Thanksgiving in Bolivia

It's the day after Thanksgiving. Normally we would be enjoying family, shopping, football, turkey sandwiches, and leftover pie. Most likely we would be feeling warm, cozy, loved, grateful, and of course full. Yesterday morning we woke up in Bolivia and realized that we would have none of those things this year. In fact, the fourth Thursday of November is just another Thursday in Bolivia, and for us, a day of work awaited us. An 83-year-old man named Marciano had stopped us on our ride home the day before and asked for help finishing his latrine that had been built by our organization, but wasn't quite ready for use. We had the next day (Thursday - Thanksgiving) free, so we said we could come then. As we've already come to expect, he told us he would make us lunch.

On Thursday morning, we left the house on two motorcycles (we were carrying a load of bricks for the latrine, and one moto couldn't handle all the weight). Partway through our ride, one of the motos refused to climb a hill, and we had to leave it and go together with only half our load of bricks. Like he said he would, the old man was waiting on us, and had already started preparing lunch in his one-room, dirt-floor house. By lunch time, we had worked up an appetite laying bricks and shoveling dirt. Marciano invited us in, laid a rug on one of the brick benches lining his room, and brought us our Thanksgiving lunch: one bowl of boiled, unpeeled potatoes, a bowl with boiled corn and four hard-boiled eggs, a pitcher of sugar water, and a bag of salt. Having no table, he laid all this on the floor, and we ate with our hands while he busied himself around the room, occasionally asking us questions about our home towns, and often saying "Eat! Drink! If you're still hungry, we'll make more!" Other than the conversation, the room was completely silent, and partway through the meal, when we had potato peels and egg shells under our fingernails, we both looked at each other and couldn't help but comment on just how peaceful, simple, and satisfying the meal and our surroundings were. Due to Marciano's persistent pleas that we eat and drink as much as we wanted, we both got full.

After lunch, Andy went back to work on the latrine, and I went with our one good moto to fetch more bricks from the broken one. It was a warm, sunny day, so I was wearing pants and a short-sleeve shirt. However, by the end of the 15 minutes it took me to get back to the other moto, it was cloudy and getting cooler. I hurried to load the bike, and ended up spending a good 15 minutes loading bricks, dropping the moto while trying to turn it around, unloading the bricks so I could pick the bike up again, and then reloading the bricks a final time. Just as I got on my way, I felt raindrops, and a few minutes later, it was pouring. Within minutes, my clothes were soaked, I started shivering, and my arms turned red from the raindrops stinging my bare skin. As time went by, the dirt road got more and more slippery, and by the end I was riding in first gear with my feet down, fish-tailing into town. I arrived back at Marciano's house to find both he and Andy peering out his front door, obviously anxious for me to make it there. Andy ran to help me inside, and when I came in dripping and shivering, Marciano came out of the corner with his coat and two old, torn-up blankets. Since I had basically no other option but to sit in my wet shoes and clothes, the guys piled the blankets on, and the three of us sat in the dark room listening to the rain. After a few minutes, Marciano stood up and said, "I'll make some food," as though this was the obvious thing to do when you're stuck inside anyway. I thought about my full stomach and started to protest, but he was already pulling out potatoes and peeling. Thirty minutess later, it was still raining, we were still cold, and my feet were freezing inside our backpack (Andy's idea to keep me from having to put them on the muddy floor while I tried to let my shoes and socks dry). Marciano poured us each a huge bowl of steaming soup made from ground corn and diced potatoes. The soup had sort of a brownish, gelatinous, and not very appetizing look to it. To our surprise, however, it tasted just like popcorn, and I felt warmer right away.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. The rain stopped, we finished our work on the latrine, said our goodbyes, and headed home on muddy but passable streets. As we laid in bed that night, we couldn't help but think about the simple things that made what could have been a miserable day into a day that was pleasant, memorable, and full of reasons to give thanks: new friends, work worth doing, basic food, old blankets, a leaky mud roof, and sunshine. Thanks to all of you for thinking of us and praying for us always, and especially during the holidays.