Moments of Personal Perspective

Friends and/or Readers : I will try to blog more regularly in the next few weeks. Some of this will be what I have written earlier but not yet posted. After a very busy semester, Lynn and I are preparing to attend a retreat with our organization, Franciscan Mission Service, in Cochabamba. After that, we will be moving to Cochabamba where we will live closer to our community. We will continue our mission there and believe we will be able to accomplish the same goals that we have worked toward here in Carmen Pampa. As seems appropriate for the new year, I will reflect on past events, write my way to the present, and then think about where mission will take us in Cochabamba and beyond. Please stay turned as I add installments in writing, photos, and video.

(Written November 14, 2010)

In October here in Bolivia the coca growers blockaded the road into and out of the Yungas. During that time Lynn and I had to remain in La Paz for a week and a half longer than we had expected. Others at UAC (Jonas Grossman, Sarah Mechtenberg, Sister Jean Morrissey, Ximena Villa Iñiguez: thanks, all of you) filled in for us in various ways during that time. While furloughed we thought about our experiences leading up to our being there.

The academic term at UAC-CP flexes to accommodate a broad variety of extracurricular activities (campus clean-up days, occasional mandatory lectures, birthday parties, discussion to elect Mr. and Ms. Carmen Pampa, 4 days of intramural competitions, and 2 days of faculty staff retreat).  Of course, this was our first experience with teaching in Bolivia, so Lynn and I were fresh in this phase of learning and probably in need of reminding ourselves more than once that differences do not necessarily equate to deficiencies. We also had learned a great deal during our formation period as Franciscan lay missioners, so rather than judge, we observed to better understand the philosophy and methods there.  We were also glad that the semester had several more weeks than one in the United States, which made it easier to accommodate these activities.

When these events were occurring, I was thinking of them as unnecessary disruptions and was reminded of a passage from the Maryknoll handbook for missionaries, Maryknoll Spirituality, about how societies visited were apt to have a very different--more relaxed--attitude toward time than that in the United States.  For those who have some experience with life in Bolivia, this may be referred to as Bolivian time. However, I reminded myself that this was a university and not Bolivian society in the perhaps more traditional sense that may have sponsored that term. So why did I seem to be observing it here? I looked to the fact that the students and faculty alike are busy at the work of teaching and learning throughout the year, so what fair-minded person could begrudge this time to focus their energies on other equally important activities that revitalize campus unity and spirit? 

I took many photos during the intramural activities, and it was great to see some of our students participating. One was of Jhimmy, scoring for the Education soccer team, and Rudy playing the part of a teen driven to anguished thoughts of suicide because of violence in his family. College life should provide these opportunities for full development and expression of student character.  And the faculty and staff benefitted from the retreat time to renew their mission.¹ 

Lynn and I were also trying to attend back-to-back retreats, the latter with our fellow Franciscan lay missioners in Cochabamba.  Leaving the first retreat early (thanks, Sister Elena, for loaning me a towel even though there wasn't any water for a shower), we took a cab back around the mountain (Uchumachi) from Cochuna to Coroico to Carmen Pampa.² We did this to shower, change clothes, and--fortuitously because of the coming blockade--to dispose of our recyclable organic waste from the kitchen. We were planning only to be away for three days, but the blockade turned that into almost two weeks.   

Since first arriving in Carmen Pampa in June, we had been trying to plan a time when we could have a reunion with our fellow FLMs back in Cochabamba. After these interventions in the academic calendar, we saw only one weekend opportunity to have a retreat with the other FLMs--leave the faculty retreat early so we could take a flight from La Paz to Cochabamba on Friday night and then return with an early flight on Tuesday morning.

I think the retreat in Cochabamba was beneficial for all 5 of the Franciscan lay missioners (Catherine, Clare, Nora, Lynn and me) and for Hermano Ignacio.  For the missioners, this was our first chance to see each other since parting company in June.  We had all endeavored to discern and had entered into different work assignments, and by this time we all had stories to share.  Lynn and I also had time to attend Mass, presided over by Hermano Ignacio, at the monastery of the Concepcionistas just outside of Cochabamba. The Concepcionistas have a beautiful chapel full of natural light, and you feel the sincerity and devotion in their voices.

