A must read -- When Helping Hurts

There are times when the impact of a book is life changing. “When Helping Hurts ... Who to Alleviate poverty Without Hurting the Poor .... and Yourself “ is that kind of book. Anyone involved in short term – or long term --mission projects should read this book for reading and discussion.

Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert are involved with The Chalmers Center, a part of Covenant College, in Lookout Mountain, Tennessee. An excerpt from their website states that

‘The Chalmers Center for Economic Development at Covenant College helps churches to help the poor to help themselves. The methods we use center on the person of Jesus Christ. We believe that He is the only One who can give poor people the dignity, hope, and power they need to restore them to being what God created them to be: workers who can sustain themselves and bring glory to God in the process.’

Another quote (they say it better than I can.)

“When Helping Hurts" combines sound theology, solid research, foundational principles, and proven strategies that prepare you for Christian transformational ministry among the poor, whether in the local community or abroad.

Good Intentions Are Not Enough. Churches and individual Christians often have faulty assumptions about the causes of poverty — assumptions that many times lead to ministry strategies that do considerable harm to poor people as well as to themselves. "When Helping Hurts" addresses these assumptions and offers several principles and strategies for poverty alleviation, including:
the distinction between relief, rehabilitation, and development
the difference between asset-based and needs-based strategies
the advantages of participatory over blueprint approaches

This book is available from Amazon both as a soft cover book and as a downloadable ebook.

The website http://www.chalmers.org/when-helping-hurts/index.php includes information about the book, video interviews, audio interviews and webinars.

Drainage at San Carlos

There is a small church in the neighbouring town of San Carlos,only 25 members, that operates a Compassion project in which they provide after-school care and instruction to 135 children each week. Members of our local church in Alberta, sponsor a girl who attends this program and I visited the San Carlos project with them last year. Since that time we have developed a good relationship with Carlos and Claudia. We bring bananas and rice.

A few months ago they requested some help. There building is built on a slope and during the wet season there is water in three of the rooms – two classrooms and the office. Compassion suggested that they find a solution to the problem. The Bolivian solution would be to build different buildings but that would cost much more than the church could afford. Compassion suggested that they look for help internationally but their church is a national church without international connections. The only ‘extrangeros’ (foreigners) that they know are ourselves, so they asked us for suggestions and assistance.

Ideas ranged from moving the church and the project to another location to building a second floor on the existing building. The first did not meet with much enthusiasm from the church and we were not enthused about building a second floor since it did not solve the drainage problem. It would only give them a new church and a larger recreation field.

Instead we put heads together and worked on the drainage problem. There were two factors that were clearly part of the problem -- no drainage tile and no eaves troughs. Eaves troughs are not a new concept so they could be easily installed but drainage tile was not to be found. So we built our own using the basic principles that we had used for the filters in the water wells. All we needed to purchase were four inch tubes and clean gravel.

The day was organized. Some volunteers would dig the trench; others would cut slits into the tubes. We arrived to find the trench already started and the volunteers were all female, except one. Our helpers were the director, the teachers, and the minister’s wife. The male volunteer was the minister. All went to work and later in the morning two more men arrived. The men did the digging; the women cut the tubes and carried the gravel.

The system worked smoothly. After the trench was dug, gravel was laid to make it level. The tube was placed in the trench and more gravel was added. Then rice bags, similar to feed sacks, were placed over the gravel so that sand would not clog the tube. Finally, the soil which was mostly sand, was replaced.

At five o’clock everything was completed. We were a tired but happy bunch. We hope and pray that this system, and the eaves troughs, will solve the water problems in the classrooms.

Thank you to Woody Nook Christian Reformed Church for providing the funding for this project.

Machine or manual labour

A weekend in August was a busy one for the members of Iglesia Dios de Amor as they worked on the church building. While they hauled fill into the sanctuary to raise the floor, we fixed the cement mixer. Freddy had borrowed the machine a couple of months earlier and we were under the impression that they had used the mixer for other parts of the building, but we were wrong. The machine had been sitting idle while the cement was mixed by hand because the mixer did not work. The problem was a small one --the spark plug was full of carbon.

It was 5 pm. and time to mix the cement. We were ready to use the machine but everything came to a halt. The man hired to supervise the building did not want to use the mixer; he wanted to mix the cement by hand. This would mean that all the dry materials would be mixed on the ground using shovels. Then water would be added and finally it would be lifted into the wheel barrows and carried to where it was needed. The helpers wanted to use the mixer – it was easier.

