dance nation

As much as I enjoy it, I will never be able to fully appreciate the relationship Bolivians have with dance. It's one that, while common throughout Latin America, completely fails to exist in the culture I come from.

Education students danced Tobas at the College's recent Intercarreras festival.

During any first round of get-to-know-you questions, I'm often asked by Bolivians about my preference for dance. What's your favorite Bolivian dance or music? Have you been to Carnaval in Oruro? Have you seen La Paz's Grand Poder? I've lived here long enough that I can hold my own in these conversations; I have the verbiage to impress Bolivians with my ability to rattle off the names and hum the music of a variety of traditional dances. But, it's when they ask: "What are the folkloric dances you do in your country?" that I stumble over choosing the proper way to respond. "Mmmm... The Polka? The Twist? The Electric Slide?"

Really, in the U.S. we have nothing that compares to the overwhelming number of folkloric dances here in Bolivia--the ones that are celebrated at community festivals, school events, and city celebrations. Each dance tells an important story and expresses deep sentiments about Bolivian culture. Some dances tell the story of Bolivia's history--its struggle for liberation from Spain. Some dances tell the story of the indigenous belief in Pachamama (Mother Earth)--their reverence for the land as they ask for blessings upon the harvest. Some dances represent modern day life--backbreaking work in the field to make sure bread arrives at the table.

Pre-University students waiting to dance Tinku. They went on to win second place.

Me pictured with UAC-CP Director Fr. Freddy dressed up and ready to dance Pujllay with the other UAC-CP administrators.

Visitors and volunteers here are always amazed that everyone here dances. Men, women, and children all spend hours committed to learning the proper steps, moving their bodies in the same rhythmic motion. Their love and passion for the dance is something that I am unable to equate to anything that we have in our melting pot culture in the U.S.

Agronomy students sit in the shade waiting for their turn to dance El Chacarero--a cowboy dance that comes from Bolivia's Chaco region. It's characterized by the male part which involves high kicks and fierce boot stomps.

Last Sunday as part of the College's four-day festival, the entire day was dedicated to traditional, group dances. Seven groups participated, each representing one of each of the College's five major academic departments as well as the Pre-University Program and the College's administrators (with whom I danced Pujllay). Each group paraded onto Carmen Pampa's soccer field and dancing in front of a panel of judges and an enormous crowd of locals who flocked to see the major attraction--as events of this magnitude don't generally happen in the countryside.

In the end, the Veterinary Science Department took home the first place win for their interpretation of the Cocalero. Wearing homemade costumes and using a local band of Carmen Pampa area farmers on pan flutes, the Veterinary Science students simulated all of the many parts that compose the reality of coca growers in a very political, social, and cultural way. The last group to dance, they were for every one of us watching, I think, the obvious winner.

Veterinary Science students won first place with their dance of Cocalero. Their unique interpretation, which included all homemade costumes (like the paper machete mask of Bolivian president Evo Morales), paid tribute to the local people who make a living by growing coca.

the godmother

Padrinos y madrinas (godfathers and godmothers) are to Bolivia what baseball and apple pie are to the U.S.

Unlike what most people may think of the traditional godparents who are elected at the birth of a child to participate in the Christian rites of baptism, confirmation, etc., godparents in Bolivia are named for most any occasion.

Here, for example, I have been the godmother of a good variety of things, like: Coca-Cola, soccer jerseys, Christmas toys, bridal clothing, flowers, hair cuts, sports tournaments, cakes, graduation parties, and live animals--to name a few.

Baptism in Carmen Pampa officiated by UAC-CP director Fr. Freddy del Villar.

Just as asking someone to be the godparent of a child at baptism is an official form of taking on responsibility for that child during his/her life, Bolivians invite people to be godparents of things as a way to fund/sponsor all or part of an event or things. Some things, like weddings, might be entirely unaffordable if left to the host/ess. That's why bits and pieces are farmed out to people who are named godparents. At weddings there are always godparents of the rings, invitations, cake, decorations, reception hall, etc. "You mean you the couple and their family pays for the whole thing?" Bolivians ask me increduously when I explain our godparent-less custom in the U.S.

