Thank You

Dr. Chavez, Dra. Uribe, Dra. Gutierrez, Dr. Velasco and Dra. Malu: Mil gracias por todo su apoyo y amistad que me dieron entre estos dos meses. No puedo expresar la admiración profunda que ustedes me inspiraron en mí. Les deseo mucha suerte con todo. Dios les bendiga por el trabajo noble que hacen día tras día. Nunca olvidaré las lecciones que me han enseñado.

“It makes me feel alive. To know I can love someone so much it hurts.” ~R. Cafaro

Goodbye

It’s six pm and I’m sitting at an airport Starbucks. I feel so incredibly strange. I feel like I am going to a new world, rather than returning to the same old thing. At this time yesterday I was at the gate of Alalay, standing in the same spot where I always eat Anahi with kisses, complying with tradition for the last time.

The French have a saying that I discussed with Casey a few days before he left for home. “To say goodbye is to die a little.” Truth. Especially the little part. Because you don’t really die. You go on living and you leave a piece of yourself in the heart of another person. You go on living with a hole in your heart. You fill it with memories.

It was a slow Monday afternoon; many of the girls were not at the home. I sat quietly with Maria and Shirley in the living room. I had spent the entire day before buying little presents, wrapping them and writing notes. That morning, Alex and I made a few last minute purchases and bought two cakes from Brosso. When it was time for coffee, everyone sat together at the long table and Gaby gave me a big card, signed by the girls. It had a big drawing of Piglet on the front. I acted surprised but Yoseline had spilled the beans twice already that afternoon. I tried to say something nice, thanks girls, I love you so much…but I choked on my own sobs instead. Gladys patted my back as we ate cake and then we handed out presents. I was glad Janeth like the skirt. I got her something extra special because she had a birthday on August 10^th. She twirled it around and showed it to the director. She will look so beautiful in it. I couldn’t stop crying the whole time. The girls kept coming up for one more hug, one more kiss. Gaby and Anahi gave me some more bracelets and Janeth gave me a beautiful woven bracelet that must have taken her weeks to complete. Gladys stood behind me and threw her arms around my neck as I sat talking with girls before it was time to go. Lourdes, Anahi and Shirley gave me cards they had made. Mary gave me a rose she made in school and a ring from her boyfriend Miguel. When I hugged Shirley goodbye, her tiny body shook. It was the most awful feeling to hold her as she cried. I never realized how small she was.

Yoseline did not say a word. She just sat in my lap, looking at me with her sad, beautiful eyes. I have never seen her so silent; she is a natural chatter box. We sat quietly for a moment, just the two of us, in a chair by the window. The sunlight blinked on her new jeweled hair band. I…love…you…I stammered. We held each other so tight. She sniffed sharply and buried her soft, brown cheek on my shoulder. I didn’t want to ever let her go. I wanted to stop the horrible, clumsy crash of the second hand that brought me closer and closer to New Jersey. This sucks. And other poetic thoughts too.

Anahi scampered up the steps to put away her present. I gave her my Tower sweatshirt. For a year, I wore that thing with pride all over Princeton campus and now my little sister can wear it, oversized, baggy, sleeves drooping over her hands, to keep warm in the Andean winter.

Gaby walks with me back to my home in Sopocachi. I am glad I did not have to leave alone. Her school is more or less in the same direction so we walk most of the way together and then part on a street corner. I hug her twice, her gorgeous smile lights up her face and then she is gone.

Elise and Alex arrive late to their night shift so that they can have dinner with me. We go to my favorite restaurant, sushi and Thai food. We say goodbye and I finish packing my suitcases. It’s amazing how many alpaca products I actually thought I needed. I tell Arminda that she has a lovely granddaughter and should be very proud of Lorena. When I was wrapping presents for the girls, Lorena came up and asked me what I was doing. I thought she would ask me if she could have a lip gloss or something that I was giving to the girls at Alalay. Lorena is only eight years old but when I told her these were presents for orphans, her eyes flashed with understanding. She took off her headband and said, give this to one of the girls. I don’t really need it.