The Concepcionistas invited us all to lunch (the chuño wasn't half bad!) and afterward the sisters who played stringed instruments treated us to an impromptu concert. I remarked to their newest member (we had attended the service for her final vows this past June) that hearing her play the charango reminded me of the song "Say" (admittedly, repetitive) by John Mayer from the film, The Bucket List. She said she would like to hear it.  I happened to have the song on my music player and had that in my pocket. Mother Superior said it would be all right, so I gave her the ear buds. She plugged in like a pro (she had to work these around the headgear of her habit) and started the song.  She listened to it, and apparently a couple of following cuts by James Brown, and said that she would like to learn to play it. (I later purchased another copy and emailed it to the monastery.)

Early during our visit we had lunch with Sister Kathy De Vito from the Maryknoll Language Institute. We caught up on the activities of our classmates when we were taking the basic course and to hear about some of the new students.  I am very grateful for the patience and work that all of the professors put into helping Lynn and me gain our basic knowledge of Spanish. 

Early on Monday, Lynn and I went to the immigration office and picked up our carnets (national ID cards). That was the culminating act of a process that had begun back in February. They probably were ready for pickup in late June, but by that time we had moved from Cochabamba to the Yungas.

On Monday evening--our last night in Cochabamba--we were all to go out for dinner together.  Lynn and I had also planned to visit our host family that afternoon.  However, I came down with a fever at midday.  After sleeping for about four hours, I was feeling better but still a little weak.  The others went out to have dinner together.  At about 7 pm, there was a knock at the door.  It was Henry, our host father.  After some phone calls and knocking on doors, he found out that we were staying at the Franciscan Center for Social Services, and tracked me down.  I was glad he did.  We talked and swapped stories until I felt so good that I said we should go and see Lily, his wife.  (They are an amazing couple.  They have hosted students from the Language Institute for 25 years.) As we were sharing more stories about what we were up to, Cathy, their youngest daughter, and her friend Carlos dropped by. The conversations all felt comfortable and natural, and reminded me of just how fortunate we had been during our five months of introduction to Bolivian society there.

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Sister Moon Morrissey

¹ The faculty retreat took place at Cochuna, a community on the other side of Uchumachi from Carmen Pampa. The retreat functioned something like a team-building exercise, with Powerpoint presentations, recorded music intended to inspire, opportunities to share experiences and sing hymns.  During the retreat I took a number of photos that no longer exist (!)(the countryside, Padre Freddy during Mass, Manuela playing the guitar and singing, Diego holding his son, Jair) because I lost them by thinking that I had already moved them from the camera's memory card and then erasing the files on the memory card.
The building where we were to sleep had an insufficient number of beds, but Carlos Fernandez and Padre Freddy borrowed enough mattresses and linens from another facility–the colegio across the road–so that everyone had a bedroll. Three Sisters of the Immaculate Conception work at this colegio: Marleny (from Colombia), Elena (from Ireland) and Helen (from Papua, New Guinea).  We had first met Elena and Helen after Mass in Coroico shortly after we arrived there in July.  Helen seemed the more gregarious of the two–more chatty, enjoyed beating the drum during hymns for Mass, but Elena makes great pizzas. Marleny we knew better from the Thursday evening pastoral sessions we assisted on the Leahy (upper) campus at UAC-CP. They were all members of the same order as Sister Jean (from Boston), who lives at the convent at UAC-CP on the Manning (lower) campus.  Each was unique in temperament and personality and committed to working in the Yungas to give young camposinos practical education, a sense of self worth and support for their Christian faith.

