Bolivar's Horse

I thought of you two today,

about when you were kids

and we lived on Juan de Vargas Street

in Miraflores. Surrounded by buildings,

we used to cross two busy streets

to get to the Plaza Triangular

where you would run around

or ride your tricycles on the uneven pavement.

A huge statue dominated the plaza,

some Bolivian military hero

--Bolivar perhaps, yes, certainly

it was Bolivar—mounted on an antsy

but stationary stallion. The horse had one hoof

raised, head lifted back, while his master

held the reigns tight, not quite ready

to plunge into battle. The tail was tense,

high in the air. We dared ourselves

to sit on the base of the statue, just under that tail.

We held our breath and waited to see

if any cement turds would fall on our heads.

They never did.

But they could have. They most certainly

could have.

Pizza at Martinni's

What could be more natural

in this high Andean city

with its cobblestone streets,

open-air markets, and cacophony

of languages than pizza

at Martinni’s? Pizza, the ubiquitous

nourishment much modified

from its Mediterranean origins,

accompanied, of course, by another

universal—Coca Cola. This is true

comfort food, reassuring us

that wherever we wander

this spinning globe, in the heart

of things we are at home,

part of the family of man.

We relax into our meal while

Señor Martinni tosses and spins

the circles of dough. Later we walk

up Santa Cruz Street to our apartment.

Above the traffic lights and neon

signs, glitter the invisible

ever-present stars.

Hospitality, Bolivian style

The view from Felix and Clemi’s fifth-floor guest apartment looks out over La Paz and to the mountains beyond. Not only is the view spectacular, sun floods the room with warmth every afternoon, as we’ve had the privilege to experience on two occasions since our return to Bolivia.

We’ve known Felix Huarina and his wife, Clementina, since 1972 when we first came to Bolivia as young inexperienced missionaries. Felix was part of the youth group at the big New Jerusalem Friends Church in La Paz. When he found out I had been involved in theater, he invited me to work with him in writing and directing dramas with the young people. That began a long friendship.

We attended the wedding of Felix and Clemi during our first term in Bolivia, and later, when Orpha and Iber joined the family, their parents asked us to be the childrens’ padrinos (god-parents). As part of our duties, we performed the rutuchi ceremony when the kids were still little. This is when the god-parents cut the kids’ hair and shave their heads, indicating that these are no longer infants; they have entered the next stage of life. (People believe that shaving the heads of children causes their hair to grow back thicker and more beautiful.)

It seemed to be joyful occasion for Felix and Clemi, but rather traumatic for the kids. They survived. That was a long time ago.

Now, whenever we return to La Paz, we are still made to feel part of the family. Felix and Clemi have constructed a five-story apartment building so that their kids can live with them, each with their own apartment. They tell us that the top story is for us, and they really do want us to move in. For practical reasons, we won’t be doing that, but it is a great weekend retreat.

Two weeks ago, Hal got sick enough that we called Felix to get a reference to a good clinic. He told us on the phone, “Stay there. We’ll be right over.” When he and Orpha got here, they told us to pack a bag, that we were coming home with them. Orpha’s husband, Milton, is a medical doctor, and he was able to diagnose Hal’s problem and get the necessary medication. That, plus Clemi’s chicken soup, and time in a warm sunny atmosphere got him over the hump.

Since then, we’ve been back once again to relax with the extended family and spend the night.

We see Felix frequently other times, too, as he is a member of the history commission we’re a part of. He is a film-maker by profession (and a radio broadcaster), and he is in charge of making the documentary movie to summarize the 100-year history of the Bolivian Friends Church.

Thank God for long term friendships. Thank God for our family away from home.

Dr. Milton with Orpha (whose hair grew back)

Iber, now a computer specialist, with his family

Felix (film-maker), on right, with other members of our history team

Bolivia: From one extreme to another

Yesterday we came home to La Paz after a week in Santa Cruz, the lowlands! All that oxygen was wonderful, and our bodies rested in spite of the tropical heat and humidity. But when we got into our room here in La Paz, we found that the drinking water we had boiled and left in the pot on the stove had frozen. Not just a skim of ice, but one big ice cube. From one extreme to another! No wonder my body is confused.

