Visiting Sacaba

I never thought I would be able to visit Sacaba so quickly after arriving in Bolivia, but after recovering from altitude sickness and before I started my classes; I had enough strength to head to Sacaba. Sacaba is the town where I lived and worked the last time I was on mission. Sacaba is about 15 km east of the city of Cochabamba, where I am taking a repaso in Spanish. I currently live in the north, northwest section of Cochabamba. Traveling to Sacaba took almost an hour that day, walking to where I could catch transportation and then waiting for the next Trufi (a 12 passenger van with seats for 15 or more, read: very cramped). This cost me a total of 30 cents!!

I alighted from the trufi in the main plaza of Sacaba, which contains: the church, rectory, mayor’s office, banks, stores and eateries. The usual cast of characters from my time in Bolivia was absent. Don Saturnino was not polishing shoes. Doñas Olga, Amalia & Ercilia were not selling refreshments. Erlinda was not selling ice cream and Doña Berta was not selling mote (a nutritious cooked bean). Where was everybody?

I chatted with a few people I recognized, who sell snacks in the plaza, then headed into the church. A mass was to start in a few minutes and Father Honny was to preside. Padre Honny was the pastor for most of my time in Sacaba. I entered the church filled with joy, I could not believe I was in that dear church again, I think it is one of the most beautiful churches, (sorry Fr. Tom and Fr. David) it is like a tiny cathedral. I was profoundly grateful to God and I soaked it all in. I greeted Padre Honny after mass as well as the sacristan Ariel who had played Santa Claus for us at the Childcare Center.

After mass I tracked down Doña Hilda, who worked with me at the Childcare Center and took over my work as the director. She had so much to show me. I knew that I new center was in the process of being built, which would also include a handicapped center. The good news was that the new center was to open up in a few weeks with the beginning of the school year (beginning of Feb.)

We went first to the old center, where there were quite a few changes since I left, and they were in the process of turning it into a center for Seniors. There was an association of seniors/elders that we would invite to come to the Childcare Center to have a snack and interact with the kids. It had been my idea of a mutually beneficial gathering. Some kids didn’t know their grandparents, because they lived too far away. So too some elders didn’t know their kids or grandkids because they had moved off to other places. It was very precious to see the interactions.

We visited the new center and it was incredibly huge! It also wasn’t finished, they were painting the interior and there were no windows or doors nor bathroom fixtures in place. Since we didn’t have doors and windows in the original center for a few years, I figured it could probably be ready for opening day.

Not only did I arrive in time for mass with Padre Honny, I arrived on the day of the monthly meeting for the Sponsorship Program that I coordinated while I was in Sacaba. This meant a good number of mothers and children would all be in one place for me to greet. Doña Hilda and I arrived for what we thought would be the end of the meeting. It wasn’t over so we continued walking down the road. We waited about an hour and walked back.

As we passed the building, someone spotted us and a flood of women and children came streaming out of the door to greet me. I told them to go back into their meeting and that I would wait, but the flood gates had been broken. The current coordinator, who I had met previously, invited me into the meeting, where she proceeded to introduce me to all, with fanfare and applause. My project had been merged with another so there were some people who didn’t know me.

After the (embarrassing) applause died down, I tried to leave so that they could complete the meeting. She again pressed for everyone’s attention, and for some reason told a brief version of the story of Jasmin (many of you know this story) She told of the little girl I loved so much, whose father brought her to the center, when there really was no room for her. I had accepted her to the Center only to take her to the hospital the next day because she was malnourished and dehydrated (she was just over a year old and weighed only 11 lbs) Her mother had abandoned her and she spent some time on Sundays with me while her father worked.

Again I was embarrassed by her words. Then she let everyone know that Jasmin was in the room. I asked "where?" The moms pushed Jasmin right up to me, and we gave each other a great big hug as tears ran down my face. (more applause) I was so overwhelmed that I could get to see Jasmin so quickly after my arrival in Bolivia. She just turned 8 years old, and she is so beautiful, the image of her father and her grandmother.

I met many of the moms and children after the meeting. All the adults I recognized, but the children had all grown so much. I got some mixed up with their older siblings. Some of the older brother and sisters had turned into young men and women! There were a few more babies to meet. I headed back to Cochabamba leaving lots of promises that I would come to visit everyone, though it will probably take some time. I’ve been back twice, and have met one family in town, but those are stories for another day.

