Traveling Mercies

I dedicate this to the Sucre posse-
May we never forget to leave home



I consider myself an experienced traveler, I dare say I am even good at it. I have my passport number memorized. I advocate to all who will listen to please sign up for sky miles. I dress nicely (either a skirt or a dress) refusing the safari vest/quick dry pants/hiking shoes tourist uniform. I try to stay off the Gringo trail and use any travel guide other than the Lonely Planet. And, most of all - I do my homework; I watch and read as much as I can before I arrive in a country so I am informed. So. Bolivia, what are you doing to me? I love you, but your system is absurd. These last three weeks have almost killed me.

Bolivia, this is what you have taught me:
Paying for a plane ticket does not guarantee your reservation, you must confirm it in the following two ways:
1. Bolivar allows you to call in, but you cannot call from just any call center. The telephone number must match the telephone service, ie - TIGO phone = TIGO line
Even having a native spanish speaker with you, albeit Catalan, does not ensure success
2. If you are flying TAM, you must physically go to their office. When I asked them why you can´t do it online, they just repeated that you must come to their office. Note that going to the airport is pointless, only the military desk is open, the internationl branch is located in Plaza Constitucion.

Never buy from a travel company in the US. If so, you risk owning a ticket that used a system to find the cheapest available tickets. While logical, they do not like this at TAM. If this happens to you, you will show up to confirm your flight only to be told you have to buy another ticket entirely because your first one is void. As of April 30, TAM does not work with AeroSur. You will recieve no prior notice to inform you of this (Practice your travel vocabulary, all the conversations will be held in Spanish)

Before buying a second ticket, go immediately to skype and call customer service for a refund. Do not get angry at the nice man in India, because of the distance, the echo allows you to hear how rude you are being. Although, continue to fight like its your money, even if your university is paying for the ticket and the new price works out to a better cost ($3 margin)

After all that, when the former-president sells off the airline to cut a World Bank deal, your best best option is still the military airline TAM.

Never take Dorado buses, they are infamous for drunk driving.
Furthermore, three days before a bus trip, don't read newspapers or glance at headlines - the automobile accident pictures are not censored

Try everything to reserve a ¨bus cama¨or ¨¨semicama¨ for long trips, when the Bolivar rep says they have none available, send your friend to another company to scout out the competition. When found, leave the counter and immediately book reservie it. If you don´t know the last names of your new-found traveling posse, make them up

Save money for the national tax, otherwise you can´t get out

If you hear fireworks during the day, it is a protest - find out who is striking and make alternative transportation plans

Maps are not that important, use graffiti as landmarks - its more interesting. If you are in Cochabamba, you will receive a political education - this is high class work, they use soundbites like neoliberalism

When in doubt, just use skype. It never gets old telling the customer service representative that you cannot give a number (in case you are disconnected) because you are calling from abroad

You must bring your own lock even if you pay $4 and your only option is to stay at the normally priced $2 local hostel. Yet, this won't ensure that there will the appropriate number of beds for 6 people (located in separate rooms)or that that a random Bolivian man will take the bed reserved for the driver.




Any tour company with the world "solidarity" in their logo can be trusted to guide you to Toro Toro, land of the dinosaurs




Do what you must to access the news, particularly if it is for the first time in 2 months. (Adding just the right amount of tension to the chord be stretching it across the room until taut is the trick)



Having an official despedida does not mean you won't be so determined to come back you will fly while sick (they can´t stop you from boarding if you just tell them No, you cannot go see the airport doctor who is working at gate one)



You need the month of June to get a 6 day tourist visa:



