Start of classes

Classes started this month -- we started the school year with a mass from the bishop, and an address to the student body by Father Freddy. Here are some pictures.


Students congregate outside before mass.


Bishop Juan Vargas arrives on campus.


Administrators line up for some words about the UACs creation.


Student leaders head up the procession into the church.


Department directors in the church.


Father Freddy adresses the students.

Honoring Sister Damon

Last Tuesday, USAID held a lunch in honor of Sister Damon.

It was a beautiful day. The lunch was in the attractive new bus terminal that USAID built last year. Different people spoke, including Father Freddy, Sister Jean, a UAC tourism student named Amyle (in English!), and a higher up in the United States Agency for International Development.

Everyone talked about Sister Damon's dedication to education as a move toward sustainable development, empowerment of the poor and our duty as compassionate and loving people. The only thing that could have made the day better were Sister Damon there herself.


Photo: Sister Jean holds up plaque honoring Sister Damon as USAID's Sergio Rivas, Father Freddy del Villar and host of the presentation look on.

(More photos here.)

Four in one day

On Tuesday, four students defended their research projects, two from vet/animal science and two from agronomy.

First was Saúl Quisbert, who studied the use of the amino acid methionine to improve chicken production. He found that small quantities in the first four weeks of production improved growth and profitability.


Photo: Saúl signs his defense results as Dr. Ramiro Fernández looks on.

Next was Blanca Villegas. She compared semen quality between Anglo Nubian and Saanan goats to help the UAC know which goats were the best for breeding.


Photo: Blanca listens as her advisor Dr. Ramiro Ochoa speaks of her efforts and dedication.

Later in the day, Andrez Florez presented his research about tomato resistance to late blight (Phythophthora infestans, the same fungus that caused the Irish Potato Famine). He discovered that the variety that farmers use, Santa Cruz Cada Gigante, is the most resistant variety available to Yungas farmers. This was a special student to me: I was his advisor.


Photo: Prof. Manuel Chino, Advisor Hugh Smeltekop, Director Father Freddy del Villar, new graduate Andrez Florez, Reader Juan Carlos Almanza, Ag. Director José Luis Beltrán.

Our last defense was Cecilia Carrizales. Cecilia's parents died in an accident and she raised her brother and sisters in Carmen Pampa where they studied in the Franciscan-run school. Cecilia married and studied at the UAC while she raised her syblings and her own children (twin boys Nelson and Andrés, then Carla, and most recently Abagail). She also ran -- and runs -- the UAC's coffee program. While all of our students are amazing, Cecilia's achievement is exceptional, and shows what a lot of dedication can bring about. And it was made possible by donors, large and small, like many of you who read this.

Cecilia examined the effect of an organic liquid fertilizer on coffee seedlings, and discovered that applying the fertilizer to the soil around the coffee plant was the most effective form of application. The results of her research will be used by coffee growers all over the Yungas.

Congratulations to Cecilia, Andrez, Blanca and Saúl. The world is yours.


Photo: First Row (L to R): Cecilia's baby Abagail, Cecilia's husband Carlos, Don Reynaldo, Cecilia's sister Claudia, Cecilia, Claudio, brother-in-law Victor Hugo. Second Row (L to R): Nancy, Gladys, Lucila with her baby, daughter Carla, sister Daniela C., Daniela Ch., professor Marcelina. Front: Claudia and Victor Hugo's son.

More Bootcamp

The Bootcamp has started up again. More and more students are finishing up, and more are coming down the line. Fortunately, the newer students are better prepared since they haven't been out of school so long...


Photo: José Luis Mamani y Emilio Mamani work on their projects.


Photo: Porfirio Apata takes a break for lunch.

Naturalist born

Today veterinary student Karen Pari defended her inventory of wild birds on the cloud forest mountain that is our backdrop in Carmen Pampa, Uchumachi. She identified over 40 species of birds, tracking where they are visible and when they migrate over a year. Her work is useful for conservation efforts, and will be used by the tourism department to develop hikes on the mountain with visitors.

Karen is the oldest of four children, all of whom are at the UAC: her brother Rubén in education, her sister Wilma in agronomy, and her other sister Betty in Ecotourism.

We are so proud of Karen, a naturalist through and through.

Photo: Karen signs a copy of her project as vet department director Martin Morales looks on.

Two more

Today were two more research project defenses -- and two more graduates!

In the morning was Cristina Mamani, who did her project about using papaya seeds to cure amoebas and nematodes (were effective against Entamoeba histolytica amoebas). Her whole family came from teh community of San Juan de Coripata, 2 hours away in an old truck.



Photo: Nursing director Lidia Cuevas helps Cristina take the nursing oath.

Then in the afternoon, Nancy Chambilla defended her project about improving coffee prodution by adding a fermentation aid to coffee during its fermentation process to improve coffee quality (20 cc per kilogram was most effective).



Photo: New graduate Nancy poses with her husband Felix Bohorquez.

New Year's Trip

I recently went to Charazani, a small town in a valley that descends from the Altiplano northeast of Lake Titicaca. I was invited by a UAC student, Freddy Villca, studying in the education department. Last January I also went to visit a student in his home, and then, as now, the impact has left a big impression.

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

Back from break

We are back from our Christmas/New Year holiday break, now all again hard at work to get things organized for the next semester that starts February 12th.

Christmas was incredible, with a Christmas mass full of dancing and joy...


...followed by hot chocolate and PRESENTS! for the little ones (thank you to Kimberly Lane for her donation of gifts for the children, including two bicycles that were raffled off).


(Photos from Lee Lechtenberg -- more here -- I escaped to Cochabamba and spent Christmas with Matt Thibodeau at an orphange where he used to teach.)