View from Convent Garden, Manning Campus, UAC-CP

During an extended lunch break on the first day of the retreat I jogged to San Felix, a community just short of the cascades, on the road away from Coroico.  Before starting, I stood on the patio on the second floor of our dormitory and sighted along the road as it wound along the side of the mountain.  From there I set a goal to reach the second mint green house down the road in San Felix, nothing more than an object to keep in mind as I jogged along. I had running shoes and a t-shirt but no shorts, so I zipped off my trouser legs. After some light stretching, I took off slowly, still feeling tight legged and wobbly in the knees, partly from sitting so long but mostly from wear over the years. Even so, it felt good as I balanced and settled into a pace that I could hold for a while.

I passed several small groups that I presumed were tourists. Like me, they had light complexions and quick-dry clothing. We usually exchanged greetings. Two were young women from Switzerland, they said, walking to see the cascades. Others in school uniforms were teenagers, walking back probably toward the colegio. There were men wearing tire tread sandals and holding adzes with the handles propped on their shoulders, or dangling machetes loosely, walking to their terraced fields on the slopes.

After several bends in the road I passed some children. I waved as I trotted. One asked why I was running so quickly (a real compliment for my pace). He had a serious look on his face, and reminded me of Nelson, one of the children who often come to the little library where we volunteer time in Carmen Pampa. I probably gave a non-committal "no se" response and trotted on, but I carried his question with me. It was simple, innocent, like "how are you doing?" or "'what's up?" but questions like that have become harder for me to respond to.

Why was I running? I was a little tense or tired from the encounter sessions in the retreat. At some point I just wanted to be in the sunshine and see the green plants bending as wind spread from the long ridge at the summit to the valley below and–I imagined–up again on the mountains beyond.  Why was I running? For that matter, why I was on mission away from my home country, and where did these moments fit in that grand scheme? Probably I'm here because it feels right–precipitous moral ground maybe, but sometimes that's where you find yourself.

I trotted on past several small cascades, scorched patches of ground on the slopes made ready for planting, past dogs the color of dust and mostly indifferent to my passing , occasional collections of small buildings, mostly with adobe walls, some unplastered and eroding, but some newer ones made of ladrillo.

I reached that second mint-green house, my mark for this out-and-back run. I regarded it only for a moment. It sat exposed and weathered on a rise to the right. I nodded, checked my watch, and realized that it had taken me longer than expected to get there.  I would have to hustle to be back in time for the next session.  That felt good–to be determined about something–even though it was only about returning in time.  I did not want to insult the planners of the retreat, so I tried to hurry back.

The clouds thickened.  A light rain fell. It felt cool.  My skin felt hot and sticky but with splotches of cold.  The rain made the return run easier. I smiled and kept shuffling along, trying to hold the rhythm, keep the knees up, keep the arms relaxed and pulling straight ahead. I looked out across the valley. The clouds were lower, more solid. This rain would clear the air of the haze lingering from fires to clear land along the slopes. And later the sky would be that cool blue again at least for a while.

The road was more or less level and meandered along as it traced the spurs flaring from the base of Uchumachi.  By now, however, even a rise felt steep. I was late for the next session when I returned. Sister Elena loaned me a towel and I was grateful for that. Later in the day, Desiderio Flores (Agronomia) informed me that the same road I jogged circled the mountain and could be walked in about three days. That sounded like it could be an interesting trip. Others said it was risky for a gringo to try that. I remembered Sister Margaret's experience in Cochabamba and thought that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to solo it.

² I apparently donated my cell phone to someone along the way. Since there's no cell service where we live [a story worth a paragraph later, but now cell service is functioning as of Christmas Day], I use it as an alarm clock.  The irony is that I lost it just when I was going to an area with services and would need it - Coroico, La Paz, Cochabamba, and back again. Still, when I use it now, it's the same as when we were a family-- Emer, Norbert, Lynn and I--trying to stay in touch with each other.

Staying focused

This would be a great night to purge my inbox, but right now I'm concerned about that strange human trait of desiring something more when we know we can't have it. No, I'm not yearning for lent so I can give up something else. It's mid-October. We're in La Paz, which is a beautiful city, but we should be in Carmen Pampa. There's plenty to keep us busy in La Paz--museums, restaurants, artesanias--but our agreed-to responsibilities as missioners are in Carmen Pampa.  We can't reach them because of the blockade on the road into the North Yungas.   The blockade has been in place since early Monday morning.  Some people here think that with further negotiations the blockade might end this weekend, and that way we might return to Carmen Pampa by Monday. That's an attractive thought, but I don't see what negotiations will resolve the protest.