-Start by reserving a minimum of 6 days to accumulate all the paperwork, since every service is decentralized, it works out to be about a day for each task (printing forms, making copies, having color photos made)
-You will need the patience for one walking tour of Cochabamba to discover there is no longer a Paraguayan consolate in CBB and therefore the online information is wrong
- A fluent Spanish speaker is convenient for calling the Embassy to confirm credit card information is standard or with a 7 number saga to find the actual location of a Paraguayan State representative
- If you try to work on your visa during the morning in Cochabamba, walk to your destination - this will ensure you will miss the traffic caused by the standard protest, but allow you to still see the marcha.
- When the riot police pass you, don't stare!
- To be safe, change your ¨intention of travel¨ from the Americas Social Forum to generic tourism
- block off more than enough days in La Paz, you must arrive before Independence Day and any holiday
- Don´t finish the argument with the employees, let them tell you to re-do your paperwork by hand, even though everyone knows its more convenient to use the typed version
-Having a flexible schedule, such as no real job or kids, is more convenient when you are forced to take 2 mornings off to finalize the process
- Finally... never make a political statement or offer statistics when going through this process for the first time. They don't care that Arizona is being sued by the United States government or that between 1980-1986 (the height of the dirty wars in Latin America) only 341 people received legal entry into the US from the 30, 000 who applied




If it is your first trip, and you didn't know you would need a lock in the rainforest, strategically place items (books, bumper stickers, indigenous weaving) to show that your are on the side of the people



20 hours on a bus with 5 am arrivals is worth it if you see The White City and one white lamb

Finally, when your Bolivian dad literally blesses you with the Sign of the Cross in the airport, add your own prayer for Traveling Mercies-

La Paz vs. YGC

It is just too fun, I can´t give up posting personal emails. They just seem to be a more dynamic way to mirror life here.


Dear Michael,
I did not forget the 4.30 deadline. I am in La Paz to get my visa for
Paraguay so after I picked it up at 3.30 I immediately got a taxi back to
where I stored my bags. In an attempt to be as efficient as possible and
on time for our meeting, I asked the driver if he could wait and take me
to my hotel, he said no because there were marchas (a protest) and so the
streets were blocked. I tried again with another taxi only to arrive and discover that the ¨internet¨ advertised is one computer in the lobby. I would skype you
from here but I there computer is behind the desk, so there is no privacy. We could just IM, which would be quite humours because it looks like I work here. Ironic, considering while I type this email there ithe real employee is behind me using a typewriter.

Let me know if we can reschedule. I am heading out after this to look for an
internet cafe. I apologize for the delay.

Ali

We Would Have Met

Subject: We Would Have Met
From: Ali Boyd
Date: July 28, 2010 12:13:20 AM EDT
To: Dean Chahim

Dear Dean,
We would have met Sunday in a tiny pueblo with only one phone. I would have been standing next to the plaza, in between the tourist office and the replica of a dinosaur. We would have not even mentioned the dinosaur, because, it was of course normal. (This is Toro Toro, famous for its prolific dinosaur footprints). I would have seen you first because I was facing the exit from the main road as I waited. I met Claudia when she asked me, without an introduction, if I had been into the cave yet. I would have told you, as I told her, that yes we went the day before. After formal introductions, we would talk logistics - where we work, where we live, where we stayed in Toro Toro, what time we were leaving. I would have told the same antecodoate about waking up in a sketchy hostal, 5 of us sharing 3 beds, and finding another man in the bed reserved for our driver, Ricardo.

We could have laughed about the absurdity of a $5 room and the stranger we did not pay for, and then left to go talk Bolivian politics. I could ask you if you saw the abandoned houses flanking the Santa Cruz road. Our conversation could have played out effortlessly. "Did you read the El Diario article about the police forcefully evicting the squatters? The pictures were so intense! It looked like a war zone, with all the tear gas and riot gear! What do you think about squatters rights? The Landless Workers' Movement?"

But, we did not meet Sunday. In your place, I met your Engineers Without Borders posse and a friendly girl named Claudia. Maybe one day we can line up time zones and I won't have to explain that we have yet to meet, frente a frente, that we have only worked for Beyond Good Intentions. This "six degrees theory" is starting to seem like a joke -

Until then, we will continue sharing the Latin America we love so much,
Ali

God and Graffitti

If you ever come visit, I can give you directions. In other words, I just passed the halfway mark and feel that I can confidently say that I have settled into Cochabamba. I ran through all the basics - bought a cell phone, a Bolivian SIMM card and minutes, secured internet and a working computer charger. (This was done after Raffo, my Bolivian dad, pulled out the pesky third prong of my charger). I became the proud owner of a TIGO USB internet stick so I could go mobile and connect to a 3G network; imagine trying to browse the internet and run an inappropriate amount of tabs on Firefox using an iPhone. I just assumed I had the when-traveling-in-a-developing-country-do-the-following¨ formula down. Not in Cochabamba.

