Magnificat

Due to the early arrival of night in the southern hemisphere and the temporal disorientation that accompanies jetlag, my body is feeling extraordinarily confused as to why I would be asking it to stay up into the wee hours of the morning again, when in reality it's only a few minutes before 9pm. Lost in my timeless haze, these 24 hours in Bolivia have been subjectively stretched into several whole days. So, in my "few short days" here, I've breakfasted with the sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, taken a tour of the grounds of their various educational institutes, shotgunned dozens of questions at the volunteers in the Hogar, asked "Como se llama?" even more often among crowds of clinging girls, ridden double on a motorcycle taxi to the grocery store, and accompanied the other volunteers in taking a fever-ridden baby to the doctor's. Between taking turns cradling and walking with little Juan Pablos (yes, named after the Pope), we finally got around to eating a scrumptious dinner of peppers, onions, and chicken. Note: this meal MUST be eaten with fresh-squeezed lime and garlic salt.  Yes, food did make it into my very first post, and it will continue to be featured regularly, whether good or bad.

The heat and humidity here amplify the slightly singed smell in the air, produced by the burning of sugar-cane, which apparently happens frequently this time of year in Montero. The same goes for the stench of raw meat and wilting vegetables that we passed today on various trips throughout the dirt and rubble streets of the city. The market stalls, piled high with colorful produce, are for the most part run by indigenous women in full skirts, broad-brimmed straw hats, and long black braids. The men, on the otherhand, seem to take charge of the transportation industry--the old-style motorcylces that function as cheap taxis are as prolific as the market stalls. Though I was concerned for our safety at first, the moto-taxi ride this afternoon was actually pretty exhilirating. Amidst all the dirt, trash, and odd smells, I hardly expected to discover that the Hogar (and in fact, the entire compound run by the sisters) has fresh, drinkable water in bottles and taps available all throughout the campus. This was honestly one of the highlights of my day, as I had been expecting to spend the year boiling water every time my throat got a little dry (which is quite often here in the heat and dust).

But, of course, the rest of the highlights must be claimed by the children. Although he'd been asleep or whiny nearly all night, Juan Pablo granted me a few smiles and giggles just before I delivered him to the other volunteers for bedtime. And, earlier this afternoon, with the intention of starting a 'ring-around-the-rosy' game, I ended up spinning in circles and singing with a group of delighted, sticky-handed 4 year-olds. After several verses, the girl in the center would say a key phrase (which after about 5 rounds I still can't decipher) and then run around chasing the rest of us with a flimsy green switch. Although I think I forgot as many names as I remembered, I felt a surge of happiness when I called Giovana by her name and watched a surprised smile brighten her timid features. And, though he may not have understood a word, I greatly enjoyed helping a little four-year-old boy to say his grace before dinner. He looked at me with such trust and joy, as I made the sign of the cross with his hand and then folded his grubby fingers together.

And, on that note, I should retire to do my own reflections on this intense day...and finally shower. Hallelujah. Thanks be to God for running water.

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has looked with favor on His lowly servant, and holy is His Name."