a kind of miracle

When UAC-CP Agronomy graduate Eddy Alarcon defended his thesis last September, he received one of the highest marks ever given in the College's 15 year history.  Regardless of his impressive grade, the fact that Eddy made it to college and graduated at all is, in his own words, a kind of miracle, that I think is worth sharing.

Eddy is from the small community of Santiago located 16 hours by both road and river from Carmen Pampa.  His mother, a tea farmer, and his step-father, who died several years ago while working in the mines, earned only enough money for the family to survive.  Because his parents always believed that education was the only way to escape poverty, they made every sacrifice for their son to attend school.

UAC-CP Agronomy graduate Eddy Alarcon. 

Eddy studied in the school in his village through the 7th grade and then continued his studies in Mapiri, the closest town with a high school.  Unable to make the 12-hour, round-trip commute to school by foot, he moved to Mapiri at age 12 and lived on his own until he graduated from high school at the age of 17.

In Mapiri, Eddy met a nun who told him about the UAC-CP. With her encouragement and that of his mother, he came to study in Carmen Pampa in 2000.

Though his first semester in Carmen Pampa was admittedly difficult, he stuck it out and eventually secured a scholarship to cover the cost of his food and studies.  His mom sent what little she could (about $5 a month) and Eddy worked odd jobs to earn extra money for clothes, class materials, and transportation.  He wouldn't have made it, he says now, without his scholarship--a scholarship that he worked hard to earn back after he lost it for a semester for failing grades and a poor attitude.

But he's come a long way from having to prove himself responsible.  Today, Eddy works in the College's entomology lab on a collaborate project with the Benson Institute.  Based on his undergraduate research project, Eddy has been offered the opportunity to study at Brigham Young University in the Fall of 2009.  Now, his greatest obstacle is learning English.

But Eddy is obviously not deterred by obstacles.  His life is proof of that.  "I never thought I could achieve the things I've done," he said. "Really, considering my life, I think sometimes the things I've achieved have been kind of a miracle.  The good thing now is that I know I can do excellent work--that's what I have learned.  I know that I can do whatever I want."

abuelita

In early December I wrote about my trip to Apolo to visit the homes and families of UAC-CP students and graduates.  Agronomy thesis student Edwin Zapata served as my guide and Quechua interpreter for the five day adventure.  And his family served as my hospitable hosts--despite their simple (to say the least) living conditions, I felt very much at home.

Edwin and his abuelita on the road between their home and the town of Apolo.

While his parents and siblings all speak Spanish, his 73-year-old grandmother speaks only Quechua.  At meal times, I sat at the kitchen table with Edwin and his parents while his two younger brothers and one younger sister stood by the table or sat on one of the low stools along the wall.  Their grandmother, however, always sat stoically on the floor, on her matt made from woven leaves of a banana tree.  "That's what she is used to," Edwin's father explained when I expressed concern that I was perhaps sitting in her place at the table.  "She grew up sitting on that, sleeping on it."

Edwin's little sister and his grandmother sit near the family's wood-fueled adobe stove looking on as Edwin's mom fries plantains for breakfast.

Though she was a very quiet woman, Edwin's abuela would occasionally say something in Quechua and family members would laugh and then conversation in Quechua would ensue.  I savored the moments, rare as they were, when they would all speak Quechua. I realized that it gave me a break from having to pay attention to conversations and, instead, allowed me some time to focus on their body language, their facial expressions.  And I swear, they laughed more, smiled more frequently when they spoke in Quechua.  I had no idea what they were talking about, but I loved being with them, observing and listening as bursts of laughter exploded amid conversation.

Edwin's grandmother sits on her matt outside the family's home.

On the final day as Edwin's grandmother sat outside the family's house on her matt and watched me bid farewell to family members, she asked Edwin's uncle to give me a message. "She says, 'Thank you for coming to visit us...and thank you for what you do for my grandson,'" Edwin's uncle said.  In response,  I asked Edwin's uncle to tell her: "Thank you for sharing Edwin with us.  It's a pleasure to  know him." 

Then, speaking that unwritten, universal language with which we had communicated for the previous several days, we smiled at each other and shook hands.

the pututu

I had been living in Carmen Pampa for at least eight months before I first heard it.  And the only reason I heard it in the first place was because someone told me about it.  It's such a calming, unassuming sound that if you aren't aware of it, you probably won't even hear it.  

It being the pututu.

The pututu, a trumpet made from a hollowed out cow horn, has long been used as a method of communication throughout the Andes.  Though we do have wireless internet connection here in Carmen Pampa, it is the far-reaching sound of the pututu that indicates important news to be shared and discussed in the community.

Carmen Pampa's pututu is currently the responsibility of former UAC-CP student and Carmen Pampa native, Willy Aliaga, who is an elected leader in his community.  Carmen Pampa's pututu has been wrapped several times with masking tape to repair cracks.

In the time of the Incas, chasquis (or "messengers") blew the pututu to announce their arrival and impending news.  Today, elected officials in rural Bolivian communities like Carmen Pampa sound the pututu to organize meetings or announce emergencies within the community. 

Carmen Pampa community leader and UAC-CP veterinary science thesis student Willy Aliaga told me that its a very important role to be responsible for the pututu.  In the case of Carmen Pampa's pututu, it's been in the community for more than 20 years and mishandling or misuse of the horn can result in fines.

Willy explained that every community's pututu has a very specific sound depending on the age of the cow and the size of its horn.  So while the people in Carmen Pampa are able to hear the calls of pututus from at least three nearby communities, Carmen Pampeños (as they call themselves) never mistake another community's call for their own.  "It's just something that, when you hear it," Willy said, "you know what it is...you recognize it."

Inspired by the pututu and the idea of recognizing ways in which we are called together, called to act on behalf of common beliefs and causes, Carmen Pampa Fund's 2008 Annual Report highlights ways in which people are called to actively participate in the work of the College.  To learn more about how and why people have been called to educate, study, serve, lead, exemplify, and donate, please click here.