As I understand it, coca growers here are protesting the government's 15-pound limit on how much licensed coca growers can sell.  They also want the resignation of two apparently over-zealous government ministers.  Of course, I don't understand why each side feels as it does. I've only been in this area for a few months, and in my own selfish way I just want to get back to the UAC-Carmen Pampa so I can feel responsible as I try to fulfill the expectations about my being there:

• the children that wait for the library to open
• UAC-CP students that show up for the 6:30 am liturgy of the hours service before plunging into another busy day
• setting up for Mass
• Pastoral,
• English Club
• the volunteer teaching program for English.

Of course, none of those activities cease just because we're not there to help. Maybe our desire to return is stronger because we know we can't get back.


How do we know we can't get back? We tried, and finding that out was an adventure in confronting our own naivete. After returning to La Paz from a retreat with our fellow Franciscan lay missioners in Cochabamba (Catherine, Clare, and Nora, as well as our mentor, Hermano Ignacio) we heard that the blockade was indeed in place, shutting down all traffic on the only road into and out of the north Yungas. Before leaving, we had heard that a blockade probably would be set up before our return, but following the information we liked most to hear, we thought that we might just be allowed to walk across the blockade and be on our way. We hear that does happen sometimes. So, we went on to our retreat. When we returned we took a cab to the site in La Paz where the minibuses depart for the north Yungas. There we discovered that the minibus companies were all closed. However, while we were there we met two students from UAC who were also trying to return.  The four of us agreed to risk crossing the blockade.  As we understood it, the taxi would drive us right up to the blockade. We would get out of the taxi, explain to the nice people holding the threatening signs and marching back and forth around and beside the big piles of rotting papaya and other fruit unable to get to market, that we were all about social justice and higher education, so would they kindly step aside so we wouldn't be late for class. We would then lift our backpacks and other bags and saunter the scant two kilometers over to the other side of the blockade and pick up a ride in the minibus that was sure to be waiting to drive us  to the next stop, Coroico, or probably even right up to our apartment door. For all I knew, maybe some of the nice people would put down their signs so they could help us carry our bags and so we could get back in time for a little class prep. Ah, truly, this was the best of all possible worlds!¹ (Did I mention that rain clouds were rolling in?)


Fortunately, we were turned back by the police before we made it out of La Paz. We were later informed that the people on these blockades sometimes turn violent. We also learned that there were actually two blockades, one at Unduavi and another about 65 kilometers away at the Santa Barbara bridge. Had we been allowed to walk unharmed across the first blockade, our hike to the second would have been a few kilometers longer than expected, and in weather for which we were unequipped. Our guardian angel must've been splitting her sides at how hard we had been working to hurt ourselves. We felt fortunate to be able to reflect on these things from the comfort and security of a room at the Maryknoll House.  Once again in our lives, we were learning that we couldn't just choose to believe what we wanted to hear. And we were learning about the complexity of social change in this country (what about the various reasons why each person on the blockades was there), why some things that are possible, like increasing education in the Yungas, may proceed very slowly.                                    
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1Doctor Pangloss, true to his phenomenal longevity in Voltare's Candide, is alive and well in Bolivia.

Thanks

Lynn and I know that life continues to change for our family and friends back home, just as it does for us here in Bolivia. We also know that they continue to make it possible for us to do our work here.  Such was the case when we found out recently that Ken and Janice had decided to move to another state.  They have been providing a home for some of the belongings that we did not give away and they couldn't take these things with them. Craig and his family were kind enough to accept them. And Chris was kind enough to transport them. Thanks guys.

