'tis the season

For me, there are just certain things that signify that the Christmas season has arrived: snow and cold weather; Christmas trees, wreaths with giant red ribbons, and outdoor lights; Jingle Bells-infiltrated radio stations; Advent wreath-adorned tables; a live production of The Christmas Carol; gift wrapping; and, last but definitely not least, peppermint ice cream. But those things that traditionally symbolize Christmas for me in the U.S. are hard to come by here in rural (subtropical) Bolivia.

Which is why for the past couple weeks, despite the small tree in the main office, my co-worker who listens (and sings along) incessantly to the Christmasy song Belen, and the abundance of panetones (Latin America's version of the fruitcake), I have found it hard to believe that the Christmas season is upon us. When I sit in a t-shirt and shorts reading emails from Midwest-based friends and family about holiday parties, Christmas-themed theater, and Secret Santa exchanges, it doesn't compute. "It's like if you suddenly started celebrating Christmas in July," I wrote to a friend the other day.

Christmas tree at our all-staff luncheon on Campus Leahy.

But despite the heat and the lack of red and green M&Ms, I always end up getting into the spirit of Christmas...eventually. Considering that Christmas here really doesn't start to appear until a week before December 25th (as opposed to a week before Halloween in the U.S.), I just have to have more patience in knowing that the warm fuzzies of the holidays will arrive...on it's own, non-commercial timeline.

For me, the spirit struck me yesterday at our UAC-CP all-staff Christmas party. It came first at mass, during the sign of peace, as the near 60 people employed by the College in some administrative capacity, energetically moved around the chapel to share la paz--peace. It was through the lively and sincere exchanges of handshakes and hugs that I felt Christmas--the feeling of being among friends and family, mi familia Boliviana. And then it continued through the fraternal fellowship that followed as we all shared the typical Bolivian Christmas meal, picana. And just like that, in an average-esque afternoon, Christmas presented itself in sunshine-filled Carmen Pampa.


Eight-year-old Kristia Carrizales (daughter of UAC-CP graduate/employees) stands next to her family's little Christmas tree.

Honestly, I love Christmas in Carmen Pampa--it's always simple and pure. Which is why, even though I'm excited about my upcoming travels with friends, I'll miss celebrating Christmas Eve in our little village this year. I'll miss the the big church--packed with locals from the surrounding communities and their children, dressed in traditional outfits who come prepared to sing and dance. I'll miss passing out modest gifts to grateful, grinning kids. I'll miss baking bread and making hot chocolate with the UAC-CP students who stay to work over break. I'll miss sitting around and talking with the people from neighboring communities. And I'll miss the peace and quiet of Carmen Pampa the following day. That whole evening--that, for me, is Christmas.

May the spirit of Christmas, whatever it means and however it feels to you, find you wherever you are.

Feliz Navidad y Prospero Año Nuevo...desde Bolivia

daniel

Last week Daniel Condori completed his third year of studies in the College's Agronomy Program--it was probably the most difficult year of his life. But the difficulties had nothing to do with homework or tests.

Last April Daniel's father Manuel, a construction worker in nearby Coroico, was severely injured in a work-related fall. Although we originally received word that he had died, Manuel unbelievably survived the accident and now, nearly nine months later, he is living at at home where he is confined to a bed--unable to walk and talk.

Daniel Condori with his mother outside their home in Coroico. Daniel's mother earns about $30 US a week for harvesting coca.

The accident has caused a dramatic change within their family unit. It's taken a toll on Daniel, the oldest, who feels torn between his responsibility to take care of his family and continue with his studies at the College. Understandably it's been incredibly stressful for him. A few months ago he came to my office to talk about how juggling school, work, and family was leaving him physically and emotionally exhausted.

But somehow, Daniel made it. Determination and hard work, mostly. "I've worked a lot of construction jobs," he said. This way, he's earned enough income to pay for studies, food, and family. Unfortunately, all the work has left him with no time to complete the hundreds of practical internship hours required for his area of study. "I've had to make difficult choices," he told me, "and unfortunately my studies suffered because of it. But what other option do I have?"

