September 2011
So, here I am. I’ve been back from my field visit for about a month now. And I’m remembering with such fondness and gratitude my visit to Bolivia and Brazil. I feel deeply connected—more than ever—to the people I shared those two weeks with. I admire them greatly. My heart feels full. It also feels heavy.
I wish I could tell you everything that I witnessed in El Alto and Rio de Janeiro, but I cannot, so I hope the bits will be sufficient.
Being greeted by all the North American staff members when we arrived in El Alto, Bolivia was one of the best airport greetings I have ever received. Eating sandwiches and drinking water was satisfying. I was thankful to just listen as they spoke Spanish, but also disappointed that I couldn’t really talk to them in Spanish. It was thoughtful how they always translated for us. I could have played dragon turning into bear, turning into ape, turning into turtle, shot lightning and put up force-fields with those four Baker kids for so many more hours. Ticket-to-Ride, enchiladas and the Fourth of July will always remind me of the people in Bolivia. On the streets of the Ceya (center of El Alto), you’re surrounded by people and it smells of meat and smoke. After a meal of mashed potatoes and chicken, Vicki dressed me as a Cholita, the traditional attire of Bolivian women. Visiting the ladies in the brothels with Vero, Alicia and Jeff changed my life. It was much more than hot chocolate, smiles, kisses and “chow” that were exchanged that night. I saw hope, but barely. Life is present and possible. I bear witness. Saying goodbye was terribly painful and felt final. But committing to come back after I relearn Spanish made me feel better.
Then reaching Rio, I was so relieved when Rich arrived to the airport. And that he wanted us to sleep for a few hours. I love the ladies I met at Projeto Ester (the ministry for women). Their personalities are huge, their laughs loud and their presence inviting. Despite the difference in our native languages (theirs being Portuguese) I felt like we were kindred spirits. Hotdogs without corn, peas and mayonnaise just won’t taste as good. Watching the sun set over the city, the ocean and the Christ the Redeemer statue from the top of Sugarloaf Mountain was breathtaking. At authentic Brazilian restaurants meat never stops coming to the table and that’s how you want it to be. Playing Dutch Blitz and Rook with Rich and Rebecca Sunday afternoon was just perfect. At church I realized I can sing in Portuguese even though I can’t speak in Portuguese. Even if it’s small, having a home—a place to call your own—is universally important. Anyone can play UNO and that sandwiches and juice are satisfying. Life on the street is not a life any child should have to live. No matter how cold, I will always swim in the ocean, especially when it’s as clear as it is off the coast of Brazil. God exists and loves, which gives me hope and peace and courage.
Many, many, many thanks to all of you for making this trip possible. Words cannot express my gratitude. I’m just so thankful. Thank You! Continue to pray.
Hilary