The latest

This past Wednesday, Vladimir Torrez, an orphan from the Ciudad del Niño in La Paz, defended his research project about coffee plant grafting to reduce nematode pest infestations. Vladimir is also deaf, requiring more work on his part to succeed. We are so proud of him.


Photo: Vladimir raises a cup of sparkling cider as we toast his success.

The unfortunate part was that his aunt came to see his project defense, and couldn't get past a landslide that was blocking the path (it has been raining cats and dogs all week -- The Wet Season). She arrived later, and we all basked in the success of yet another student from the UAC, now ready to go out and change the world.


Photo: Landslide on the road between Carmen Pampa and Coroico, still causing problems as of today.

Farewell, Fair Volunteers

Three volunteers are parting the month: Our English program coodinator Karen Ohmans, our food program coordinator/English professor/visit coordinator Maria Uchida, and our library and high school volunteer/exchange student from University of Wisconsin-River Falls Christine Selby.

We are sad to see them go, but happy for them as they move into new phases of their lives. Much love and success to all three!


Photo: Christine, Maria and Karen on their last night in Carmen Pampa -- we will miss you!

Feed Our Students!

Some years ago one of the students developed a nose-bleed that would not stop. When Sister Damon took him to the hospital the doctor discovered that he was undernourished. The student did not have money to eat.

She found out there were others, so she began a co-op dinner program. Sr. Damon asked Mr. Bud Roche, one of the owners of the Roche Bros. Groceries in Boston, to donate money annually to the program. Students in the co-op program do all their own food purchasing, preparation, and cleanup. They rotate responsibilities of baking bread each morning, cleaning vegetables, bringing wood and gas for cooking, etc.

The Roche Family and Sr. Damon Nolan's family go back many years. In the '40's, Damon's father bought the meats for his restaurant from the neighboring Roche Brother's Butcher Shop in Roslindale, MA. Years later, Sr. Damon and Sr. Jean Morressey both taught Patty Roch at Mt. Alvernia High School in Boston.

Thursday the kitchen of one of the three co-ops was dedicated to the memory of Patty Roche as a small acknowledgement of the faithful support the Roche Family have given UAC students over the years. Shoppers at the Boston Roche Brother's stores should know that part of their grocery dollar finds its way down to Bolivia.

Photo: Students from Campus Manning at the dedication, with a wooden plaque that reads "Cocina de Patty Roche." GRACIAS!

Another Veterinarian Graduate

Eddy Villca, a vet/animal science student, successfully defended his research project yesterday. He studied how to improve hog feed with the addition of amino acids, and found that with modest additions of methionine and lisine, hog grow bigger. This means higher profitability for farmers who raise hogs semi-intensively, like the ones who raise hogs to sell to the UAC's meat plant. And he got a 86% (distinguished). Good job, Eddy!


Photo: New graduate Eddy Villca.

Virgin of Guadelupe

Wednesday was the Fiesta of the Virgin de Guadelupe, one of the aparitions of the Virgin in the Americas to a Native American, a small boy in Mexico. The story, as told by Luis Dumois on Mexico Connect, goes

Juan Diego was a poor Indian that used to walk around the land that now surrounds Mexico City. He lived in Cuautitlán. One day in December, 1531, he was walking to Tlatelolco, when he heard music, and smelled a sweet perfume coming from a small cerrito, -hill-, nearby. Somebody, in a very affable voice, was calling his name: 'Juanito, Juan Dieguito...'. He climbed the Tepeyac hill and he saw a young woman standing there. She asked him to come closer.

When he was in front of Her he saw how magnificent She was: Her clothes had a light like that of the sun, and She was very beautiful. She said: 'Listen, my little son, Juantzin, where are you going?' And he answered: 'My Lady, Queen, my little girl, I'm going to Tlatelolco, to hear the things from God'. She then told him She was the Virgin Mary, mother of the true God. Then She asked him to go to México, to the Bishop's Palace, to tell him that She wanted a temple built on the Tepeyac for Her.

He promised the Lady to obey Her, and he walked all the way down to México, to talk with the Bishop, Fray Juan de Zumárraga. In the palace, he had to wait for a while, but finally he was in the presence of the Bishop himself. He told him about all the marvelous things he had heard and seen, and then presented to him the request from the Queen of Heaven. The Bishop did not believe him, so he walked back to the Tepeyac hill. And She was waiting there for him. As soon as he saw Her, he said, 'Lady, Queen, my little daughter, my little girl, I went there to fulfill your orders. The Governor Priest was kind to me, he listened to me, but I think he did not understand me; he did not believe me. So I beg you, my Lady, Queen, my little girl, that you send one of your noblemen; because I am a simple man, I am small, I am like a wood ladder, I need to be guided, so I will fail you, and I don't want you to be angry at me'. She insisted in that he was the one that had to carry Her orders; nobody else. He promised, again, to do as She said.

Next day, Sunday, he went to the Bishop again, and he repeated his story. The Bishop asked him a lot of questions, and finally said that, in order to build a temple, he needed a token, a tangible sign from the Lady.

He came back to Her, told Her everything, and She asked him to come back the next day, and then She would give him the sign he was asking for.

Next day, Monday, Juan Diego did not meet the Lady, because his uncle, Juan Bernardino, was very ill, and he went to visit him. He spent the night there, and next morning, very early, Juan Diego started walking to Tlatelolco, in order to find a priest for his uncle, because he was sure of Juan Bernardino's near death. When he approached the cerrito, he took a different turn, because he didn't want the Lady from Heaven to stop him; he was in a hurry. (He thought that he wouldn't be seen by Her, She that sees everywhere!) But She suddenly appeared in front of him and asked him, 'What happen, my little son? Where are you going?' He was embarrased, and he said, 'My young one, my little daughter, my girl, I hope you are happy; how are you this morning? Do you feel well?' And he told Her that he was going to get a priest, because his uncle was dying. She answered: 'Put this in your heart, my little son: do not be afraid. Am I not here, Me, your mother? Are you not under my shadow, under my care? Am I not the fountain of joy? Are you not in the crease of my cloak, in the fold of my arms? Do you need anything else?' And She told him that his uncle was sound in that very moment.

