Handmade

Some people might try and tell you that they volunteer to make a difference in people’s lives and make the world a better place. That might sound nice but the real reason you do it is so that you can do fun stuff that you would not usually get to do in your "real" career.

At Performing Life I have had the opportunity to use my professional skills to create some content for their website and write two grants; I once again found myself sitting in front of a computer typing away in Word. It would be disingenuous for me to say that it was not fun to do this. It did actually feel like I was doing something of worth. At the same time I was still just sitting in front of computer trying to meet a deadline and a set of guidelines. It was work that got a tick in both the productive and boring columns.

Well luckily for me I am working with John. One day he came in and was talking about possible performance ideas for the group and the next day I was reviewing an online guide for building stilts and sketching out a basic design. We bought some wood, debated what other materials to use and where we could find them, got stuck on the shin-guard but eventually came up with a solution.

Once we had those matters taken care of we made a prototype which was structurally sound but had two right feet instead of one of each. A small oversight and easily fixed in proceeding sets. The stilt project is a perfect example of why I have enjoyed volunteering. This work was a perfect mix of craftsmanship and invention. The creative aspect of researching and designing stilts and then getting splinters in my hands and the smell of burning wood up my nose from the power drill was the most refreshing working experience I have had in long time.

And then yesterday we finished the last pair and took them to the afternoon class. Did I mention that we ignored conventional wisdom and made the stilts really high? I was skeptical of whether or not the kids would use them or not in the first place. But adding the peril of height to mix made my expectations very low. How wrong I was. The kids were really into them and were used the entire time that afternoon. Making something with my hands, making something that actually worked and having the kids use them has been very satisfying.

This morning

My coffee is black

Outside the day is quite hot

and I need to work

A fugitive from a killer. A remote outpost. A fight to the death.

One of Evo’s unpopular new laws was the ban on imported cars from Japan that are over five years old. Reports suggest that previous unregulated car importation has transformed access to public transport throughout the country. More cars, more rides. But also more traffic, more pollution. Meanwhile, there are micros which continue to thrive in Cochabamba, and most other major cities in Bolivia, that look as though they have been around since the seventies.

It is very possible that these were imported from overseas as a hand-me-downs but I cannot find any articles to confirm this. These vehicles recall the yellow school buses from the United States but have stylized paint work and elaborate hood ornaments like the Jeepney in the Philippines.

The paint jobs are all the same and only vary in terms of color scheme; blue-red, green, blue and orange-red. When you get on the bus you can always tell were the owner is from as the front windscreens are covered in stickers of Bolivian football teams (usually Bolivar).

To individualize the buses the owners also add their own personal touches. A lot of buses have images of Freddy Krueger or wolves painted on the back of the bus. My favorite personalization is the Legionnaire themed bus I saw a couple of weeks ago. Why throw-back to the 80s with Freddy Krueger when you could throw-back to a late 90s, Claude Van Damme, straight-to-video classic like this? The best part is the guy must have had this costom made. Today the colors are sun faded, but the quest for freedom continues.

I've never seen a Prime Minister of New Zealand

This week was the 200 year anniversary of Cochabamba. So not surprisingly we were treated to more marching bands and more public holidays. The event did provide us with one unique opportunity. Evo Morales acknowledged the day by gracing the Cochabambinos with his presence. This was a stroke of luck for me because I really wanted to see him in the flesh and I thought it would never happen. I felt especially lucky about this when I heard he had declined to attend the Santa Cruz annual event.

It is likely that this was because Santa Cruz is part of the Media Luna region which does not have a lot of affection for El Preseidente. In fact they hate him, more or less, in those parts. Evo is busy representing an indigenous majority meanwhile people in Santa Cruz, who are predominately mestizo and progressive/modern, do not agree with his policies.

That is not to say people love him in Cochabamba. There is plenty of graffiti about the town that says "Evo Cabron", "Evo Culo", "Asesino Evo" and "Vota NO". These comments are routinely supported by locals that we chat with. While they do not want to kill him they do not rate him and are looking forward to the day he is out of office. This is also supported by Facebook Data Mining that gives me suggestions to join groups like You Do Not Know HOW MUCH I hate Evo Morales. This surely reflects the inclinations of (the everyday, normal) Bolivians who I am connected to on that site.

