AfricanKelli

« Home

A few photos of the housing project we are beginning with the Guarani people of Bolivia. They are one more than 30 indigenous groups in this South American country. Their story is much like that of indigenous people internationally; they have been marginalized, forced to work in mines, had their children taken from them and ultimately placed on a reservation so they can preserve their way of life.

I’m not sure they remember their way of life. The folks I visited with are struggling to meet their basic needs, including housing, education and health care. We hope to help with the housing portion. These families will participate in our improved housing project, bringing safe homes to the remote community of Timboy, in the Department of Tarija.

Yesterday there were nation-wide strikes in Bolivia. The people took to the streets to protest the president´s plan to remove the current supreme court and replace the justices with those he finds more agreeable.
In six major cities across Bolivia, including Cochabamba where I am staying, no cars were allowed on the street. Businesses closed up tight and people filled the small plazas with their placards and voices. For the most part, it was a peaceful day. My coworkers and I didn´t know what to do with ourselves for the day. We could´t work comfortably, nor did we want to join the march. (We are decidedly politically neutral until we set foot in Miami tomorrow morning. They we can chat about our opinions all we want; in the meantime, it makes sense to keep our mouths shut.)
Seeing a giant Jesus statue on a hill in the distance, I asked our Bolivian counterpart if perhaps we could go for a hike during this nonsense. She thought it was a great idea. Two hours later, I was pouring sweat, looking at my chest thinking I may actually see my heart jumping, and praying to reach the top. We climbed to 10,000 feet, more than 1,000 of it this ´´hill´´ with stairs perilously winding up one face. It felt incredible to reach the top and feel my heart calm. The view was eerie. The city below appeared vacant; many Bolivians decided to stay inside and let youth run the protests. It wasn´t until the dynamite started going off in one part of the city that we decided we´d better high tail it back to the hotel.
(A funny side note: when I asked if the pounding noise was gun shots, my Bolivian friend looked at me and laughed. ´´Of course not! It is only dynamite. We have lots of dynamite in Bolivia.´´ Much better than gun shots silly American, her laughter said. What do you think we are?)
We´d made it almost back to the hotel when the anti-protest marchers walked past us. I will never forget the line of indigenous women, with flowing pleated skirts, swollen, worn feet stuffed in leather sandals, felt bolero hats perched just so on their heads, long black braids winding down their backs and babies tied in brightly woven aguayos resting mid-spine. The walked to show their discontent at not being able to work for the day. They are the nation´s poorest population and a day without pay means hunger. These Andeans are pro-Evo. He is a ´´native´´ after all.
When I got back to the hotel, I opened my window to listen to the commotion in the square below. The indigenous people played flutes. The police wailed their sirens. The pro-democracy folk screamed into bull horns.
Flute vs. dynamite. I looked up at the Jesus statue on the hill in the distance, who perched from this position could see this craziness better than anyone and whispered to myself, ´´Peace, please.´´

-kelli

I have been meeting with our Bolivian counterparts in meetings for the last two days, and for the first time in my professional life, I feel like I´m actually bringing something to the table. I can´t put my finger on what has changed, other than I´ve been working in this field for four years and I think I am starting to get the hang of it.
We have been meeting about a variety of things, but mainly to discuss this massive housing project we are starting in rural Bolivia. We (the nonprofit I work for) are one of half a dozen entities helping fund a project that will ultimately build 5300 houses during the next three years. The houses are simple — most just four rooms. A basic bathroom, with running water and a sink to minimize fecal-oral illness, a basic kitchen with a raised stove and chimney to reduce childhood burns (kids can¬¥t fall into these fires) and respiratory illness, a basic bedroom for the parents, and a silo. Silo isn¬¥t the right word, but I don¬¥t know what else to call it in English. Deposito en espa√±ol. It is an area within the house where the family keeps their grain and food for the next planting season. When these rooms were outside, the farm animals and mice were always in them, causing problems. Also, they could get wet and become moldy resulting in an entire infertile planting season that ultimately results in an entire season of hunger and infertility.
The community questionaires we completed before beginning the housing project found that families actually wanted a silo more than a bedroom. They would happily sleep outside if they could just ensure their children could eat and they´d have something to plant. Truly, Bolivians are amazing people.
Imagine their delight when we explained they would receive both. They were also tickled pink to receive the training and education on how to build these homes; the sustainability of such a project is dependent on the participants working for the result. We don¬¥t do hand-outs. These families become masons, electricians, plumbers and roofers over the three-year development process. Afterward, many will find employment in these very areas. Each family must also contribute a bit of their own money toward their house –roughly $72 paid over a 6-month period. Between their sweat equity and this payment, the families must be truly dedicated to having a healthier home. Both their time and this money is a significant investment.
Even though we are at the beginning of this project, I can write these details with certainty. We have been working here for more than 20 years and have built thousands of homes using this public health model. Each family is incredibly grateful and we know we´ve truly made a difference when they are able to keep their children in school as a result. In a nutshell: healthy house = fewer illnesses = more productivity = less stress financially and emotionally = happier homes and more children who are in school, rather than in the fields to help their folks. It takes decades to see these sorts of results, but thankfully we are getting there.
Tomorrow, a day off. I am going to visit the Virgen de Chaguaya. Nope. I have no idea what that means either, but apparently everyone in Tarija is pretty excited about it.

