Nothing worth doing is straightforward

Now I have settled in to life living in La Paz, I thought I would share just a part of what I am really doing here.

There are sixteen British volunteers here in La Paz with the ICS scheme and we have been divided into three groups, each working with different local partner charities: Up Close Bolivia, Child Fund and my partner, Aldeas Infantiles SOS.

Within the Aldeas groups there are four sub projects which we are working to progress in the three short months we are here, following on the work that the previous cohort started. All the projects involve working in some way with some of the Aldeas Children’s centres in La Paz. These are day centres for children between the ages of 0-6 from disadvantaged backgrounds, where they can be cared for during the day whilst their parents are at work as well as properly fed, watered and nurtured.

The first sub project is Strengthening Families, which deals with issues such as father participation in children’s lives and sex education for young people and adults, as well as looking at the factors that are important for early childhood development.

The second is Entrepreneurship, a project which is working towards setting up urban gardens in certain centres, with the aim to provide better nutritional support for the children as well as a potential source of income for the centre and wider community.

The third, which I am partially involved in, is ‘Ludoteca’ or ‘Learning through play’ which is a project aimed at creating a better environment in which the children can learn, providing more and better resources that serve both play and cultural and education purposes.

The fourth, which is the project I am working on most of the time, is TICS. This project is in the early stages but its aim is to provide the resources and training necessary to set up telecentres or ‘computer rooms’ in the Aldeas children’s centres for the use of the children and possibly the wider community and incorporate ICT into the curriculum. ICT technology is widely seen as an important tool of development and can offer benefits such as higher levels of engagement in children, reducing the pressures of teacher shortages, employment opportunities for young people and adults and reduced costs in many areas of society. 

The work I am doing involves a lot of research as the project is in its very early stages and therefore research is still very much a key component. I am looking carefully at other similar projects from Bolivia and Latin America, analysing the successes and failures of these projects in order to put together information on ‘best practice’ for TICS telecentres. I am also looking for potential funding sources for the project (any suggestions would be much appreciated!).

I’ve certainly learned some lessons about development already. 

1. Development moves slowly. There are more barriers to everything and more politics involved than I could have imagined and patience is most definitely a requirement not a virtue in this world. 

2. It is important to work out whether or not a project is really needed in the particular community in order to create positive results. There is a tendency for any charity offered to be given the green light even if it is not the right project for that community. 

3. Keep the bigger picture in mind. If you lose sight of that then frustration may get the better of you. 

4. Development can have a positive impact on people’s lives and even completely transform some. 

5. Nothing worth doing is straightforward. 

We are all beautiful flowers in the same garden

There are always moments in life where you realise you’ll never forget what you just saw. Some are because of a traumatic, disturbing event, some because of something wonderful happening. 

Others are harder to define.

On Friday we were given the opportunity to see the other side of La Paz in a visit to a state-run disability centre in the city, just down the road from where we live. From the outside it looked much larger than I had anticipated, and as we went inside, it seemed vast. The corridors were wide and clinical, although a clear attempt had been made to make it look welcoming with a colourful border painted on the walls and bright chairs lining the corridor. However this did not particularly diminish the bleak atmosphere and the feeling that you were inside an institution, as the paint was faded and there were bars on all the windows and gates at every stairwell.

We were taken to a particular ‘ward’ for children with a wide range of disabilities and the feeling we got was that this was where there were the most staff and the children were the least challenging, as they were certainly out to impress us. This ward was a home for the children without parents (or indeed without willing parents), where they played and slept, and those that could also attended classes and therapies within the building.

When we arrived, the children had just finished dinner and were busy being cleaned up so we were given the chance to speak to a doctor in the centre, a gentle seeming man in his early sixties who spoke very good English. He told us that he had worked at the centre for 27 years and that the ‘motto’ that they went by was ‘we are all beautiful flowers in the same garden’, a message of inclusiveness and solidarity in a country that often fails to provide for the most vulnerable in society.

The first child to be brought in to the bright room covered in soft toys (which was considerably more child friendly than the corridors outside) was a young girl who seemed unable to walk and had to be held and repositioned on the floor constantly. We were told that in the last few days she had entered a depressive state and had stopped walking very suddenly.

In the next room, a small dorm room, a very small boy was carried in and placed in a cot and we were told he had a number of conditions including reduced movement in his left side and an abnormally small brain size. Then two more boys were brought in and placed in cots and left alone with us (8 ICS volunteers and two Bolivian volunteers). Both captured my heart instantly. One Miguel*, had a condition in which he was unable to process images that his eyes saw, in his brain. His eyes looked around quite wildly and he had a number of repetitive movements which he seemed to make as a form of communication. He didn't respond to touch at first and seemed unable to grab my finger but after some time (and a few verses of twinkle twinkle little star) he grabbed hold of my finger tightly and didn't let go. 

