in as much as I can express...
I remember the first time we were in Peru, way back when. My naive little self, about 18 years old, thought I knew a lot of the World. I had been all over the country (we used to go camping a lot)- I had seen Old Faithful and Niagara Falls from both sides and the Grand Canyon- I had been all over Europe- I had seen about 10 countries in three weeks- I had even been to South Korea where I could still remember the stench of urine in some streets. I thought we were going on a family vacation, just like all the others, to Peru, mostly to see Machu Picchu, one of the modern Wonders of the World. Oh, and to see the Amazon Jungles of course.
But when we got there, I slowly started gathering the meaning of a Developing Country, for the first time. Homes made out of cardboard, all over the entire mountain, sometimes with a tin roof held down by loose rocks. I'm not speaking of the "ghetto" (in which I live currently), I'm speaking of the entire country. (or 99% of it) Mothers dressed in traditional Indian clothes, carrying large loads on their backs, and scurrying her dirty children who beg for a "propina"- a tip- from these American strangers, with such insistence and large teary eyes. I gave them my pens and pencils and shiny hair barrettes.
Bolivia is even worse. People say that it's the poorest country in South America. I wouldn't know since I haven't been to Colombia and I suspect Colombia is pretty close to being the poorest country, along with Bolivia. But it's definitely worse off than Peru and Ecuador. I can say that much for sure because it's a country without even a train system! Or even a city trolley or subway or anything. And it's not because everyone owns a car. The streets are lined with taxis and incredibly ancient cars; nobody obeys traffic signals. I couldn't believe it the first few times it happened- drivers would just whiz past red lights, some of them honking to warn other cars and some of them only slowing down a little. They will run you over and leave you to die on the sidewalk without even looking back.
The police are corrupt and take bribes because they get paid like shit. There are street vendors everywhere, selling quinoa, strange fruits I've never seen before, and even phone calls on their cell phone! During the month of February, leading up to Carnival, there is mayhem in the streets everyday from youngsters throwing water balloons at every passing girl. I'm talking about big water balloons thrown with all their strength that will hit you in the face, arms, legs, anywhere, as you're walking down the street, minding your own business. Talk about lawless.
But amongst all this chaos and disorder and poverty, is a school called CEOLI, near the airport. It's for handicapped children and provides everything from physical therapy, psychologic evaluations, medical care, teaching, orthopedics, etc. I was extremely impressed with how many students they had and how wonderfully run everything was, given that it was Bolivia and a population that most people would rather forget about. I learned a lot about Bolivian health care and its problems (which are remarkably similar to other South American countries) and the etiology of why a lot of the children ended up in CEOLI. I learned that lupus is lupus in Spanish too but pronounced loooo-poooos. My Spanish rapidly improved and now I feel comfortable again being conversational. I hope I won't forget it between now and residency!
So I had an amazing three weeks. It's weird to be back home in Chicago. I'm happy. Life is so easy here. But at the same time, I feel this enormous guilt for leaving Bolivia and moving on with my life. I feel like I should do something. I've had the privilege of witnessing an entire country in so much need, they've welcomed me and been a great host. And now I want to give something back but I don't know what I have to give.
But when we got there, I slowly started gathering the meaning of a Developing Country, for the first time. Homes made out of cardboard, all over the entire mountain, sometimes with a tin roof held down by loose rocks. I'm not speaking of the "ghetto" (in which I live currently), I'm speaking of the entire country. (or 99% of it) Mothers dressed in traditional Indian clothes, carrying large loads on their backs, and scurrying her dirty children who beg for a "propina"- a tip- from these American strangers, with such insistence and large teary eyes. I gave them my pens and pencils and shiny hair barrettes.
Bolivia is even worse. People say that it's the poorest country in South America. I wouldn't know since I haven't been to Colombia and I suspect Colombia is pretty close to being the poorest country, along with Bolivia. But it's definitely worse off than Peru and Ecuador. I can say that much for sure because it's a country without even a train system! Or even a city trolley or subway or anything. And it's not because everyone owns a car. The streets are lined with taxis and incredibly ancient cars; nobody obeys traffic signals. I couldn't believe it the first few times it happened- drivers would just whiz past red lights, some of them honking to warn other cars and some of them only slowing down a little. They will run you over and leave you to die on the sidewalk without even looking back.
The police are corrupt and take bribes because they get paid like shit. There are street vendors everywhere, selling quinoa, strange fruits I've never seen before, and even phone calls on their cell phone! During the month of February, leading up to Carnival, there is mayhem in the streets everyday from youngsters throwing water balloons at every passing girl. I'm talking about big water balloons thrown with all their strength that will hit you in the face, arms, legs, anywhere, as you're walking down the street, minding your own business. Talk about lawless.
But amongst all this chaos and disorder and poverty, is a school called CEOLI, near the airport. It's for handicapped children and provides everything from physical therapy, psychologic evaluations, medical care, teaching, orthopedics, etc. I was extremely impressed with how many students they had and how wonderfully run everything was, given that it was Bolivia and a population that most people would rather forget about. I learned a lot about Bolivian health care and its problems (which are remarkably similar to other South American countries) and the etiology of why a lot of the children ended up in CEOLI. I learned that lupus is lupus in Spanish too but pronounced loooo-poooos. My Spanish rapidly improved and now I feel comfortable again being conversational. I hope I won't forget it between now and residency!
So I had an amazing three weeks. It's weird to be back home in Chicago. I'm happy. Life is so easy here. But at the same time, I feel this enormous guilt for leaving Bolivia and moving on with my life. I feel like I should do something. I've had the privilege of witnessing an entire country in so much need, they've welcomed me and been a great host. And now I want to give something back but I don't know what I have to give.
posted by Vivian | 8:30 AM
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