Then She told him to climb the hill and cut the flowers that were there. He did so, and was very amazed to find a lot of beautiful flowers up there, because it was not the time for them. He cut the flowers and put them inside his tilma (a cloak made by the Indians), and then came back to Her. She took the flowers in Her hands and put them inside the tilma again. And then She sent him to the Bishop, asking him to show what he carried.

Photo: Our Advent candles and replica of Nuestra Señora de Guadelupe at the altar.

When Juan Diego arrived at the palace, he had a long wait to see the Bishop. He told him all the story, about the Lady, the hill, the flowers, the orders from Her. All this time he was holding his tilma, with the flowers inside. Finally, the Bishop asked him to show what he was carrying. When he opened his cloak, the flowers fell to the floor, and there, on the white fabric, was the image of the Lady from Heaven, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.

Our service was beautiful. Students read the story as the second reading, and Father Alejandro gave a fine homily. May the peace of this season be with all of you as we remember all of our gifts, large and small.


Photo: Father Alejandro blesses students with holy water as they leave mass; Sister Jean looks after her flock.

Guest appearance at the Bootcamp

A one time volunteer, UAC supporter and old friend, Matt Thibodeau, showed up this week in Carmen Pampa. He spent the week sharing with students and cooking for us at the volunteer house. Today he is helping at the bootcamp. Thanks, Matt!


Photo: Matt and Hugh at lunch in the Alto before the bootcamp.

One more!

Gabriel Paco, one of three brothers at the UAC, successfully defended his research project yesterday, comparing composting with and without California redworms, using kitchen scraps, coffee processing waste and cardboard (was generally faster with worms).

Congratulations, Gabriel!


Photo: Francisco Mamani, Humberto Sainz, Gabriel Paco, José Luis Beltrán and Hugh Smeltekop.

Yet another!

We have another UAC graduate, Miguel Quisbert, who did his research project about the toxicity of a medicinal root, maca (Lepidium meyenii), in laboratory mice (the plant was not toxic). This is the third graduate in the veterinary program in two weeks: last week Oscar Nina and Grover Castro successfully defended their projects.

A big congratulations to them all.



Photo: Miguel with his panel of judges (L to R: Agronomy director José Luis Beltrán, Jaime Cahuana, Ramiro Fernandez, Miguel Quisbert and Veterinary/Animal Science director Martín Morales)

Thesis Boot Camp Continues

Weekends are still busy at the Cuartel de Tesis in the Alto. Keep us in your prayers for lots more graduates this year!

Photo: Martin Alejo and Isidro Mamani working to finish their research projects and graduate.


Photo: Hugh and Reinaldo Mendoza in the internet café in the Ceja of the Alto.

Volunteer Wedding

When our volunteer Maria Uchida arrived at the UAC in 2006, no one imagined that she would one day be tying that knot with another member of the Carmen Pampa community.

Walter Cusi is a veterinary student and bread baker for the student food program. A very responsible, serious young man, he and Maria became friends, then one year ago fell in love.

This weekend, Maria and Walter got married in a small ceremony at the Hotel Esmeralda in Coroico with a justice of the peace in the presence of family and friends.

Much love and success to both of you!


Photo: Maria, Walter and their families.

For more photos see:
Hugh's Picasa Pictures
Jenny Uchida's blog

Lorma Flores graduates

Another graduate! Lorma Flores is the newest UAC graduate, a nursing student who defended her research project about the relationship between nutrition and warts. Great job, Lorma!

Photo: Lorma with her newly defended project with our statue of St. Francis on Campus Leahy.

Practice being an agronomist

Last night were the student presentations of módulos, the extra-curricular activities that agronomy students do to pratice what they learn in classes. The student módulos include vegetable production, biological pest control, soil analysis, citrus crop management, biotechnology and more.


Photo: Gustavo and Marcos talk about their soil analysis project.

Each group of students had 10 minutes to talk about the project that they developed throughout the semester.


Photo: Agronomists Desiderio Flores, Hector Espejo, Angelica Salvatierra and department head José Luis Beltrán judge the presentations.

The agronomists on campus served as judges, grading the presentations on content, presentation and ability to answer questions.


Photo: Gabriel and Vlady explain their worm composting project.

Another graduate!

Photo: Hugh Smeltekop, the new graduate Carlos, and his father.


The UAC has a new graduate, Carlos Gutiérrez. He defended his thesis about the control of coffee borer (the worst coffee pest in the yungas) with an extract from the neem tree. He is the second person in his family to graduate from the UAC -- his sister Rosemary graduated from the UAC in 2003, and is now doing her MS at South Dakota State University.

Good job, Carlos!

Thesis Bootcamp

One of our biggest challenges at the UAC right now is getting students to graduate.

Most universities in Latin America require a research project ("thesis") of undergraduate students. Since most of our faculty travel to and from La Paz to teach their classes, they do not have time to develop and manage research programs at the UAC, and are not very available to help students choose and design their undergraduate thesis projects. So the students choose projects that interest them and help their communities, but lack the intellectual and strategic support that they need.

On top of that, since they have finished their classes, most no longer live at the university, so do not have access to their professors and have to fend for themselves economically, too.

The result of this is that many students have done their field research, but have not analyzed or written up their results. Instead -- understandably -- they are working to support themselves and their families who have made great sacrifices for them to study.


Photo: Student Juan Carlos Paco works on his research project about quinoa harvesting.