Finally, an agreement was made and we started mixing the cement. Although we were told that everything was ready, there was a mad scramble when the first load of cement was ready. And the mad scramble continued until the last load was poured. They were amazed at the speed at which the cement was being mixed.

We realized that the supervisor did not understand how to calculate how much sand, gravel and cement he should put in the cement mixer. He knew the ratios for mixing on the ground but was not able to convert those amounts into the smaller amounts used in the mixer. The men who handled the wheel barrows also could not understand how Jake was calculating the mix. “Sometimes he puts half sand and half gravel in it and other times he adds a bit more cement. We don’t know what he is doing.” They must have thought Jake was either a magician or was just guessing.

An hour later everything was finished. By 6:30 everyone headed home. Freddy told us that when we started mixing the supervisor said that it would take until the next day to mix with the machine. He could not believe that everything was done in one hour. I think that we will be ‘hired’ again when they want to cement the floor.

Acción de Gracias.

There is no Thanksgiving Day in Bolivia; however, this church was celebrating Thanksgiving Day. But not in the manner to which we are accustomed. The purpose of this celebration was not only to bring thanksgiving, but also to raise money for the church building.

Many churches depend on ‘outside’ money to build their churches. In some areas this has become the norm. ‘Dios es Amor’ is no exception. A couple of years ago they asked us to donate the tin for the roof of their building. Since we had no connection there, we declined.

The situation has changed since Freddy is the pastor of this church. The congregation wanted to build a larger church. They knew that Freddy has connections in England and expected that he would request the needed funding from there. But Freddy said no. If it was important to them, they would show that importance by raising the money themselves to build the ‘templo’.

On faith, they are building their church. Acción de Gracias was part of this initiative. The women prepared meals and sold them at the church. Some had their own carts that they used to serve meals in the street. Others had their food in large pans. There was fish, steak, and a number of chicken dishes. Each meal came complete with salad and rice. Some had yucca; some had chuño; some had corn. Prices were 8-10 bolivianos for a meal. Coconut juice and juice made from dried peaches (mocachino) were one boliviano. In addition to the meal, people donated other food stuffs that were sold – rice, manadarins, lettuce, bananas.

At the end of the day, the people raised 2200 bolivianos that will be used toward their new building. Will it buy a lot of materials? No. But these people are ‘putting their money where their mouth is’ and they have a great pride in what they are doing. They are doing it themselves.

Will they need help? Yes. Instead of expecting a donation from us, they have taken out a 7,000 boliviano loan which will pay the workers. They will need more money. Freddy will ask a church in England for some assistance.

We, also, want to help with this project, especially since the congregation has shown such initiative. The long term plan is that the church will not only be a ‘templo’ but will also serve as a community center. There are four existing neighbouring barrios and two more are being planned. These are all located in a poorer section of Yapacani. The church plans to operate a Compassion International project as well as women’s programs, programs for teenage mothers, programs for teens, and other programs that will benefit the community.

If any of you would like to donate to this project or if you would like to get a group together to come and help, please contact us and we will send you the information.

A Final Hurdle

Miracles happen. No, it not be the raising of the dead and the healing of people, but hearts change. We witnessed it.

Every month there is a meeting of the community or ‘sindicato’. This is the meeting at which all the business is discussed – and discussed. Since September these meetings have been a strain on Jake. Each month he would come home more frustrated with certain members of the community and their expectations. Each month he would ask for a letter stating that we are members of the community, that we own the land, and that we have all the privileges of being a member of this community. Every month the request would be ignored or someone would speak negatively. Although Jake kept his cool at the meetings, the tension was wearing on him.

June 30 – meeting day. Jake went, as usual. He came home within a few hours and asked if we had the possibility of photocopying a document. Daniel and Inez’s family had come with a proposal concerning the land. Their proposal was not acceptable to the community and Jake made a suggestion for a slight change that would make the agreement more just. One of the more negative members immediately said that it was a great idea and the new proposal was agreed upon and drawn up. We photocopied it and everyone was happy.

Later in the meeting some of the credit issues were discussed and again Jake requested the letter. This time there was no discussion. Permission was given for us to draw up the letter with a few minor changes. We then could bring the letter to the president and secretary to sign, get it properly notarized in Yapacani, and we would have our letter of security.

