nothing more or nothing less.  This IS home; not a nation state or one of the united states, but a state of ones own. 

ZEBRAS II

In a previous blog entry I mentions the people dressed up as zebras to help the citizens of La Paz learn where and when to cross the streets.

Well well, I found a mini documentary on the matter.  Please direct yourselves to the following link and enjoy

http://www.lonelyplanet.com/bolivia#video-ltv-F6C841FC760DECE9

p.s. I live right behind the Iglesia San Franscisco and the intersection featured is minutes from my home. 

¡Feliz Año Nuevo!

So far I have successfully enjoyed all of the eight things listed bellow.  I forget how much I LOVE Chile. Maybe because in many senses its home, even though I technically do not have family or a house here. details. 

Lucy was here for a nice 10 day visit. We spent most of our time in Viña del Mar, sitting on the beach and indulging in all the great food I have been missing in Bolivia (including a trip to McDonalds- pathetic, I know).  It was refreshing to be with family and a good friend, having time to rest and relax.

I am now back in Concepción, my hometown.  I was here for a quick weekend trip to be at my 5 year high school reunion.  I was able to see the majority of my old classmates, catch up, and realize how little things change, in both good an not so good ways. 

Right now I am trying to plan my journey to the south, which may or may not include a bus ride all the way to the Patagonia.  It should give me a lot of time to think things through and just be, soaking in all the Chileaness I can before I return to La Paz. 

More on my journeys ahead.