When Dr. Diane Rickerl was in Bolivia in July with collaborators from tribal colleges from South Dakota and Nebraska, and she talked about the Thesis Bootcamp that she did with her students from the Prairie PhD program, getting the students together with their advisers, stats people, computers and other resources to help them get their these written. We have shamelessly copied her idea, and with funds from South Dakota State University (through the Larson Foundation) -- and with funds forthcoming from FONADAL -- we have put together our own bootcamp, the Cuartel de Tesis.

The Cuartel has two parts. One is to capture the students who are now living in La Paz and the Alto. We have taken over an Internet café in the Ceja of the Alto on Saturdays and Sundays, providing a place for students to come and consult with me and others from the Instituto de Investigación about their stats, writing, and organization of their theses; and also provide a space for them to meet with their advisers.


Photo: "Our" Internet café in the Alto of La Paz.

The second part is a space in the Instituto's offices with computers, printers and access to Instituto staff to help finish up their research projects. The Cuartel also pays for their printing and binding costs, and the fees that the university requires to organize the project reviews and defense.

And we are making progress. Six students have moved on to the review process at the Universidad Católica Boliviana, the last step before the final project defense. And we expect many more to finish the entire process by the end of the year.


Photo: Student Magdelena Colque works on her research project about forage supplements for goats.

Those with so little offer so much

Canberra’s Nathan Kensey finds much to surprise him among the young people of a small South American village.
_________________

I am in Bolivia where I have encountered people happy to accommodate my appalling Spanish. I have met people who smile when most others would cry. I have even found someone willing to learn the rules of cricket. In a country that has, ostensibly, so little, I have found so much.

I arrived in Bolivia in mid-July, flying into the world's highest capital city of La Paz (3665m) and then travelling down reputedly the "world's most dangerous" or "most beautiful" road, depending on your preferred euphemism. I try to focus on the latter.

My destination was the small village of Carmen Pampa, not far from the town of Coroico. Carmen Pampa contains a most remarkable and audacious project to combat poverty.

The Unidad Academica Campesina - Carmen Pampa (UAC - CP) is a branch of the Catholic University of Bolivia and was established in 1993. It is directed by the Franciscan Missionaries of the Immaculate Conception, an order of female religious who also have an Australian presence.

The aim of the university is to combat poverty through education. The people of the region believe only through educating their children can they ensure real improvement in the economy and true relief from the injustice and scourge of poverty.

The university offers agronomy, education, nursing and veterinary science for more than 500 students. A fifth subject, tourism, will be offered next year.

One of the hallmarks of its education is the impeccably high standards of work expected from students. As an Australian undergraduate law student I am astounded at the rigour of the program.

On top of the large amount of contact hours for their chosen subject, students are also required to undertake classes in religion and English as well as 20 hours of community work a month, which might involve maintenance or work on building projects in the university.

Students are obliged to complete a thesis in their final year of studies, the quality of which has been commented on by visiting professors as rivalling that of postgraduate studies. The exacting standard of work produced at the university reflects the fact that poverty takes no prisoners and can be addressed only with an unrelenting commitment.

The United Nations recognised the achievements of the university in 2003 when it was deemed one of the best projects in the world for the eradication of poverty, and the only university to be recognised as such.

But to reach graduation, students often face many obstacles other than the challenging curriculum. Tuition fees are about US$100 per semester, an enormous sum for most Bolivians. A food cooperative has been established for students most in need, which provides basic meals for US$12 a month. But this project can cater for only 200-odd students because of funding restrictions; many others remain in need and go without.

The poverty in Carmen Pampa is insidious, unlike in the streets of La Paz where the infirm and destitute are painfully clear. Those struggling to obtain the basic necessities of life here are often less obvious. This is a university, and like most universities it is dominated by young people, most of whom could be counted as my contemporaries.

And like any young person in Canberra, they want to be popular and attractive. You don't see students begging, you see them smiling, playing soccer or talking to friends, and looking not too different from any other student.

Several students are selected to conduct work in the surrounding area, reflecting the university's aim to improve the community, not just the students. I had the privilege of accompanying one student during her community work.

Sonia Paredes Chavez, 20, an education student, makes the two-hour walk to the community of Coroico Viejo four days a fortnight to teach children with intellectual and physical disabilities.

We left early in the morning and trekked down the large sub-tropical valley that dominates the area. We visited numerous homes and I was repeatedly taken aback at the overwhelmingly generous hospitality of these people who had so little.


We stayed for some time with the family of Virginia, a nine year old afflicted with physical and intellectual disabilities. While I was waited on hand and foot by the girl's parents, I marvelled at Virginia´s adopted brother, Dayman, also nine, as he repeatedly jumped from a tree and then ran to check on his sister, all for her amusement.

Her smile and laugh were contagious. I soon forgot that she was couched not in a moulded plastic chair suited to her needs, but a wooden box furnished with a blanket.

After several house calls, Sonia showed me the Coroico Viejo goat project. Established by the university, the project's primary aim is to provide work and income for students as well as being a minor commercial enterprise for the benefit of the community. I enjoyed a glass of warm, sweetened goat's milk while the goats enjoyed my shoelaces. The milk was delicious; it was a fair swap.

My contribution to the university has consisted primarily of teaching two English classes and assisting pastoral coordinator Sr Jean Morrissey to plan and run youth ministry retreats and weekly meetings for students.

Excitingly, I have just begun to assist in the development of an overseas volunteer program that will offer students the opportunity to serve others with their newly gained skills. One possibility will be a joint program with the Franciscan Missionaries in Papua New Guinea.

The entire budget of the university, which is overwhelmingly derived from donations, runs at around US$500,000 a year, an incredibly small amount considering what is achieved here.

