Sunday, April 26, 2009

Where's Grandma?

Some days I feel like I am getting nowhere with my language studies. One day last week, I went downstairs to eat lunch with my host family and noticed that my abuelita (grandma) wasn't there. This was highly unusual. I asked my host mom where she was and my host mom replied, "She left."
"Oh, you mean she left for the meal and she'll be home later?" I asked.
"No. She left."
This worried me because in my mind, 'she left' meant that she wasn't living at our house anymore so I asked where Grandma had gone and this was the reply I got:
"Lauren, she left. She is free to do what she pleases, she is an adult. If she wants to eat or live somewhere else, it is up to her."
Hm, I thought. Abuelita doesn't go ANYWHERE alone. I started to panic that a) there had been a falling out and Grandma stormed off and b) I really wasn't understanding any Spanish any more so I continued to pursue my line of questioning.
"I don't understand. Where exactly is Grandma?"
and again the reply was:
"She left. She is welcome in this house at any time, but she is free to go if she chooses."

At this point, I gave up. I guess Grandma left. Why not just say, 'She had lunch with her sister.' or 'Grandma decided to go back to Aunt Claudia's house for awhile.' Gee, I think that would be too easy. Instead I got, "She left."

A few minutes later, I thought I would try to strike up a different conversation:
"Will you guys have another student next semester?"
"We have no idea. It's really up to the institute to offer students a 'homestay' and then there's the question of if the institute will have enough students to place with host families."
Alright, I thought, that was fair enough; they answered the question the way I had posed it. But it didn't answer what I really wanted to know, so I tried a different tact:
"Do you guys WANT a student next semester?"
This question was practically greeted with applause. "Now that, Lauren, is a good question." And I preceded to get the information I was seeking.

I guess the moral of the story is I have to stop thinking like an English speaker and start thinking like a Spanish speaker (or Bolivian, in this case) in order to find out exactly what I want to know. I think I might be starting to get the hang of it.

p.s. Grandma reappeared sometime in the afternoon that same day. I didn't bother asking where she had been because I was afraid I would get the same line of answers I had received before. (And I couldn't ask her directly because I can't understand her yet, she had a stroke last year that limits her speech.)
But I guess she didn't leave after all. :)

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Holy Week


Last week I went to Chiquitania to visit the Jesuit missions of the colonial period. I happened to be there for Palm Sunday and here is a shot of the procession, which started at the cemetery and ended up at the church. A lot of people were there and even the dogs came along. :)

It was a good trip and I've included a few shots of the art here. They incorporated the indigenous spirituality into many sculptures, statues, and . For example, St. Francis is shown with an anteater and some kind of South American bird and pirahnas. Not quite what we're used to seeing in the US, huh? The Mary is an indigenous Mary, and the colors are also native to the area.

Here's a brief commentary on my Holy Week experience: On Holy Thursday the Cochabambinos have a tradition of visiting churches. I wasn't sure what that meant exactly until I participated in the event. Every church creates a shrine and displays the Holy Eucharist. People then go from church to church to pay respects. There are 15 churches that have a theme of one of the stations of the cross. Most people try to visit those 15 churches. Imagine crowds of disorganized people pushing you in and out of doorways, determined to get to the first row to say their prayers. Wow. After the 4th church we visited, I was wondering how many I would be able to stomach, but I didn't completely poop out until the 10th. Outside of the churches, there's a carnival-type atmosphere. Fried food and sugary smells hang in the air and vendors are selling dolls, palms, and 'piggy' banks (of all things!). It was quite the change to go from the quiet of the church to the party that awaited outdoors. My teachers told me it was a night for youth because you actually go to check out the opposite sex. All the guys I saw were already with someone. . . humph!
Good Friday was a day of eating. Yes, that's right, eating. There are 12 traditional meatless dishes served, I assume 12 to represent the 12 apostles. I went on my first Spanish 'Via Crucis', the Stations of the Cross in a barrio (neighborhood) in the southern zone of Cochabamba. We walked to the 15 stations throughout the neighborhood and at each one, the youth of the church acted out the scenes. It was really cool to witness the high level of participation and I even saw people joining us as we walked down the streets. It's been said that the people here can identify much more with the crucified Christ (suffering) than the risen Christ, so the Big Day of holy week is not Easter, but rather Good Friday.
The Easter Vigil started with a huge bonfire where there was yet another play. Good triumphed over evil. The rest of the Mass was fine, but I have to say I missed my old parish in Milwaukee.

Tomorrow I return to language school after a week's break to see if all Spanish has disappeared from my mind or if I had a good break from studying and am speaking better than ever!