Daniel pictured with his dad in his family's living room/bedroom. (Photo credit Cross International)

Even with his job and his mother's earnings, the family is unable to afford the 30 Bs a day ($4 US) for regular hospital attention for his father. "Imagine! That would cost us 900 Bs ($130 US) a month!" he said, appalled at such an outrageous cost. So Daniel and his mother, with the help of two other siblings, have developed their own physical therapy routine. Daniel also credits the local priest who comes every Sunday to celebrate a mass in their home and help bring his dad to the hospital for doctor visits.

Shamefully, I have to admit, I've only gone to visit the family once--in early October. It was a very sad situation. His father, laying in bed, groaned and moaned as he seemingly tried to explain to me what happened in the accident. Though impossible, Daniel seemed to be able to communicate with his father in some way.

These days, Daniel is feeling optimistic. He reports that his father can respond with "Sí" or "No" and, with help, he can stand up. It's painfully slow progress, but it's nonetheless encouraging. In fact, Daniel smiles and laughs when he talks about his dad's simple, yet seemingly miraculous abilities.

And then laughter quickly turns to eyes welling up with tears as he tells me, "I love my dad and I give thanks to him for everything he's given me throughout my life. I just want him to get better; I can't stand watching him suffer."

Daniel is the oldest of three siblings. His youngest brother (left) is in high school. His other brother (right) just finished his obligatory year of military service and wants to study in the UAC-CP.

In the end, Daniel knows that he can't let his situation get him down. And I know he recognizes that in some bizarre way this experience will make him stronger--I know this because that's what he tells me.

Daniel is definitely ready for the two-month summer vacation. He plans to spend some of that time in La Paz with his father looking for someone who can help them with physical therapy support. "So I'll see you at the end of January for class registration," I confirm as we say goodbye in the traditional Bolivian way with a handshake and kiss on the cheek. "Yeah," he responded unconvincingly.

But because Daniel made it through this past year, I am pretty optimistic he'll be back next semester. That's what his dad would want.

nursing grad in the new york times

A few months ago The New York Times asked readers to submit photos that they believe show the importance of educating girls and empowering women. They published the photo I submitted of UAC-CP Nursing graduate Genoveva Orosco--a photo that I feel captures the confidence and the pride and the social and economic change that happens--often in just one generation--when people have access to education.

The photo published online in the New York Times Magazine shows Genoveva, in her nursing uniform, standing with her very stoic and traditional campesino parents on graduation day in Carmen Pampa, August 2008.

Genoveva, like many of her UAC-CP counterparts, could easily be one of the women featured in the now widely read and Oprah-touted "Half the Sky"--a book by NYT columnist Nicholas Kristof and his wife Sheryl WuDunn that makes the argument for how women in the developing world have the capacity to lift themselves and their families out of poverty.

One of six children, Genoveva is not an ordinary college graduate. She is the daughter of extremely poor potato farmers who barely finished grade school. She is a young woman who first came to study in Carmen Pampa in 2003--traveling alone, up to 12 hours away. She is a proud, indigenous person who, with little to no financial help from her parents, carved out a future by working weekends and summers* in order to pay for part of her studies (she also had a partial scholarship). She is the first of everyone in her family to graduate from college and work as a professional.

Genoveva on a recent visit to Carmen Pampa.

Genoveva is also a young woman who exemplifies the mission of our work here at the College. Today, one year after graduation, she lives in her home community of Sapanani (a town located about 20 miles from the Bolivian city of Cochabamba) where she works as the coordinator of a public health center. While the health center is part of a larger network of clinics funded by Fundación San Lucas, at her site she manages three other people. Her job, she told me, not only helps her to support her family, but she feels good about providing medical consultations for the people of her community.

Even though she isn't mentioned in Kristof's book, Genoveva goes down in my book as a testament to the power of education to transform lives. And because she now has a college degree, Genoveva has choices she never would have had otherwise...which means the sky--whether or not she holds it up--is the limit.

*For those of you who have been to the Volunteer House in Carmen Pampa, Genoveva helped paint most of it during summer vacation 2005.