The boy in the cot next to Miguel, Jonathan  had a similar brain condition to the first boy but with the added complication of severe epilepsy. Whilst we were in the room alone with him he started to choke on the medicine that he had just been given. Our Bolivian volunteer scooped him up and quickly rushed him through the next room and next door to where the staff were working. My instant reaction was, quite naturally, what would have happened if we hadn't been here?

Back in the main room, many more children had arrived including a number of boisterous and happy children with Downs Syndrome, who smiled, laughed and chased us around the room quite happily. Another boy was brought in and instantly tied to a pillar with a piece of rope which was placed around his middle. We were told he had Autism and was hyperactive. Clearly from our ‘child-cruelty’ westernised eyes, this was unacceptable. But as more and more children were brought into the room the ratio of ‘community mothers’ to children was rapidly dwindling.  What else could they do? They did not have the money to have enough staff to properly deal with the children’s needs and had therefore found ways to cope.

We were told that the community mothers were not necessarily trained, but all seemed to show genuine care and affection for the children and anything which we perceived to be unacceptable could easily be attributed to a lack of funds and a lack of staff. The children in this one ‘ward’ had such complex and different needs that it seemed impossible that they would all be given the care and stimulation they really needed to develop well in this environment.

Every member of staff we spoke to told us that the children lived for days when people like us came to visit, and some even pleaded with us to come back as soon as we could. The community mothers told us that what these children really lacked was love and affection. The centre was able to provide for the children’s needs in terms of their medical and physical needs, but there was not enough hours in the day to ensure that all the children received the kind of nurture and care that we would want and provide for our own children. They might have all been flowers in the same garden, but their garden seemed a long way from ours. 

the right to human rights

This is the story of some the work that International Service does in Bolivia.

Bolivia is a curious country. As I have said before, there seems to be much disagreement between both Bolivians and foreigners on how poor Bolivia really is. In terms of human development, it is ranked just 108^th out of 187 countries listed. However the human development index suffers from the same problems as any other general index. In order to be useful in comparing countries to each other, it must be largely simplistic. This is not to argue that it can’t be useful, only that it cannot possibly explain all the relevant factors. For instance, it does not necessarily take account of the divide within a country. 

There is a significant divide between urban and rural wealth in Bolivia, as around one third of the rural population lack access to basic services, many children attend school for just 4 years or less and disability is still seen as a curse and is not widely accepted. Many disabled people are denied the rights that they have as human beings. 

International Service has worked for nearly 60 years to help people around the world to understand their human rights. This may be a child understanding their right to a safe and secure environment in which to grow up. It may be a person with a disability understanding that they have the right to do everything that an able person can do. It might be helping to empower people to claim the rights they already know they have.

International service works with grass-roots organisations and local groups to help people to know, understand and claim their rights, as well as seeking to tackle the roots causes of why people are denied certain rights in Bolivia. For example, poor nutrition in children is seen as contributory factor to the large number of children living with preventable diseases such as polio and German measles. Part of the ICS project our group of volunteers is involved in (a very small part of the work International Service does in Bolivia) is aimed at tackling the root causes of poor nutrition and helping parents and communities to understand the connection between healthy eating and good health.

Today some of us were lucky enough to be able to volunteer on behalf of International Service at a huge disability fair in the centre of La Paz. Our stall consisted of information leaflets, mountains of blue wrist bands reading 'soy inclusivo', translated as 'I'm inclusive', as well as two games, designed specifically to deal with issues of disability and human rights. The first was a tactile version of twister, with each row of coloured circles also having a specific texture to them. The second was an adapted game of snakes and ladders, where the children (and adults!) taking part were given goggles with varying levels of visibility to make the game more difficult. Some squares were also marked ‘pregunta’ or ‘question’, where the participants then had to answer a question on human rights, tailored to their age in return for another go and a sweet!

The atmosphere at the fair was infectious, with the level of involvement of both children and adults astounding to us Brits, as well as the positive impact that the vast number of organisations that had turned out were having on the people of La Paz. Disability in Bolivia is slowly coming out of the shadows and into mainstream discussion, however there is still a lot of work to do in order to reach a place where disabled people are able to access all the resources and services they need to live full and free lives.

Temples, tranquillity and new perspectives

In the middle of Lake Titicaca, an ocean-like body of water that separates Bolivia from Peru high in the mountains, lies a small island. In Aymara culture it is said that the Isla Del Luna (The Island of the Moon) has acted as a tribute to women and the role they play in Andean culture since pre-Inca times. It is a haven of tradition and simplicity, embracing tourism only so far as to preserve the rich culture that has survived for so long. The tourist industry is constrained by a sustainable tourism project which has been set up on the island with the intention of creating new income for the people whilst retaining the character and culture of the island itself.