We loved staying in Santa Cruz with our friends (also Friends) David and Arminda Tintaya and their girls. The family had just returned from a mission trip to India with Evangelical Friends Mission and they were bursting to talk about it. Many among Bolivian Friends are experiencing a revival of interest in missions. While in Santa Cruz we participated in the district’s first annual Congress of Missions, talking about missions in the history of the Bolivian Friends. Two of the Titnaya girls, Anabel and Anahi, are sensing a strong call to participate with God in mission, somewhere in the world.

Tintaya family, Santa Cruz

On our way home we flew closer to Mt. Illimani that I have ever been. It was a bit scary, but so beautiful.

The taxi ride from the airport to our room up in the Friends complex up on Max Paredes Street was another adventure of inching our way through traffic snarls, made worse by demonstrations down town.

The demonstrations have to do with the upcoming political referendum. This coming Sunday, everything will shut down in Bolivia. Everything but the poles, where the issue is whether the Bolivian constitution will be modified in order to let current President Evo Morales become president for life. That sounds as scary as flying too close to the Andes for comfort. People will vote either “Yes” or “No.” It’s up in the air as to which side will win, and with what consequences. It seems a little bit like theater-of-the-absurd, and more and more people here feel that way.

     We’ll wait and see. Like everyone else. Meanwhile, life goes on. With all its crazy beauty and dizzying extremes. Life goes on in the middle of the extremes, and its ordinariness is as beautiful as Mt. Illimani.

The light we cannot see

We’ve been in La Paz three weeks now. Yearly Meeting has passed, and Friends are back to work. For me that means hours of going through INELA documents for the 1980s, deciding what might have relevance for that chapter of the history, scanning, transferring to my computer, filing. I’m preparing for the work of analysis and writing I’ll be doing back in the US for the rest of 2016. I hope to bring the project up to 2010 by the end of the year, and I’m beginning to wonder if my goal may be too ambitious. The amount of paper to paddle through is daunting. And that’s even before I get to the archives back home in Newberg.

One of my ways to rest and play is reading, and my iPad is loaded with good books for this trip. One of the best, so far (and probably for the rest of the year), is Anthony Doerr’s All the Light We Cannot See, a book of historical fiction that takes place in France during World War II. The protagonists are two children, a blind French girl and a poor German orphan boy, on opposite sides of the war, both struggling through tragic circumstances, yet with minds-alive, eager to learn. They both manage to find good, the light hidden in this awful time in history.

The title sticks with me and is helping me find my way through the history of Friends in Bolivia. Much of the INELA’s story takes place in a background of oppression and struggle, and some of the internal patterns that emerge are dark. The human side of the church has to be acknowledged. I’m continually asking myself, “Where is Jesus in all of this?” I’m seeking the footprints of the Spirit, the grace that, however hidden, was there at every turn of events.

It helps to identify the evidence of God’s Spirit, alive and well today. Grace sightings. Here are a few that have popped up in these few weeks we’ve been here:

--The faithful, dedicated work of members of our history team, especially Humberto, Felix and Victoria. All the investigative trips out to interview old Friends have borne fruit, but have required sacrifice and hard work. Victoria’s patient work in the yearly meeting archives is finally bringing order out of chaos. (Victoria, above)

--The camaraderie and fellowship our team enjoys. It brings to life the concept that “The joy of the Lord is our strength,” and that this joy is often found in relationships as God’s children work together on a certain task.

--Sharing a meal with Palermo and Olivia, learning how God is helping them overcome economic hardships and build a life for themselves as young professionals. 

--Sharing another meal with Tim and Elise, rejoicing in their new home and how it has opened up for them possibilities of ministry and hospitality. Tim is yearly meeting superintendent and represents a new generation of professional Aymara Quaker leadership. I sense in him the humility to relate to his past with gratitude, even as he moves forward.

