Sé Fiel.
Be Faithful.
Today in my seventh grade social studies class I taught the basics of Inca religion. Pachakamaq, the creator god who is represented by the sun, the sons of Pachakamaq, the Incas (Note: according to the people group Incas, the word Inca was used to describe the leader, the king), the concept of Equilibrium that governed Incan life, and La CHaKana, the four values in Incan society. One of which, Ama Háp´a is the challenge I am facing recently.
Ama Háp´a: Sé Fiel.... Be Faithful.
I have spent every afternoon for the last three weeks running aroung downtown Sucre working on the tramite (paperwork) for my Bolivian Residency. On monday, I believed that I had finally, after three months of working on this Visa process, arrived at the day that I would turn in ALL of my paperwork and be well on my way to being a Bolivian resident. And then I was told that I needed to do even more on Monday, and Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and now today, Friday the 13th. Each day I left discouraged. "Come back on Monday", the lawyer told me as I tried to turn my paperwork into immigration.
The new semester is well underway and I am seeing how different my life is this semester from the last. Not only have my classes, my house, and my schedule changed, but I realized quickly after returning to Sucre that many of my relationships were changing as well. For someone who has moved nine times in the last six years, I don´t handle change very well. It has difficult to adjust to these changing relationships. I have often found myself walking the tightrope between longing for what was and enjoying what is. How can be faithful to ambas relaciones?
I recognized months ago that I was in a time of "training," although I truthfully could not tell you for what I am in training. I am being stretched, frustrated and broken. And yet I know that I am supposed to be here. I simply need to be faithful.
Ama Háp´a. I guess you can´t just give up on faithfulness. You can´t press a fast forward button. You simply must wait.
Oh Lord, Grant me your faithfulness.
13.8.10
21.7.10
The Juice.... Is Worth the Squeeze. And when the Fruit is out of Season?
It seems I am only driven to write when my heart and my head are all a mess. The lastr blog I wrote entitiled choque, occured shortly before a crash of love, life and romance. What happens when the "perfect" person prances into your already perfect life and makes eveything significantly more complicated. A crash.
That was in April. This is July. The seasons have changed. The cold has come to Bolivia. Remembering back to the state of my heart at the writing of the last post, it seems, that as the searons have changed, so have I.
I took some time to escape the Bolivian winter in the Heat of Summer in the North It was lovely.
I came back home to a whirwind of change. With the gush, this little leaf might finally have found where she was meant to fall.
Returning to Sucre has represented a change of house, of job discription, social circle. It has also marked a renewing of sense of direction and passion. They once called me Fire... maybe one day, I will be deserving of that name.
I have speant the last several months slowly getting to know many of the niños trabajadores who work on the streets of Sucre. My first day back in the plaza with many new friends, I found myself eating lunch in the market with nine street kids. I have learned their stories and learned thier dreams- many of which are satisfied by a successful day of shining the shoes of tourists and good Bolivan Catholics in the plaza outside the cathedral. What do you really want to do when you get older? Be in charge of the shoe shiners.
The kids on the street, like the kids in my private school in Khatalla call me profe. The same age as many of my students, I listen to them read and challenge them with math problems. SOmetimes we paint. Sometimes they fight. We always laugh. Their laughs are so similar to the kids in the school.... their lives, so very different. And there I am, challenging them to be better and to work top be more than shoe shiners, that life has more to offer than 5 Bolivianos. Edgar, Juan, Wiler, Angél, Flora y Paolita.... are smart, talend kids.... but they will never have the opprotuinities that Carmen, Lizeth, David, Obed y Carla will have. The few services that exist to help niños trtabajadores are not working to take them off the street. They are not working to teach them real skills. Why is it that the church´s answer is always another Horita Feliz?
Committed to a school that these kids may never enter, My heart is burdened by the question, what will my answer be? The Fruit is in the squeezer-....
That was in April. This is July. The seasons have changed. The cold has come to Bolivia. Remembering back to the state of my heart at the writing of the last post, it seems, that as the searons have changed, so have I.
I took some time to escape the Bolivian winter in the Heat of Summer in the North It was lovely.