I see a red car with a familiar luggage rack on the roof. I wait. The driver is not in the car. It’s 4 a.m. I wait another ten minutes. I realize the driver came early to take me to the airport and is sleeping in the front seat. Jorge! Wake up, it’s time to go. Jorge wakes up and asks me what time it is. Don’t worry, I say, we have plenty of time, thanks for driving me so early in the morning. Tranquila señorita, it is my pleasure to serve you. Jorge is the CFHI designated chofer. He is in charge of all the airport transportation for the CFHI students. We chat on the drive up to El Alto. I stare out the window at the black night, sprayed with the million yellow city lights of La Paz below. A mountain rimmed basin draped in a wet spider web, each droplet of dew reflecting the crescent moon’s shine. Jorge is glad that I enjoyed my time in Bolivia and my rotations. I tell him I am sad to leave. He says not to worry. You’ll come back. You have grown, your character has grown and you’ll come back again some day. He reaches out the window to grab a highway pass. You will see your hermanitas again. Sí, pues, sí. He’s so sure. And when you do come back I will be here to pick you up from the airport. I smile and wonder how one country can have so many beautiful people, up to the last drop. We pull up to the terminal and he opens the door for me. I tip him, we hug and kiss, and then I begin the long journey home.

I'll miss you

Every morning, I have fresh orange juice and homemade papaya jam on bread. I walk on uneven cobblestone streets. All day long, seeing faces, hearing voices. Always thinking of her.

Señor, ya me arrancaste lo que yo más querría

Oye otra vez, Dios mío, mi corazón clamar

Tu voluntad se hizo Señor, contra la mía

Señor, ya estamos solos, mi corazón y el mar.

The Situation Room

Dra. Malu and I talked today about the social situations in Bolivia so that I would better understand the girls who walk into her office. Servicio de Adolescentes is an outpatient clinic for adolescent health issues located in Alto Miraflores. The number one issue is teen pregnancy. Why is this? Abortion is illegal in Bolivia. Which means is it underground and very dangerous. There are two ways to abort, as far as I can tell. The first is the use of papaya and natural herbs that the Aymara use to terminate pregnancies “the natural way”. The other option is to go to a dentist’s office. Many dentists perform abortions in a back room at their private practice, but there is absolutely no accountability. No statistics, no laws, if you get an infection or die, no one cares. It’s one less baby born into poverty and one less unwed girl selling fruit juice on the sidewalks. The girls that come to see Dra. Malu live with their mothers or alone, having been abandoned by their lovers. Usually, the men are older, by ten years or more. Sometimes the men are married with families or divorced with other children. They skip town, or they just leave. Just leave. What about child support? I ask, naively. Dra. Malu sighs and looks me in the eye. It only exists on paper. The government and lawyers are corrupt. Yes, technically in Bolivia the law states that if you can prove a man is the biological father of your child, he owes you financial help. But there are loopholes and no one stands up for the women to ensure they receive the money. Lawyers are easily bribed to favor the man’s case. Same goes for judges. So I look at the seventeen year old girl sitting in Dra. Malu’s office expecting her second child and I see little hope. She can only receive the medications that SUMI provides and Dra. Malu’s words of encouragement. Her first child is a year and 3 months old, and does not walk or talk. He is malnourished. By accident of birth he is indoctrinated into a system of unaccountability. The government, his father, his grandparents, society- everyone is failing to take responsibility for him. And he pays the price, as will his mother, as will his unborn sister. I am angry. This needs to change. The laws must be rectified and enforced to ensure that mothers can feed their children. It sounds so simple. But how?