The attitude of the community has changed. Was it the death? Is it Mario and his support? We do not know but we sense the difference. We are thankful for the change and the opportunity to stay here and live with these people.

From this day forward

Teodoro is a good friend and a Christian brother. We always said that whomever he married would have a wonderful husband. One day we heard that Teodoro ‘had a woman’. In this culture that means that he ‘married’, or that the woman has now moved into his house.

From what I can understand, the man goes to the house of his girlfriend and asks the father if she can come and live with him. The father agrees and the woman goes with the man. So, a few months ago it became apparent that Celia was now living with Teodoro. Since very few of the couples in this community are legally married, this arrangement was not unusual.

Last month Teodoro and Celia were married in a civil ceremony. This is not a big event and only the couple and their witnesses attend. The family usually does not attend the ceremony. The couple is asked if they know each other to be of sound character. Then they go through the vows which are very similar to those we use in the weddings in North America, the papers are signed and the couple is married.

Last Saturday we celebrated the religious wedding of Teodoro and Celia. And quite the affair it was. Each wedding we have attended in Bolivia has been quite different. This one was done in style. Words cannot describe it – I should have had a video camera. First seven girls entered with their escorts. The only ones we knew were Gerardo and Valeria Diaz. The rest were strangers to us; not members of either family. Then a small boy holding a Bible entered, followed by a small girl holding a plate with the rings. Following them were another two girls spreading petals. Then the bride entered with her parents from the side door and stopped in the middle. The lights went out and a spot light then followed the groom who had been sitting on an elevated throne at the rear of the church. When he reached the floor, his parents joined them and they proceeded to the place to where the bride was standing. The bride’s father invited the groom into their family and the groom’s father invited the bride into their family. Then the couple went down the aisle, followed by the parents. The ceremony took place.

Following the ceremony everyone moved across down to the Diaz house where the reception took place. The back yard was transformed into a wedding hall complete with white tents for the band and the bride and groom. It was quite luxurious and everything would have fit in a North American wedding. The receiving line was formed and each person would present their gift and give their greetings to the couple. If the gift was large, the photographer would take a picture of the couple with the presenters of the gift. Teodoro and Celia received 2 china cabinets and 4 roperos (cabinets for clothes). All the walls in their room will be covered with these pieces of furniture. According to Dionicio it became a ‘one upmanship’ game in which each person had to buy something at least as good, if not better, than the last. Jake went down two times to the local market to pick up more furniture – at 11:30 at night. The purchaser would call the merchant and the merchant would open the store and the piece would be selected and brought to the reception.

Finally, at 2 in the morning we left.

The next day there was the gift opening but we did not know that we were expected to be there. We went to church instead but someone was sent to retrieve us so that we would be there for lunch. When we returned once again, just before we went home, Celia was placing all the gifts in the cabinets. She had already filled the two china cabinets and still has boxes and boxes of glasses, cups, and plates that still could be unpacked.

A typical Bolivian wedding? Who knows? It was more posh than the other weddings we attended but certainly was not as posh as the other one that took place the same night in Yapacani. That couple received a car as a wedding present. And we thought everyone was poor in Bolivia!

I Have A Plan for You

We have felt like boats floating aimlessly in the water for the past ten months. Directionless, listless, without direction. In our hearts we knew that we had been in the right place but .... what now? A dwindling community, a community that was ‘on its feet’ financially. To stay or to go? How often we would pray for direction. How often we wanted to know where our paths would lead. We had no plan. We were living day by day ‘con calma’, not wanting to do anything rash.

But God was working his plan and it opened in a way that blew us away.

The story started when we first came to Bolivia. We attended the English service at the Calama Baptist Church. Also attending was a young man, Freddy Gutierrez, whose family lived in Yapacani. He was attending university in Cochabamba. We moved to Patujusal and did not maintain contact, mainly because we did not have a telephone.

One day Jake hailed a mototaxi in Yapacani. The driver asked if he knew a gringo called Jake. Naturally, Jake was surprised since his name was Jake and he was the only gringo living in Yapacani. The driver was Freddy – from Calama in Cochabamba. Remember? We met a few times and we learned that he wanted to learn more English, that he wanted to attend Cambridge in England. Freddy moved to Santa Cruz and after some time we lost contact.