A note between classes

September 24, 2010

It's 11:30 am. I have a break between the English classes I'm teaching, enough time to think about what I've been doing since moving to Carmen Pampa from Cochabamba in June. Lynn and I are working at our assigned duties¹ here at UAC-Carmen Pampa:

• teaching English classes for the Departments of Ecotourism (lower campus²) and Education (upper campus),
• assisting with Mass preparations on Wednesday evening and Sunday afternoon,
• assisting with the students' Thursday night Pastoral meeting on the upper campus,
• conducting an early morning Liturgy of the Hours service in the chapel on the upper campus (Tuesday through Friday),
• staffing the children's library on the edge of the lower campus.

These are some of the proposed assignments we received shortly after we arrived. There were others, such as coordinating the painting of the chapel interior on the upper campus³, but these were the ones that became routine duties.

The environment of the two campuses was very different in late June from what it is like now.  We were between semesters. Few students were on campus and we were not taking classes ourselves so we relaxed. Except for noticing different and more dense vegetation,⁴ maybe the occasional clouds outside the door of the apartment where we moved our belongings, it felt like being on any college campus between sessions in the United States.  We worked at meeting and remembering the faculty and staff still around the school--making lists to associate names and faces and functions.  They all were very patient as we slowly fitted ourselves into their midst.

In the empty apartment we moved into we found a big echo and some memories of the previous Franciscan missioners (Jean and Leo Lechtenburg) and volunteer David Flannery who lived there. Yellow curtains decorated the two windows in the front room.⁵ A giant Asian fan spread wide over the main wall in the kitchen area. A large set of shelves covered one wall, waiting to become our bookcase. Two maps of this north Yungas region and a poster of Saint Francis filled the area by the front door. A San Damiano cross hung at door-top level on the sliver of wall between the doorways to the two rooms directly off of the front room. Two UAC uniform shirts for teachers hung on the rack in the bedroom.  The two cooking pots and lid beneath the kitchen sink lay waiting to be discovered as, in fact, a double boiler so that just maybe with a little free time and enough fresh eggs we might have a batch of hollandaise sauce for eggs benedict. A small cylinder of fabric on one of the tables unfurled to reveal a Tibetan prayer flag. Once we found places for our own things among these things the echo vanished.

A supporting part of our mission during this quiet time between semesters was spent setting up various daily life systems for eating, hygiene, laundry, and getting to and from work. Every environment presents its challenges and surprises.  Setting up some of these routines in Carmen Pampa took more time than I expected.  I also learned new methods for things we have taken for granted in our lives in the United States.

I'll write about some of this with my next post, but right now Janina, one of the children from Carmen Pampa and a frequent library visitor, has discovered that the library door is open. That technically means that the library is open despite the regular hours, and she has headed immediately for my laptop.  She wants to play a game of ajedrez (chess) against the computer.  I'll close out this post so Janina and I can walk over to the dining room of the food cooperative where there's more space for the game and where her mother works. Not knowing the regular hours of her school, I want to be sure this middle of the day ajedrez habit has parental approval. . . . "It does?" Yes. Okay, caballo b1 to c3, and she's off to the races!


The photo above shows some of the regulars at the children's library while they're playing Scrabble. 

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¹ We are doing these things without salary from UAC, but our housing is paid for, and we receive a stipend for living expenses from Franciscan Mission Service. This helps UAC provide education at a lower cost for students in the Yungas.  Thanks to all of our friends for supporting our mission here.

² The lower campus, Manning, was built first and is further down the mountain (Uchumachi), beside the community of Carmen Pampa. Further up the mountain and close to the main road to Coroico is the upper campus, Leahy, built as more career areas were added to the curriculum.

³ This would exclude the mural decorating the wall behind the altar. This was painted by missioner Leo Lechtenburg. It unites the chapel with the natural beauty of the Yungas and the people who live there.

⁴ Well, okay some of these plants I have seen frequently in the US, such as impatiens, fern, wandering jew, caladiums, and ajuga, but they were growing anywhere there was space to spread leaves and throughout winter here.

5 Through these windows each morning we could see that the sun ascended over the top of Uchumachi at about 9:20 am. This was in late June, and by the longer days of mid-September, the sun was topping the mountain at about 8:15 am.

