Projects

And here I am.  What an amazing thing to think of…what a difference a few days make.  Where as on Monday I was in the comfort of my air-conditioned, PA residence, now I’m in a small room (a small, HOT room) in Bolivia that I share with my German roommate, Phil, in a small community of volunteers from all over the world (Italy, Germany, Spain, Peru, Canada).  We all cross paths throughout the day, whether that be in the main house (which I can just about touch from my window) at one of the work sites (there are six), or maybe dinner somewhere in the city.  But we’re also pretty independent of each other, each having their own tasks and schedules and errands to run throughout the city.  And Spanish is the lingua franca, although all of the Germans I’ve met, whether those in my community or other German volunteers in the city, speak English, as does Paulo, one of the Italians (whose been to 27 countries and is only 27…whoa).  Unfortunately, my Spanish is something of a halting mess at the moment—at times I’m able to understand pretty well, hold my own in conversation; at other times I couldn’t even guess what people are saying and I have to stop them again and again (and the kids are even harder to understand...street Spanish, yikes!).  It’s exhausting trying to keep up in conversations: I’ve eaten most of my meals with the young people we work with, whether they be age 6 or 20, and each meal requires a tremendous amount of focus simply to stay involved in the table conversation.  But it’s good; I’m improving and I’m learning a lot about the people I’m working with.  I had a long conversation with one high school student about movies and soundtracks—it’s a lucky thing to stumble upon a person’s passion so early in the conversation!  And I’ve tried to answer the younger guys’ questions about U.S. pop culture.  (Who knew Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato were so popular in Bolivia?)

In the mean time, I’ve been getting a crash course in what it means to volunteer at Proyecto Don Bosco.  There are six different “stages” of the program, and each child is placed in a “stage” depending upon their situation.  There are two places for kids just off the streets—Patio Don Bosco, which is more of a day-time facility (and where I was only hours ago reminded yet again how miserable I am at soccer…futbol), and Techo Pinardi, where some of those boys will go to sleep at night.  This is definitely a more challenging environment as these kids are right off the streets, attitude and everything.  Mano Amigo and Hogar Don Bosco are live-in residences where the kids (younger in the former, older in the latter) study and play and have access to nearby schools.  Barrio Juvenil (where I will most likely be spending a good deal of time in the coming months) is for young people ages 15 to 20 (more or less) and is really just a place to sleep and eat—they all go to school or work during the day.  The other “stage” (and I haven’t seen it yet) is a farm outside the city where the kids go after the introductory “stages” to get far away from the streets that can so easily reclaim them.  They do farm-like chores (is my understanding) and live and play there. 

So what will I be doing, you ask?  If only I knew.  The thing about Proyecto Don Bosco is that there’s so much to do all the time and everyone seems to move around quite a bit.  It looks like I’ll be helping out in the administration office first…they’re doing a project now to assess the families from which these kids come and ways in which to educate the entire community about the rights of the young.  I’ll be spending some nights at Barrio Juvenil, and eating at least one of meals at Mano Amigo or Hogar Don Bosco.  And I’ll do whatever else Fr. Ivan (my director) says.  And in the meantime, I’ll continue to explore the city—I got a great crash course from Kevin, the Canadian volunteer, on my first day.  Between taxis, micros (buses), remembering that pedestrians DON’T have the right of way, tracking down street signs…we’ll see how I do.  So far, so good.

It’s tough; it’s really hard.  But I think that’s good.  There are some moments when I think, “Man, I’m really doing it; this is great,” and others when I think, “What have I done?”  (And yes, I do lie awake concerned about every little thing, the least of which is not figuring out the next step of the visa.)  But I’m moving forward; this ‘project’ of mine is moving forward.  My mantra throughout the course of my travel to Santa Cruz was, “This is God’s project, not mine; that’s where my strength and guidance and answers will come from.”  And so it has to be here.  I prayed (perhaps to fervently) on my retreat to Kentucky to be humbled, to remember humility, to live a humble life.  Well, I am challenged simply to communicate (and feel awfully stupid!), I’m surrounded my fascinating, interesting, experienced people from around the world, I’m reminded again and again that I’m not much of a soccer or basketball player, and kids have asked, “So, what can you do?” (after realizing I don’t play an instrument or dance).  That, then, is the question I think I have to answer moving forward.  What can I do?  I can love, yes.  But how?  In what ways?  I’ve realized that so often we say how each person has their own strengths and each person has their own obstacles but rarely do we put those concepts together.  I have to believe that my strengths—whatever they may be—are exactly what I need to face these obstacles of mine, that I need only keep moving in the direction I’ve been stumbling towards.  So we’ll see. 

Bolivia—tremendously difficult, but so far, so good.  And each moment is a step forward.