Anyone wishing to support the work can contact the Carmen Pampa Fund based in Minnesota at franrm(at)carmenpampafund(dot)org or visit the fund website at www.carmenpampafund.org

Nathan Kensey nathankensey(at)hotmail(dot)com

Nathan Kensey with education student Donato Abelino Cari at the university in the tiny village of Carmen Pampa, part of a remarkable project to combat poverty.

_______________________
This article originally written in October 2005.

So long, Sarah

Living in rural Bolivia, you develop some skills that are very useful in navigating the culture, little dos and don'ts that help put others at ease with you. Things like greeting everyone when you enter a room shows that you are kind and considerate enough to respect local traditions.

Sadly, Sarah is leaving Bolivia in December after volunteering for two years as in-house grant coordinator, supervisor of the student cooperative, visitor coordinator, English professor, and many, many other roles. She will be interviewing for graduate school in the United States, and I'm afraid she has picked up some of these habits that may not serve her well in the interview. Here's a handy checklist of dos and don'ts for her to help out.

• Do greet the interviewer warmly with good eye contact and a pleasant smile. Don't lean in and pat the interviewer on the shoulder when you shake hands. Kissing on the cheek is probably not expected, either.



• Talking about the weather, although superficial, is an appropriate social lubricant, as long as it is not exaggerated. However, if it is raining, don't ask the interviewer, "Why are you crying?"



• Do order something modest on the menu, and if the interviewer orders a drink, you may also do so. Whatever the case, don't shake out your cup before you fill it. Certainly don't insist that you drink your drinks together, and finish in one gulp.



• Make polite conversation, bringing your intercultural experiences into the conversation, and highlighting how these experiences have shaped your worldview. Don't talk passionately for very long about chuños, however, no matter how interesting you think this subject matter is.



• Portions may be smaller than you are accustomed to, especially after plates piled high with rice, boiled plantains, potatoes and other starchy vegetables. In any case, don't ask for a yapa -- an little extra -- when the food comes to the table, no matter how small your portion.



• Perhaps you will be suffering some intestinal disorder upon your return. If so, do see a doctor and have a test to identify the ailment. However, discussing your malady at the table is not expected. Shouting "Here it comes, amoebas!" when you start to eat is especially bad form. If you can't finish your lunch, you may ask the waitperson to bring you a carry out container. Don't whip out a plastic baggie, then stuff the food into your handbag.



• Practically all septic systems in the U.S. are designed to handle toilet paper, so do flush it down. Don't complain that there were no wastepaper baskets in the restroom and you had to throw your toilet paper on the floor of the stall.



• Do follow the interviewer's lead when it comes to ordering dessert or coffee after the meal. You may have become accustomed to drinking sweet, hot beverages in Bolivia, so although it may be tempting, don't put five tablespoons of sugar in your coffee.



• Some foods, like shrimp and pizza, are considered "finger food," so picking them up to eat them is entirely acceptable. Do use your napkin to wipe your hands after eating finger food, and after the meal. And although perfectly normal in the campo, don't pull out a roll of toilet paper to wipe your hands and mouth in the restaurant -- the waitperson will be happy to bring you additional napkins if you so request. However, don't snap your fingers or hiss to get the attention of the waitperson. A small wave -- and sometimes only eye contact -- is enough to draw attention.



• Do thank the interviewer for lunch, and for the opportunity to talk. However, don't say "provecho" to each individual if there are many of you at the table, or to other people in the restaurant.

Hopefully these friendly tips will bring her success in her quest for a position at the graduate school of her choice. Adelante, Sarah! We will miss you.

Kid Paradise

More from volunteer Elizabeth Niels.
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It would be hard to have more fun than the little kids have here in Carmen Pampa. Carmen Pampa is Kid Paradise for a million reasons, but I'll just cite a few. First, our K-12 school has been canceled for the last month due to a teachers' strike, which are fairly common in Bolivia. That in and of itself would constitute paradise for most children, but then there are all the adventures, too. Carmen Pampa is surrounded by perfectly magical places to explore: waterfalls, mountain paths, citrus trees and even construction sites. And we have plenty of animals here -- horses, dogs, cows, sheep and chickens, etc. -- all roaming around freely and just asking to be played with or harassed. At the end of the day, if all that gets old, there are always gringas like me around to tease. It's heaven for kids.

When I first got here, I was struck at the kids' freedom. Boys as young as four run in packs all day long and girls wander around in smaller groups. Certainly none of these kids have formal "play dates." Parents don't spend hours in the car driving them from one activity to the next and kids don't log hours in front of the television. Most of the time the kids at Carmen Pampa can be found playing with found junk, like metal bars or the lids of rusty paint cans; the other day they were sliding down the dirt hillside on an old jagged sled of metal. And the kids aren't shy about including me in their games, which makes me wonder if they’ve ever been told not to talk to strangers. I doubt it -– after all, hitch-hiking is the norm, and the older kids are pros at climbing on a moving bumper.

But, of course, it's not all good. Not having school for weeks at a time (as much as they may love it) is of course a huge academic setback for the kids. Plus, many of the kids are dirty inside and out –- many wear the same dirty, ill-fitting clothes everyday and some have intestinal worms and tooth decay. One of my favorite five-year-olds, Nathaniel, looks like he's recently lost his baby teeth, but if he opens his mouth wide, you'll see that his teeth are actually just little more than rotten numbs in his gums. His two-year-old sister's teeth are already beginning to turn brown.

Really, though, Nathaniel and the kids here at Carmen Pampa have it great compared to some other kids in Bolivia. Perhaps the kids who suffer most in this country are the urban street kids who have either been abandoned or have to work to support their families. These kids are ubiquitous in cities like La Paz and earn their money shining shoes, selling candy, or calling out the destinations of the minibuses used for public transportation. About 80 percent of them are boys, whom I've seen filthy and exhausted trying to sleep tucked away in protected city corners.