Kids Having Fun

It was nice to see kids enjoying themselves at a recent birthday party in Carmen Pampa.

Reflections on Language School

Six weeks ago Lynn and I completed the 5-month Basic Spanish immersion course at the Maryknoll Language Institute in Cochabamba. I thought the living/learning situation there was close to ideal.

Cochabamba is an easy city to get around in, even if you don't know much Spanish. Taxis and buses run frequently, and for someone from the United States, the fares are cheap . Our section of the city--Cala Cala, on the north end--was served by plenty of shops and a Catholic church (we're Catholic) within a 15-minute walk. Also we could satisfy most basic needs without traveling far from our host's home on Calle Rafael Canedo. Even so, I remember the curious exhilaration and independence I felt when for the first time in Spanish I communicated my need to purchase toothpaste and bread, or attended Mass and discovered that I was beginning to understand parts of it, homily included.

Life with our host family was both simple and good because of their 25 years of experience hosting students from the Maryknoll Language Institute, their care for the welfare of the people they hosted, and their amazing willingness to be an active part of our effort to learn their language. That willingness extended not only to Dr. Henry Rojas and his wife, Lily Arze, but also to their three adult children (Lupita, Diego, and Cathy), their friends, and even aunts, uncles, and parents. We broke bread together, stoked the koa together, attended soccer games, shared music and photos, and talked and talked and talked. We were welcome on a daily basis to include or absent ourselves depending on our own schedules and/or those stages of fluctuating confidence in our ability to join in. We didn't realize it at the time, but because they slowed the pace of their own lives enough to include us they cushioned us from culture shock.

The Maryknoll Language Institute also helped us overcome culture shock. During classes I found it hard to do more than work at the vocabulary and grammar. The hypothetical daily situations we practiced gradually became real as we began exploring Cochabamba and needed to communicate. We also practiced vocabulary during class for events that we were encouraged to participate in like Carnaval, and the trip to the Jesuit missions.

The professors at Maryknoll Language Institute were patient, optimistic, and often inspiring. They were obviously accustomed to adjusting the pace of the program to the needs of individual students and even to adjusting that further as students had their periods of two steps forward and one step back. This was effective teaching-- sometimes tolerating error for the sake of continuing conversation. This brought more questions, answers and corrections. It also felt good to be a student in this group of like-minded people from different language traditions. People from Brazil, North America, New Guinea, England, Korea, Ireland, and Togo were speaking together in Spanish and communicating.

At the Institute conversations with faculty and staff were in Spanish, from the librarian to the grounds crew and gatekeepers. The grounds of the institute were carefully tended and formed an orderly garden. the prevailing there is no accident. The work of Padre Ramond Finch, Hermana Cathy DeVito, Alejandro Acázar and others helped to preserve the harmonious atmosphere. Our experiences with Padres Pancho and Juancho at Masses in the Institute and during visits in the South Zone taught us the high level of personal commitment to improving life for the people. Our brief meetings with the three older hermanas (they referred to themselves as the dinosaurs) and Padre John Gorsky, reminded us of the long history of those traditions. They knew the talented missionary linguist Padre Jack Higgins ( they called him "the Colonel") from Nashville, TN who served in Bolivia during the '50s until his early death in the '60s. His sister Bitsy would be pleased to know that the good work he was doing there has carried on. That includes Padre Ignatius Harding (also has a sister in Nashville) for his 39 years of service in Bolivia, and good work by people from our own organization, the Franciscan Lay Missioners, for I recall a boat ride back from the Isla del Sol to Copa Cabana and a casual conversation with two young volunteers from Cochabamba (started when one of them remarked on my Middlebury cap) revealed that they had worked with Richard Nalen in after-school programs and had great respect for his willingness to go out and visit with the families of children having problems, addressing them both in Spanish and Quechua.