I came back home to a whirwind of change. With the gush, this little leaf might finally have found where she was meant to fall.
Returning to Sucre has represented a change of house, of job discription, social circle. It has also marked a renewing of sense of direction and passion. They once called me Fire... maybe one day, I will be deserving of that name.
I have speant the last several months slowly getting to know many of the niños trabajadores who work on the streets of Sucre. My first day back in the plaza with many new friends, I found myself eating lunch in the market with nine street kids. I have learned their stories and learned thier dreams- many of which are satisfied by a successful day of shining the shoes of tourists and good Bolivan Catholics in the plaza outside the cathedral. What do you really want to do when you get older? Be in charge of the shoe shiners.
The kids on the street, like the kids in my private school in Khatalla call me profe. The same age as many of my students, I listen to them read and challenge them with math problems. SOmetimes we paint. Sometimes they fight. We always laugh. Their laughs are so similar to the kids in the school.... their lives, so very different. And there I am, challenging them to be better and to work top be more than shoe shiners, that life has more to offer than 5 Bolivianos. Edgar, Juan, Wiler, Angél, Flora y Paolita.... are smart, talend kids.... but they will never have the opprotuinities that Carmen, Lizeth, David, Obed y Carla will have. The few services that exist to help niños trtabajadores are not working to take them off the street. They are not working to teach them real skills. Why is it that the church´s answer is always another Horita Feliz?
Committed to a school that these kids may never enter, My heart is burdened by the question, what will my answer be? The Fruit is in the squeezer-....
9.4.10
A Choque... To say the Least.
It has been some time since I have written. I don´t really believe that anyone reads this. If I thought they did, I think I would be more moptivated to write. Dear reader (s), if you are out there in the world of cyber space, send me a hello, so that I know you exist, and so that I know that my words are not lost in a sea of web pages and electronic diaries.
Today´s topic- Love, loss, y extrañar.
I recently told someone that my heart has experienced a choque... a collision.
For most opf m y life, I have felt that my heart has been gashed by a collision. A collision of worlds, a collision of thoughts, of people and of who I am.
A love that I thought would last forever... Choque
A passion thathas encountered reality..... Choque
A desire to be in ten places at once... Choque
When the world becomes a choque, hay que siguir caminando... y Siguir adalante.
And so I will walk forward. I am looking for purpose and looking for answers. For now... I will walk one step at a time, taking hold of my Daddy´s hand, and float in the mystery of the questions. The mystery of his grace.
Oh Lord, Don´t let me fall.
I miss you all.
Profe Teacher.
Today´s topic- Love, loss, y extrañar.
I recently told someone that my heart has experienced a choque... a collision.
For most opf m y life, I have felt that my heart has been gashed by a collision. A collision of worlds, a collision of thoughts, of people and of who I am.
A love that I thought would last forever... Choque
A passion thathas encountered reality..... Choque
A desire to be in ten places at once... Choque
When the world becomes a choque, hay que siguir caminando... y Siguir adalante.
And so I will walk forward. I am looking for purpose and looking for answers. For now... I will walk one step at a time, taking hold of my Daddy´s hand, and float in the mystery of the questions. The mystery of his grace.
Oh Lord, Don´t let me fall.
I miss you all.
Profe Teacher.
23.2.10
Not much time, A quick thought
I am feeling at home and comfortable in my job at the school. Tomorrow I will add swimming instructor to my resume.
Thoughts as of lately: The trininty = Community
If God does it, it must be a pretty good thing. Than Why don´t we?
Thought 2 Christians escaping the world. It´s tragic to see, yet it is very much the reality of the Evangelical (or non-Catholic) Church in Bolivia. The two churches are so seperate here. And so are they seperate from the unchurched. I am not saying that it is our job to Church the unchurched, but maybe simply to be Christ where one would not look for him.
I am becoming more and more convinced that Christ would be in a bar rather than a worship service if he Getting a new roommate tonight
Heart Happy
Love from Bolivia
Thoughts as of lately: The trininty = Community
If God does it, it must be a pretty good thing. Than Why don´t we?
