Breaking Candy

So, there is a little girl that I work with. Her name is Arianna. She has only been living at the older girl’s home for about four months. She and her siblings were very famous here in Cochabamba for a while. A newspaper article told their story. She and her four siblings were left in a locked room for 3 days without food or anything to drink. However, it was normal for the mom in the family to do this but only for one day. When three days had past without sight of the mom returning home, the neighbors were worried and called the social services department. The social services department acted quickly with this phone call by taking them out of the home. Then, all five kids were placed with my ministry site because we had enough space in both homes to keep them together.

Now that Arianna and her sisters had been living at the home for quite some time, they have been invited to go on the annual vacation with the rest of the girls from the home. This year’s destination was Potosi and Sucre. These places are 12-15 hours away from Cochabamba. We used a bus to get there. It was during the bus ride that something amazing happened between Arianna and I. We were sitting next each other and someone had given her a gummie bear sort of treat. It was not very big which meant it could be eaten in one bite or maybe two bites. She took this small piece of candy and broke it in half. I was confused about what she was doing. Was she breaking it in half to save it for later or breaking it in half to savor the flavor more? She then looked at me and with her hand outstretched, she offered this half of her candy to me. She used no words, only gestures.

I think about this moment a lot every time that I see her at the girl’s home. I don’t view her as this little 5 year old girl who came from a sad situation, but as someone whose heart is full of love. She is a giver of what she has. For me, it was this tiny piece of candy that she offered me. And yet, this small piece of candy tasted sweeter than anything I have ever had in my life. It is a moment that I will always carry in my heart.

Home

I am reminded of this scene from Almost Famous, one of my favorite movies, of which the subject of home becomes the topic of conversation. Patrick Fugit’s character has been on tour with a band for almost year. He yearns to be home where he knows everything and everyone. He no longer wants to be living on a tour bus going from city to city. He just wants to be with his mom. With these thoughts running through the mind of Patrick Fugit’s character, he says to Kate Hudson’s character in a tone of desperation, “I want to go home.” Kate Hudson’s character responds, “Poof! You are home.”
I thought a lot about this scene because I spent my Christmas Eve with the older girls that I work with. We ate a big lunch and then opened presents. The girls showed their presents to one another as well as the tias. They looked carefully through their stockings which was filled with candy, socks, underwear, and rubber bands for their hair. Once the candy was discovered, each girl immediately began to eat the candy. I then was able to swindle a piece of candy from certain girls by asking if there was anything for me inside their stocking. It was a great trick. I think that I learned that from my dad. Since the girls had eaten too much at lunch, we drank tea and ate cookies for dinner. After dinner, the girls did their chores and we watched Christmas movies. Once the movies finished, I began putting the younger girls to bed. The older girls did not need my help. When I was putting each of the younger girls to bed, I kissed all of the younger girls on the cheek and said, “Merry Christmas!” With the older girls, I said “Merry Christmas” and gave a hug to each one. All of the girls though responded in the same manner by saying, “Merry Christmas, tia!” and giving me a hug.
When I putting each girl to bed, I thought about what does it mean to be at home. What are the characteristics of being at home for someone? Is it your friends and family? Is it having all that is familiar to you like certain smells, different landmarks, a favorite grocery store in which you know like the back of your hand, or driving past a certain street and memories begin to pour into your mind? Is it having particular traditions that your family has? What exactly is it that makes a place home for someone?
For me, it is the feeling that I am surrounded by people that love me. It is a love that accepts me no matter what I have done or not done, what I have said or not said, how I comfort a crying child. It is an unconditional love. I am constantly reminded of this love when I laugh at a comment that one of the girls or tia just said. I spill hot water on my shirt by accident and then shout, “hot, hot, really hot.” I am trying to cool my shirt by dancing in quite a silly fashion. The girls and tias laugh at my facial expressions when I don’t have the Spanish words to convey what I want to say. So, this unconditional love is very much present whenever I am with the girls. However, it was a lot stronger on Christmas Eve because they took me in and made me part of their family. I am part of their lives. I am wanted here. I am needed here. I am home.