I remember pausing one day at the bulletin board in the Institute, and there was an aerial photo of the Maryknoll headquarters and grounds at Ossining, New York. The building was designed in the style of a Japanese pagoda. I remembered our week of study there with prospective missioners from four other lay missionary groups, including the Maryknollers like Minh (Lynn's language partner at the Institute), and how even that had seemed difficult at first, interacting with all of them despite our basically shared goals. I remembered that not all us ended up going on mission. And I remembered an early morning jog I had taken on the Maryknoll grounds there, past the tennis courts overgrown with patches of grass, and past the graves of Jean Donovan and the missionaries martyred in El Salvador--God bless them for their intent. It reminded me that these were complex steps we all were taking.

While in Cochabamba we explored possible service sites. On retreat at Angostura we shared reflections with our three fellow Franciscan lay missioners there, Clare, Nora, and Catherine. All of these activities challenged my decision to undertake an out-of-country, out-of-culture experience, to examine my perceptions of myself and other people, to think about my relationship to the Franciscan vows of conversion, poverty, contemplation, and minority, and our motives for wanting to help other people.

Enduring Overwhelming Questions

Lynn and I have completed the five-month Basic Spanish course at the Maryknoll Language Institute here in Cochabamba.  Soon we will leave for our active mission site at Carmen Pampa in the Yungas region northeast of La Paz.  In the lull before packing I've been thinking about some of our experiences here. One in particular, K'ara K'ara, the dumpsite for domestic garbage for the city of Cochabamba, is particularly disturbing. In writing about K'ara K'ara, I remind myself that the dump will close and that a new dump will open with--I hear--appropriate environmental safeguards.  That will be good if those safeguards are in place when the new dump opens, but that still leaves the K'ara K'ara dump to mature as a social and environmental problem.

On Sunday, March 14¹, Lynn and I, along with fellow lay missioners Nora Pfeiffer and Minh Nguyen, visited K'ara K'ara at the invitation of Padre Ken to visit his parish there. Padre Ken was a missionary in Venezuela for 18 years, has been here in Bolivia for 4 years, and has lived at K'ara K'ara for about a year. In Quechua K'ara K'ara means something like peeled or barren. It refers to the natural condition of the land there, which is perhaps a perfect dumpsite for garbage. Problems arise when the garbage dumping process proceeds without environmental safety regulation and when the site around the dump populates with low income housing and inhabitants at risk of compromising their health because of toxic wastes accruing there.  Despite noted health risks the dump continues to operate because it provides an income to some in the region and because claims over who has the right to decide its closure are disputed. And despite this people continue to move into the region because they need a place to live and they can afford to live there.

As such, K'ara K'ara has become a complex part of the social fabric of Cochabamba and a social problem. Social problems are dynamic.  When they first strike our attention, they look like fixed realities, but they spread, intensify, and worsen for the people who inherit them. Institutionalized social problems become more difficult to stop as they perpetuate. K'ara K'ara is an institutionalized social problem:

• Opened in 1987 approximately 7 kilometers from the center of Cochabamba as a garbage dump site for the people of that city;
• Covers an area of approximately 98 acres;
• Established and operated without the benefit of a protective liner to contain the spread of toxic liquids leaching from the garbage deposited there;
• Surrounded by small homes of the many people living nearby, and some directly beside the dump;
• The site of unrestricted dumping, including unguarded hospital wastes and open pools for the deposit of chemical sludge;
• An income for 7 of 33 neighborhood groups by collection of permission-to-dump fines amounting to approximately $87,640.00 per year;
• An income for trash resellers who sort competitively through newly dumped garbage for items to salvage;
• An income for small contractors who buy lots near or adjacent to the dump, build homes on them, and sell them to buyers unaware of the long-term dangers of living next to a dump site.