Isla Del Luna is just 3km in length and 1km in width and is characterised by its steep inclines on both sides, culminating in a long ridge which stretches the length of the island. Just 25 families live on the island, a total of around 80 people, and there are no vehicles of any kind on the land (llamas being the only exception). This peace and tranquillity permeates the island, adding to the spectacular nature of the awe-inspiring views across the lake.

On one side of the island lies the community square, with a large football field and volleyball court, as well as the small school, shower and toilets and the church. On the other side of the island are the ruins of a pre-Inca temple (Templo de las Virgenes), which acts as the main draw for tourism to the island. The temple is said to have housed and educated hundreds of young girls, organised according to their relative beauty. The least/most (this varied depending on the tour guide) attractive were then taken to specific ceremonies on the nearby larger island of Isla Del Sol (Island of the Sun) to be sacrificed.

The remainder of the island is land used for grazing and agriculture, as well as a vast array of herbs which grow on the island and are used for medicinal purposes, particularly for stomach problems and dealing with the intense altitude (nearly 4000m above sea level). The houses are of varying sizes and standards but all are relatively simple, and although they do have electricity, this is mostly powered by individual solar panels attached to each house.

As a group we spent three days living in pairs with our host families, working and living within their culture, desperately trying to communicate in our broken Spanish, which is their second language after Aymara. Our family were a young family, with two daughters aged 11 and 12. Our father was primarily a fisherman and our mother a weaver of belts and bracelets, sold to the tourists who visit; however the family also kept sheep and rabbits to further sustain them.

On the first morning, we were invited to go fishing with our father, which meant an early start (5am), but also meant that we were able to witness the most beautiful sunrise over the lake. Fishing on the island essentially consists of laying nets the night before- which are marked by plastic bottles floating on the surface. These nets are then collected in the morning teaming with Ispie (small white-bait like fish) and taken ashore. The process of removing the Ispie from the net- by hand- was a slow and tedious process which the men did most mornings. On this occasion we then took the Ispie back onto the Lake and across to our father’s three static intensive farming nets to feed the Ispie to the Trout. Trout are not a natural inhabitant of Lake Titicaca and were artificially introduced by the US. However now they are seen as a key part of the economy as Trout fetch considerably more than the equivalent weight in Ispie.

Everything that is grown on the Island is grown specifically for personal consumption. Any surplus food is traded with other communities for other goods such as rice, bread and coffee. The fish is either consumed by people (or other fish) and then the rest is sold for a profit to buy other goods. This sustainable way of living means that although the island relies on the Copacabana (the nearest land town) for certain goods, generally they are highly self-sufficient.

From speaking to the local people the greatest threat that the island believes it will face in the future is the loss of its young people. The school provides for children up to 12 years old, but after that they must travel either to Isla Del Sol or the mainland in order to continue their education. There seems to be a divide between those parents on the island who see Isla Del Luna and the continuation of their culture as paramount and wish their children to return and live on the island. Then there are those who desire their children to move to the mainland, to La Paz and even further afield to find better jobs and new lives. Just as with any ancient culture trying to survive in the modern world, the island's inhabitants will face the long and difficult challenge of finding a way to carry on as they always have. 

Whilst we were there we also visited Isla Del Sol, which was considerably larger and considerably more tourist-logged. However the reason why the tourists flock to Del Sol was clear. If you ignored the chilly temperature and the debilitating affects of the altitude when trying to walk up a hill, we could easily have been in the Med. With white sandy beaches and crystal blue waters it certainly was idyllic. There are also considerable pre- Inca ruins on the island, much more comprehensive than those on Del Luna and the tour guide was equally ‘colourful’ in the stories and legends he told on the way round! The sad effects of tourism could also be seen, as one of the group attempted to take a picture of a large pig and her 12 piglets who were waddling along the beach, a little girl ran up waving a stick shouting ‘pay me! pay me for a photograph’.

The highlights of the trip are so numerous I couldn’t possibly share them all. However those that will stick in my memory include; the sunsets; the sunrises!; singing songs around a bonfire watching shooting stars; seeing the milky way so crisply it could have been just a few miles away; managing to communicate and share jokes with our family; swimming in the icy lake and sampling all the local cuisine. But most of all, what I will take from my time on the island is a new perspective on what we could all learn from the more simple and sustainable way of life led by the people of Isla Del Luna. 

A few photos

the view from our apartment- La Paz

La Paz from a viewing point high in the city

The Devil's Miner

 Today we were shown a fascinating and heart wrenching documentary about child labour in the Potosi silver mines in southern Bolivia. It told the story of Basillio, a fourteen year old boy who had worked as a miner for four years. When Basillio was just two his father had died, forcing the family to move from the city to live up in the mountains and make a living from the mines. Basillio’s mother received a small salary for ‘guarding’ the mines at night and Basillio and his brother worked for no fixed salary deep in the silver mine. How much they were paid was based on the quantity and quality of the silver they unearthed.