I intentionally arrived on a Friday to have the weekend to familiarize myself. I quickly realized I was limited effectively to the the suburbs for three days. I panicked because I am in a very nice apartment building, Cochabamba Proper, if you will. I had come to apply what I study at Furman - Political Science/poverty/Latin American studies - and found myself in a sanitized suburb. One can´t exactly feel the movement from 3b. Surely I was cheating on solidarity with my fancy address!

My home-stay is very "safe" meaning I live in a very modern apartment building kilometers away from the city center, and thus the Plaza Principal that hosts all the political activity. As I write this, the hunger strike just ended Sunday and there have already been two protests this week (it is Tuesday). Ironically, part of me is slightly relieved because I am more aware of my personal safety here then every before. Stories circulate about the friends of friends who have been mugged, hurt or scared. So for now 3b will work until my Spanish catches up with my political curiosity. I can't exactly ask the person with the knife to wait while I conjugate verbs.

The first day my orientation started when I was picked up and shown how to use public transportation. You might be thinking, shouldn’t you know how to use public transportation if your traveling this much? Maybe you should re-think your blog name... I know it seems basic, but it really is a game you have to learn. There are cultural cues, social norms and rules you have to be introduced to. I catch a trufi, a glorified minivan/microbus, five times a day. Line 260. You exit and leave at any time. I try my best not to be conscious of my Spanish and therefore rendered mute, but it is hard. Especially after I learned I was yelling the wrong phrase, instead of "voy a bajar," I was confidently parroting "voy a dejar." I now just stick with ¨la esquina por favor¨ or simply follow someone out. The other day when I asked to stop, a man in the front seat literally turned around to see who was speaking with the accent.

My research paid off because my school,Bolivia Sostinable is legit. It is exactly like the Vista House, an intentional community. It is a communal house hosting residents, the office, and classrooms. There is even an Art Resident (Vista house addition, no ve?).

My saving grace was catalyzed by an announcement my first day at Bolivia Sostinable for a politics lecture! I was able to get more of a grasp on the last 8 years, 5 presidents, the Water War, Gas War, and exactly why there is no longer a US Ambassador, DEA or Peace Corps presence. This was complimented by my city tour where I witnessed a military demonstration and my first Cochabamba protest. I don't exactly know what the issue was, but I think land rights. My protest vocabulary set was not exactly up to par yet, but I did recognize the word justicia.

In the absence of a map (naturally, the tourist office shut down for the week while the government changed over) I started using God and graffiti to orient myself. They are static and easy to remember. Street names are more challenging – they are mostly other inanimate objects such as countries (Espana, Ecuador, America) or dates (14 de septiembre, 9 de abril). I assume with 188 coups in 157 years, it is safer to name streets after famous dates than fleeting heads-of-state.

I know that I need to keep Jesus (that statue that is) on my left on the way to school and behind me to go home. If I take a taxi to the school, I follow the wall that begins with instructions to ¨resist the working class¨and concludes with the ominous "Assassinate Evo." To go to the Plaza Principal, I connect the dots of unimaginative communist graffiti all the way down calle Sucre. It is time to get off for Taraja when I am informed, in English, PUNK IS DEAD. I was terribly late on morning when I passed a huge mural depicting the Water Wars and their slogan ¨el agua es nuestro, carajo." (The fact I liked the mural and would have trouble relocating it meant I was kilometers away from my destination). I eventually was able to consecrate my fresh-from-the-US-it-took-2-weeks-thanks-mom and dad for all your help-debit card in the Anarchy ATM Machine, instructing us to "destroy and rebuild." Finally, I designated my favorite work of graffiti ¨libre palestina,¨ complete with a picture and a slogan. It is not Banksy, but I take it as a christening each time I pass under the bridge that welcomes me back to the suburbs. I am reminded why I am here. I am in Cochabamba, laying my pride on the line, to learn radical spanish, one saturated with politics. I am "arming my voice."