Thought 2 Christians escaping the world. It´s tragic to see, yet it is very much the reality of the Evangelical (or non-Catholic) Church in Bolivia. The two churches are so seperate here. And so are they seperate from the unchurched. I am not saying that it is our job to Church the unchurched, but maybe simply to be Christ where one would not look for him.
I am becoming more and more convinced that Christ would be in a bar rather than a worship service if he Getting a new roommate tonight
Heart Happy
Love from Bolivia
27.1.10
Quick Catch Up. Thank YOU.
It has been almost a year and a half since I last made a post on a blog. I am, by the standards of almost anyone, a terrible blogger. I may have the thoughts or adventures to make a better blog, but since 2008 I have never shared them with you.
You. The 27 views that "A Carmen Called Jenna" currently has. You faithful 5 readers who have occasionally checked to see if I have written. You who were time and again, disappointed. Well, to the few and the proud, this one's for YOU.
Let me catch you up on what has happened since the last posting when I had just moved to Cochabamba Bolivia. 4 months in Cochabamba. Amazing. I fell in love with the country and fell in love with a Bolivian man.
A firm believer in the power of love to overcome any obstacle, the Bolivian man and I entered into a long distance, international, cross-cultural, bilingual romantic relationship via Skype while I finished my 2 degrees at Azusa Pacific Univesity. It was a beautiful story. One that helped push me back in the direction of South America, back to Bolivia.
In November I took a job as a Psychology/ English teacher at a small rural school outside of Sucre (14 hours from Cochabamba). In December and January, my 14 month relationship with the Bolivian ended. (I won't go into all the sappy details, right now, this is just to catch YOU up)
Today: I am back in Colorado. I just said good bye to my life in California, to the beautiful friends and people there. I said good bye to a place in the heart of no-where, a place that holds my heart. I am about to say good-bye, again, to my childhood home. Though I may have moved, I do believe that relationships do not change based on location. I've heard it said that some people come into our lives for a season for a specific reason. I do not agree with that. Relationships, friendships... are not meant to be traded in for the latest fashion trends and newest neighbor. Real friendships are meant to be life long, living and breathing... they are meant, I am convinced to be a BODY.
Now, again, my body is leaving the many other bodies who mean so much to me. I believe that I am following the will of the Head and Heart of the Body. It is a will that takes us on a journey into the great unknown.
In this time of not knowing, I invite you to join me. It will be an adventure.
You. The 27 views that "A Carmen Called Jenna" currently has. You faithful 5 readers who have occasionally checked to see if I have written. You who were time and again, disappointed. Well, to the few and the proud, this one's for YOU.
Let me catch you up on what has happened since the last posting when I had just moved to Cochabamba Bolivia. 4 months in Cochabamba. Amazing. I fell in love with the country and fell in love with a Bolivian man.
A firm believer in the power of love to overcome any obstacle, the Bolivian man and I entered into a long distance, international, cross-cultural, bilingual romantic relationship via Skype while I finished my 2 degrees at Azusa Pacific Univesity. It was a beautiful story. One that helped push me back in the direction of South America, back to Bolivia.
In November I took a job as a Psychology/ English teacher at a small rural school outside of Sucre (14 hours from Cochabamba). In December and January, my 14 month relationship with the Bolivian ended. (I won't go into all the sappy details, right now, this is just to catch YOU up)
Today: I am back in Colorado. I just said good bye to my life in California, to the beautiful friends and people there. I said good bye to a place in the heart of no-where, a place that holds my heart. I am about to say good-bye, again, to my childhood home. Though I may have moved, I do believe that relationships do not change based on location. I've heard it said that some people come into our lives for a season for a specific reason. I do not agree with that. Relationships, friendships... are not meant to be traded in for the latest fashion trends and newest neighbor. Real friendships are meant to be life long, living and breathing... they are meant, I am convinced to be a BODY.
Now, again, my body is leaving the many other bodies who mean so much to me. I believe that I am following the will of the Head and Heart of the Body. It is a will that takes us on a journey into the great unknown.
