They Called her “Choltia of the Sea”

After I got back from Tarija things really started to pick up in my site. June was a tremendous month for Ag. First of all I decided to take a cue from the moscos and just started constantly hanging around the women from the centro de mujeres, showing up at their houses or at their garden, going around with the president trying to get them to have a meeting so we could talk about ideas. And well, like any good mosco I got some bites. First, I made orange-banana marmalade with Doña Eva and Doña Heidi (even though it was only 2 out of the 11 women it was 2 more than I had expected to actually show up and it was a delicious success in my book.) Then we went to the garden and planted a seedbed. My boss had sent me a whole ton of seeds and they are sprouting beautifully. That same day we were machete-aring the land to make way for yet more sugar cane and the women were “cleaning” the debris from the peanut plants by burning the left over leaves. I saw this as a great opportunity to implement behavior change. I told them that they were burning money and that my boss would die when he saw this and I took a picture. Then we talked a bit about composting and how since the land was right by the river and very sandy it could really use some organic material to improve it. Why don’t we make a compost pile here instead of burning our organic waste? So right then and there we started stacking an enormous pile of organic matter. The next week I went back (I now know how to get to the garden on my own and whenever I just show up by myself the women are impressed) and we restacked the pile into a neat rectangle, watering each layer as we went and then covering it. It’s the most beautiful compost pile I’ve ever seen, don’t you agree? Actually, we had so much organic material that I made a second pile and I have great hopes of getting worms from a volunteer in NoTa who works with a university that does worm composting.

Then, I show up at the school for English class one day and see that they are doing a garden. There are a ton of projects going on in my town, generally called “The Plan” and a bunch of people here are working on these projects. Apparently they were supposed to work on the plaza but the cement didn’t show up so they decided to do the school garden instead. At first I was like, why didn’t anyone tell me, but this is kind of how things go around here, we do things by the seat of our pants. Plus they start work at 6 in the morning and I was most definitely asleep. So the next day I woke up at the butt crack of dawn and brought my seeds and people were actually asking my advice on seedbeds and intercropping, since you know, I’m the “expert.” This made me feel better and somewhat useful. And on top of that Don Hector, Doña Clara and Doña Gloria asked me if I could teach them orange banana marmalade and peanut butter, so in the afternoon I went to Don Hector’s house and we made marmalade, they invitared me to fish for dinner and we chatted into the evening. The whole strategy of seeking people out and making my presence known totally worked because now I have people seeking me out and wanting me to teach them, what more could I ask for? Next up on the Ag agenda is peanut butter. Everyone says they want to learn how to make it and I would love to have a ready supply at my fingertips (there is no peanut butter in Tarija!)

In other news, one Tuesday I get a note from Aaron saying that it is his town’s anniversary on Wednesday and that I should stop by and check out the festivities. I asked the teachers at my school that live in his town what the plans were and they said a velada with all the traditional Bolivian dances was scheduled for that night. I debated if I should go or not, after all I was pretty “busy” with English classes to plan and compost to check on. But since anniversaries only come once a year I decided I should check it out. I got the 3pm trufi and found Aaron in his house, kind of surprised to see me a day early. Aaron had recently returned from the States so he didn’t know exactly what the plans were. We confirmed with the locals that the dances were indeed happening that night. Aaron explained that he had originally planned on doing a dance for the festivities but that his partner had only recently arrived from Tarija and that they hadn’t practiced or planned anything. And that’s when it started. I convinced him that there was still plenty of time to practice and that he had to dance. It was only around 5pm and the dances wouldn’t start until 8 or 9. That’s plenty of time; let’s face it you can probably learn any Bolivian dance in about 3 minutes, I said. We went to his friend Blanca’s house to see if she was interested, we convinced her and his original partner Judith that they should dance and then I got roped into it. “You have to dance too, you know.” Okay, but now we had 3 women and 1 man and Bolivian dances are all couples so we had to find 2 more guys. Poor Aaron ran around recruiting while Blanca went around finding us all costumes, because you can’t perform a dance without the right costume. The song we were doing was called “Cholita Marina” which I would translate as Cholita of the sea. I learned the steps easily enough but hadn’t realized that Aaron is a terrible dancer (it’s okay, he admits it) but he eventually got it. Blanca came back with her arms full of cholita wear. This is something I absolutely love about Bolivians, the fact that everyone will lend anyone anything at anytime. All you have to say is “Prestáme” and they do, I’ve tried it on several occasions and it totally works. I tried on a couple of polleras (the traditional cholita skirt) and the classic button up blouse that they wear. I felt and looked ridiculous. Blanca braided my hair with these tassel things that cholitas wear (I need to find out what those things are called) and I really looked the part. I borrowed sandals from Judith’s mom and the look was complete. Aaron wore a brightly colored vest and a white button up shirt. I danced with Blanca’s brother Primo, and Judith danced with the dance teacher Raúl. The 6 of us didn’t go on until 1 in the morning, we were among the last performances which I was grateful for because most everyone was drunk by that point and after we finished they were shouting “otro, otro!” and we got an impressive round of applause. I was absolutely frozen though and we ran back to change and then had some more Diana, which is a drink made from hot milk and Sengani, a grape based alcohol that doesn’t taste like grape at all. This may sound disgusting but it’s not and it was so cold that it felt great to drink something hot.

On Wednesday there was more parading around the plaza, a soccer game and that night there was a dance in the multipurpose room where the town meetings are held. It was a “modern” dance that reminded me of junior high but with drunken Bolivian men lining the walls instead of pre-pubescent boys. There was a smoke machine, laser lights and a band from Tarija playing all the faves: chacareras, cuecas, cumbia, etc. Not bad for the campo. Now, there were some decent looking, young guys hanging out and drinking, but who do you think asked me to dance? Drunk middle aged men who are such ridiculously bad dancers that I actually am laughing in their faces as we’re dancing, convinced that I am on a Bolivian hidden camera show and that any minute someone would pop out yelling “Surprise, you’re on campo camera!” And it only got worse from there. My next dance partner was a 19 year old who looked like he was 12 and was exactly the same height as me. Now, admittedly I hadn’t showered in a week and I was looking pretty campo but come on! I had had enough and after some drunken campesinos started fighting I decided I’d pack it in early, it was only around 1am.

The great thing about Aaron’s site is that he’s been there for almost a year and he’s got some great Bolivian friends who on principle treat me as a friend. They also really want me to cook with them since that really isn’t Aaron’s bag and whenever I’m there they ask me when I’ll be coming back. That feeling of being wanted is really nice when you’re living in a country far from friends and family and I think it’s great to have this network of volunteers and Bolivians that I can rely on. I’ve got work and a social life and I just can’t believe how fast time is going. Before I know it I’ll be back in Cochabamba for the 3-month reconnect where we present our diagnostics and I’ll get to see all my fellow B-47ers and hear all their crazy stories. Speaking of that diagnostic, I should probably be working on it instead of my blog. I’m out.