The Garbage I Found in Bolivia: Part One

Over the next three blog entries, I will share through pictures and words what
Daisy and I experienced in our Bolivian adventures.

daisy and me in downtown santa cruz, bolivia

What I found in Bolivia and what I write may surprise you.
I know it surprised me.
Although I am proud as punch to be an American and I love America,
I admit that we do not always have the monopoly on good people
or the right way to do things.

Our story begins with some comparisons.

In South America, there are some things smaller than in my area of North America....
such as:

people

(these darling boys are the exact same age: one from St. George, Utah, 
the other from Montero, Bolivia)

 houses

professional sound systems

and dogs.

notice the skin and prominent bones of this skinny, sickly dog....and it was typical of many of the dogs....

But there are things that are  bigger (as in size and/or quantity) such as....

leaves

papaya tree: leaves are bigger than a hubcap

papayas

                                      

rivers

Mighty Amazon from the air

flowers

National flower of Bolivia- Patuju

                          

pigs in the street

spiders

fungus balls on the telephone wires

 

lakes

Largest lake in the world: Titicaca. Photo courtesy of cheap-o-air

piles of dirt covered in clay tiles

my ankles

teen-agers practicing cultural dancing on a Thursday night

massive amounts of chickens roaming freely in streets

sloth sightings in the trees right in the center of town

sloth in downtown plaza of Santa Cruz. photo courtesy of about.com

boys excited about getting their fingernails painted by an American gringo

and beads of sweat..... (notice the glistening at the pre-auricular area on Dr. Barnett.)

Ahh….the sweat. Without air-conditioning, the saline drips from the skin of tourists faster than water from a hose. This oppressive humid heat of summer not only steals moisture but robs the afternoon. Around 11:30 am, activities screech to a hot humid halt. As temperatures climb and sweat saturation reaches its zenith, the streets and shops grow quiet as people go home to take respite from the heat, eat lunch, take a cold shower and a siesta before returning to work at 2 pm.

In the morning hours, however, the heat hasn’t yet won the battle.  The city is alive with productivity. People rise early to take advantage of the cooler part of the day.

Already at 7 am, the honks and rumble of motorcycle taxis and cars

        

drown out the bird’s pleasant chatter

and fill the dusty or uneven cobblestone streets with organized chaos.

 The air is saturated with the acrid aroma of burning sugar cane, choking those

unaccustomed to such a miserable sensory assault.

truckload of sugar cane

Street vendors uncover their carts teeming with chorizo, chicken and beef empanadas,

jewelry and hand-stamped leather items.

Shop owners put out colorful varieties of fruit, vegetables and meat for sale, and
 anxiously await customers while absent-mindedly batting away the flies happy
with the bonanza of available raw meat.

Women begin the daily chore of washing laundry outside in a large tub filled with murky yellow water.

 

At the District 3 Centro de Salud, women begin lining up with their
babies and children

to see the doctor and get free immunizations.

The clinic is ready for them.

Nurses competently and compassionately screen patient after patient,

educating each mother about five cuidados básicos (basic cautions): nutrition, adequate hydration, hygiene, temperature control and descanso (rest). Referrals to the clinic physician or dentist are made if necessary. These offices are in back of the health clinic.

Dental patients sit outside in a white plastic chair next to a rusting sink for dental care. Teeth are pulled with minimal anesthesia. Some children display tantrums by throwing themselves on the ground in defiance to see the doctor. Some things are universal no matter what country we are in.

Clinic 3 was where I spent one week, trying to glean as much as I could

about their public health program.

Each day, the kids and teens in our travel group put on a puppet show for the local schoolchildren

teaching them about nutrition and germs.

Most of the kids laughed...

Except one...

continued on Part Two.....

Read more...

The Garbage I Found in Bolivia: Part Two

Continued from Part One.....

Working at the clinic of District 3, I learned something more about sizes: the grande consumption of Coca-Cola!

Coca leaf production is actually a intriguing and controversial subject. Coca leaves are an agricultural commodity leading to products such as tea, coca-cola and cocaine. The current Bolivian president Evo Morales, a former coca grower, is working hard to increase production and legalize sale of coca leaves. Morales sees coca farming as a traditional and profitable activity with many health and social benefits to poor Bolivian peasants. Because the leaves are used to make cocaine (a trend that began in Bolivia about twenty years ago), the US desires to stop production of coca leaves. Clash of the Coca!