In this time of not knowing, I invite you to join me. It will be an adventure.
30.9.08
Es La Culpa de Los Fantasmas o Los Peruanos.
Everything in my life is the Fault of the Fantasmas or the Peruanos.
Hola a mis amigos, amigas, familia, extranjeros, gringos, cholisas, medionovios, exnovios, campaneros, y estranos de la Cochabamba.
If you are reading this, it means that you for whatever reason care. For that I thank you. For those of you that care, but don’t want to read my novel I have included a Haiku of sorts about my life here…. Enjoy.
Mi Cochabamba
Follow the Disco Jesus
Un Rato, Se Va.
For those of you who actually want to read this whole thing, Thanks mom and dad. Here it is…. Mi Vida en Bolivia.
If you ever want a laugh, try to bake cookies with a Bolivian Schoolteacher. If you ever want to talk politics, ask the General in the Comedor. If you want to cry, listen to the song of the teenage girl fighting HIV while preparing supper for her created family of teenage girls. If you are ever lost, just look to the Christo on the hill.
This is my life in Cochabamba. Everyday I sit around a table and participate in the conversation of three generations of an international family, the Torrico-Lopez family. Over the past month, they have become my family.
Quick refrence: Who lives in our house:
*La Senora, Elle – Elizabeth Lopez. A Single Mother and Bolivian Schoolteacher. She teaches English and Psychology… yeah, perfect for me/
*La Abuelisa, Leona Lopez- had her 89th birthday 2 weeks back. She runs a store out of our house, which was built by her husband in the 1940s. When I first moved in, I could hardly understand a word she said. She doesn’t really open her mouth much, and she speaks a lot of Quechua (indigenous language of the campesinos)
*Cecila Torrico-Lopez- Mi hermanita bonita. She’s 18, will be 19 in October, is teaching me the guitar, and is trying to break out of the life she has always had. She is trying to find herself. She loves rock concerts and her friends. She is trying to break the mold in her house, but it is a tough mold to break.
*Erick Torrico- Elle’s oldest and only son. 22. Engineering major. Brilliant. Also, doesn’t open his mouth much when he talks and can be hard to understand (not just for an extranjera) … Buena Gente. We have our random late night conversations while the others are asleep.
*La Empleyada, Martita- Our maid/cook/housekeeper/entertainment. Martita is 16. Her family lives in the country. She dresses in traditional Quechua dress and is also learning Spanish in the house. She sings in Quechua and has become one of my best friends in Bolivia.
(and across the jardin, the yard)
*Tio Raul- Uncle who lives in the house behind us. Probably has one of the best singing voices I have ever heard, if not the best. Plays the guitar at nighttime and I listen from my balcony. He lived in the US for a while and likes to practice his English…
*El Oso Rojo, Jake Rorabaugh- 28 year old American from Idaho who rents a room in the house behind ours. He’s been everywhere in the world, and has been in Cochabamba since March. At first, I was worried about having another extranjero in the house, but he gives me insights that the other family members wouldn’t or couldn’t. He teaches English at the school where Elle teaches, where her other brother is prinicipal, the school that both Erick and Cecilia went to all through primary and secondary school. Jake’s got some crazy stories….
*La Gringita, me… and well, I am just making myself at home.
Cochababma is a city of color. It doesn’t have the flair of a tourist city. Interacting with another foreigner is a rarity here. The streets are a mix of Spanish and Quechua. The Micros or Truffis (public transportation, not gang members) might kill you if you aren’t careful. (I’ve been close to death by Micro a time or two since I have been here). It is nicknamed the city of eternal spring, and even my arrival in the “dead of winter” greated me with beautiful sunshine and cool evenings. It is a city that loves to party. Bolivians know how to throw a fiesta. And in Bolivia, everybody has his or her day.
September 7: Dia de Paeton, Day of the Pedestrian- there is literally not one car on the streets, but everyone heads to the nearest major plaza for a concert, food, and a party.
September 14: Dia de Cochabamba- the weekend was filled with parades and dances celebrating the founding of Cochabamba.