I have one of these abandoned kids in my English class. Eulogio was abused and abandoned as a child and worked on a construction crew throughout his boyhood. When his construction crew came to work in Carmen Pampa, the head of the university where I teach rescued him and started him at Carmen Pampa's primary school. Eulogio had never attended school before, and at 14-years-old he started first grade. Now in his early 20s Elogio is in his second year of the university and he's one of my best students.

But back to the kids at Carmen Pampa -– the kids who have it good. I find it fascinating that their traditional childhood experience is so foreign to me. These days in America, it's not uncommon to hear people lament the end of the traditional childhood -- lost to packed extracurricular schedules and video games. I am thrilled to have found a place childhood still exists in all its magical Peter Pan glory. And someday, if I ever have a family, I'd like to bring my own kids to Carmen Pampa to experience this wild, free, limitless childhood – the way people say childhood was meant to be. Maybe it's crazy, but instead of fear, I plan to feel pride when my kid hitches his or her first a ride on the back of a bumper.

Bolivian Politics

Another post from Elizabeth Neils, written in May of 2005.
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Politics have been as unstable as usual while I've been in Bolivia. Since I arrived in mid-January, chaotic protests have flared up every major Bolivian city, the Bolivian president resigned only to return a few days later, and waves of road blockades have intermittently prevented travel. Even as I write this, we’re on the edge of yet another wave of road blockades and protests.

With 188 governmental changes in the last 157 years, Bolivia has unfortunate distinction of having had more changes of government than any country in history. Last year it joined Iraq, Afghanistan, Haiti, Sudan and five other hot spots on a U.S. list of "conflict-prone" countries.

But amazingly enough, aside from a few inconveniences getting from here to there because of blockades, I'd never have known there were such upheavals if I didn't watch the news. When the Bolivian president resigned in March, I received a flurry of emails from friends and family with questions about Bolivians' reactions to the crisis. "Have you seen any of the demonstrations?" they asked. "Were students marching on campus?" they wanted to know. Nope, I replied, because amazingly, despite its tumultuous politics, life in Bolivia is generally, as they say, tranquilo. It’s been called the safest country in South America. As if to attest to their country's safety, the proud citizens of La Paz have been quick to remind me that many of that city's pick-pockets and scammers are actually Peruvian.

So what gets this relatively tranquilo country so riled up? I doubt you'll find politicians squabbling here over so-called "moral issues" or military records as they did in America's 2004 presidential election. The issues here are concrete: abject poverty, energy policies, coca eradication, U.S. policies, access to utilities such as water and electricity, etc. etc. etc. The sad list of grievances goes on and on.

The current news-making conflict –- the one that may bring about another round of blockades -– is over energy. Essentially, Carlos Mesa, the Bolivian president, wants to privatize Bolivia's energy resources and encourage foreign energy investors; his opposition wants to nationalize the rights to the energy resources. The whole mess is complicated by the fact that Bolivia has the second largest natural gas reserves in South America, and they're largely untapped.

Coca eradication is the flash-point issue where I live in the bucolic Nor Yungas mountains. Here, coca is grown for legal uses such as teas and traditional indigenous medicines. But coca is also the raw material for cocaine. And the rub is that coca is often the only crop lucrative enough to provide a half-decent living for the uneducated, poor farmers in this area. So when the U.S. and Bolivian governments team up to sweep through this rural area with new coca eradication policies, the coca farmers -– called cocaleros –- fight back.

This brings me to the blockades. Road blockades in Bolivia are the bread-and-butter of Bolivia's indigenous population's participation in the political system. In a country where the majority of the impoverished people couldn't name their so-called "elected" representatives, many Bolivians believe the main way to be heard is to create an ultimatum situation by blocking the roads. Blockades are composed of sticks, burning tires, tree limbs, rocks, etc., all hauled into the streets and highways. And they’re effective at attracting attention because most times in this mountainous country, there is only one road -– only one way –- to get to your destination.

Road blockades were part of the reason that Carlos Mesa, the Bolivian president, resigned from office in March. He claimed that he couldn't govern a country paralyzed by blockades. And he has a point. Road blockades stop the flow of commerce -– hundreds of tons of produce rot on the highways when trucks are halted in a blockade; livestock being transported can die; shipments of dry goods are delayed, and so forth. Tourism is suspended. Travel plans and meetings need to be rescheduled. And what's more, blockades can and do turn violent when the government steps in to break them up.

What's being done to improve things? Will there ever be an end to the blockades? That's hard to say. Progress is slow. Indigenous Bolivians (who make up about 60 percent of the population) are very suspicious of politicians; a UN poll in 2002 indicated that only 21.2 percent of Bolivia's native people believed their rights were valued. That said, a good sign is that the number of indigenous politicians is slowly rising. Bolivian politicians now make up a full third of the Bolivian national congress, and hopefully, by having more of their own people representing them, Bolivians will be able to work for change through legislative channels instead of blocking roads. Time will tell.

Here are Unidad Académica Campesina de Carmen Pampa (UAC-CP), the university where I teach, we're helping students learn about all crops -- including lucrative alternatives to coca production. Students educated here often work for Bolivian NGOs where they bring their learnings back to the rural communities. Transfer of their knowledge may help change this area’s reliance on coca little by little. It's slow going, for sure, but it's exciting -- maybe not as titillating as road blockades, resigning presidents and protests -- but I'd take classroom excitement over political chaos any day.