Dra. Malu and I ride to Zona Sur where she conducts a workshop for other doctors regarding adolescent care. She asks me, how’s your love life? I tell her about Sergio and she lights up and wants to know all about him. More girl talk. It never gets old. We keep chatting and discover that both of our mothers are Paraguayan. This is really cool, she is the first person I have met in Bolivia with Paraguayan heritage. It’s surprising since we are bordering the mother land. Anyways, we both agree that Paraguayan women are the most beautiful in the world. I tell her I am learning so much from her and hope to use this experience to fuel my thesis. She encourages me to write about adolescent health issues for my senior thesis because there are so many problems in Bolivia that no one is addressing. I begin to feel that helpless, desperate moth banging around inside my brains again. I know, I know, as we bounce along the congested streets of Miraflores. So many problems but what can I do? I am just one person. I wish I were smarter, more powerful, more important. I am a college student in Bolivia, seeing life up close and personal. I am a newborn with a red face and slits for eyes. I am seeing the world for the first time and I am scared.

Another Goodbye

We go out to dinner to say farewell to Molly. She and her husband are the cutest couple ever, very funny and smart. After dinner, Elise, Alex and I go with them to Brosso to get icecream. This time they didn’t have mint chocolate chip so I got apple pie delirium. It was everything the title implied and more. Dear Molly and Angelo, best of luck to you both, and lots of love.

Chocolate, Love, Dancing

Arminda makes us pizza for lunch and I fall asleep right after I lay down to take my siesta. I have nightmares that I arrive late to Alalay and the girls are sad. I wake up and dash out the door, on time. Alex and I buy chocolate bars for the girls. Each has a different flavor of crème inside- orange, pineapple, mint, grape, raspberry, lime. When we arrive the girls have not come home from school yet so we wait. They are so excited to get these big bars of chocolate and pick out their own flavor. Shirley takes an orange crème and thanks us repeatedly with dirty chocolate kisses. Mary takes a grape crème because that is her boyfriend Miguel’s favorite flavor. Anahi presents me with a woven thread bracelet that she has been making for me. It is red and black, my favorite colors and it the perfect size for my wrist. She gives me another one, blue and black, to go with it. I sit in the living room and Gladis tells me about her former job as a traffic zebra. The mayor offers all the children of appropriate age who live in halfway homes and orphanages jobs to dress up as zebras and direct traffic. It’s an okay job, you just wear this ridiculous zebra outfit and direct pedestrians at busy intersections. But Gladys says the uniform is really hot, even in the winter. And sometimes cars don’t listen so it can be dangerous. She quit after a week and they didn’t pay her so she went to the office today to complain. I was proud of her that she wanted to try to take care of this situation all by herself. I would have been intimidated at age seventeen to demand compensation for a week’s work. What a girl. As we sat studying flat worms for her nature class, Mary asked me to be her madrina for her quintera this November. I said I would be honored. Joselin and Anahi will have their quintera in a few years too, so I will be the proud madrina of three beautiful girls. Today as we were hanging out, coloring and doing hair, a song came on the radio. It was Bendita La Luz by Maná, one of my all time favorites. I danced with Shirley and Joselin to the song, twirling and spinning them all around the room until they were out of breath. Bendito Dios por encontrarnos. I couldn’t agree more. I got a special hug from Gaby today when she came home from school. She is such a quiet girl but she is always near me when she has free time from her chores and always softly smiling. I can feel her love in the simple things she does, like brushing my hair or playing little summer camp hand games. She has a bracelet that identical to what my mother and father wear, a simple string of wooden beads with pictures of Mary and Jesus on each bead. On the back it says Sergio & Gaby, her name and her chico’s name. She giggles and lovingly traces the letters with her fingertip. Maria was sitting drinking her tea and I came up behind her, singing the song, Ava Maria, cuando serás mia? She rewarded my antics with a great, hearty laugh. I love hearing it. As usual, when it was time to go, Anahi walked me to the door and I ate her with kisses and said goodbye. You always tickle me! she giggles with a crooked smile as her bangs fall in her face. Only four more days. My heart is breaking.