From 3b to Bolivia Sostinable:

Leave Edificio Altamira, calle America


Flag a truffie from line 260


Keep Jesus on your left as you head into the city




Arrive at Bolivia Sostinable


My teacher and I abandoned the charming 2 person classrooms to work outside



Important Landmarks:

"Resist the Working Class"


"Free Palestine"


"Destroy and Rebuild"


This is my "I-am-a-quasi-tourist-but-live-here, don't-rob-me-outfit"
No bag + pants = cell phone + cash --> I bought flowers for my home-stay family on my first visit to La Cancha, the largest market in South America

To: dgourdin@uchicago.edu / Subject: Visas

Yet another email. They seem to be the most effective way to show the tension between real life and politics:

Subject: Visas
From: aliboyd@mac.com
Date: July 17, 2010 11:06:25 PM EDT
To: dgourdin@uchicago.edu

They are 135, approximately the same amount it is for Bolivians to enter the US. Though its a little different when you are the poorest country in South America and the American government is convinced your life goal is to fly legally into a country and then never return. From Rio, it is about a 5 day trip one way via bus and/or train.

Your only option would be to fly or meet me in Paraguay (Asuncion on the 11th) but I think would push your Chicago schedule too far. Also, that is another Visa. Maybe you should just change your citizenship ... The tickets are running at about $800. [Because] we have no infrastructure here thanks to extreme poverty and no real commercial airlines thanks to former President Goni who sold the airlines to cut a World Bank deal. Even though he fled after The Gas Wars for the sanctuary of the US, there are only 3 commercial airlines, one of which is military.

I would still say come. I am convinced if I could show you this version of the Global South you would be permanently recruited from Africa. Did I mention the Bolivian VP is a sociologist?"

ATM vs. Anarchy

One of my favorite emails sent to my mother while trying to live in Bolivia:

Subject: ATM

Tried it again. I even went to my favorite ATM in the city - the machine conveniently next to la Universidad San Simón and placed above the anarchy graffiti, instructing us to "destroy and rebuild" ...
I thought since I was trying to fight The Man but still use The Man, it would show a little grace.
Alas, nada... hypocrisy is transparent.

On the Edge of the Kingdom

The 15th anniversary of Srebrenica is today;  these strong women buried 775 Muslim men and boys this year. See "Boxing a Youtube Genocide" for my post from the anniversary last year.
The following is a piece I wrote for Jottings, the literary publication of the Mere Christianity Forum. I reflect on my experiences in the wake of war. Where others seem to lose God, I found Him/Her in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

Though I walk through the valley

of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil

Psalm 23:4

My Jottings submission: 

I was ready. I had no choice. I had to go in prepared, rehearsed and researched. Three visits to massacre sites in less than two years. Yet, this time I was alone to visit and conduct research in Srebrenica, the site of the worst European massacre since World War II.

The wake of war became shockingly casual - burned houses with naked skeletons of three story houses were familiar. I continued with my daily routine, trying to forget that the house in front of mine suffered the loss of three boys. I continued shopping for groceries even after realizing the man in the juice aisle has no left arm; then rationalizing that it was more important that was a man still alive.

I joined the 30, 000 people at the Memorial Ceremony of July 11, 2009. Fourteen years after the war ended, Srebrenica had only to bury 534 men and boys that year. They laid to rest 534 more from the over 8, 000 Muslims killed while seeking sanctuary in a UN Safe Zone. As I witnessed the line of coffins filing by me, I paid my respect with such meager offerings - my camera, my witness, this voice. I didn't break, didn't cry. I had no right to cry, I have lost nothing.