Me personally, I can't get with that. There is no doubt he is an average politician and has made mistakes but he has also done some cool stuff. Like the new Constitution that acknowledges the indigenous diversity (plurinational) of the country and more recently the work he is doing to change the media's practice of describing campesinos in defamatory ways. On this latter point I am a little strident. Surely the fact that he needs to pass this law reflects the everydayness of racism here and highlights why people in Santa Cruz fail to connect with his position.

Whatever the case it was really fun to see the president march through Cochabamba this week. It was a really hot day and it must have been hard work walking the streets. The other thing that was great was the support Evo got on his march. Everyone was running up the street cheering for him and chanting his name. I had a big cheesy grin on my face and skipped up through the crowd trying to get a decent photo of the man. It was so refreshing to be around Bolivians actually supporting their president. The reality is that I have not seen Bolivians outwardly supporting him in all my travels. As such I now have a small, but important, bit of context on Bolivia. There are some people living in a city that like who they have running the country.

20 photos to and from work: Saturday 11 September

Walking to and from Performing Life

On my walks this week I have taken a some of photos in an attempt to capture the everydayness of life for Sarah and I. Absent here are a couple of subjects I wanted to shoot but couldn't. The first is the Potosi beggars (grandmothers with their grandchildren). The second was an image of an older man sitting in a park throwing popcorn to the pigeons. I am still not comfortable shooting the former (and there are enough photos on the Internet anyway) and on the latter... well, I wish I had but at the time did not want to abuse his privacy.

The one thing I have not been able to capture - that I wanted to - is the bird life in Cochabamba. At the moment there appears to be a migration happening due to the change of season. Sadly my camera and my ability as a photographer have not allowed me to frame this part of the city.

No milk today: Thursday 09 September

The day ran out and there is no time to write a blog but some how it has ended with my brain on ice and watching 2012.

We are in Bolivia… they are in Christchurch after the quake: Wednesday 08 September

After I got over my irritation surrounding (a) The Heralds over-reporting on the earthquake (what do sales figures do after a national disaster?) (b) John Keys demagogic rhetoric about staying in New Zealand instead of going to Europe (why was this even a question) (c) the Save National Radio Facebook groups sanctimonious comment that it is “times like this that people realize what a national treasure this service is and that it must be protected from the tinkering ideologues” (and I love the National Radio) and (d) somnolent articles that assert that “researchers” have figured out that the timing of the earthquake and the level of poverty in Haiti led it to be a much “deadlier” earthquake (thanks for the insight The Researchers) I finally got to wondering about this whole deal.

OK, on that last one I am still irked. A more bald fact could not be present in this situation. I do not see why I should have to accept such shallow reportage on something so serious.

In Bolivia both Sarah and I have been surprised about how many people have asked us about the quake and, of course, if any of our family has been affected. A fair question to ask. Our reaction: on the one hand we both have an unearned sense of pride that someone is asking about our own country and on the other we are unable to fully appreciate the reality of the disaster and therefore give a solid answer with a fitting tone. What is unique about this situation is our distance; figuratively and literally. While Sarah has family in Christchurch we know that they are OK so there is only a moderate level of concern for their wellbeing.

In actuality this event reminds me that we are disconnected. Sarah and I are not part of the day-to-day national discourse about the recovery effort or the sharing of stories of family and friends whose lives have been forever changed by this. We did not grow up or spend “special times” in that part of the world to link us to the place. Consequently, when someone asks us about the quake we are only able to give dry answers with little feeling or context. We are part of the periphery on this one with the rest of the world.

Being on the periphery has been interesting (in no way do I say “interesting” to trivialize the suffering of real people in Canterbury). People are checking the papers from their home towns or cities and reporting back to us what they have read about New Zealand and we in turn are doing the same. Our discourse about the quake relates to that of what other foreigners ask and know. The only advantage we have is that we can also refer to Facebook ‘status updates’ to get an edge on what people are experiencing.

It is this last point that genuinely pleases me. Facebook gets a lot of (warranted) flack. On this occasion I have welcomed seeing status updates from the whole gamut. Like the girl I worked with five years ago who is having a cupcake sale to raise money. Or hearing from people who live in Christchurch casually refer to aftershocks without the heavy-handed emotional style that I would have endured on the six o’clock news. The media is never going to be democratic or egalitarian but at least these days we don’t have to only listen to the Herald for a view on what is happening on the ground level.

Jeezum Crow: Tuesday 07 September

Today I walked to work listening to Steppin Out by Joe Jackson and found the new entry from TONY along the way. It was in a new area too. I really hope this guy continues this trend for at least the next month; consistency will elevate this average (though competent) stencil style to something bigger and better. The new location of the stencil makes my imagination run wild. I want this TONY project to be as wacky as wacky as the alleged Hexagram Murders.