Another Monday

As Molly and I bounce along a minibus ride to Servicio de Adolescentes the smell of cooking onions fills the air. We pass through an outdoor food market- hanging sausages swing in the wind and cholitas sit on the sidewalks with their bushels of chamomile and coca leaves for sale. We arrive to a new looking, clean facility equipped with exam rooms and even a dentist’s office. Young mothers listen to a charla as they wait to see Dra. Malu. Dra. Malu is a very lovely woman with dyed red hair and a very friendly disposition. She calms the pregnant teenage girls with her kind words and sincere, soft, motherly approach. We see only a few patients and the exams are minimal; the only instruments we use are out hands and eyes. We feel the mother’s stomachs for the baby’s head, positioning, heart beat and movement. It is an incredible feeling to touch an unborn child, growing inside its mother. After we see the patients, Dra Malu breaks open a bag of empanadas de queso and some glass bottle of coca cola. We have a little mid-morning party to say goodbye to Molly. We chat with the medical students about boys, relationships and girl stuff. It was so fun. On the ride home, I hit my head on the roof of the minibus as I exited. I pick up my laundry from the dry cleaners and head over to the movie store to see if Mr. & Mrs. Smith has arrive yet. Come back tomorrow, the shopkeeper tells me. Anahi really loves Angelina Jolie, so I am impatient to give her this little present. On the way home, a man is pruning a tree, if you can call it that, right there on the sidewalk. The entire tree is practically spread from the store fronts to the street, leaving only enough space for one person to cross at a time. A beautiful little boy, about thirteen years old, smiles at me as I shuffle past. He had the face of an angel and is pushing an empty shopping cart to the nearby supermarket where he must work. Chocolate skin and almond shaped, brown eyes set off his perfectly soft, mild-mannered smile. Bolivians are so beautiful.

Short but funny

Doctora Gutierrez is a funny lady. She is also a great teacher, asking challenging questions, putting me on the spot. (See earlier post...g.r.e.a.t. teacher!!)

Aaanyways....this nurse was showing a picture of her son to Dra. G. Her son is like, 5 years old, I'd say. And he's posing naked, on a couch, looking directly at the camera. It's hilarious. Dra. Gutierrez's first comment goes something like, wow! look at his *****! He should have a little leaf covering it and you could hang this picture up in a museum. Que cochino! She keeps pointing at it and laughing and the nurse is also laughing and I'm thinking, who taught this five year old kid to pose naked on a couch like an Abercrombie model? It was too funny. This kid's expression was so serious and he's this fat, naked, little boy and Dra. G just thinks it's hilarious that he's just hanging out, feeling the free breeze flow. Maybe you had to be there?

Alalay

I’ve been volunteering during the afternoons at Alalay with Alex, my compadre from Princeton. Alalay is an orphanage for girls that were living on the streets. They come to Alalay to live there, go to school, learn a trade and become self-sufficient. Alex and I go for a few hours and hang out with the 20 some girls that live there. Here’s a little description of a few of the each of the girls:

Anahi: Anahi was the first girl to get attached to me. She’s fourteen and wears this forest green sweatshirt a lot. It makes her look very cool. Her hair is always falling in her face. We have this tradition. Every time I leave, I pretend to eat her with kisses. It usually ends with us on the floor in a tickle fight. She loves talking about celebrities, boys, the United States, movies and music. She loves to laugh.

Shirley: Here come the girls! That’s the first thing I heard when I came to Alalay on the first day. I was nervous. I wasn’t sure how I would be able to relate to them. They had lived on the streets, grown up too fast, seen way too much. So on the first day, this little eight year old girl comes running up to us and gives us hug. Do you have any chocolate? Ah, something I can relate to. I pull out a bag of M&M’s that I had in pocket. Girls are still girls after all. Shirley is the youngest of the bunch. She is so cute but she’s a handful sometimes. She has short hair and a pretty face. On her neck is scar, about 4 inches long, right above her jugular vein. She arrived a month ago and still can’t chew with that side of her mouth.

