Two faces of poverty

Yesterday Susan and I drove to La Paz in a rented Nissan Jeep. It was a beautiful drive. At the highest point, we stopped and took the picture you see here. For those that don’t do metres, it is a little less than 15,000 feet. Three children, the oldest a boy of about 8 came down from a group of adobe houses on a hill near by. As many children here, they were poor but looked healthy. He was with his sisters, one about six and the other three or four. I asked if I could take their picture. “No photo,” he replied firmly. Susan asked if he wanted some money for photo. “No photo,” he repeated. She gave him some money anyway. The three of them look at us with a fierce determination and considerable dignity. Then he said, “cuaderno.” I didn’t understand so I called Susan over, “cuaderno,” he repeated. “He wants a notebook,” Susan explained. “so he can go to school.” It was a heartbreaking moment. Here was a little boy who wanted nothing more than a notebook and we didn’t have one. He was clear that he didn’t want to be exploited by a gringo taking his photo. He didn’t ask for money. All he wanted was to be able to go to school. He put his arm around his little sister. I guess she was a little afraid. We said we didn’t have notebook. As we left I waved good bye and after a moment’s hesitation, he waved back. No smile, no chatting, just a simple request.

In a few minutes, Susan and I decided we would buy three notebooks in La Paz and stop on our way back. If they don’t come down, we will leave them for him, pretty sure he will get them. Susan said her friends here will think we are foolish to do that. “If my friend asks, “what difference will it make? I will respond. ‘Who knows, this little boy might become the next Evo Morales.” Or not, I thought but at least we can give him a notebook and that will make some difference to his life.

Later that day we saw another side of poverty. Our car stalled going up a steep hill in La Paz and the alarm went off. We couldn’t shut it off. We asked a man who was walking by if we could use his cell phone to call the rent a car company. It didn’t go through so he offered to help. He disconnected the battery but not before reaching over the passenger side to try and start the car, which I though was kind of weird. After he left promising to return with a mechanic, I realized my wallet was gone. He was so nice and helpful and I guess I can’t blame him for taking the opportunity.

The problem got sorted out but not before I pretty well freaked out because I had to take a taxi to the hotel to get help while Susan stayed with the car and in the stress of the moment my Spanish deserted me entirely and I had written down the name of the street she was on incorrectly. I never felt quite so incompetent. I’m usually great in a crisis but this time I was hopeless. Luckily Susan was calm, has enough money for both of us to make it through the trip and the hotel did help as did my unfailing sense of direction. In the end I lost about 100 dollars and the hassle of cancelling credit cards.
Traveling in such a poor country, especially living so closely with the people rather than traveling as a tourist, you realize the immense privilege we have in the North. More about that in a later post.