Court orders have been issued about the dump since 2000. In September 2009 the Superior Court of Cochabamba ordered the dump to close and listed many problems with the dump in its present state:

• Nonexistent drains and insufficient works to capture the liquids leaching from solid domestic residues;
• Lack of monitoring of the volumes of production and recovery of leachate from solid domestic residues;
• Insufficient compacting of solid domestic residues, resulting in the formation of air pockets between residue deposits;
• Nonexistent monitoring of biogas formed during decomposition of solid domestic residues;
• Insufficient coverage of solid residues from hospitals (originally, this area of the dump site was surrounded by a security fence, but no longer);
• Lack of reforestation effort for those areas where material has been gathered to cover over areas of deposited waste;
•  Flow of leachate into air pockets among solid domestic residue deposits as that decomposes;
• Transport of deposited solid wastes is facilitated by inadequate cover of the domestic residue as it is deposited;
• Inadequate plan for pick up and disposal of collected leachate;
• Nonexistent plan for adequate disposition of residues;
• Nonexistent plan for recovery and recycling of usable materials in the interior of the dump;
• Insufficient traffic signs warning about the dangers of the dump site, resulting in ready access of unauthorized persons and animas in the area of the dump site;
• Insufficient barriers between the dump and neighborhoods surrounding the dump site;
• Nonexistence of an adequate plan for industrial hygiene.

During our visit to K'ara K'ara, Padre Ken reflected on some of his experiences while living there:

• Some of the older garbage piles are now covered with dirt. Gas pipes have been installed in some areas to channel off the gases created by the decomposing garbage. These gases catch fire and can be seen at night.
• The official collectors of the garbage (EMSA) dumped in K'ara K'ara had a meeting.  After their meeting Padre Ken was informed that he should be careful about going up on the dump site because of the escaping gases. (During our visit to K'ara K'ara trucks arrived, dumped garbage, and departed.)
• Numerous people were sorting through this garbage, apparently for possible reusable items. It is doubtful that they were informed of any danger regarding escaping gases.)
• The priest of the parish at K'ara K'ara before Padre Ken was asked to leave because he asked questions about the income derived from the dump and who controlled that. Padre Ken has been encouraged to not ask questions. As a priest, he visits all of the various neighborhoods around the dump, but many of the people are unwilling to associate with him, possibly because it is rumored that he is a representative of Vicente Cañas, an organization working to close the dump.
• The dump continues to operate by the payment of fines from the mayor's office.  For any of the money from these fines to be spent, a project proposal must be submitted to and approved by the mayor's office.
•  For the dump to close there must be a common agreement of the 33 communities surrounding the area. However, 7 of the 33 claim to have the greatest right to determine the fate of the dump because their inhabitants live in the closest proximity to it.  They oppose the closure.  In this limbo K'ara K'ara continues to operate.
• People are ignorant about the poisons in the dump and their potential effect on people. Urbanization continues on the slope west of the dump site.  People are building houses directly beside the base of the dump, close to all of the toxins. Speculators buy lots there, build homes, then sell them to people who are unaware of the danger. This is not large tract development. Typically, a developer will buy one or two lots then build houses and sell them.

I am very impressed by Padre Ken's persistence in enduring this tough assignment. I recall something he said as we rode in a taxi trufi to visit the dump. "Sometimes you just have to sit with problems, be with them."  True, we sometimes make problems worse by attempting to impose the wrong solutions on them.  And some problems by their complexity seem to mock our desire to solve them. During our brief visit it was very easy to see the potential for ill effects as I watched cows grazing on grass growing atop some of the older garbage and then saw elsewhere closeby children playing who might drink the milk from those cows. To think about K'ara K'ara is to want to fix it or just walk away and try to stop thinking about it.  I cannot stop the garbage flow from the growing city of Cochabamba or the ill effects of the past 25 years of garbage flow, but I propose the following:

• Differentiated future collections to divert most discarded matter into recyclable, compostable, toxic, or safe garbage;
• Incentives for local universities to develop and implement effective strategies for neutralizing the negative effects of the current deposit of undifferentiated waste;
• Broad-based public involvement to provide greater transparency regarding the profit incentives for operating the dump and to challenge the continued operation of the dump site as a cash benefit to a few and a health risk to many;
• Monitoring of residents in the area for possible contamination-related health problems;
• Your constructive suggestions.

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¹A little over a month before the Deep Water Horizon drilling rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico.