St. Martin's Episcopal Church

The Prime Timers donated our Good News money to The Amistad Mission in Bolivia. This is news from Dana Juett, the Executive Director.

Dear Friends,

This month’s Hello from Bolivia is a story about the children of the Villa visiting Potosi in January. This report was taken from a fuller version prepared by Chris King, one of our two current interns from Nashville.

Thank you for your support of Amistad and have a blessed Easter,

Dana.

Hello From Bolivia March 2007 – ‘Children’s Villa Trip to Potosí’

(The following was edited from a report by Chris King .)

In late January with the summer vacation coming to a close, the mamás of the Villa decided to give the children an uncommon treat: an adventure to the highest city in the world, Potosí . Leaving on a Monday night around 10 o’clock, fifty-two eager children, seven mamás, Gualberto (the Tio), and an awkward gringo packed into a “flota” designed for thirty-six passengers. Upon loading our multitude of suitcases in the storage bin below, we crammed ourselves into the overwhelmed vehicle. Despite the ridiculously crowded condition, the children remained quite animated. We spent the first hour of the bus ride singing spiritual songs (of which the children know dozens) and laughing at our contorted bodies struggling to find a comfortable position.

The road to Potosí is neither short nor straight. After about the fourth hour of the fourteen-hour journey along endless windy roads to an altitude of 14,107.44 ft., the children grew restless. Without a bathroom in the bus and no convenient or safe place to stop in the middle of the night, the ride became a test of attrition. We finally stopped at a small village (still about seven hours from Potosí) and the children made a dash to the bathrooms. After “filling” ourselves with tea and a piece of bread with butter, we headed back to the mobile prison that awaited us. Luckily, a sleepless night and a bit of nourishment proved to be enough to put most of the children into a peaceful slumber.

At noon, we arrived at the bus terminal in Potosí and waited for Gualberto to get transportation to our hostel. But our wait was in vain, as Gualberto returned to tell us that our reservations had been given away to another group. Oh, Bolivia. So we spent another two hours in the bus terminal trying to arrange other lodging (no small feat for sixty people). Gualberto was able to eventually get us a place in a retreat area for church groups about twenty kilometers outside of the city. We ate a late afternoon soup in the mess hall. After our “early-bird special,” Gualberto told the children that we were going to turn in for the night. As it was five o’clock in the afternoon and I thought that he might be joking. However, he was not, and the children did not put up much of a fuss about sleeping when three hours of daylight (i.e. playtime) remained.

In the morning, a day at the hot springs had been promised to the children and for them that was the most anticipated adventure in our trip. While the location of the hostel was inconvenient for exploring the city of Potosí, it was perfect for our day at the hot springs. The “hot springs” consisted of one large swimming pool with an enormous tarp shading it (the power of the Potosian sun is not to be taken lightly). The children did not hesitate to leap in with joy. However, after surfacing, all but a few children quickly scrambled to the side of the pool. I realized that they did not know how to swim. Another adult in the pool tried to teach them. After several frustrating attempts and fearful screams, the children pretty much gave up on learning. Even so, they still enjoyed throwing balls to each other and inventing different water games.

After a full day at the pool, it was time to go back to our hostel for another early dinner. The children ate quickly, and then we went to play tag in the courtyard. After an hour or so, Gualberto told us that it was time to get ready for bed. It was only seven o’clock, but we were going to get an early start in the morning to visit the old coin mint and the famous mines of Potosí. The coin mint that we visited revealed part of this tragic story. The true sorrow of Potosí is found in the mines of Cerro Rico. For the last 450 years, these mines have been bled of almost all their profitable minerals.

Gualberto, four mamas, twelve children, and I took a ride up to Cerro Rico in the afternoon to visit the mines. It is not permitted to go without a guide. Once we were inside, it was as if we had entered another world. We spent another half-hour in the mines and then got escorted out of the muddy tunnels by our guides. The tools and techniques that the miners use today have not changed much from a century ago, and the faces of these workers reveal the rigor of their labor. Although I can attempt to describe my brief experience in the mines, I would encourage anyone interested in learning more about Cerro Rico to watch a documentary called “The Devil’s Miner.” You can get it at Blockbuster or on NetFlix, and it is incredibly powerful. After our trip, I showed it to the children in the Villa, and I think that some of them became very appreciative of the life and support that they have at Amistad.

The visit to Cerro Rico was a moving and fitting conclusion to our trip to Potosí. The bus ride back to Cochabamba was much more comfortable, as we took a flota with fifty-seats. Interestingly, this larger bus took only nine hours to get back to the Villa. And upon arriving at five in the morning, we were all ready for a long nap. A journey to the highest city in the world can be quite exhausting.

W. Dana Juett

Executive Director

214-369-0406