Freddy called when our email was compromised and someone sent an email saying that we were robbed in Nigeria. He was very concerned and wanted to help us. We were touched.

Last January our land lady in Yapacani called me because there was a young man who wanted to talk to me. It was Freddy. He had returned from England and was married the month before. He was planning to work at a small Baptist church plant in Barrio Florida. I was heading to Cochabamba for Quechua classes so we arranged to meet ‘later’. But with our schedules, nothing materialized.

Meanwhile, Freddy worked at the church in Barrio Florida, the barrio where many of the families from Patujusal and La Pista have purchased lots and are building houses. The church has had a positive influence on these people and some of them are now actively involved.

Freddy spent two years at Cambridge taking Integral Missions, an area in which I have been interested and in which I want to be involved. It is the vision we had for our work in Patujusal. Freddy and I only had a few minutes to discuss his plans but in that time he touched on every idea I have had for working in Yapacani. Although I have lots of ideas, I do not have the people that can implement them but Freddy has a network available.

Where this will lead we do not know. How things will be implemented we do not know. But we know that there is a reason that Freddy and ourselves keep connecting. We know God has a plan and we are eager to be part of it.

I Have Decided to Follow Jesus

Freddy, our pastor friend at the small Baptist church in Yapacani, asked Jake to assist him at Cecilia’s baptism. He was honoured – and I was jealous.

We do not take any credit for Cecilia’s faith. Maybe we prepared the soil; maybe we planted the seed. We hope that by living side by side with these people we have created an atmosphere of love and trust. There are so many facets to this story that it would make a book – and maybe someday it will.

Saturday evening we attended a wedding. Our little friend Samuel, Erselia and Filipe’s son, drew up a chair between us to tell us that he would be baptised the next day. We celebrated with tears and hugs. He was very glad that Jake would be there and wanted my assurance that I would take pictures and that he would get a picture of him with us. His enthusiasm was contagious. Imagine our surprise when Carmen Rose, Mario and Cecilia’s daughter, came to tell us that she would also be baptised the next day – along with her mom and dad. Nine people would be baptised the next day and four of them were from Patujusal.

Sunday morning the whole congregation headed down to the river in two half ton trucks and one large grain truck. The day was very warm but a breeze was blowing so it was comfortable.
Coming from the background of infant baptism, this celebration of adult baptism could have been uncomfortable but we were very at ease. First, the nine people who were to be baptised changed into white robes. Then Jake was asked to say a few words about the meaning of baptism. Each person was led into the water while the congregation sang “I have decided to follow Jesus”. The confessions were made, the person was immersed, and then the congregation sang “The world behind me, the cross before me. No turning back, no turning back.” Everything was very moving. The special glances sent my way while the confessions were said made my heart sing.

God answers prayers in his own way and in his own time. Could we have ever asked for something as profound as this as an answer to prayer?

Cecilia - a true sister

Cecilia became part of life over five years ago when we first visited this community. With her infectious laugh and huge smile she always made me feel welcome. When we returned to live here I was sad when I heard that she was moving to Yapacani with her children so that they could go to school. We lost touch.

Cecilia’s husband, Mario, was also a very happy-go-lucky man with a unique sense of humour. We got along with him well. Both Mario and Cecilia liked to party and drink. We heard rumors that this was part of their new life in Yapacani.

Although things between us never soured, they never grew. We became a little distrustful of Mario when we heard some of the things that he had said that we had promised. We were friendly to each other, but certainly not close.

Then came the accident. Mario included Jake in everything. There was a feeling that he needed Jake to be there although we did not understand. On Sunday afternoon we found out why.
Jake took some of the family members to the river to wash the belongings. Cecilia was a passenger in the truck. She talked to him at length about the children and asked his advice on what should happen.

Then she shared that she was going to church in Yapacani. The pastor is a friend of ours that we met our first months in Cochabamba. Mario took him to visit us but we were not home. Things were starting to sound a little weird. Mario taking a pastor out to see us? Mario going to church? And then she asked if we would please come to church on June 13. She was being baptised and she and Mario are getting married in September.

Later, when Cecilia and I were talking and I expressed that I was afraid to talk Quechua, she gently looks at me and says, “But with God you don’t have to be afraid.” What a gem. She also told me that it was only with God that they were getting through this difficult time.