Students at the UAC

Another post from Elizabeth Niels. Enjoy.
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If you ever wondered where the used clothes you’ve donated ended up, I’ve found them. There right here in Bolivia. In fact, I’ve even seen a Bolivian motorcyclist bombing down the mountainside wearing none other than a ragged old Green Bay Packers sweatshirt. It sure makes a girl from Oconomowoc, Wisconsin feel right at home.

With all the used American clothing floating around campus, the university where I teach – Universidad Académica Campesina de Carmen Pampa (UAC-CP) – looks like any university in the United States. On the surface, the scene here is all very familiar. During the first week of school, new students and their parents walked timidly around campus lugging bags to dorms. Returning students greeted each other with hugs and handshakes. Other students lingered on balconies to titter about the commotion below. Groundskeepers looked after freshly planted flowers.

But looks are very deceiving here at beautiful UAC-CP. If you scratch the surface, UAC-CP isn't a thing like home. Unlike anything in Wisconsin, this university was created to educate Bolivia’s rural poor, a population of people that were enslaved until the 1950s. And when I say poor, I mean dirt floors, no indoor plumbing, kill-your-chicken-three-hours-before-dinner poor. Many of the families who send their kids to school here live on US$200 a year.

My buddy Enrique is a perfect example. Enrique and I got to be friends while painting the upper floor of my house. At 5'6", I tower over him.

Like all other students here at UAC-CP, Enrique lives in the dormitories with 19 roommates. Dorm rooms are cement-floored open spaces lined with bunk beds, more like a barracks than a dorm. They have no hot showers and only a small locker for personal belongings. But it's heaven for Enrique who slept in one room with his entire family before he came to UAC-CP. And no hot showers are no big deal -- chances are Enrique's never had a hot shower. Once when we went swimming in a nearby pool, I asked Enrique where he learned to swim so well. "I swam upstream in the river," he said proudly. That same river was his bath, toilet, laundry tub, garbage can and drinking water.



Poor nutrition is one of the reasons Enrique is so tiny. Good nutrition -– especially meat and dairy foods –- are impossibly expensive for many families here. Foods with high simple sugar content are the mainstay, and so, like many other UAC-CP students, Enrique's front teeth are lined with metal to prevent further rotting. Other teeth are missing. Enrique is fortunate to be enrolled in the UAC-CP food co-op where he gets enough to eat each day. Other students that are just slightly less poor than Enrique don't qualify and often go hungry. Deciding who gets to eat and who doesn't is a painful process for the leaders of the co-op.

And so, to make ends meet, most students work for the UAC-CP. Before Enrique came to work at my house, he maintained UAC-CP's goat pens once a week. His commute to the pens was a two hour walk down a mountainside -– and, of course, back up at the end of a long day of cutting grass with a machete. These days, Enrique also works in the UAC-CP slaughter pen and meat processing plant near my house where he butchers livestock. Recently, I watched as student workers routinely slaughtered an entire heard of goats. In response to my question about whether the students liked their bloody job, one shrugged, "Of course. It's work. It's good." Here students are happy to get any work, slaughterhouse or not. For each full day of work, Enrique and other students receive 30 Bolivianos, roughly $3.50.

The differences between UAC-CP and colleges in the Unites States could go on and on. Like most college campuses, UAC-CP buzzes with energy and laughter. It is a clean, safe refuge for kids like Enrique. It’s a vibrant place. But, unlike many universities in the Unites States, somehow the UAC-CP teams with something more. Maybe it's the pure energy of a unique population striving for something they never had before: an education and hope for a new and better life. Whatever it is, it has me constantly amazed.

Note: The experiences of Enrique are a composite reflection of a typical UAC-CP student.

Nurse Elizabeth

Here's another article from Elizabeth Niels, featured first in her hometown newspaper.
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Until last month, my only hands-on medical experience was my volunteer job at Oconomowoc Memorial Hospital during high school where I was what was once known as a candy striper. It was a simple little job. I spent most of my time trolling OMH's hushed hallways with my cart, distributing ice water in Styrofoam cups to patients. The toughest part was making sure the thin paper sheath securely covered the sipping end of each straw so that the water was germ-free. Not too hard.

Fast forward ten years to the rugged mountains of Bolivia, where one bright Bolivian morning, I am bumping down the road with my friend Dr. Moises, the on-staff physician at Unidad Académica Campesina de Carmen Pampa (UAC-CP). Dr. Moises divides his time between teaching and administrative work, but each Sunday he ventures out into the surrounding rural communities to do some "doctoring." Today I am along for the ride because I want to see Moises and the UAC-CP nursing students in action.

As we approach our destination, we come upon a group of women tending their coca fields. One of the women hurries over to explain that her son, the UAC-CP student that was to assist Dr. Moises for the day, will not be able to work. She's sorry, she says with her big Bolivian smile, but he just can't make it. As Moises's face falls, I entertain a moment of gratitude for our trusty telephone service in the States, where just a few quick phone calls to some other nurses-in-training would have easily remedied our situation.

But as it stands, there aren't any phones here. No worries, though, because Bolivians are masters at inventing creative solutions for problems like ours. So I wasn't surprised when, as we drove away, Moises turned to me and to ask if I know how to use a blood pressure cuff. He hardly waited for my answer, and I got the feeling that he didn't care whether I knew or not. I was all he had. I was to be the nurse for today.

In the village, I expected Dr. Moises to have a modestly appointed office where he'd see patients. No such luck. When we got there, we waited an hour for someone to find someone else who had a key for a single room somewhere in town that was to serve as the office for the day. Word of Moises's arrival quickly spread throughout the village while we waited. When the key was found, he and I hurried to set up our office -- quickly taping the measuring strip to the wall, organizing the note cards which listed the medical history of previous patients, unloading the rusty scale, etc. The line of patients outside the office grew from 2 people to 5 to 10 and more.

