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.