I’m currently at my desk in the two-room hut, typing this up so I won’t have to waste two hour’s of internet funds on work that I can do right now to the tune of the blessed mosquitoes singing lustily in my ears despite the wisping smoke from two flanking Baygon coils. I even paperclipped one coil to my John Deer hat. I feel as fearsome as Captain Blackbeard himself, but the mosquitoes remain unimpressed, except for the three that made the mistake of backlighting themselves in front of my computer screen—they’ve been thoroughly impressed — into print on my palms! Touché.
Actually, the fact that I still have light at this hour, as well as power for my consumadora and its half-an-hour battery, is thanks to a recent upgrade to our electrical system. Last week, Clint and Ruan hooked up four massive 700 amp, twelve-volt batteries, the type that are used to back up cell phone service providers. They come in six, two-volt cells inside a metal box, and we have them connected in pairs. It takes the generator four to six hours to charge them completely when they are dead. Fully charged, the batteries supply our power needs for two to three days.
To save on generator fuel, Clint asked Noel, Max, Joaquín and me to move the solar panels from the old system and hook them up to the new batteries. The solar panels were all wired together on top of several four-meter posts. Rather than unwire all of them and take them down one at a time, I borrowed Ruan’s climbing rope, tied the panels in three loops, and passed the rope over the peak of a nearby roof. One of the boys held the rope while the rest of us cut the support posts and lowered the whole shebang in one “fell swoop.” Getting them up to their new home atop a fragile fiberglass roof was not so easy, however. We had them hoisted halfway up when we almost lost them due to a miscommunication with the rope handler on the other side of the building. Thankfully, we regained control of our expensive burden, and now everything is hooked up and functioning for the time being.
Speaking of all things electrical, last week I witnessed the most intense thunderless lightning storm that I have ever seen, according to my following journal entry dated 9/18:
Every three seconds all horizons flash, 360 degrees of electric sky, and the buzzing insects provide the only sound effects… 40 minutes, and no sign of letting up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say God has opened a discothèque! Instead, I’d say He’s just playing with the light switches, or having an all-night photo shoot so He can archive a face-book directory of all the angels.
At any rate, the bugs are really getting into it. I can see the fireflies and luciernagas, the moths like roadside reflectors of passing trucks, insects going berserk, as if there has been some emergency. The crickets all have their sirens on. The big lights say there’s been a traffic accident on Saturn, but all units are already out on a high-speed chase just south of the Milky Way.
Fortunately we have had a little rain and cooler weather along with all the lightning, and the air is a bit cleaner now. The neighbors have all been burning their chacos, the trees and brush that they cut in order to plant rice and yucca, and the air is so full of smoke at times that it makes your throat go sore, the sun set red and deep, and the moon rise bright as a tangerine.
We’re still cutting our own chaco. I like to think I am gaining some modest skill with the machete, though my accuracy is still lacking. For some reason it is very satisfying to fell a two-inch tree with a single stroke.
It is incredible how much you sweat out there. You know you’ve sweat a lot when your clothes cling to your body and insects drown in your runoff. The worst is that the flies and hornets love the salty syrup of sweat. I’ve learned to look before I swat.
Despite all that drama, things have settled down here you might say, making room for new problems! But the beautiful thing about problems is they keep you busy praying and trusting in God.
There has been a lot of sickness lately. Right now there are six students down with aches and fever. The good news is that the malaria tests all came back negative this time. We’ve had no new cases since the last outbreak I mentioned. Only, Mamerto Zapani, one of our staff members, contracted malaria shortly after leaving to visit his deathly ill father. He returned yesterday, and though weak, seems to be recovering.
Other than that, Alcides, one of our third year boys had what we think was dengue, or broke-back fever, another mosquito-bourn nicety. I had it when I was here in 2006 and I can vouch for the appropriateness of the nickname. The good news is that you can only get it once. The bad news is, you only have one back, and there are four different kinds of dengue. Also, the antibodies from one type sometimes react with those from another, causing more mayhem.
Last week, Barbara, one of our freshmen, was having terrible stomach pain that did not respond to medicine. The initial diagnosis was gallstones, and the doctors wanted to operate. We were reticent to let them do the operation, however, because of their limited resources and experience. (When Kaila Valenzuela Flores, one of our volunteers, injured her knees in a motorcycle accident this last spring, (you can read the story in the July archives of Ruan and Tara's blog) they sewed her up without cleaning her wounds sufficiently and she got a terrible infection.) The pain got so bad however, that we went ahead and let the doctors operate. They ended up taking out her appendix. She is back at the school now, and already able to walk without assistance, gracias a Dios.
This last week was week of mission emphasis. Every night we shared slide shows, videos, and stories from missionaries around the world. Some of the stories made our problems here look like nothing. I realized how little I have really sacrificed to the cause of God. The students were encouraged and inspired as well. Limbert, one of our sophomore boys, really wants to go to the Philippines.