Social Justice

Lately, I have pondering the meaning of this phrase of social justice especially in relation to my mission placement. My mission placement works the pediatric AIDS population as well the at-risk female youth in Cochabamba. It varies from day to day what I do with both populations. With the pediatric population, the kids live at a group home and their ages range from 10 months to 5 years. I change diapers that sometimes are filled with poop. I am still impressed with the smell that emanates from these diapers. It is a little rough. I brush teeth after lunch and after dinner. I fold laundry because the kids can get through a lot of clothes in one day. I put the kids to bed which is hard because I do not have experience in this at all. I read books. I sing songs in both English and Spanish because it is a great way to distract them as we are waiting for the snack or lunch. The “Wheels on the bus” song is very popular right now. The kids request this one more than “Twinkle, twinkle little star.” I play different games like putting together puzzles or painting various shapes. When the kids are tranquil such as nap time, I drink tea with the ladies that work with me.
With the at-risk female youth population, they also live in a group home and the ages range from 6 years to 15 years. In this population, there are a least 5 groups of sisters and my organization wanted to keep the 5 groups of sisters together. This is why there is such a variety of ages. These girls have come from abusive home situations. They have seen and experienced a lot in their lives. They now have the chance to rebuild their lives and be a normal kid. They have crushes on boys and talk endlessly about them. They listen to Justin Beiber and tell me everything about him. They read and watch the Harry Potter series and know more about Daniel Radcliffe than I do. They invent and play their games. They skateboard in the park near their house. These are all things that kids in the States do. I am impressed with these girls every time that I go over to their house. When I arrive at their house to work, I pretty much talk the entire time that I am there. I help out homework as well as read books and magazines. They brush my hair and sometimes fight who is going to do this. I usually receive at least 3 different hairstyles within the span of 30 minutes. We laugh at lot about my Spanish mistakes or other stories from school. I attempt to learn new recipes from the girls but then I forget everything in 5 minutes. It is never boring with these girls.
I continue to think how I am doing social justice in the time spent with these girls and with my babies. I am not changing policy in Bolivia about how money is spent on the Pediatric AIDS. I am not a social worker taking kids out of abusive home situations. I am advocating to the President in the States about the status of AIDS in Bolivia. I am not running a support group for families affected by AIDS. I have yet to meet other AIDS activists in the Cochabamba area. I simply change diapers and laugh with the girls. I enjoy my time with these girls and my babies.
Perhaps though in these simple tasks, social justice is being created though. I am literally accompanying and spending time with a population that is often forgotten about. Their life is given value because someone thinks it is important. Hope is being formed just by talking and giving time to someone.

Can you hold my baby?

“Even the smallest smile or act of kindness can make a big difference.”
--Briana Colton

This quote comes from one of my best friends. She wrote this to me before I began my missionary experience in Bolivia. She wanted to give me a reminder of what I learned during my service year in St. Louis. Through a smile, hug, or an act of kindness, anyone can change the world.
I thought of this quote as I was waiting to catch a bus that would take me to Yoga class. As I was waiting for the bus, I saw an indigenous woman and her baby. She wore a felt, knee-length skirt; her hair was long with two braids in the back; she held her baby in aguayo which is a type of cloth used by indigenous women to hold babies or other items. She carried another bag with her that was filled with newly bought items. Perhaps, she went to the Cancha and now, was looking for a bus to take her and her baby home. At the same time, she had this look in her eyes which indicated her tiredness from the day and frustration with the public transportation system at the moment. That night, every bus or trufi was filled with people. People were standing in the stairs of the bus or people were so close to each other in the bus that you barely had any room around you. I looked at her and her baby as I was standing and looking for a bus that had less people in it. I smiled and checked my watch because it was getting closer and closer to the start of my Yoga class. I was getting a little anxious about being late to Yoga. I did this a few times. Then something unusual happened. She asked me to hold her baby while she rearranged her aguayo. Her plan was to take her baby out of the aguayo and place her newly bought items into the aguayo. Then she was going to hold her baby in her arms. However, this action required additional help. And, this is my part. I reached out my arms and she handed her baby over to me immediately. I held her baby for less than 5 minutes and yet, it felt as though time stopped during this moment. She then finished placing her stuff in her aguayo. I gave her baby back to her. I found a trufi that took me to Yoga. She waited patiently for a trufi that would take her and her baby home.
This story is important to me because it demonstrates that a smile really can break the barrier between strangers. It dissolves potential fear and creates a relationship. Since a relationship has been created, a stranger is no longer a random person that you happened to meet in the street. This person is now part of your community and part of your life. We are part of a worldwide community that works to form relationships in the moment. So, we are all in this together now.

