Life in a different culture
When I first planned my trip through Bolivia, I was hoping that I would be able to ride the train back to Argentina. It is supposed to be a very picturesque journey that is worth the ride.
People seated in the dining cabin of the train, waiting for it to leave Oruro.
I have just arrived in La Paz, an amazing city built in a bowl in the top of a mountain. Houses extend from the city right up the sides of the cliffs of the bowl, reaching near the top. It is such an amazing sight to see and one of the most fascinating cities that I have ever seen.
The edge of La Paz city, where the houses rise up the mountainsides to spill out over the top.
Below are some photos from the amazing journey up the mountain range and along the Altiplano (high plain) to get here.
It was a long and slow journey up the mountain range to reach the height of the Altiplano.
Looking down upon the mountains and roads that we have just climbed up.
Looking through the bus window at some typical houses for the mountains.
A young child looks out the window as our bus moves past her truck.
As we continue to climb, we move up into the clouds that seemed so high above when we started the journey.
A community on the Altiplano.
Two men bide their time in a sleepy township that we pass through.
A baby in the carry-all blanket of mum.
All harvesting here is done by hand with teams of people cutting and gathering the crops.
A lady wanders along the road from her house to the field.
On the bus journey we were treated to two travelling salesmen that wanted to sell snake-oil, and were reasonably successful.
The main La Paz bus terminal.
Here are some more photos of Entre Rios.
These photos were taken a few days later than the first ones, and there are less of these too. I felt that these photos showed a little more of the life and layout of the town than the others. Entre Rios is a small town, but there are many interesting and different things that can be found here.
Looking down onto the township and the Catholic church from the higher section where the mission is located. This is a common view of Entre Rios seen in the news and postcards.
For 50 cents a stick, they are great value. The skewers are loaded with meat or chicken, and for your money you can add a potato to the end and various forms of sauces, including aji, a hot and spicy salsa.
After a simple phone call I was picked up from the bus terminal and taken to the orphanage where I had the privilege of spending a day with the children there.
The food at the orphanage is one of the few things that has a fixed source of income.
Forty-seven children, most without any parents and others with parents missing for some time, live at the orphanage. Ranging from around four years old up to the oldest at seventeen, each child I talked with loved his home and everything about it.
The visit was very short, at only one day, but gave me an insight into the lives of these amazing children with hearts of gold. It was a real privilege to have been able to visit them.
Although all of the children have good shoes for school, their house shoes are old and very worn.
The children have special routines that they go through in preparation to going to bed.
The older children, as part of a program to help prepare them for when they leave, wash their clothes by hand every day.
The younger children have their own room and have already gone to bed by the time I arrive.
In the orphanage, the children learn the values of being ordered and neat.
During the Easter weekend, the children enjoyed a game of football on the pitch inside the orphanage grounds.
One of the children playing football prefered to play without shoes.
The large flat on the top floor of the orphanage where guests and teams are housed.
Children studying in the classroom on their day off.
Young Robert enjoys drawing pictures and is good at them too.
One of the many rooms in the large orphanage that is currently used for a storage room until it is needed for other things.
Today I am in Oruro. My time of working with different ministries is now over and I am on my way back to Argentina once again. For the first time in my travels through Bolivia I will be able to do some tourist activities.
Looking out over Oruro from the statue of Christ towards where I will be heading on the train tonight.
Getting a Ride
Finding an open space on the footpath next to the main road, I search amongst the oncoming vehicles for mini-buses. They are not too hard to find as over half of the traffic moving along the road is mini-buses. On their windscreens are dozens of signs with various names upon them. Destinations.
Mini-bus stopped to let someone out with the caller standing in the street.
New to La Paz and without knowledge of where the destinations are located, I search for the one destination that I know will get me where I need to be. Ceja. Right now I am “down the hill” as the locals call it, in the city of La Paz, and I want to get back “up the hill” to El Alto where I am staying. Ceja takes me in this direction.
A mini-bus appears with “Ceja” in the window and I raise my arm to try and get it to stop. It doesn’t, but continues down the road. As it passes I can see why. It is filled to the brim with people, without any further space for another. I am glad that it has passed me.
The Destination Announcers
After another minute of waiting I see another bus and flag it down. The door slides open and I climb aboard, finding one of the few remaining seats. A young man who had stepped out of the van climbs back in and slides the door shut with a bang. He then leans out of the open window in the sliding door and calls out to the people on the street.
“Ceja por la autopista, un boliviano, Ceja. Ceja por la autopista, un boliviano, Ceja.” His repetitive cry reaches both inside and outside the van. While a seat remains his job is to find people to fill them. Other minivans that pass us also have their announcers who are crying out the destinations of their bus.
The cries are not very distinguishable but after so many repetitions it is possible to make out what they are saying. Think of an excited sports commentator with half of his mouth stitched up. For example, the cry for Ceja would sound something more like this if it was spoken very quickly, “Ceapopista viano eja.”
Finding More Passengers
As we drive along, the driver slows down near groups of people, while the announcer calls out in an even louder voice. He gets to rest his voice only while there are no people around, which in La Paz is not very often.
When a person indicates that they want a ride, the announcer tells the driver, “one to get on” then slides open the door and gets out. The person climbs aboard and takes any remaining seat, with the announcer climbing in after them again. He is also the one that collects the fees from each of us.
When completely full, the announcer climbs in and shuts the door, remaining standing until his seat becomes available again. In these small mini-buses the low roof often means that they remain hunched over. At least they can rest their voice until somebody gets off again.
Traditionally Bolivian
Inside, to my left are three Bolivian ladies in full traditional dress, their rounded bowler hats sitting lightly on their heads, two full plaited plaids running down their backs, and the colourful clothes and blankets that typify this country.