As I dreamt about this stupid idea a lady strolled toward me walking her dog. A dog on a leash is a conspicuous sight in this part of the world. As it turns out this well-heeled dog skipped up to me and attempted to bite my leg. I was so mad but in the moment did not react (I think, absurdly, that I didn't want to give the dog the pleasure of seeing my surprise). All the meanwhile the lady just kept on walking, did not acknowledge me, did not say sorry or look over her shoulder. Ha ha [...] I was livid.

They day finished up with a rendezvous with Ken Moody. We met Ken via some friends who knew him through the Maryknoll Institute. On this occasion Ken invited us out to see the group Awatiñas. Great to finally see a classic, traditional, Bolivian band play live. On more than one occasion we had made plans to see Bolivia's most famous act, Los Kjarkas, play but it never happened. I am convinced that Ken does not have a lot of dough. Despite this he paid for our tickets into this show anyway thus providing some symmetry in the day following the petty confrontation in the morning.

Days go by… coun’nem: Monday 06 September 2010

Today I finally found myself back at Casa Cuna. This turned out to be a downbeat visit. Virginia said that she thought I wasn’t going to come back. This made me feel lame but only for a moment. I soon felt even worse was when she told me why they asked me back. They had a present for me.

The present was a hand painted (by Virginia) length of cotton detailing men and woman in traditional Bolivian dress. A thoughtful gift and one that would have taken a lot of effort to complete. There is a lot of detail on this thing.

Besides this Israel looked morose and didn’t want to talk much. He looked lonely. But I am projecting with that; pure conjecture. I do not know what was up with the dude. Virginia gave me some papaya and told me that they are still waiting (until October now) to find out if they are going to get the kids back. Make of this situation what you will… what do you say. Keep hope alive and stop living in the past?

They are good people at Casa Cuna so it was nice to see them. Despite this the overriding feeling after the visit was sadness. It was hours later until I felt better. It took an afternoon run up the Cristo and some wind in my face. After the run I tried to think of something to do to break up my routine. Something new to create modicum of spontaneity in the day. The best I could come up with was buying a Paderborner Brauere from Super Hass instead of Taquiña from the lady on the corner.

Such a cool little dude

The days are dwindling in Cochabamba (only one full month to go) and with this comes a pang, for sure. But also, there has been time for a new routine to form with Performing Life post-Casa Cuna; run and study an hour a piece before 08:30AM and then off to work.

By far the best part about getting to work is seeing the dudes from the morning performance art class; Wilber, Nelson, Vladimir, Lino and Efrain. Everyday these guys travel from the north-west hills of Cochabamba to Performing Life classes in the city and then back again in the afternoon for school (if you want to be part of Performing Life classes you have to attend school). This is a real commitment. The great thing is that these guys let me practice Spanish and juggling with them before and after their morning class.

At the moment the guy who is working me over the most is Vladimir. He is such a cool little dude. Nine years old. Every morning he wanders into my office with an air of disinterest. He then casually asks if I have my “lados” (his word for my Ben10 Rubik’s cube) that Sarah bought me when we got to the end of the Urkupiña Virgin pilgrimage.

Just like me Vladi has his routine too. Every day he walks in with feet as weightless as a Joe90 marionette and a massive smile. Offhandedly asks if I have the cube then sets to work on putting together the picture of Cuatro Brazos (Four Arms). Quickly losing interest in this he then grabs the juggling balls John has lent me and we battle with new tricks I am trying to learn. Once he is finished kicking my but he asks if there are any games on the computer and then runs out the door to be with the rest of the crew without saying goodbye.

Man, if only my working day back in the real world started like this. It is impossible not to be impressed by the boys in the morning class. It is very hard not to spend the next half hour grinning after Vladimir has paid his morning visit; this guy is my new role model.

Stencils again

Cochabamba and La Paz

While not as acute as before the compulsion to make a record of all the stencils in Cochabamba has continued. I have to say that the overall style of the stencils has not changed to much over six months. Political and idiosyncratic expressions are still the norm.

I should note that when we were in La Paz many months ago the approach to stenciling up there is almost identical. A lot of anti-war/capitalist/animal rights and playful/humorous-type pieces. At least La Paz had the coolest municipal-type stencil I have seen. A friendly cartoon rendition of a Police Officer. Satisfyingly ironic perhaps?

