The Heavy Stuff

Bolivia's been totally a great experience, but life is tough here.  My US family would be millionaires in Bolivia, and my host family is in the minority in that they have plenty of of food, a house, and a car.  There are lots of people begging on the streets, like in all cities.  I'm ashamed to admit I only stop when I have change already out.  I guess it's an effort to rummage through my bag?  It's too much of a hassle to look through my stuff, even if it means helping someone?  It's probably a hassle for them to not have food or water or a place to live.  So I'm making a resolution, right here on the internet for the world to see, to always help these people and not take for granted what I have.  Even if I give someone 1 peso every day, 1 x 9 remaining weeks= 9 pesos a week= 63 pesos total.  That's 9 US dollars.  It won't pull them out of poverty, but that'll take structural changes, and I'm already thinking on that.

So here's what motivated my new resolution.  Today in Spanish, we had an assignment to go out into the city and talk to workers in the informal market (aka self employed vendors in the streets).  My friend Sophie and I talked to a woman selling gum, cookies, little packaged things.  I bought a peanut bar (which was good, but that wasn't the point).  Reciprocity is really important here, so it's important to not just interrogate someone and then walk away.  So we talked to this woman, probably in her 50s or 60s.  She comes everyday to the street from 7am to 10pm (a 15-hour day).  She's been working on the street since her husband abandoned her, 38 years.  She had to start working to feed her kids.  They are now in college.  She doesn't live too far, but after she pays for the taxi she had only 1-10 Bolivianos every day to buy food.  ONE TO TEN.  That's 14 cents to $1.30.  Bolivia is cheap, but know what I bought for one Boliviano?  A peanut bar.  Eight Bolivianos for two empanadas (bread with cheese inside) the size of my fist.  That. is. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.  So I've decided that this woman and I will be "caseras."  A casera (or caserita, which is more loving) is a relationship between a buyer and vendor--when the buyer always come to the same vendor.  (From what I understand, it's only street vendors.)  The vendor is your caserita, and you are her caserita.  I'm going to buy something from that woman every day that I'm here.  It's one thing to hear about people living on under $1 a day, but it's something totally different to talk to them and have them share a little bit of themselves with you.  My friend Sophie asked before we left if the woman liked being a vendor.  She told us, "I had to acclimate to feed my children."