Mary: Nena Mary Aborta Mendoza. Quiet, beautiful, smiling Mary. She had long hair that she wears up in a claw and loves school. She likes to learn, she’s smart and studious. She’s a hard worker but she likes to play too. She’s very tender and endearing. She is fourteen and has a boyfriend, Miguel, who is also her age. They have been together since she was twelve and started off as friends. Her girlfriends make fun of them but she says she just ignores them. She is studying gastronomy and her favorite food is broiled chicken and mashed potatoes.

Yoseline: Yoseline has short hair and a pixie face. She has tons of energy and is always bursting with something to say. She is good friends with Mary and Anahi. She’s a bit mischievous but she always means well. She is always drawing or coloring, she has a real talent for art.

Lourdes: Lourdes loves to hold my hand. She is very affectionate, never missing the chance for a hug or kiss. She likes to be called bonita, princesa, hermosa... She is very good at spotting empty yogurt containers in the street which the girls recycle for money. She can see these little plastic bags from like two blocks away. Anyways, she always comes running up to greet us when we arrive and has this warmth about her.

Gaby: Gaby is absolutely gorgeous but she hasn’t discovered it yet. She is thirteen but looks like she’s nineteen. She has a stunningly beautiful face and long, wavy, black hair. She is always so happy to see me but is more reserved, like Mary. She expresses herself in subtle ways, smiles and flickers of meaning that escape her dark, brown eyes. I mentioned that my favorite Bolivian dish was orange chicken yesterday. Today, she was leaving to go to cooking school as I arrived. She gives me this huge smile and says she made me orange chicken in her class last night and sure enough, there is a big plate of chicken waiting for me in the kitchen at Alalay. I felt like crying with every spoonful.

Maria: Maria is outspoken and mature. She has curly, telephone cord hair. When you look at her wide eyes, you feel a little unsettled, but in a good way. She is always thinking and watching people. She is also very sweet and when she laughs you can see the little girl inside that is normally guarded under her demure exterior. She is playful once you earn her trust and loves to be cuddled and hugged.

Gladis: Gladis is eighteen and very beautiful. Her face is very serious and pensive, so when you make her smile you feel really good. She is at a different level than most of the girls. She takes a surrogate mother role in the house, moderating disputes and delegating chores. She is studying medicine and is very smart. She always greets everyone when entering a room and says goodbye to everyone when she leaves. She is quite the lady.

Patti: Patti is hard to reach. She is fifteen but has the mind of a three year old. Sometimes it feels like she understands what is going on outside of her and other times she is in her own little world. But she is very receptive to affection, and in general, a very sensitive little girl.

Janeth: Janeth is also a beautiful girl, seventeen years old. She has seen a lot, you can tell. She’s the fifth of eight children and told me about her brother, who still lives on the street with his girlfriend and baby. When you talk to her, you feel like you are the only person in the world that matters. She’s not around the house as much as the other girls but when she is I like spending one on one time with her. She’s resilient and much stronger than she lets on.

So those are a few of the girls at Alalay. They are just normal girls. They like painting their nails, watching chick flicks, and eating chocolate. But they haven’t had the normal lives that little girls deserve. I wish I could erase all the ugly bits and pieces of their past, buy them things that other girls have, just hold them and make all the old hurt go away. These beautiful little girls have taught me so much about love. Every day, it gets harder to leave Alalay, but it also gets harder to go back. I step outside of myself and see this American girl, in a world completely foreign to her. Swinging a giggling thirteen year old girl around in her arms in a playground on a Wednesday afternoon. Who is she? She is Yoseline. She is touching my heart, my life, my soul. She is changing me into the person I have always been meant to be.