-Kelli

P.S. You know this town is small considering I am in the newspaper today. We were out for dinner last night and a reporter came by to take our photo and ask what we were doing here. I need to go find a copy. Or two.

One of the more interesting aspects of my job when I travel is the food. It is customary in many cultures that as a sign of thanks, people feed you. When I arrive in teeny tiny communities high in the Andes Mountains, for example, and the village has gathered for a community meeting to thank “la gringa¬¥¬¥ for her funding and work, they bring food. This is when you must put your American culinary attitudes aside and welcome pretty much whatever they hand you with grace and humility — recognizing that your plate means someone else isn¬¥t eating.
And then you must sit, eat, smile and make a rather large production about how good it is, even if it is, say, llama. Not just any llama, but llama jerky. And this meat is so incredibly precious that you are the only one at the table with it included on your plate. The 25 pair of eyes on you, while you realize this, make you blush instantly.
And so, you smile, chew and chew and chew, and try hard not to think about the fact that your vegetarian ass is all of a sudden eating really sweet, furry, cute mountain animals that have been killed ages ago and dried in someone´s home with a ridiculous amount of salt. Instead, you simply pray that you are not going to die of foodborne illness and count your blessings. Namely Pepto, Immodium and an actual toilet to sit on when you return to your hotel, versus the pit latrine currently available behind the community meeting.
This was my day. When the meeting was over, we went for a drive (because nothing says calm stomach like a 4-hour SUV tour of the Andes on a rocky, bumpy, painful dirt road) so I could see some mountain lakes situated at a teetering 12,000 feet. To my surprise, they were full of bright pink flamingos. We were high enough in this arid area that nothing will grow. The land is scattered with flocks of sheep and the occasional group of llama that have apparently escaped the grasp of the local jerky man. These animals I expect. The flamingos were a surprising treat.
In its own way, the llama jerky was too.
-kelli

Hi there! I´ve arrived after much traveling; another one of those 36-hour trips, not including the five-hour road trip to our first site once we got off the plane.
Regardless — Bolivia is as fabulous as I remember. She is refreshingly cold, full of warm, sweet people, and welcoming to foreigners like no other country on earth. I truly love it here.
We are working the far eastern portion of the country these first few days, observing a housing project we are helping construct within indigenous communities. We are 50 miles from Paraguay and 50 miles from Argentina, which I am pretty sure means we are smack dab in the middle of nowhere.
Today the surgical team arrives and I´ll once again be putting on scrubs and serving as a medical gopher in the operating room. I love my job.
I hope to post photos and more details when we get to a larger city. This is the first computer I¬¥ve seen in three days. The little news I¬¥ve seen hasnt¬¥been good. If you are the praying sort, lease keep Peruvians in your thoughts. I can¬¥t imagine how they are dealing with this earthquake. It is freakishly close to where we are working, and yet far enough away that it doesn¬¥t influence our daily comings and goings. Having just traveled through Peru last year, my heart breaks for their country — one of complete beauty and grace. Thankfully, Peruvians (and Bolivians) continue to amaze me with their sheer perseverance and strength. Let¬¥s hope these shine through now more than ever.

Off to find some coffee, a bench in the park across the street and a few minutes to read before my driver comes back to swoop me up!
-kelli