I sat with some of the family later in the evening and some were drinking beer. Someone gave Erselia a can. She took one sip and gave it to me. I took a sip and gave it back. Then she gave it to Mario. He took one sip and put it down. That one action showed me how much he had changed. Then when some of the traditional things started, Mario walked out. I realized that all day he was in the background, doing only what needed to be done but not participating in those things that did not agree with his new life. What a witness – and what a great blessing! I am positive that now we will become closer and that Mario will stand beside Jake as we work with this community.

Another tragedy

Thursday, May 21. Daniel and Ines were ready to go back to their house in La Pista. The onions were planted; the patuju was cut along the road; the work for the day was finished. They would return tomorrow. But now it was around 6 o’clock and getting dark. Their two school-aged children, Gustavo and Grabiella, were waiting for them. They mounted the motor bike with 3 year old, Aiden, and 14 month old, Graciela. Travelling to and from the chaco was much easier since they purchased the moto a year and a half before.
It was dark and the first part of the road required concentration since there were many potholes and bumps. Daniel was not a confident driver but took great care when driving. They continued on through Patujusal 1 where the road was more solid, although very narrow.
In front of them they saw the lights of the micro, bringing the people from Yapacani after their day of shopping. Behind them they noticed other lights, probably a truck filled with rice.
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No one knows what really happened next. Many people have their stories. It seems that the micro passed and Daniel kept to his side of the road. Somehow he lost control of the moto and it, with all its passengers fell onto the road. The large truck with the rice continued down the road. Did the driver see the family? The road is very narrow, the grass is very tall, and there were the lights of the micro shining down the road. But Daniel and Ines and little Graciela were no more. The truck had driven over their heads. Aiden lay on the side of the road.
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Ten o’clock at night someone banged vigorously on the door. Finally, Jake woke up and realized someone wanted this attention.
“There has been a terrible accident, very serious. Daniel is dead. Would you please go down the road and pick up Mario and Cecilia and Justino and his wife. I will go ahead and tell them to get ready. And Francisco is fishing. Someone needs to find him, also,” said a shocked and shaking German Diaz. German took the unpleasant task of telling Daniel’s two sisters and his brother that Daniel was gone. Jake picked up the families and drove them to the site of the accident.
Members of the community has secured the site and covered the heads with blankets. German’s wife, Carmen, a shy young woman, made sure that no one messed up the tracks. Someone took young Aiden into the hospital in La Pista.
Nearly one hundred people milled around waiting for the police to arrive from Yapacani. When they arrived, they performed the normal procedures for an accident – took pictures and looked around a little – none of the detailed inspections we expect. Since there were no witnesses at the scene no one could say exactly what happened. However, somehow someone knew what truck was involved.
After the police did their work, the gory task of loading the bodies on to the truck needed to be done. Someone took the hands, the other the feet, and placed the bodies on a blanket. Then the using the four corners, the bodies of Daniel and Ines were placed in the back of the truck with little Gracelia between them. No such things as body bags. Jake, along with the families, drove the bodies into the hospital in Yapacani, arriving at about 3 in the morning.
Jake went to our house in Yapacani while the family took care of the details. Unlike North America, the door to the morgue remains open and the family is able to see what is happening.
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It was noon and I was walking down the street in Cochabamba. I had just finished classes and was going for a walk when my cell phone rang. It was someone saying that Jake wanted to talk to me. He told me about the accident. I immediately went to my house, grabbed a few essentials, and caught a taxi to Yapacani – a five hour ride.
Meanwhile, Jake was getting pieces of the story. The truck belonged to the son-in-law of a farmer from Tarumá, whose name is Paulino Moreda. Rumor says that the driver of the truck was drunk but the Moredas say that this is not true.. That charge is very common in an accident. The truck was at Km. 35 when the police arrived. The driver was jailed, another common occurrence when an accident happens.
Mr. Moreda is a gentle conscientious man, a good farmer, and a fellow believer. He does his best to help the communities in which he farms. He also did his best to help the family. Jake and a friend of Mr. Moreda purchased the coffins and delivered them to the hospital. The intention was that Jake would then drive them back to the farm of one of Daniel’s sisters in Patujusal. However, the put the coffins on a rice truck instead and Jake waited for me to arrive from Cochabamba.
