Getting creative

I came back to Cochabamba after a week-long meeting in La Paz and discovered that I had a little visitor at my house. It was small and brown and pooped everywhere. Yes, I had a mouse. I went immediately to the store to buy a trap and discovered that the only ones available were the glue trap sort. I am not a fan. The last thing I wanted to find was a mouse that had, in its terror, chewed off its own limb to try to free itself - blech! - so I shopped around at some of the neighborhood stores looking for a traditional trap and one owner told me that she had to buy some as well and that she would pick some up at the bigger market in town the following day. I visited her store two days later, to ensure that she would have the mouse traps available and waiting for me. She said she forgot but assured me she would get some that day. I wasn't happy but trusted her enough to return to her store the next day. And again she didn't have the traps. This lasted a couple more days. I wasn't in a huge hurry because I figured it was just one tiny little creature and although it was annoying to find its excrement in my kitchen, I could wait for the traps. (Can you tell I am on vacation mode? I don't think I've ever been quite this laid back. . . perhaps it's a miracle of living in South America.) Anyway, the s!*# hit the fan when I went into my linen closet and discovered that all of my lovely fresh towels had mouse poop all over them. Enough was enough. The shop owner STILL had not come through for me so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I searched online and decided to make my own bucket trap. After unbending one wire hanger, drinking the contents of one can of beer, and cutting apart a cardboard box, I had the materials necessary to make the trap. Here is a shot of my handiwork: I smeared a bunch of peanut butter on the can as bait. Now, I was not a Girl Scout nor part of 4H growing up, but I felt a bit proud of my 20 minute project. Perhaps it was the beer going to my head?
I left the house and celebrated New Years with some friends. I returned home today to find that my trap worked like a charm. I had caught the mouse! Again, an odd sort of pride welled up in my chest.
I hope that no little visitors of the same species come to grace my home in 2010. However, I suppose that I am now armed with an awesome trap if any do decide to 'drop' by. ;)
Happy New Year!!

First Fridays

On the first Friday of each month, it is a popular tradition in Bolivia to have a k'oa. A k'oa is a ritual offering to the Pachamama in which a “mesa” is burned over coals. The “mesa” consists of incense, decorated sugar cubes, llama fat, native herbs and various other objects, depending on what you’re asking Pachamama (Mother Earth) for. You may want to be blessed with the following things: health, fertility (or more specifically, to have a boy child!!), successful business, love, money, a job, a house, a car or motorcycle, etc. In this blended world of Spanish enforced Catholicism and indigenous faiths, many people also go to Mass as part of their first Friday.
Here is my attempt to show you my most recent experience of a first Friday.

I celebrated with my work team and my boss, Enrique, who is both Quechua and a Jesuit priest. The first picture shows the flower sellers. We seem to enjoy gorgeous flowers year-round. I like it! People buy flowers to put before the images in the chapel, either for the saint of the day or for the virgin Mary. The second picture shows the line of faithful Catholics waiting for their turn to give/offer flowers or be blessed with holy water. In the background and to the sides, you can see the crosses in the far distance on the side of the mountain or the vendors who sell all kinds of things for this festive event. (I asked why there were so many crosses on the mountainside, and my companions informed me that it was "calvario" , symbolic of Calvary, and did I want to climb the mountain to give homage? Hm. I looked down at my skirt and sandals, then up at the rainclouds. In a society where a blunt "no way" is not used, I simply said, "Maybe next time.")

If you don't know what you're doing, it can seem a bit chaotic. Luckily I was surrounded by guides, so I really only had to listen and observe.

After Enrique said Mass at the chapel, he joined us under our coveted spot - a hastily assembled tarp which served as our watering hole. Did I mention that alcohol is involved? As part of the ritual, many people drink beer or chicha (chee-cha), a fermented corn beverage. (Someday I will tell you how they make chicha. It isn't pretty.) When someone hands you a cup of yummy, you first offer/toast a few drops to the Pachamama. The rest is yours.

After a round or two of beer, we decided it was time to "k'oa", and Enrique went off in search of the necessary elements. He quickly came back with coal and a work-themed 'mesa'. He explained the different objects (most likely for my benefit) in the mesa and then we all gave thanks - for work, for the friendships we've made by working at the community center, for the opportunities made available to us simply by being present for our clients, and for strength to continue to do such emotional work. A bag of coca leaves was passed around for those who wanted to chew it or offer it on the mesa. Usually, you try to find 'perfect leaves' to offer to the Pachamama. I love this picture. I think it manages to capture the thoughtfulness of the ritual.
Our whole team placed the mesa on the fire. Typically, a man and a woman do this (to symbolize balance - there is a male and female proponent to most things in the Andean cosmovision). I appreciated being a part of it; for me it was very moving. After you put the mesa on the fire, you then toast the Pachamama four times, in the directions of north-west -south-east, counterclockwise. After everyone in the group has had a chance to do the toast, or ch'allar, the party begins in earnest.
Our group drank some beer, then shared a meal, and after the meal we drank some chicha. Since the meal consisted mainly of chicharron (pig parts), I abstained from eating and was therefore feeling a bit woozy. But I rallied like the best of Wisconsinites.
All in all, it was a great day where I felt very connected to Bolivia and its peoples.