September 21 (Now this is a Holiday!) Dia del Medico, Dia del Estudiante, Primer Dia de la Primavera Y Dia de Amor. (Day of the Medical Field, Day the Student, 1st Day of Spring and Day of Lovers) The city is filled with flowers, musicians, and couples kissing in the streets. Although the kissing is a common sight… People are in love and they show it here. It is nothing to be afraid of…. If you don’t mind cutting a wedding cake sometime soon.
I have been in Bolivia a month now. My Spanish is getting better and better by the day. I look forward to the time when I can truly complete a full conversation without having to ask, “What do you call it when…?” But when I think of how confused and lost I was my first weeks, I have taken great strides.
Some days I feel incredibly lonely. I just want that friend… that person that understands. Some Days, Well, most days, even inside of my loneliness, I am overjoyed and incredibly thankful to be here… I think. “This is my life! This is real! Thank you Lord!”
Before I came to Bolivia, I had a conversation with a good friend of mine who told me about living in China alone. She said that during that time, she really, really had to rely on the Lord, because you won’t always have people to lean on. I love my family and my job here. I love the people I know. But at the end of the night, the person who guides my way is the Christo on the hill. In Cochabamba we have the largest statue of Christ in the World. It’s right behind my house. They light it up in constantly changing colors. And every night, after all is said and done, I sit on my Balcony and talk to the Disco Jesus on the Hill. When I am lost, I look for the Christo to find my way home. It’s funny that it took something so obvious to get me to realize that is how we should live all the time, constantly looking to the Christo.
Thank you for Reading.
I will Write more…. Un Ratitio.
(Un Ratito= a common unit of time in Bolivia. The length of time for a little rat to run across the floor…. I like it. ☺ )
siempre,
yenna*
Hola a mis amigos, amigas, familia, extranjeros, gringos, cholisas, medionovios, exnovios, campaneros, y estranos de la Cochabamba.
It has been almost a month since I have been here in Bolivia. The sights and sounds of the city that were once so strange and exciting to me, I now consider part of my home. I recognize that I am probably a bit late in beginning this story or my time here in Bolivia. Some of what you will read are the emotions of the past weeks, and may not reflect my heart at this current moment. I am late. If you know me well, you know that I am ALWAYS late. And you know what…. All of you who have waited for me at some point in your life, I was not late, I was simply in the wrong location. Just yesterday, as a friend was waiting for me in the Plaza Colon (a main Plaza in Cochabamba, at the end of a strip of park called El Prado), he thought to himself, “She’s late, she must be Cochabambina.”
So, in Cochababmbina fashion, this update/ beginning of this story is late. I would like to tell you that updates will be more frequent from here on out, but I simply cannot make that promise. I’m a flaqera without regular internet access…. I will do my best. If you are reading this, it means that you for whatever reason care. For that I thank you. For those of you that care, but don’t want to read my novel I have included a Haiku of sorts about my life here…. Enjoy.
Mi Cochabamba
Follow the Disco Jesus
Un Rato, Se Va.
For those of you who actually want to read this whole thing, Thanks mom and dad. Here it is…. Mi Vida en Bolivia.
If you ever want a laugh, try to bake cookies with a Bolivian Schoolteacher. If you ever want to talk politics, ask the General in the Comedor. If you want to cry, listen to the song of the teenage girl fighting HIV while preparing supper for her created family of teenage girls. If you are ever lost, just look to the Christo on the hill.
This is my life in Cochabamba. Everyday I sit around a table and participate in the conversation of three generations of an international family, the Torrico-Lopez family. Over the past month, they have become my family.
Quick refrence: Who lives in our house:
*La Senora, Elle – Elizabeth Lopez. A Single Mother and Bolivian Schoolteacher. She teaches English and Psychology… yeah, perfect for me/
*La Abuelisa, Leona Lopez- had her 89th birthday 2 weeks back. She runs a store out of our house, which was built by her husband in the 1940s. When I first moved in, I could hardly understand a word she said. She doesn’t really open her mouth much, and she speaks a lot of Quechua (indigenous language of the campesinos)
*Cecila Torrico-Lopez- Mi hermanita bonita. She’s 18, will be 19 in October, is teaching me the guitar, and is trying to break out of the life she has always had. She is trying to find herself. She loves rock concerts and her friends. She is trying to break the mold in her house, but it is a tough mold to break.