Beautiful

Today I saw the most beautiful family at Hospital de los Andes. The mother was 22 and had a cold and the father was so concerned for her, it was adorable. The mother had a blanket draped over her winter coat and was breastfeeding her baby girl. She had the most perfect face- big, bright, brown eyes, a soft, little nose and well lined lips. Her husband was also beautiful. He had very kind eyes, and soft, yet masculine features, his nose and jaw were absolutely perfect. He stood over his wife while she fed his daughter, in a protective stance that she probably didn’t notice anymore. They both looked tired, their daughter was young and kept them up all the time, no doubt. I felt bad for staring, but I had never seen two people as beautiful as this before. Their skin was the color of cinnamon and all three of them had hair blacker than night. I thought about how cheapened the word beautiful has become. Looking at this couple, I realized that beauty doesn’t have to be rare or exotic to be special. But too many things are called beautiful that should not be. Which is why true beauty stings your eyes like morning light after a long night of ugly. This family was beautiful. Like a star, or a math problem, or a kiss. I know that I will probably forget what their faces looked like in a few days but I want to remember the awe I felt in their presence forever. I’m not exactly sure why but I feel like what I saw this morning could be really important some day.

Coca Cola

I don´t know why, but, this stuck with me.

Yesterday, Alex and I went to San Francisco plaza to do some shopping. It was nice, I got some leg warmers and a rug and things for Vern. Including a purple marble. Yes!

On the way home, we saw these guys throwing plastic crates full of empty coca cola bottles into a flat bed truck. The crates were stacked about 10 crates high and they were throwing them like feathers. It was like a dance. They flung them so fast, with rhythm and strength, but so unthinkingly. They had no idea how cool they looked. To me, at least.

Cota Cota

On Wednesday, the Bolivian day of Independence, Arminda took us on a day trip with her family to Cota Cota, a park in Zona Sur. Alex and I rode a giant yellow swan and raced her grandchildren around a very little lagoon. It was entertaining. Then we played on the swingset and it made me want to be a kid again. I wanted to trade places with the little girl to my left, whose father was pushing her and doing his best to follow her directions- higher, faster, higher...Arminda´s grandchildren are beautiful. Lorena is eight and has dimples on her cheeks. She looks like her father, Lorenz. Dani is six and a little gentleman. This little girl at the park dropped her toy and he ran over and picked it up and handed it to her. Chivarly is engrained into men, starting in the cradle practically. I think it´s awesome. And Adrian is a year old, so he hasn´t begun his training yet. The boys look more like their mother, Haidi, who is just beautiful. Her sister and father came with us to Cota Cota and everyone treats us like we are their adopted daughters. I feel like a part of their family. Today, the referendum has everyone on lock down, so Arminda brought Lorena and Dani over. We talked about snakes and how cool snakes are and how did you know snakes can kill you and swallow you whole?

After we came home from Cota Cota, Sergio and I went to Terraza for coffee and chocolate cake, which is never disappointing. Then we drove around La Paz listening to his extensive collection of all the latest trance music in his car and ended up at this gorgeous park on the top of a hill at the edge of the city. There was a fountain, statues, and a stone archway, very lovely. From the park you could see all the lights of the city below and all the stars. It was unforgettable.

Salteña

Salteña is a traditional Bolivian food, much like an empanada but it's baked rather than fried. They are filled with chicken or meat and are very juicy, you have to tip it as you eat it so that it doesn't leak. It is usually eaten in the morning, around 10 or 11, between breakfast and lunch. This week at Boliviano Holandes, the doctors have invited me to eat salteña with them which is nice because we get to interact outside of the hospital, it's a nice little break in the day. They are so sweet and easy to talk to, it's wonderful working with people that you relate to on a personal level.

Friday

On Friday, Dawnell and Dra. Uribe arranged a dinner for all the doctors and students in the CFHI program. First of all, Dawnell is the greatest mentor ever. She brought medicine to my house when I wasn't feeling too hot. And she's leaving soon! So this dinner was bitter-sweet because it was the last time that everyone would be together before we all went our separate ways. I was glad I didn't have to say goodbye to the doctors in addition to the July students, there's too many thank you's to say. The dinner was great, Pamela came with Dr. Velasco and sat at our part of the table. I had the best shrimp of my life, with three types of sauce and wine. Afterwards, we danced for a little bit and took some glamorous pictures. It was a good night.