The younger of the three carries a young baby in her arms, with only part of its little face showing through the multiple layers of cloth in which it is wrapped. It lays there sleeping blissfully, unaware of the mayhem in the traffic around us.
The Mayhem That Surrounds
Meanwhile our van negotiates its way through the traffic, pushing into any space large enough to accept it, and forcing its way into places that are not. Beeping horns announce both available space in the van and that the van is about to enter a space that does not yet exist, depending on how it is beeped.
Personal space for drivers here is down to about three centimetres. They all drive very relaxed until this space is breached, at which time either the horn is beeped to let the other know that they will not give them space, or they casually move their van slowly over to give the space needed by the other.
Amazingly, the drivers never seem to get angry about this sort of movement. It is normal and happens every day and all day. It is something that is both around them and that they do. The traffic continues to move and there seems to be no major accidents, although at only 20 or 30 kms per hour there is more time to avoid them too.
Getting Off
After climbing up the “hill” I indicate my desire to get off by naming the place and saying that I will “stay” there to the announcer. He then tells this to the driver who will stop the van. If I am burried deep inside the van, then everyone in my way has to also get off to allow me off, and then can climb back aboard.
As soon as I am out, taxi drivers and announcers direct their attention my way to see if I will take their services. Within moments they realise that I won’t and look around for other potential passengers.
I am close to home now, but wander over to another mini-bus and climb aboard. This will take me much closer to my destination and from there it will be a lot easier to walk.
In reading through the book, There is Always Enough by Rolland and Heidi Baker, the circumstances and difficulties that they endure are immense. Sometimes the events seem to be more than anybody could bear, while other times the sheer exhaustion of what they are doing would overcome many. So when asked about this, their response is as follows:
We are asked how we can continue doing such tiring work. How do we put up with such poverty and stressful conditions? How can we deal with so many people and needs? How long can we do this? Be we have nothing to gain by slowing down and trying to hold onto our lives. We give ourselves as a fragrant offering of love to Jesus, and in return He gives us His supernatural life. We have to stand up and face some of the poorest people on earth, who suffer, starve and die as most of us cannot imagine. Yet we can confidently preach:
"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:35-39)
We have His love. We have Him! This is no time to be conservative. This is no time to let our hearts be captured by this world. We cannot imporve on His will and His life. Let’s concentrate on what captures God’s attention, and spend ourselves as He spends Himself. He knows what is worthwhile to do, so let’s learn from Him and not waste our lives. We will never run dry. We always have His resources, because He died for us. Let’s run the race to win, and never stop bearing fruit. (p.158)
Well, here it is at midday and I am still trying to get this motorbike working. It is rapidly changing from an object of joy to an object of trouble and woe. I just went into town today and bought another fuel tank. When I replaced it I discovered that it is losing more fuel than my original tank. Doh!
Not only that, but it seems that the generator for the lights is causing all sorts of problems and there is no power for the lights. So it is not just a cabling problem, but also a problem with finding the power too. Hmmm, that is not too good.
So, apart from all of this, is everything fine? Mostly. It seems a mess right now and there is still my packing to do, but most things are mostly done. So it is all coming together slowly.
Wait! Good news. My electrically oriented friend has been helping me out, and he has just fixed the lights. That adds a little more hope to the situation. Now I need to search out the fuel tank solution, but then I will be mobile.
Time it is a wastin’ but we are getting there too.
Many have called me crazy. Many have called me brave. Others just shake their heads when they contemplate the 827km journey that I am about to embark upon on my Siambretta motorbike.
They say that it cannot be done. I say that it is only because few choose to do it. They say that there is rain along the way. I say that it will make the journey less hot, and reduce the dust and traffic. They say that I need more time. I say that the two days I am allowing is much more than I could possibly need. They ask if the bike will make it. I tell them to watch me and see.
My motorbike has caused me a lot of anguish over the last few weeks since I bought it, and has been in the repair shops almost as much as with me. This afternoon I finally replaced the rear shock absorber and the leaky fuel tank. Now all is done. Well mostly.
There is no time like the present, so they tell me, and there has to be a moment to go. So tomorrow morning at 8am I climb aboard my bike, point it in the direction of Salta (north-western corner of Argentina) and go.
It will be sad to leave so many amazing people and some very awesome friends in the YWAM base in Corrientes, but I know that it is time to move on, and so I go. First to Salta, then to Bolivia, and onward I continue the journey.
Although the bus would be easier. It would be faster. It would be more comfortable. It would be cheaper….
…it would not be the adventure. It would not be the challenge. It would not be with such expectation. It would not be the fun.
So after all of the fights, and despite the sensibility of going by bus, there is only one way to arrive in Salta.
I am going by bike.
Rolland and Heidi Baker (more info here) sum up the Christian life here:
But more deeply, in order for you to be useful to the Master… you must be close to Him and in love with Him. To the degree that you are intimate with Him, you will know what to do, what you must do. Jesus says drastic things in Scripture, such as,
“You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” (Luke 18:22)
We need to know what He is telling each of us specifically… Here in Africa, He is all around us. He is poor, sick, naked and hungry. And as we get intimate with Him, we find ourselves taking care of Him, and He will say on that Great Day,
“Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.” (Matthew 25:34-36)
Our faith and religion are worthless if we do nothing about the physical needs of those who suffer from poverty (James 2:16). We preach the Word, we bring the gifts of the Spirit, we celebrate and worship, we press on toward eternal life fishing for the souls of people everywhere, but Jesus can tell if we love Him. Will we even bring Him just a cup of cold water when He is thirsty? (p.154-155)