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Saturday morning we arrived at the home of Gregorio, the brother-in-law of Daniel. Already many people were gathered to pay their respects. Some had been there all night. Gregorio left for Yapacani to meet with lawyers and to ensure that the driver did not get out of jail on bail.
I tried to console some of the relatives, especially Ines’ brother and sister-in-law, Felipe and Erselia. They had lost their son a couple of years ago so this was especially hard on them. I sat with Erselia and Felipe’s other sister. Their desire was to visit Daniel and Ines’ house so the truck was filled with people and the trip was made. Will we ever understand the Bolivian customs surrounding death? No. But we also do not feel that we have the right to criticize and judge them. Many tears were shed and candles were lit and positioned by the beds. After some time everyone returned to the house for lunch.
The afternoon wore on. The nichos were being built in La Pista and nothing could happen until they were ready. Conversation swirled around, mostly about the accident, the truck driver, and the responsibilities of the Moredas. It soon became clear that no matter what the Moredas would do, it would never be enough. The food, the drinks, the meat, paying all the funeral expenses were all given and yet some expected that he should be catering to them; that his family should be doing all the work and they be the guests.
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Although this is the fourth funeral we have attended and in which we have participated, we still do not what is ‘normal’. Since Daniel and Ines did not attend church we did not want to interfere with the traditions and wishes of the family. However, Mr. Moreda made it clear that we were to be part of the service since we were an important part of the faith community. So we, along with a young man from La Pista, led a short service. We were told that Daniel and Ines ‘used to believe’ and should, therefore, have a Christian burial. There was no Catholic, only traditional, influence. Although the family expected Mr. Moreda to coordinate the service, some soon took over and did their own thing in the midst of what was planned.
After the service the coffins were loaded onto our truck and that of the Moredos. The people piled into two farms trucks and we all drove the hour’s drive to La Pista for the internment. I read Psalm 23 and prayed for the families, the communities, the truck driver and for the Moredas. I knew that this was not the custom but I felt that we had to show our love for everyone.
Then it was time to put the coffins in the nichos but first all the hardware and the handles had to be removed. Since the bodies were not fit to be viewed, the caskets remained closed and the older members of the family were not able to put their parting gifts inside. Instead these gifts were stuffed in the nichos. Then the bricklayers closed the front of the nichos. During this time the people chatted and drank soda pop. We couldn’t help but comment on the disorganization and confusion that takes place at these funerals.
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Sometimes we wonder why we are invited to be part of these very personal events in people’s lives. Sunday there was no church since some people had gone to Yapacani and the others were still at Gregorio’s house. More traditions, more food. I spent the morning with some of the women of the community. We peeled the vegetables and prepared the midday meal. Jake returned to the Daniel and Ines’ house and had a more interesting experience. First, the people took everything out of the house. The beds were dismantled and placed under a tarp in front of the house. Everything was swept out. After water was sprinkled on the beds they were returned to the house. All the kitchen utensils, the tools, and everything that could be carried was loaded onto the truck and taken to the river to be washed. At the same time another truck of household utensils, farm equipment and clothes was also taken to the river for washing. After this traditional washing, everyone returned to Gregorio’s house for a meal.
Late in the evening the family would burn the old clothes and belongings. We are not sure why this is done but it is part of their tradition. We did not stay for this but instead returned home since we would be back early in the morning to pick up Filipe, Erselia, their five children and the three new members of their family.
Gustavo, Grabiella and Aiden will make their home with their aunt and uncle for now. They will live in Yapacani and attend school there. Ines had said that if she died she wanted Erselia to bring up her children. Erselia said the same to Ines. Erselia takes this commitment very seriously. Although she has a vegetable stand in the market in Yapacani she will give that up so that she can raise the children. Daniel’s sister, Cecilia, lives very close so she will help. We are thankful that these two families, Ines brother and Daniel’s sister, are willing to raise these children.
(Photos to follow when I get to the city)