CBBA Artists

What has been nice recently is seeing new artists emerge while others seem to fade completely. I have not seen a piece by ADM for some time (which “ADM” this is, I do not know).

There is one graffiti artist in Cochabamba, Ash, who is very prolific. So prolific that I wonder if
"Ash" is actually a crew (though how can we ever forget North Shore legend "Ratz"). He has done a stencil or two around town but seems to have shifted his focus to throw-ups and unsophisticated, though competent, bombs. I was walking out of my apartment yesterday and the piece below had just appeared overnight.

An artist calling himself Tony turned up the week before last and he has been very busy by all accounts. He has three or so pieces that have turned up in a myriad of places. His designs are not amazing but his application of paint is uncommonly slick for Cochabamba. Who knows, possibly this work is by an extranjero.

At the same time (literally in the same week) as the Tony pieces a series of stencils that were anti-capitalist and idiosyncratic appeared also. Their size and palette is the same as the Tony pieces so it’s possibly the same guy. The only thing is that Tony seems to go for “recognizability” where as these other pieces are anonymous. My favorite from this series is the facsimile of the National Geographic cover Afghan Girl though it fails to take advantage of the intense eyes of the subject; the key detail.

Mata²rte (Mata Arte)

The most original and talented artist working in Cochabamba is Mata²rte. As far as stenciling goes he does a fantastic job integrating an excellent sense of design, scale (all his pieces are about four feet tall), humor and Bolivian imagery. He also gets around. When we were in La Paz last – 234 kilometers away from Cochabamba – there was evidence all around the city of a visit by him.

I was given a lead that he was on Facebook. As such I sent him a message to get some background on his work but frustratingly he has not responded. I have tried Googling for articles on him but nothing-doing.

The only other record of his work that I am aware is on a blog called Where Are Andy and Jenny? We had the chance to get to know Andy and Jenny while they were in Cochabamba and Andy actually went out on with Mata²rte and another colleague to do “some work.” If you follow the link you can actually see photos of these pieces going up. It is a great record.

Yup

On a personal level it is frustrating discovering a new stencil when I do not have my camera. I went for my 06:00AM run on Thursday and found one in a park I had never been through before. At moments like these I am excited and irritated by the burden of having to come back so that my Pokémon like excess is sated. Once I discover a new stencil I always have to go back. Do you know how big a hassle that is?

The lyrical side of this project is of course watching the city change at a quotidian level. The city is always becoming new with fresh stencils and old with stencils from yesterday eroding from the warm, dry conditions of Cochabamba. With this observation I always wonder to myself if I can stop trying to record every stencil.

I live in hope. With some luck this blog entry will cure me.

Stencil Albums

If you want to look at the whole collection check out:

• Here for La Paz
• Here for new stencilis from Cochabamba
• Here for stencils by Marte Arte

Time to get up

It has been pretty exciting starting at Performing Life. Working with John is cool and I feel like I am using my area of expertise by writing grants and updating content on the new website. Contrary to this, as all good stories go, is that my previous schedule is incompatible.

I have exercised my remarkable intellect, yet again, and come to the conclusion that I need to change my schedule. I really want those black “X’s” on my daily checklist. From now on I will get up at 06:00AM and go for a run then study for an hour. Following that I am going to eat porridge have a shower and walk to work for 09:00AM.

I have actually already tried to do this. The truth is sleeping-in has seemed like a whole lot more fun so far. The only way to get this underway is to call-myself-out on my blog (is blog a proper-name and needs a capital?), read some science from Oprahdiluvian type websites, tell Sarah, check something T.S.Eliot said and set my alarm.

Thank you "youth culture of digital narcissism." Because of you I am pretty sure I am going to go for a run in the AM now.

The Saga of Casa Cuna

Part One: the joys of working at Casa Cuna

I have never spent a whole lot of time with children or made plans to have kids myself. Despite this I learnt at Casa Cuna that hanging out with kids was a whole lot of fun. As I developed a relationship with the orphans, or "abandonados de niños" as they are sometimes called, the smell of urine and household cleaner that greeted me when I entered Casa Cuna became the smell of play and laughter.

From my experience the kids were all friends. They got along really well. Yeah they cried but only when they fell over or took each other’s toys (e.g. normal kid stuff). A couple of them were more frangible than others but overall my perception of the children was that they were very happy. And really cute.