--The joy of worshipping in the Aymara language, another vehicle of grace.

--The doves that coo above our door in the early morning. The sound of the hard rains that pound the roof at night.

--Fresh bread, fried country cheese, mangos and papayas any time we want them.

--Sun light illuminating the sides of the city that climbs the walls of this canyon called La Paz. The buildings shine. The distant Andes Mountains rise above them.

Lord, show me your grace, hidden in the ordinariness of life. Show us all the light we cannot yet see in the history of your people here in this place. Open our eyes.

Sharing a meal with Olivia and Palermo

Art as a door into prayer

I have a certain place in my living room where I go to keep my morning watch and then return to from time to time throughout the day. My chair faces a window with a view of trees and sky. I also keep certain works of art nearby, to help me focus on life and give me courage.

On the stand by the window sit a copy of an icon of Pantokrator Jesus and a picture a friend drew/prayed for me in the Zentangle art style. On the wall above the stand is an original painting of a forest stream.

On another wall I see an original painting of three Aymara women, a crafted wooden picture of a Bolivian village, and a reproduction of Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son.”

 Pantokrator Jesus

The original of this icon is a gigantic wall mosaic in the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, once a Christian cathedral, later a mosque, and currently a museum that is trying to restore and blend the art of both religions. Several years ago I stood before this mosaic and felt moved. In the original Christ is accompanied on either side by his mother Mary and John the Baptist. His two fingers represent the double nature of Christ, both man and God, a response to one of the controversies of the 5^th century. I love the tender expression on the face of Jesus. I sense his love and care for me.

Zentangle drawing by Miriam Bock

Miriam prayed for me while I was doing research in Bolivia during January and February. She used this art form to focus her prayers. It’s full of symbolism. The center of the piece, the goose (which emerged and surprised Miriam) is a Celtic symbol of the Holy Spirit. The more ordered squares in the bottom represent the discipline and order of research, and the egg is the hidden treasure I hope to discover. The drawing also contains a playful spirit, the sprouts of poems, and the eyes of God continually watching out for me. There’s more, as I keep discovering. It’s a visual blessing and reminder of the life God offers me.

Forrest stream by Dave Vanderveer

My brother-in-law is a gifted artist. He’s also a generous person. I admired this painting, so he gave it to me. I love the way the light skips off the water. I can almost hear the stream singing over the rocks and the breeze in the trees. It speaks light and life and Spirit.

Three Aymara Women by Oscar Tintaya

Oscar Tintaya is a Bolivian artist who is becoming well known in his own country. He is also a Quaker, and he is my friend. This painting reminds me of the high aesthetic values of the Aymara people, as well as the mystery of this culture. These three women, seated in the market place, aren’t about to let you into their world. And yet God has opened the doors. I continue to marvel at the beauty and mystery.

Wooden picture of an Aymara village

This picture, by an unnamed Bolivian artisan, is formed of tiny slivers of wood artistically arranged to show a village in the foothills of Mount Illimani. Again, the beauty and mystery of the Bolivian landscape and the Aymara culture bring up a spirit of wonder and gratitude.

Rembrandt’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son”

I bought this reproduction of Rembrandt’s painting in The Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia, after having stood for an hour in front of the original. Henri Nouwen’s book of the same title was the key that unlocked this work. The picture draws me into the unending story of the father’s love, the possibility of redemption.

Even though a Quaker (with our reputation for stressing reality above symbolism), I’m also a poet with a love for art and a responsive nature. Art helps me pray, and I need all the help I can get.

Of course, the Original is far more beautiful than all these works. Sometimes I just close my eyes and enjoy the presence.

Quaker grey, Bolivian style

We’re home again, but I’m still under the spell of Bolivia. Certain images swim through my mind, and one of these is of Aymara women and their beautiful clothes. Here is one area where the Quaker testimony of plain clothes has not caught on. Cultural aesthetic values tend toward bright colors and glitter. Perhaps that has to do with the harshness of the natural context, at least on the high plains where most of our Friends originated.