Unfufilled Expectations

We have lived in the community of Patujusal for four years. When we came we had many dreams and expectations. So did they. The trouble is that most of these expectations have not been fulfilled and that has led to disillusionment for all parties.

Our expectations

Expectation 1: The people would be eager to learn about better health and better nutrition.
Reality: They are happy with their food. They are not that interested in learning to cook new recipes because unless it is cake. They know that an egg a day keeps their children healthy so they feed them that. Chicken and beef are eaten for fiestas. They already know how to cook. They have been doing it for hundreds of years.
Expectation 2: The people would accept our help and our advice.
Reality: We are the strangers. We do not understand their culture. They are not sure that we really know anything about living in the jungle. But they are very willing to have us take them and/or their products into town.
Expectation 3: We could just live in the community in the same way that they do.
Reality: We will never be accepted as full members of the community.

Expectations of the Community

Expectation 1: We have access to funding for their projects, especially machinery and infrastructure such as building roads and bridges and canalizing the river.
Expectation 2: We would buy them the machinery needed to do their farming,
Expectation 3: We would be at their beck and call when they needed to have something done, whether it be bringing them to Yapacani or threshing their rice.
Expectation 4: Anything we did would be free of charge.
Reality: We don’t have that kind of money. We do not have access to government funding for infrastructure projects. And if we asked for money every time we came home, no one would want to see us. This mentality does not jive with our ideas of what we should be doing.

Expectation of the Churches

Expectation 1: We have the money, or the access to money, to build churches for whomever needs one. We should also purchase instruments for the church.
Expectation 2: We will administer the local mission.
Expectation 3: We are missionaries and, therefore, preachers. We should preach every Sunday. If we visit a church, we should preach.
Reality: We are not preachers. I do give the message in our church when I am there but it not top priority. The churches must exist apart from our being there. If they become dependent on us for the preaching, teaching, or money, they will not be able to continue when we leave. This is a difficult concept since many missionaries become much more active in the general administration of the church but these churches operated before we came and are able to continue without our interference. We encourage them and we visit them.

So, after four years the honeymoon is over and we realize that all of us are disappointed. We are disappointed with their lack of initiative; they are disappointed that we do not give them the things they would like.
I am always thankful for my many books. At this time Henri Nouwen’s writings have been uplifting and challenging. This is not about ‘us’ and ‘them’. It’s not about me! It is about working in God’s kingdom. It is about working together in community. No one said it would be easy. It will take time to show them that, despite not giving them money, we do care about them.

Frustrations

When do you know if you are doing the best thing for someone else? After much thought and prayer we decided that we would purchase the combine so that the members of the community would be able to harvest their rice in time. However, things did not go according to plan.
Our rice was ready to harvest the first part of February but, due to the frequent rains, it took 2 ½ weeks to harvest 20 hectares. But harvesting was only the beginning. The rice was slightly moist so needed to be taken to Yapacani immediately so that it could be dried. Due to the rain, the road became impassable and some of the rice was left on the truck and began to overheat. After first getting stuck, the truck broke down and the rice had to be manually moved from one truck to another. Finally, the rice arrived in Yapacani and Jake was able to have it dried, hulled and sold. The other three trucks arrived in a timelier manner but due to low prices, it is in storage.
Each year the price for renting the combine is set by the owners of the machines. New machines work faster and there is less loss. The average price last year in our area was $90.00 per hectare or $100.00 per hectare if the tracks are needed. However, the price is much higher east of our place where there are larger farms -- $120 per hectare or more. We decided that we would harvest in our community for $90.00 per hectare and the community verbally agreed that they would use the machine. After harvesting for two neighbours, our machine was not used because a older, smaller machine came in and was willing for work for $80.00 per hectare. After much discussion with our partner, Alberto, it was decided that we would move the machine out east and harvest there. It was a painful decision but we could not afford to have a costly machine sitting idle but we also could not harvest at $80.00 per hectare.
Of course, after our machine left, the other machine also left for greener pastures and many of the farmers ended up in the same predicament that they were in last year. The rice became too ripe and was difficult to harvest; the price was docked. In spite of everything, all the rice was finally combined.
Although we explained that the combine was a business venture, there is still the idea that, either because we are ‘gringo’ or because we are missionaries, we should be doing things for less, or preferably free. We are frustrated because we know that the new machine does a better job and that the $10.00 per hectare would be easily recovered since the rice does not simply go through the back end of the machine. Many of the neighbours know that also but like the price of the older, less efficient machine.
So what will happen? We do not know. Will the farmers realize that they will never get machines on time if they are not willing to pay for them? Will they realize that they need to work together so that it is worthwhile for a combine to come in to harvest all the little pieces? This year there was a small percentage of the rice land actually planted due to the rain, but what will happen if all the land is planted and the machines are busier?
We pray daily for wisdom – but the wisdom of one is not necessarily the wisdom of another.