The funeral and memorial ceremony were an act of solidarity. This gave me hope because I was part of thousands who continue to remind the world that we pledged “never again” after the Holocaust. I felt the raw edges between the “Kingdom Come” and a world trying to bring the Kingdom now as we echo the mantra “never again” through Cambodia, Bosnia, Rwanda and now Darfur.

 Consequently, what scared me and moved me to tears was a video I saw on Youtube. It was recorded by a Serb soldier during the massacre; a father was yelling for his son to come down from hiding in the mountains while surrounded by soldiers that would eventually add him to a mass grave. Genocide had found Youtube, and I couldn't take it. If we can now watch people literally being marched to their grave and not react, what kind of sick game is this? When taught about the Holocaust, why are we not also taught about the concentration camps in Argentina or the 677 camps that filled Bosnia? I used to imagine my “Valley of the Shadow of Death" as natural worse case scenarios - cancer, death of a family member, or a serious accident. My Valley was quite small because I was raised in a world that gave me a perfect childhood sanitized of extreme pain. Yet, I had found a manufactured Valley of the Shadow of Death – one filled with structural violence – such war, poverty and inequality.

 As a result, I almost drowned in the face of “daily crucifixions.” For a while, I merely treaded water among questions of solidarity, suffering and my personal anger. By day I would meet concentration camp survivors and by night I would read their stories. In Sarajevo I waited in the same line to buy lunch where 16 people died in during the war*. Walking home, I knew what areas to avoid because they had yet to be de-mined. As my Valley encountered and absorbed more violence, I became polarized. How could I not only remain neutral, but also forgive people for crimes I never witnessed?

The day after the Srebrenica funeral, I heard young Serb Nationalists came into Srebrenica and yell “we will rid the Balkans of all Muslims.” How could I love these kids, younger than me, who screamed death threats the day after the community buried 534 beloved ones? All I wanted to do was vomit; I needed a concrete physical release from the disgust I felt from inside a preventable Valley of Death.

I was no longer in the shadows, I was meeting people who had survived war and lost others from preventable murder. One of the people I would encounter was Miroslav Volf, torture survivor and theologian; his work offers a transparent theology that reminds us we are called to a relationship of love, reconciliation and forgiveness. I was shown a Valley so deep and wide that it both brings me to my knees and revives me. Where others seem to lose God, I found Him/Her. It was on the edge, that I could hear God whispering the same words an Iraqi father spoke to his child: “Come back my son, come to my lap. I am your father.”  Both fathers have known intimate violence and the pain of losing their children to war.

I came to realize that the “Valley of the Shadow of Death” is supposed to be a magnificent Valley that testifies of the Kingdom. I used to consider the natural splendor a cruel exaggeration of the suffering, but now I know it is God challenging affliction. Killing fields such as Srebrenica and El Mozote are truly sacred because they are Holy Ground. It is here we feel the edges of the Kingdom; for it is in profound beauty and profound oppression that concrete theology manifests; it is an opportunity to bring the kingdom now, not just to come.

We must stop saying "Never Again” if we make this promise and then remain neutral.  "Until Next Time" is more appropriate until justice has been served and violence prevented.  If I wanted to consume information and remain neutral, I would have stayed home and googled Srebrenica. As the July 11 anniversary of Srebrenica approaches each year, I fight for “they kingdom come:” I educate myself on the current wars by complimenting mainstream media with independent sources such as Democracy Now! or Al Jazeera English (they are not embedded with American troops). I “speak truth to power” by signing petitions and notifying my representatives that there is accountability. I also offer my support to organizations such as Witness for Peace who refuse to leave the conflict zones the world seems to have abandoned.

Please start to bring the Kingdom now by signing the petition to say “Never Again” in the face of the current genocide in Darfur, Sudan.

May those who never forget remind us who try!

---

* 27 May 1992. Bread Line Massacre, Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina.

 Resources

 The Srebrenica Genocide Blog is constantly updating with new information.
General background information on the worst European massacre (in a UN Safe Zone) since WWII can be found here.