A beautiful shawl tells people, “I’ve arrived. I’m important.” Even among Quaker women. It also tells people the family is prosperous enough to purchase one of these costly garments. And some of the shawls are homemade, of course—knitted, embroidered or appliqued.

If the Quaker value for understatement and plainness is to catch on here, it has to come from within the culture, not imposed from the outside. In the meantime, I, personally, enjoy the display.

Following are photos taken during yearly meeting or in a Sunday morning worship service. Some of the ladies are friends of mine, others are strangers.

Bolivia Yearly Meeting (INELA) highlights

Yesterday (Sunday) we concluded the annual marathon of meetings, reports and worship known as Yearly Meeting. For four days, 250 leaders and representatives of the different districts and congregations met together to hear reports, consider projects, and reflect on the challenges facing the church. Hal and I represented Northwest Yearly Meeting as visitors and participants. In many ways, it felt like coming home. Here are some highlights:

--The good leadership of President Timoteo Choque: He began the sessions with a meditation from Phil. 4:8 as a positive approach to the issues the church is facing. He asked people to make their contributions to the sessions positive, even when giving criticism. And throughout the meetings he brought people back to this concept. He is trying to deal with the Aymara cultural tendency to level leaders and focus on the dark side. It’s an uphill battle, but I see growth and transformation.

INELA President (superintendent) Timoteo Choque

--Administrative growth: I appreciated the forms that have been developed for debate and participation. Business was carried out in an orderly manner, and the level of participation was high. People showed respect for each other. All this was not without its humorous side. In an attempt to promote being on time, late-comers were locked out of sessions until roll was taken, then made to come to the front and collectively “pay a fine,” usually in terms of reciting a Bible verse. On the afternoon of the highest level of tardiness, the group sang “Many sons has Father Abraham,” complete with motions. It was hilarious.

 The latecomers "pay" their fine.

--The complexity of the issues facing the INELA, many of which come from the pressures of the government to rein in religious expression, and the extreme insistence on detailed rules and regulations: It feels like the church is walking a tightrope in this time and place.

--The sacrificial work of the women’s organization (UFINELA): After their report of trips and offerings during 2014, mostly in pro-mission outreach work, the assembly applauded. This expression of appreciation encouraged me almost as much as the report itself. Expressing appreciation is not necessarily an Aymara trait. But it is a Christian trait.

 New UFINELA president Basilia de Mamani (above) together with the officers for 2015

--The creation of a new volunteer relief and social action group, El Buen Amigo: This group, composed mostly of young adults, has been several years in its formation. This last year they organized relief work for the lowland church communities that experienced flooding. They also conducted medical clinics in several villages. During yearly meeting they introduced a new project of help to older members of the community. In introducing the project they called up three representative “old men,” one of which was Hal. Admittedly, he had one of the whitest heads of hair present.

--The sense of the Spirit moving the church to a greater breadth and depth of mission outreach: This was especially manifested on Saturday as we heard reports of the three new works in different areas of Bolivia and of the new congregation in Buenos Aires. We were encouraged to expand our vision as two young Bolivian Quakers shared their calls to go to India and China, respectively. The session ended in tears and prayer, and a sense of excitement, wondering where God will be taking us in the next few years.

--The concluding worship service on Sunday morning lasted six hours, but the time went by quickly. In between worship in music, times of prayer and a message from President Timoteo Choque, we called forth the different leadership groups (yearly meeting, departmental and district officers, women’s and youth organization leaders, the history commission, and pastors) for presentation and prayers of consecration. It was especially moving to see how the breadth of our leadership base. The Quaker value of horizontal leadership, a focus on the priesthood of believers, was plain to see.

                      Consecration of pastors on Sunday morning

I feel strengthened and encouraged once again, acknowledging that the Friends Church in Bolivia belongs to Jesus.