Speaking of mission service, every Sabbath afternoon we visit the people in Yata and sing, pray, and study the Bible with them. It’s really a neat experience for the kids, as well as a great way to reach out to the community. During the week, the students also do clinicals and other community service projects.
This week, Juan and Juana, the couple that my group usually studies with, wasn’t home, so we went wandering to see who else we could visit. First we stopped at the neighbors, a house the kids have never gone to. The inhabitants weren’t too excited about our company, and took about five minutes to drag themselves out of the house, and then only the señor would sit and visit. But in the end he let us sing him a song and have a prayer with him, and I have a suspicion he liked it more than he had expected, because he told us we could come back any time.
The next person we visited was an older gentleman named Humberto. He was thrilled to have the company, mainly, it seemed, to have someone to talk to, although when we sang to him I was afraid he was going to break his face smiling. We shared a few Bible texts, and then asked him if he had any prayer requests, or anything we could help him with. He told us that all his family has passed away and he only has one friend who comes to visit him. Also, his house burned down recently, and he’s been having stomach problems that left him incapacitated for weeks. “This guy’s worse off than Job,” I thought.
“More than anything, I’m lonely” he said. “I’ve seen your groups visiting other houses, and every week I’m like a dog trailing along behind, hoping to be noticed, but it seems like they never want to come.”
The kids were visibly affected by this revelation, and promised to return every week.
“There was a missionary girl from Columbia from your school who used to visit me, a very nice young lady, but she stopped coming and I didn’t know what happened. She promised to bring me a Bible, but she never did.” Humberto continued.
I recently bought a Spanish Bible here, and I don’t know why I didn’t think to give it to him on the spot, but I’m going to give him one next week for sure, along with a copy of the Great Controversy.
Classes are keeping me busy. The kids are making progress in chime choir. I think we’ll be ready to play a hymn for church in another week or two. Voice choir is fun, too, although many of the kids haven’t had much musical background, and some still cannot match a pitch to save their lives, let alone read music.
I’m also teaching my first piano lesson ever. Max Miro, one of the third year boys was asking for lessons long before I arrived, and before the school even had a piano. He’s learning fast. Amazing what a little desire can accomplish. For my part, I’m reviewing some of the theory that I never learned as well as trying to memorize the music terminology in Spanish. Pointing with some basic descriptors works pretty well in a pinch, however: that black thing there with the tail on it gets one beat. :) (Incidently, quarter notes are called negras or “black notes,” which tells you nothing about the time it receives.) Despite such challenges, my literature classes are the most difficult for me, mainly because it’s just plain hard to teach literature in your second language! Fortunately, most of the principles of good reading and writing still apply, and even many of the grammar and punctuation rules carry over. We’ve been reading The Voice in Speech and Song, and I’m making the kids read aloud and evaluate each other on volume, clarity, posture, pacing, and expression.
What I really struggle to teach them more than anything is how to think critically. I’m not sure what more to do for them, other than to keep pushing them, asking questions, and trying to model my thinking process. Today we talked about the importance of reading for understanding and not just “barking at print.” I introduced the strategies of paying attention, (only half kidding) reading in context, and breaking down unfamiliar words to help guess their meaning. (Curiously, one of the examples I stumbled upon is that ostentación (ostentation, showiness) contains the word tentación (temptation). Thinking of Matthew chapter four, it’s easy to see why! Satan either tempts you with some big show, or he tempts you to make a big show of yourself!)
I had all my students write me a personal essay so I could get to know them better and diagnose their writing abilities at the same time. The first part was fun—the latter, not so much. Many of them really struggle. I had one-on-one conferences with them and then they rewrote their essays, some of them exactly the same as before. A few of them really improved, however, and I plan to eventually post some of their stories on the website in both English and Spanish.
Tomorrow is student day, a national holiday here in Bolivia. The staff is getting up at five in the morning to sing to the kids—the same treatment they dole out to birthday boys and girls, minus the trip to the arroyo for an early morning dip. (Really gives one a lot of ganas to get older.) We couldn’t do anything else special for the kids tomorrow, but on Thursday we’re going to Nueva Canaan, a Christian retreat center just outside of Guayaramerín. As long as we don’t have to march around Jerico, I’ll be happy… although I could stand for a few walls to come down… my visa situation is still in the works. I have accumulated a month’s worth of fines while waiting for my Interpol to come through, only to find out that they will no longer send us the document from Santa Cruz and we will instead have to go in person to Trinidad. At this rate, I’ll probably get my residency just in time for the end of the school year. Ruan and Tara say it must mean I’m supposed to come back here next year. Who knows? Anyway, it's late, and I have class at eight tomorrow morning. ¡Gracia y paz a cada uno de vosotros!