Great Concepts

1. On Sunday, during the market day, the streets are closed. There are live bands, dance groups, street performers, and my personal favorite, old men playing chess outside on the sidewalk. There's a few blocks that are laced with old men playing chess on both sides of the Prado. It's adorable, cute, endearing...

2. The Aymara have a different perception of Time. The Future is behind you and The Past is ahead. Westerners are the opposite, The Future is forward, far into the distance right? Aymara believe we are facing The Past, we learn from it because we can already see it and accept this. The Future is unknown and mysterious, there is no way to see what is behind you. If you ask me, we have it backwards.

Tiahuanaco

This Saturday Alex, Katie, Molly and I went to the ruins of Tiahuanaco, an ancient civilization which preceded the Incas. The ruins were beautiful and we had a very nice, young girl who was our guide. We saw the Door of the Sun which was used like a clock and a calendar. It has 365 notches for the days of the year and the pillars in the center of the plaza act like a sun dial. The walls are adorned with hundreds of faces which represent the different races living on earth at the time of Tiahuanaco. The faces were originally decorated with gold, which was confiscated by the conquistadores as they arrived. The stones of the ruins are missing in places. But they didn’t travel far. The Spaniards used them to build churches nearby. There is also a statue which has evidence of an exorcism performed on it to purify the devils which they believe the heathens worshiped. It has a triangle, circle and cross etched in its side. I’m not the first person to be awestruck by the accomplishments of people who came before me, but there is something to be said for a close up encounter with the beauty and the mystery of the past. When I came home, I sat and had dinner with Arminda, just cheese and bread and good conversation. I love her. She always cares about how my day went. Then I went to get ice cream with Marie, my lovely fellow Irish Catholic down here. She left Saturday night- I'll miss you Marie.

I can't say this enough

Bolivians are wonderful, open, warm people. I have another anecdote. I was in a taxi, going to an unfamiliar part of the city. The taxi driver dropped us off at the designated area, and asked us where are you girls trying to get to? Okay, here, and he gives us directions to where we need to go. And as we exit he says have fun, God Bless, and be safe girls.

El Puente de las Américas

When crossing from Sopocachi to the medical district, there is a bridge with two lanes for traffic and sidewalks on either side for pedestrians. It is called the bridge of the Americas and it’s unremarkable. Except when you fix your gaze on the ground, you notice that every other sidewalk block has a bible passage, painted on the concrete. And even this is not surprising. Bolivia is a very Catholic country, every single taxi driver has a crucifix in his car along with bumper stickers that say things like: Jesus Es Mi Pastor, Jesus Te Ama, Jesus Me Guia, etc. Not that it makes me feel safe when he’s doing 90 on a mountainous slope. I digress. The bible passages on the bridge are very beautiful, full of inspiring words about God’s love and the beauty of human life. Out of plain curiosity I asked Arminda about the bridge. She told me that the bridge is cursed. What? The city installed guards, wire grating, and bible passages to prevent suicides. The bridge is located near the discotecas and apparently when guys get drunk and are dumped by their girlfriend or whatever, they jump. There are about 2 jumps a month. The bridge is located over a busy highway and the lucky ones fall to their death. The unlucky ones survive the fall. I asked Pamela about it at the thank you dinner and she said it’s true. I couldn’t believe it. The response to this problem is uniquely South American. I like that they put bible passages on the bridge and it made me think about how sterile our society has become. If this bridge were in Cleveland, death itself could not bring God into the discussion. And how do we know it doesn’t work? Maybe there was someone who needed something more than a fence to stop him. This unremarkable bridge may connect more than we give it credit for.