Finally, when our makeshift clinic was organized, I threw open the door to receive our first patient, an old cholita with two long black braids down her back and a skirt thick with pleats and petticoats. The dirt on her hands indicated she'd probably just walked in from her field. As the nurse, I was charged with measuring her height and weight as well as taking her temperature, heartbeat, breathing rate and blood pressure. I was relieved when she looked oblivious as I failed for the third time when I tried to use the blood pressure cuff.

Part way through my exam, I had her step on the scale, but her feet completely obstructed my view of dial. Move a little bit, I said, but then she just stepped right off the scale. No, no, no, I said, get on again and just move back a little bit. So she'd get back on but then she steeped right off again. After three or four times of her little dance, I realized that she had no idea of what she was doing. Chances were she'd never been weighed before. So I stepped on the scale to show her exactly where to place her feet. Timidly, she copied me and then held back her skirts and bent way down to look at the dial, too. Finally. That worked, and she gave me a big, more-or-less toothless grin.

I repeated the same drill with other patients of all ages and pretty soon I'd processed enough patients so there was a short line of them waiting to see Dr. Moises. Because our "clinic" was only one room, the waiting patients waiting for Moises had front-row seats to his examinations of their neighbors. They watched as he tested others' urine samples and gave injections, and they listened as he provided others' diagnoses. Privacy was not an option.

Patients visiting Moises that day suffered from everything from simple bladder infections to complicated abscesses, heart disease and more. The children that visited were all subjected to a heavy breathing test so Moises could check for tuberculosis, one of the main killers of young people in Bolivia, along with common diarrhea. Infant mortality is high in Bolivia as well. While we were sipping our Cokes earlier that morning, I’d asked Moises if he ever delivers babies. Not often, he said, because most rural Bolivian women give birth at home, either aided by a midwife or a friend or just alone. Amazingly, one student at the UAC-CP remembers when his mother gave birth to his little brother in a field and then walked right home. Like other Bolivian women, she was probably back working in the field two days later.

Moises also let me know that day that most folks come to him only as a last resort -– and only after they’ve visited their local shaman, called a Kallawaya. The Kallawaya, whose traditions date back many hundreds of years, believe that sickness is caused by an imbalanced life-force. To coax the body back into equilibrium, the Kallawaya combine herbal remedies, amulets and incantations in the Kallawaya language, derived from the language of the Inca. Only when these methods fail do many seek help from Western medicine. Moises says he’s accepted being the last resort, but he just wishes more people would come to see him when they first had trouble. The average Bolivian life expectancy is about 62.5 years.

Finally, after five intense hours, our last patient collected his machete, put on his old felt hat and left. We’d seen 24 patients that day and we were exhausted. As tokens of appreciation our little office was scattered with a dozen or so throw-pillow-sized bags of coca leaves meant for us to chew like tobacco. And even though neither Moises nor I liked the stuff, it was an honor to receive the hard-earned fruits of our patients' labors – mainly because we both knew it was all they had to give.

On the pock-marked road home a few hours later, we had to turn back to down after blew a tire, which Moises changed faster than I'd ever seen anyone do it. I asked him how often he loses a tire – is it about every six-months or so, perhaps? Nope, said Moises, it’s more like every six weeks. I laughed. I could only imagine the amount of creative solutions he's had to come up with each day. Forget about artists, I told him, the real creative geniuses are right here in Bolivia.

My arrival in Bolivia

This article was written by Elizabeth Niels for her hometown newspaper.
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The plan for my travel to Bolivia was, simply, to fly into La Paz, commercial hub of Bolivia located approximately 12,000 ft. above sea level, and then continue northeast to the Yungas mountain range where I'd begin my five-month teaching stint at Carmen Pampa.

Should be easy enough, right? But when I stepped off the plane, I learned my first Bolivian lesson: nothing is as easy as it seems.

Upon my arrival to La Paz, I heard that the one and only road to Carmen Pampa had been blocked by the campesinos, the largely and indigenous poor people of this region, who were preventing the flow of traffic with a primitive blockade of rocks and tree limbs.

The reason for the blockade? The campesinos have a laundry list of grievances against Bolivian, US and USAID policies, all of which relate in one way or another to the extreme poverty under which they people live. Consider this telling statistic: In Bolivia, a nation of over eight million, just 45,000 people control some 85 percent of all deposits in the banking system. The rest live in poverty, often cordoned off in regions with few economic prospects, agricultural or otherwise.

And so, like all the Bolivians waiting to travel to or from the Yungas, I waited, powerless against the blockade. The Franciscan monks with whom I was living said that the blockade could come down mañana or maybe in a week or two. No one knows, they said. That’s how it normally goes in Bolivia.

While I waited, completely out of control – an anomaly for most Americans -- I had the rare blessing of time, utterly unspoken-for time. And so I explored La Paz, down its back alleys and steep cobblestone streets. I picked my way through crowed marketplaces selling dried baby llama heads sticking out of containers like umbrellas. I saw piles of guinea pigs gutted and skinned, with their big front teeth still jutting out of their little mouths. I played with grubby little kids in alleyways. I watched the Chola women in traditional bowler hats and wide skirts waddle down the street. I read. I studied Spanish. And I found that I began to move at a slower pace -- the Bolivian pace -- and I don’t think it was just because of the altitude.

Finally, after ten days of waiting, the blockade broke and I travelled to Carmen Pampa, along the precarious, cloudy, hairpin turns of the beautiful “Road of Death,” where trucks and a few trucks lay like carcases at the bottom of steep ravines.

I made it. Finally. And I did it the only way you do anything in Bolivia: by slowing down, giving up control and going with the flow. I think I’m going to like this.

First blog

This is a blog where we will post stories from our daily lives about life as a volunteer at a small college in an Andean cloud forest in Bolivia. We hope you enjoy it.