Freddy grew up in Charazani with his brother Rene, stepfather and three younger half brothers. They were very poor – his two youngest brothers finished high school at a boarding school in La Paz for orphans and families that couldn't afford their children. The mother and stepfather were farmers, though his stepfather had passed away (from a curse, or maybe a heart attack, says Freddy), and his mother is too old to work very much now. Rene was the first to go to the UAC, followed by Freddy and his brother Fernando, then their younger brother Bresne. All on scholarship.
Photo: The small town of Charazani
I arrived in Charazani in the afternoon after an 8 hour bus ride. First we sat and ate some llama meat stew in their little mud-brick, dirt floor kitchen, sitting on little stools. They cook over a fire in clay pots. Guinea pigs, the family’s typical source of meat, squeaked from their cage behind me. Then Freddy, Bresne and I went to a local hot springs and swam, then to fish for trout in the river. Returning home, we had some tea and bread in the kitchen and went to another mud-brick room, their only real room, to sleep. I was on a mattress on the floor, the brothers in one bed, the mom in the other.
Photo: Freddy's mom Lucia over a fire in the kitchen
Photo: Freddy and Bresne fishing for trout
The next day after more tea and bread, we hiked to a Sacred Heart of Jesus statue up on the mountain overlooking the town, and up even higher with a spectacular view of the town and the valley. The town is known for its pre-Colombian terraces and medicine men called kallawayas, experts in medicinal plants and cures, from Incan times. We hiked back down and had chicken stew (I had brought a chicken with me from La Paz), then took a nap – I was exhausted! Later went to see Freddy's corn plot, ate again, then went to sleep. The next morning I left for La Paz.
Photo: Terraces on the hills around Charazani
The visit awoke so many emotions in me. The biggest thing that I felt was gratefulness for the opportunities that I have had that came with growing up in the U.S. I so rarely experience this kind of poverty, material poverty at least. I know intellectually that our students are from poor families, but it is generally out of my awareness. The trip made it so obvious to me that I have lived – and live – an incredibly privileged life.
Freddy and his mom Lucia and brother Bresne were so welcoming and attentive, a kind of sincere welcome and expression of love that was very humbling. It reminds me of the Benedictine idea of welcoming each person as if he or she were Christ, a stricture that I don’t always follow so well. (And the mother didn't really understand anything that I said – she only really spoke Quechua!) And I felt overwhelmed, sensitive and aware: everything was so foreign, the landscape and climate, the language, the customs, the food, the way of life.
Photo: Freddy in the kitchen
Freddy told me funny stories about growing up, herding sheep, playing tricks on the plaza caretaker, fishing and farming; and also about how he left school for three years and drank and got into fights and sunk to a level that I cannot imagine before turning his life around. This profoundly changes how I understand life. Freddy has an incredible openness and excitement about the future, and has overcome so much. I am grateful that he shared his hometown and family and life with me. And grateful for my life and the opportunity to help students like Freddy hold a better future in their hands.
Photo: Freddy, Bresne and their mom at their home in Charazani
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