Basillio explained that every day when he, his brother and his ‘boss’ entered the mine, they made offerings to a statute which can be found at the entrance to every mine in Bolivia. ‘Tio’ is essentially a representation of the devil, because the miners believe that whilst God can protect them outside, once they enter the mine, God does not follow them. They therefore offer ‘Tio’ coca leaves, alcohol and cigarettes and ask for his forgiveness and that he protect them from accidents, collapse and explosions and help them to discover mineral wealth. They believe that if they do not offer Tio gifts, he will not spare them. The Rosario mine where Basillio goes to work alone to gain a better living is an extremely dangerous place to work and is harrowingly known as ‘the mountain that eats men’. Mining in this environment is not only dangerous because of the imminent risk of collapse, unexploded dynamite, arsenic lined walls and dangerous machinery; it is also a cause of significantly shortened life expectancy, as most men will die young of lung disease from inhaling vast quantities of dust. The men and children can work 24 hour shifts and earn nothing if their labour does not produce any silver.

Basillio was adamant that he would attend school with his brother as well as work in the mine, he was a bright boy who comprehended the emancipatory nature of education and learning, determined as he was not to work in the mines for very long, knowing it would soon kill him. His words spoke of determination but his eyes showed little hope. At the time the film was made in 2005 there were over 800 hundred children working in the mines of Potosi, most of whom would never leave. Whilst some of the adult men who work in the mines do so to support and feed their families, many work in the mines because they do not know any other life. They earn their money and drink their sorrows away on their days off, lacking in hope and despairing at the outside world and their chances of happiness anywhere but the dusty mines.

Many of the Bolivians that I have spoken are keen to distance themselves from the notion that they are ‘the poorest county in South America’. An observation of the city certainly challenges this view, as most people seem have food to eat and homes to live in. There is little more begging than can be found on the streets of London as most people sell goods to earn a living of some sort. There is often a common assumption, compounded by the rhetoric of development that poverty and hunger are entirely synonymous. The first millennium development goal refers to both poverty and hunger as if they were just one evil. Clearly, there is a fairly significant link between the two. However what the miner’s story and the story of many in La Paz shows is that hunger is not the only way in which people can be poor. Poverty of hope, poverty of joy, poverty of a child’s right to play and be innocent are just a few ways that the definition of poverty can be challenged. Basillio’s twelve year old brother got up every morning wondering whether or not his brother would die today, wanting to protect him and keep him safe but being powerless to stop it. Basillio went to work every day knowing it would kill him, perhaps quickly perhaps slowly. These children carry the weight of the world on their shoulders every day. 

Embracing our inner tourist

A few further days in La Paz and I feel a little more at home. On Saturday we embraced our inner tourist and saw the sights of the city from two very different points of view: firstly, in the morning we took an all-too-obvious open top bright red tour bus around the city, driving past La Paz’s best architecture, around Plaza’s adorned with various monuments and best of all to a viewing point from which you could see all that the city has to offer. What made it contrast most starkly, perhaps, with other tour bus rides I have been on was the warning given at the beginning: remember to duck when you see the power lines. This became evident fairly quickly as people narrowly missed limb decapitation from holding cameras above their heads. All part of the fun!

In the afternoon, those of us who still had the energy took a walking tour of the main cemetery and markets with some local men who were all shoe-shiners by trade. All over La Paz men can be seen in full balaclavas, hats and dark blue clothes, carrying a small box and pointing at your shoes- these are the shoe-shiners. The reason that they cover their faces is two fold: firstly shoe shining involves bending down by the side of the road a lot and the pollution in the city is appalling, with large trucks pumping out tonnes of black, toxic gas at every junction and hill (of which there is one or the other or both every 50 yards!). Secondly, shoe shining is considered to be a shameful job that pays very little and many of the men do not wish to show their faces for fear of brining shame on their families. Most of the men who showed us around showed their faces, one even brought his family along.

The cemetery was beautiful and very different to anything I had seen before. It was made up of ‘blocks’ which even came complete with street numbers (it was a very big place). The blocks were made up of rows and columns of what were essentially tombs fronted by glass doors, behind which the family of the deceased could place fresh flowers, photos and ornaments. Some people had even placed miniature versions of their loved one’s favourite things such as tiny bottles of Fanta and Coke, tiny guitars and toys and games. Families paid a premium price to rent these spaces for between one and five years, so this was not a burial place for the poor by any means.

Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed the tours and sights, it was somewhat of a relief to return to being just a gringo and not a fully fledged tourist.