Possible Answer

I have been reflecting a lot about the theme of poverty and what actions can bring about change. I think that when we see and become overwhelmed by poverty, we have two options. First, we can close our eyes. By doing this act, we are essentially ignoring the problem and pretending that poverty does not exist. This method works for a while which allows for a happy existence. It is a life without problems; a life in which all needs is being met. Second, we can choose to engage in it. Engagement has so many different meanings. We can begin by asking questions about why poverty exists in our world. We can become involved in the peace and justice movement. We can volunteer our time in a non-profit agency. We can literally converse with the person who is asking for money.
I like all of these methods of engagement. I have used all of these methods at various points in my life. I volunteered for one year in St. Louis. My volunteer placement consisted in talking and listening to individuals with mental illness and drug addictions. I then began to work full-time in my former volunteer placement for three years. I worked with at-risk youth in East St. Louis. In college, I studied sociology and put an emphasis on poverty studies. I started to work with the anti-war movement and learned about the rights of immigrants. I even thought about living in a Catholic Worker house for a hot minute because I wanted to be more in solidarity with other peace activists in St. Louis. All of these experiences created an awareness of the injustices that exist in our world. It is with each of these experiences that deepened my faith and therefore lead me to Bolivia. However, I only learned about the last method of engagement about three weeks ago. It was through observing a friend as she was talking to a child who wanted to sell us some chocolate.
We were waiting for a friend to arrive and once our friend arrived, we were going out somewhere. As we were waiting, a beautiful little girl approached us and asked us if we wanted to buy chocolate. My natural instinct in this situation and other similar situations is to say, “No gracias” and then walk away. It is not great but it works. My friend took a different approach. She asked the little girl what her name is, how many brothers and sisters she has, what grade she is in, and where she sleeps at night. As I was watching this moment unfold, I stood slack-jawed and silent. She proceeded with confidence in this conversation. She talked as if this little girl had been in her first grade class in which she had previously left to become a missioner in Bolivia. She gave this little girl all of her attention as if no one else existed in the in the city of Cochabamba. She encountered Christ in the other, in the poor, and in the marginalized.

Tanta Pobreza

As I walk through the streets of Cochabamba, I am witnessing a different type of lifestyle. There are old men who are just sitting outside and watching people walk past them. There are people who are waiting for the buses to arrive and take them somewhere. There are indigenous women selling fresh fruit and vegetables. They wear a knee-length skirt which is blue, pink, green or another color. There are also two very long braids in the back of their heads. Open spaces transform themselves into an area for a lunch break. The whole business world stops for an hour as the workers replenish their body with food.
As I continue my journey throughout the city, there are other images that present themselves to me. There is an overwhelming amount of women and children selling stuffed animals, candy and gum, cigarettes, fake flowers, and water to anyone who is willing to make eye contact with them. They sell during the day and night in order to make their lives a little bit better. There are number of older indigenous women and men who hold their hands open to receive money from any who pass by them. With their hands open, there is a hope within their eyes that someone is going to give them money. There are glue-sniffers. They sniff glue and become high from the smell.
With these images ever embedded in my mind, the question is how does one escape from being a witness to this poverty? Is it as simple as closing my eyes? Do I listen to my I-Pod which drowns out the plea for money? Do I cross the street in order to avoid the older woman asking for money? Should I use sunglasses so I literally do not see the poverty? Do I pretend not to understand Spanish? Do I stay in my room and not venture out into the city? I am so confused in how to act in these situations. I want to give money or purchase something but then does it really help to solve the problem. Is their quality of life being improved with the act of buying something? I don’t know. Then, how I do help when I am surrounded by so much poverty? I wish that I had an answer, but I can always ask questions.

Just Dance!

I have “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga stuck in my head. It replays itself over and over in my head. I simply cannot get rid of it. Its presence in my head is not because I secretly love the song. And, I really do love that song. It is in my head because those were the instructions given to me last week at my abuela’s birthday party.
I thought, really, I just have to dance with my abuela. There are many things that I can do to help out during the party. I can wash dishes and keep the kitchen clean which is my favorite activity to do. I can serve drinks to the guests and practice my Spanish at the same time. I can pick up trash. There is a small group of kids outside and I wonder if they want another player in “Duck, Duck, Goose.” I can run fast in a small circle. I play well with others. I am skilled in so many things and different areas. However, I needed to dance and I did exactly that. I danced with her, my uncle Eddie, my aunt Mersa, and my cousins to every song that was playing.
Throughout the party, everyone took turns dancing with her. Each person was utilizing a different dance. Sometimes, it was the Cueca. Other times, it was the Morenada. Both are great Bolivian dances. As each person danced with her, her demeanor changed. She was laughing with her whole body and smiling from cheek to cheek. There was a sparkle in her eyes and an overwhelming sense of joy that was present in her. She was filled with happiness. This moment meant so much to her because she was surrounded by so many people that love her. What a wonderful birthday gift!