Of course there are the traditional godmothers and godfathers in the way most people probably interpret the word. In fact, being named a godparent of baptism is, as they say, kind of a big deal. It's a serious commitment; a promise of sorts to be part of someone's life...forever. Which is why I take this request most seriously and I don't always accept the offer.

But a couple weeks ago, Agronomy student Alex Aguilera gave me the thumb to forefinger hand gesture that means: "Can we talk for just a second?" And, as expected (thanks to Hugh tipping me off), Alex made the pitch. "Will you be my madrina?" he asked.

I told 25-year-old Alex what I tell any UAC-CP student who asks me to be their godmother. "If I accept, that gives me every right to make your personal life my business. Are you sure you want to invite me into your life?" Albeit briefly, he considered this. "Okay," he replied. And so it was during mass this past Sunday that I became, yet again, a godmother.* Now begins the custom of Alex calling me madrina (godmother) and me calling him aijado (godson); of both of us always having some kind of unique connection to the other.

Of all the times I've been madrina of Coke, cake, and t-shirts, I've most enjoyed being madrina for Daniel Carrizales.

...

"Madrina!" my 6-year-old godson Daniel Carrizales called out to me last night as he dug around in a pile of odds and ends under the stairwell of the Volunteer House. "What is this!?" he asked, walking into the living room holding a bat and ball. "Que es esto!?" I repeated, mocking his emphasis on the word "this." "That," I said, "is a ball and a bat. It's called baseball; it's a game we play in my country." Baseball. One more lesson to teach my godson. Right after we bake an apple pie!

*Hugh, by a long shot, holds the record for most godchildren. People are pretty sure every child in the neighboring community of Chovacollo are his aijados.

the grand fiesta

With all the noise going on, you may have already heard: today marks the first of four full days of festivities here at the UAC-CP.

The annual fiesta, which grows bigger and bigger every year, celebrates the anniversary of the founding of the College. This year we celebrate 16 years of serving Bolivia's rural sector through higher education!

Ecotourism classmates wait for the relay runners to arrive at Campus Leahy. The festival starts Wednesday evening with a relay run from the Puerta del Viento--a well-recognized notch in the mountain above the College.

The olympic-esque tradition dates back to the day when the College had just barely enough people to make one or two soccer teams. They competed in the Inter-UACs--fending off against their peers at the other four UACs* located on Bolivia's high plain. But as the UAC-Carmen Pampa started to grow rapidly and successfully, it was decided that there were plenty of talented athletes, musicians, dancers, actors, etc. right here in Carmen Pampa.

An Education student watches a futsal game.

Today, with an average student body population of 700 students, there are plenty of willing and able competitors. Identified by the color of their t-shirts, the name on their flag, and the rhythm of their cheer, students in Nursing, Agronomy, Ecotourism, Veterinary Science, Education, and Pre-University participate in a variety of events: sports, dancing, poetry, chess, singing, etc.

While students busy themselves with events, UAC-CP administrators work behind the scenes--preparing lunch for everyone. When I walked down to the 25 de Mayo food cooperative this morning, faculty and staff were busy toasting rice, peeling carrots, and cutting potatoes. "We have 800 potatoes to prepare," I overheard someone call out. It takes a lot of potatoes to feed 700 active young people!

Andres Pardo, Director of the UAC-CP's Education Department, and Jose Luis Beltran, Director of the UAC-CP's Agronomy Department, prepare peas for today's lunch.

The festival will end on Sunday with the entrada--a parade of traditional, large-group dances that will weave its way down to the village of Carmen Pampa and finish on the College's soccer field. Administrators, students, and graduates will all be on hand to celebrate together!

By the time Sunday evening arrives, the winners will have been awarded, the cheering will have died down, and the flags and banners and costumes will have been put away. Students will be exhausted from multiple days of giving it their all. And on Monday we'll go back to "normal" as we continue on with our mission and work to serve through higher education.

*There are four other Unidad Académica Campesina colleges. They are financed and managed entirely independent of the UAC-Carmen Pampa.