*Erick Torrico- Elle’s oldest and only son. 22. Engineering major. Brilliant. Also, doesn’t open his mouth much when he talks and can be hard to understand (not just for an extranjera) … Buena Gente. We have our random late night conversations while the others are asleep.
*La Empleyada, Martita- Our maid/cook/housekeeper/entertainment. Martita is 16. Her family lives in the country. She dresses in traditional Quechua dress and is also learning Spanish in the house. She sings in Quechua and has become one of my best friends in Bolivia.
(and across the jardin, the yard)
*Tio Raul- Uncle who lives in the house behind us. Probably has one of the best singing voices I have ever heard, if not the best. Plays the guitar at nighttime and I listen from my balcony. He lived in the US for a while and likes to practice his English…
*El Oso Rojo, Jake Rorabaugh- 28 year old American from Idaho who rents a room in the house behind ours. He’s been everywhere in the world, and has been in Cochabamba since March. At first, I was worried about having another extranjero in the house, but he gives me insights that the other family members wouldn’t or couldn’t. He teaches English at the school where Elle teaches, where her other brother is prinicipal, the school that both Erick and Cecilia went to all through primary and secondary school. Jake’s got some crazy stories….
*La Gringita, me… and well, I am just making myself at home.
Cochababma is a city of color. It doesn’t have the flair of a tourist city. Interacting with another foreigner is a rarity here. The streets are a mix of Spanish and Quechua. The Micros or Truffis (public transportation, not gang members) might kill you if you aren’t careful. (I’ve been close to death by Micro a time or two since I have been here). It is nicknamed the city of eternal spring, and even my arrival in the “dead of winter” greated me with beautiful sunshine and cool evenings. It is a city that loves to party. Bolivians know how to throw a fiesta. And in Bolivia, everybody has his or her day.
September 7: Dia de Paeton, Day of the Pedestrian- there is literally not one car on the streets, but everyone heads to the nearest major plaza for a concert, food, and a party.
September 14: Dia de Cochabamba- the weekend was filled with parades and dances celebrating the founding of Cochabamba.
September 21 (Now this is a Holiday!) Dia del Medico, Dia del Estudiante, Primer Dia de la Primavera Y Dia de Amor. (Day of the Medical Field, Day the Student, 1st Day of Spring and Day of Lovers) The city is filled with flowers, musicians, and couples kissing in the streets. Although the kissing is a common sight… People are in love and they show it here. It is nothing to be afraid of…. If you don’t mind cutting a wedding cake sometime soon.
I have been in Bolivia a month now. My Spanish is getting better and better by the day. I look forward to the time when I can truly complete a full conversation without having to ask, “What do you call it when…?” But when I think of how confused and lost I was my first weeks, I have taken great strides.
Some days I feel incredibly lonely. I just want that friend… that person that understands. Some Days, Well, most days, even inside of my loneliness, I am overjoyed and incredibly thankful to be here… I think. “This is my life! This is real! Thank you Lord!”
Before I came to Bolivia, I had a conversation with a good friend of mine who told me about living in China alone. She said that during that time, she really, really had to rely on the Lord, because you won’t always have people to lean on. I love my family and my job here. I love the people I know. But at the end of the night, the person who guides my way is the Christo on the hill. In Cochabamba we have the largest statue of Christ in the World. It’s right behind my house. They light it up in constantly changing colors. And every night, after all is said and done, I sit on my Balcony and talk to the Disco Jesus on the Hill. When I am lost, I look for the Christo to find my way home. It’s funny that it took something so obvious to get me to realize that is how we should live all the time, constantly looking to the Christo.
Thank you for Reading.
I will Write more…. Un Ratitio.
(Un Ratito= a common unit of time in Bolivia. The length of time for a little rat to run across the floor…. I like it. ☺ )
siempre,
yenna*
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