Dead Aid

I have just finished an excellent book called Dead Aid by a Zambian economist, Dambiso Moyo. This is not an easy read. It requires concentration and thought as Moyo explains the detrimental effect that aid has had on Africa. The statistics are startling. She states that in the past 50 years over more than US $1 trillion dollars in development related aid has been transferred from rich countries to Africa. And yet “the proportion of the people in sub-Saharan Africa living in abject poverty increased to almost 50%. Between 1981 and 2002, the number of people in the continent living in poverty nearly doubles, leaving the average African poorer today than just two decades ago.” She also states that the life expectancy has stagnated and adult literacy across most African countries has plummeted below pre-1980’s levels.
This book is about foreign aid at a national level, not charity based aid. But as I read it I see many similarities in the results, whether it be thousands of dollars in charity aid or millions, billions, or trillions of dollars in national aid. The results are the same. It is easier to pocket aid money than investment money. Aid money is not as traceable as investment money. Aid money encourages people to wait for more aid rather than taking initiative to do things on their own. Also, emergency relief in not included her assessment of aid. This would include onetime donations to victims of natural disasters.
Moyo starts her book by saying that we live in a culture of aid. “Rich” people genuinely want to help “poor” people. It takes so few American or Canadian dollars to ‘help’ people in third world countries. But it is imperative that we consider if we are enabling or dis-enabling the people whom we are trying to help. A number of years ago someone told me about a wonderful mission project. Each year a group would go to the same place in Mexico. They would repair houses, purchasing all the needed supplies and taking along their own tools. Each year there would be a new list of projects. The residents of the village learned to do something to improve their village. They learned to make their list for each year. If this group no longer comes to do the repairs, what will happen to these houses? Have the people learned to do their own maintenance or have they learned to make a list? We build houses – do we enable them to build their own or do we give them a house?
This past week we faced the impact of the aid mentality. Jake attended the regular monthly meeting of the community. Much to his surprise, one of the items on the list was “Analizar misionario”. Now why would this be an agenda point? Are other people in the community analysed? The point being made is that we do not help the community. We do not give them project money. We are not giving them the things they would like – machinery and infrastructure money for roads, bridges and river canalization. The things that we consider important – walking beside them day by day, delivering babies, fetching the nurse, taking women to the hospital to have their babies, the micro-credit program. These things are just ‘little’ things and they want big things – and they want them free. Why? Because they, too, know the aid mentality. Although we can explain that this type of freebie aid does not work in the long run, they do not care. They want the money for themselves NOW. Let the future take care of itself. How we will address this is a question we have yet to answer. We pray, and we ask you to pray for us, that we will have the wisdom to deal with this situation.

Queshwata yachani

For the people of Patujusal and many other communities, Quechua is their mother tongue. Many of the older people speak only Quechua; and most of the middle aged and younger people also speak both Quechua and Castellano. Because I love to learn and because I want to be able to communicate with the people, I am dedicating this year to learning this language.
Quechua is one of the Incan languages. There are over 20 different types of Quechua so there is not a standard for either the written or the spoken language. In some places the “j” sound will be used; in others the “h” sound. Spelling is a challenge! The language is built like a train with the engine being the root word and the cars being suffixes. When I asked one of my teachers how many suffixed there were he said that he had a book with 350 – and that was not all.
When we learned Castellano we found that there were many words similar to English or French. This is not so in Quechua so memorizing vocabulary is a large part of my day. Quechua grammar and sentence structure is more like English so that is a bit easier. Everything is connected so you can say a whole sentence in one word. Technically, I am learning Quechallano – a combination of Quechua and Castellano. Many of the words that are used did not exist in Incan times so the Castellano word has been adopted.
Language training means that I am spending a lot of time in Cochabamba. I am very thankful that one of my teachers has a place above the city and that I am able to stay in a postage-stamp house on that property. There is also a childrens’ home here. I have a wonderful view of the city but rotten transportation lines. It takes me 45 minutes to get down to the school but usually I travel to school with Gladys and take the bus or trufi-taxi home. I was able to purchase an internet flash drive so I now have internet in my little house. Although a bit slow, it gives me the flexibility to use it when I wish. I also have Skype and that is the way I can communicate with Jake since our phone reception in the country is still not that reliable.
My plan is that I will spend 3 to 4 weeks in Cochabamba learning the language, return to the community to use it for a week or two, and then continue in school. Either I go back or Jake will come here half way through each session. We will try it and see how it works.