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday. Dianne, one of my best friends from college, gave me a great Christmas present. A book called A Lenten Journey with Jesus Christ and St. Thérèe of Lisieux, by Fr John Russell, O. Carm. I brought very few books with me, but this one I was very excited about, because it would help me focus on Lent.

I read over some of the preparatory chapters last week. This morning I woke bright and early, to start my Lenten Journey. Each day has the daily gospel reading, quotes from St. Thérèe of Lisieux, a Reflection, and a Prayer.

My reflection began right with the gospel, Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-18, the one that I get stuck on every time it is read on Ash Wednesday. Basically to do your fasting and alms giving, with out blowing your trumpet, for if you do there is your reward. All these things are to be done in secret. (my simplistic version)

Every year I struggle with the receiving of ashes on my forehead. As a ritual and a sign within my Catholic Community it is beautiful and real. It is a commitment to God and one another within the church. The struggle begins as I go out the church door, if I stop at a store on my way home, am I not blowing my horn, that I have been to church??

The opportunity to give alms is constant and on going here in Bolivia. In Sacaba, the town where I was previouly missioned, it hardly ever happened. Here in the city of Cochabamba, there are days that if you actually gave away a coin to each person that asked, you could give away your weekly food allowance. With just a coin that equal to about 15 cents US! 15 cents may not seem a lot to you, but it is a perfectly acceptable alms. You can buy a 12 oz refreshment and a roll. (or 2 rolls) When I last lived here you could buy 5 rolls for 15 cents, the prices have risen drastically for the basics about 100%. The luxury items (soda, cookies) have risen only about 15-20%. Transportation has risen from 0-30%.

Back to the Lenten Reflection. This morning I also reflected on: how I could be a missioner, and follow this gospel. To be able to write a blog and to not toot a horn. Is it possible? I don´t know. Is it a struggle? Yes! I know my goal is not to toot my horn, but to share with whoever wants to read this blog, the stories of the people. To open a window to life in a developing country. If we are all one body, then we are just looking at ourselves, and if we are looking at ourselves, we will see our interconnection.

Abbott Francis Michael said various time to our retreat groups from Jubilee (in years past), that being in the monastery puts him right before God without distractions. I feel in a similar way, that being here in Bolivia, puts me before the face of God constantly, day by day, through faces of the Bolivian people, and through my interactions with them.

May your Lenten Journeys be blessed with a drawing near to God.

A Room With A View

I have a room with a view. I didn´t the last time I lived in Cochabamba. One room had no outside window at all, and the other faced a small closed in patio for washing and hanging dry clothes. I live with Lilian and Teddy a middle aged couple with 3 grown married children, and 7 grandchildren, many of whom come to visit often. They live in a second story apartment, and Lilian´s sister and family live in the apartment below.

From there I can look down to the little yard/garden (about the size of 3 parking spaces) There are many beautiful flowering plants, one that grows up over and along the front wall. Across the street is a convent. There too, beautiful flowering plants and trees poke over the wall for all to enjoy. The rest of the view is full of red spanish roofs and other trees. Far more trees are in my view than any other average location in Cochabamba, I am blessed!

From this room I go.
I go to many places.
The one that connects to the view is the Language Institute.
There are many rooms with a view,
many classrooms with a view.
They are tiny little rooms.
You could squeeze 4 student in,
but two would be more comfortable.
They make the Jubilee classrooms look spacious!
The whole space is a walled in city block, filled with gardens and trees.

I am in the middle of my six week repaso course at the Institute. Repaso being a refresher course. The Maryknoll Institute has some really great teachers. It is really interesting to be on the receiving end of the instruction, instead of teaching. I tend to analyze theory, content and style, for future reference. What is nice about a repaso course is that the team of teachers (4 different teachers every two weeks) are open to requests and even direction, together they evaluate and plan a curriculum just for me!

Estoy Aqui

These are the days that the clouds touch the mountains.

It is summer.
and it is the rainy season.

One day it is hot,
short sleeves, skirts, sandals,
windows open at night.

The next day it is rainy,
cold,
jeans, fleece, raincoat,
a three blanket night.

In the summers past in Bolivia,
a night rain could mean snow in the mountains,
the morning wind would blow the smell of snow,
as puddles lay about the street.

Now I am in the city,
where one can feel closed in,
and forgets to look to the west,
and see if Mount Tunari has snow.