Ahhhh Pancho. I will never forget my first day walking upstairs and seeing you with the bathroom - door wide open - and barely balanced on the toilet bowl rim. You had gargantuan, limpid eyes and were making the most astonishing noises. How can someone be so little and create such profoundly violent flatulence? At the time I couldn’t believe it was you!

Part Two: how it functioned

Casa Cuna was founded by Doctor Maria Ferrera but the orphanage was managed fulltime (24 hours) by shifts of two teams of two nurses and during the day with Virginia (the coordinator) and her son Israel and daughters Maria and Ruth. In addition to the people there was Israel’s cat Chulo who was also an orphan found in the street. The nurses worked on rotating 24 hours shifts which would alternate 3 and 4 days per week between the two teams. Virginia worked 09:00-17:00 Monday-Saturday. I describe Virginia as strict but compassionate and the nurses as efficient and well humoured. These things together created a family atmosphere in Casa Cuna.

In terms of funding, up until the end of 2009, Casa Cuna was supported by Millennium. Unfortunately the money dried up in the States and things began to get tough at the orphanage. Amizade (a global NGO that has an office in Cochabamba) made an appeal to get more funds and wrote about it here and here. Despite this set back, while I was there, things looked good. The kids were well looked after and they got good food (they were eating a lot of vegetables, uncommon for a lot of Bolivian children). They also got a lot of attention and structure in their day.

Those of age were bundled into a car and taken to Tiquipaya for school Monday to Friday. The kids were aged one through to seven. I was told that at the age of eight they would be moved to another place, perhaps another orphanage, where they stay until they are about 16 or 17. Frustratingly no one knew where (or wanted to tell me) where this “other place” was or what it was called.

I believe that Casa Cuna got a lot of mileage out of what they had. For example, they washed/scrubbed the dirty old ripped mattresses and hanging them out to try frequently. This shows, in my opinion, their desire for hygiene as well as caring for what they have despite the destitution.

Part Three: what happened next

So what happened?

Well in a nutshell social workers form the government (Sedeges) turned up and inspected the place. The social workers were solemn bunch but everyone from Casa Cuna seemed totally relaxed an unstressed in their presence. I should note that at one point in the day Virginia asked me to not say anything bad about the orphanage. Obviously this struck me as odd. Why would I? Suspicious? Yes.

The assessment was completed and a week later there were no more kids.

I was told initially that they would be back in fifteen days. In the meantime we set about working on the house; painting, gardening, spring cleaning. I felt that it had been implied that the kids had gone on a holiday and that this was all totally normal. Then the fifteen days elapsed, then twenty and then thirty. Still no kids.

On the day I decided to call-it-quits they spilled the beans and told me that the kids had been taken away by the government due to the results of their psychological assessments and signs of abuse to the children. They also told me that they were going through the courts to defend these allegations. I have found this article which I believe is about them. In my opinion the article is "light" and quite ambiguous.

Through information acquired by a friend here in Cochabamba we also found out that an assessment had been completed by the same social workers earlier in the year. Allegedly, they had made recommendations that were not acted on by Casa Cuna and as such the kids were removed. The story of the removal sounded pretty horrible. I am not going to go into here. I will state that I never saw any abusive behaviour in my time at Casa Cuna.

Finally, it has been said that Bolivia no longer wants private orphanages. I have nothing to back this up but it does fit in with Evo’s nationalisation project and perhaps this is part of the explanation.

Part Four: goodbye

So the kids never came back, their cat Chulo died and I said goodbye. Perhaps surprisingly, I got a nice farewell and enjoyed hanging out with Virginia and her family, practicing my Spanish. But what occurred here... I will never fully know. I Emailed Amizade to get there side of the story but nothing has come of it so far.

In the last days, the house still smelling of cleaner and a faint aroma of urine, I played PS1 (NFS and Tekken) with Israel and had some amazing food cooked by Virginia. She also gave me these cool, handmade, chocolates. In spite of this it the farewell that did not quite feel right. I never got to say goodbye to the kids. To have formed a relationship with little-people and then to have them taken away... it is a bitter memory to say the least. This was also compounded by the strange approach by Casa Cuna took to talking to me about “what happened” with the removal. In retrospect it is possible that they were in shock, and angry, and as such did not trust anyone. Maybe they thought I contributed to it. Who knows.

Part Five: final contact?

A week after I left Casa Cuna they asked me to come in for a meeting. Virginia did not tell me what it was about.

As I made my way over I got a text message changing the time of the meeting so I returned home. When I returned to Casa Cuna no one was there. I left my Email address and a note in the door. No Emails have been received as of yet.