Meanwhile, Bolivia supplies the Coca-Cola Bottling Company with thousands of pounds of coca leaves for the soft drink. In return, there must be an unwritten pledge by Bolivians to drink Coca-Cola at least six times per day. I've never been offered so much Coke.

Haley and Charlie share a refreshing drink of Coke after doing a puppet show outside the clinic at District 3

This brings me to another comparison in size. Yes, the lakes, spiders and Coke consumption are big. And so are el corazóns de la gente (the hearts of the people). Not as in cardiomyopathy big. But big as in humble, generous, kind and accepting.

How I loved the gentle gratitude of the people. Women waited in line in the sweltering heat with never a complaint.... always so appreciative of whatever help they were given. Try visiting our local ER and see if you get the same feeling!

People worked hard. And smiled.

And they welcomed us with respect and warmth.

In the health clinic, the nurses and workers connected with us and were patient even though

our Spanish was terribly limited.

One final comparison about size. In the city of Montero, Bolivia, a town of 96,000 people located 50 km outside of Santa Cruz, there is also something bigger than in America: the piles of rubbish. Garbage litters the landscape in every direction.

photo courtesy of travelpod.com

One night as we took a walk to the downtown plaza, we watched a shop owner bring out a small trashbag and empty the contents into the gutter.

This was as natural an act as if she had dressed for the day.

All around the town, there is the look and feel of grunge.

photo from numphe9@webshots

garbage can just outside our hotel

Why doesn’t this bother people, I kept wondering? Don’t they take pride in their land? Don’t they care about the environment? Garbage pick-up is infrequent and irregular. Why don’t they put the infrastructure in place to collect trash?

Here is one reason: Bolivia is the poorest South American country. For example, an educated physician only makes $600 / month and often takes several jobs to sustain a decent living. So the don’t have the money to pay for garbage collection. The Bolivians are not taxed, taxed, taxed like we are in America. But is money the whole story?

These thoughts swirled around in my head like my mother’s contact lens when it was flushed down the toilet by my 3 year-old brother.

Continued in Part Three....

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The Garbage I Found in Bolivia: Part Three

Read Part One here and Part Two here.

I admit that what I saw upon arrival in Montero was completely different than what I saw upon departure. At first I was disgusted by the dirt and garbage. But I learned valuable lessons from that initial reaction. And in a funny sort of way, I think their big garbage issue is connected to their big heart issue.
My conclusion about this and increasing tolerance of the dirt surprised me.

Perhaps the garbage on the streets represent much more than poverty. It may be a symbol of priorities. Or a manifestation of contentment.

Perhaps appearance is not as important as relationships.

Everywhere I went I saw evidence of this.

Remember in Part One, I said that the heat robs people of their afternoon. I no longer believe that. The noon siesta is not thievery at all, but rather a time for renewal and rejuvenation....

a time to spend with family.

Also, in the evenings after work, families and friends would gather in the plaza

and visit or play chess with one another.

The beauty of the people are seen in their eyes and in their actions

                            

The beauty of the people is seen in their dance and costumes and in their cultural pride

In Bolivia some in our group watched a mother have a C-section with little anesthesia and no grimmacing, we saw simple and humble living conditions, our hotel workers washed heaps and heaps of laundry by hand, and ironed our sheets and towels every day, children played happily with used popsicle sticks and a threadbare soccer ball

children thrilled at the chance to color with sidewalk chalk.

In reflection, I thought about my home in America. I remembered the little girl in Wal-mart who threw a tantrum because she couldn't have a motorized truck. I recalled the patient who yelled at our office staff for having to wait thirty minutes in an air-conditioned waiting room seated on a softly padded leather couch. Just a few days before my trip, I told my own mother I couldn't come over to her house to visit with friends who came to town because I had too much to do.

Do you ever find yourself rushing to and fro involved in insignificant things, grumbling at inconveniences and demanding bigger, better, faster? I suddenly realized:

They are busy with living. 

I am living with busy.

The Bolivians reminded me about relationships, use of time and priorities, humility and gratitude.

Ashamed, I left Bolivia with a new perspective.

Some of the garbage I found in Bolivia was not the rubbish on the street.

It is what I found in my American heart.

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