This last shot is of my coworker Grace and I. She likes to joke that it is a picture of cafe y leche - coffee and milk. Ha.

Disclaimer: this was just one of my experiences of k'oa. I've seen in celebrated in many different ways. There are some elements of the tradition that will always be present, but the way in which the k'oa is carried out may vary.

For me, celebrating the k'oa has deepened my understanding of the rich Andean culture that is infused in the Cochabamba valley.

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Coch

My organization celebrated Thanksgiving a couple of days early. We got together with the other entities - the religious fathers, brothers, and sisters - so it was quite a gathering. There was a lot of great food, a couple of attempts to re-create what we are used to in the U.S., and a wonderful reflection time where we thought about and expressed what we were thankful for. I am so grateful for all of you, my family and friends!

My contributions to the feast were some green bean casseroles and a huge crunchy green salad. It took me most of the day to make enough for the 35+ people who gathered together, so it was gratifying that everything was gone at the end of the dinner. Enjoy the pictures.



One holiday down, one to go!

Uuuuh, donkey milk?

There are a lot of strange things that happen here. Here is little story about one of them: Every day, on my commute to work, I´ve noticed a corner where there are 3-4 donkeys and their owner just hanging out. My friend Emily told me that this is the famous spot in Cochabamba to buy donkey milk. Huh? Did you read that right? Yes, indeed you have. The woman literally milks the donkey and hands a cup of the steaming milk over to you for just 5 bolivianos (about US $0.70). What is the draw here? During a cab ride, I asked one of my Bolivian coworkers if this was a popular drink. She made a face, but the cab driver jumped right into the conversation, explaining that donkey milk was known to cure all sorts of things, like diabetes and arthritis. It was also great for your skin. I asked him how it tasted, and he exclaimed, "It´s delicious!" Part of me wanted to laugh out loud, but I held it in as I didn´t want to offend this sweet old gentleman. Another part of me was gagging. Is this one of those instances where you say, ¨Don´t knock it until you´ve tried it?" I have to say, I found this fascinating. I even went so far as looking this up online - and sure enough, there are people out there who advocate for donkey´s milk, saying it is more nutritious than cow´s milk. I´m still not about to get in line for a cup!

Over the hump?

It's been awhile since I've updated my blog. . . sorry to my loyal readers. I have been almost completely consumed with work and trying to have a bit of a social life. For about 1.5 months, I was working two jobs, trying to figure out which one I should stick with. One was at a domestic violence transitional living center for women, the other was at a community center/social justice center. I was getting sick a lot more often because I was run down and over-extended. So, after some soul-searching and chatting with a few seasoned missioners, I parted ways with the women's living center and am currently focusing on the community center. I am working in the social promotion program, which basically means I am working with families in the neighborhood. We try to meet the various needs - educational scholarships, making sure kids get meals by signing them up for the food program, helping widows pay their electricity bills, giving workshops on various topics so that people know their rights, and really just listening to people. It has been quite rewarding so far. Some days are really intense - I love going on house visits, but it is hard for me to see how people are forced to live and when they break down and cry, I cry right along with them. Luckily, there are often glimmers of hope in even the darkest of situations.
Halloween isn't too big here, but I was invited to a party filled with other gringos. I dressed up as a bunch of grapes.
It was fun for the initial reactions I received, but I quickly realized that I couldn't move through the room without bumping into lots of people. Happily, I had talked to my sister earlier in the day and she had suggested to not put too many balloons near my bum, and I was able to sit down, although not too comfortably.
All Saints/All Souls is a much bigger deal. On midday of the first of November the gates of heaven are open so that the dead return to earth, where they will remain until midday of the second of November. Families and friends of the deceased usually prepare a table filled with a special bread called "tantawawas", it also has fruits, candies, drinks and the photographs of their dead relatives, so that they are able to come and share for a while these things. All these preparations are made in the home of the families and afterwards they go to the cemetery where their relatives are buried taking with them the different "offerings". In the cemetery you will find children singing and praying for the souls, if you give them some money or some food they will pray or sing for your dead relatives. In some places in the rural areas the bones of dead relatives will be taken out of the ground so that they receive the offerings in a more direct way.
All Saints ratifies the Andean balance between the living and the dead. The dead or rather, the spirits, watch over their living relatives and these must respect and honor the memories of the deceased. The breads, candies and drinks – especially the chicha- are food that can be good for the dead in special dates like this. It is a really cool celebration. I thought it was going to be morbid - it was anything but!
The other social thing I tried to set up is a bowling league. I figured I should take advantage of living in the center of Cochabamba while I can and since there is a bowling alley near my home, it seemed like a good idea. I sent out emails trying to drum up interest and picked a day of the week that the alley was typically slow. I should use the term 'league' loosely. We don't have proper teams, as the people who attend week to week vary. But there are a few loyal players and hopefully with a bit more time, we'll formally get a league going. Wish me luck!
I've been in Bolivia for roughly 11 months now. There have been ups and downs. (more ups, thankfully!) I feel like things are falling into place and hope that I am over the hump in the biggest parts of culture shock. Although, the holidays ARE right around the corner . . . hm!