An old man whistling down the way, walking into the sunset from his long day in the fields… a dog hobbling along the cobblestone, rushing to find dinner at his owner’s door… children laughing, screeching while playing hide and seek in the plaza… roosters continually announcing the day and now dusk… these are the sights and sounds felt as I sit outside after my third day in Pucará. Today was the last day of school so the entire town went down to the school for the Pedagogic Fair. For days before students were painting pictures and murals, finalizing their science experiments, and perfecting their physical fitness performances. Most of the day was spent sitting on the grass, watching local dances, baton routines, and band performances. Already half of the kids know my name and think it synonymous with the ‘pelota’ (soccer ball). We have played every afternoon since my arrival, which children as little as 4 wanting to have a part in the action. Girls have played as well, though usually leave discouraged after not being passed the ball. “Where did you learn to play?” they ask. As if soccer was some long forsaken sport totally unknown to the female race. We play on the grass field at the school; the older boys play futbolina on the basketball court. I would love to get to know them and play at their intensity, but it is obvious that they rule the court and are not ready to have a girl invade their space; all they do is stare and whistle… and laugh at the little kids.
The big budget meeting is tomorrow morning- I suppose it will be my first “official” appearance in town, in front of the Alcalde (mayor) and other officials. Technically, I am trying to push for more funds to be allocated to the Culture and Tourism sector of the budget, though where exactly that money will go is yet to be determined. The previous volunteer, Michelle, started a library, complete with books, games, computers, and a television. It seems there is a great demand for computer classes, both from students and adults, and in order to continue using the library and dive right in to a project, I will be teaching computer basics. I will be going against my will and teaching Windows, and also Word and Excel. Apparently some Pucareños travel the 2 hours to Vallegrande every weekend to attend a computer class, and with travel and lodging it ends up being an expensive course. In order for this computer course to happen I had to write up an operating plan, asking for money from the state, the Participacion Popular, and the Alcaldia itself.
Yesterday I met Maria Yuma, a young woman who is on the library committee. She helped me write this plan for the classes and since then we have chatted a lot. She is the clinic administrator and knows a good deal about everything in Pucará; her energy and friendship has been welcomed with open arms. Between playing soccer, preparing for the budget meeting, and mingling with the school congregation, time has been moving along. Of course there are moments, such as these, at night when I try to escape to a book to find something familiar… or at least take on an activity that I would be doing whether in Paris, in Charlottesville, or in Pucará, Bolivia. I wouldn’t call it homesick; because that insinuates that home is where you would rather be- instead it’s just the need to get accustomed to a series of awkward, uncharted situations.
I have yet to move into my own house, and until then I think it will be hard to feel really at home here. I look forward to the day when I can shut my own door and open it again in the morning, feeling completely rejuvenated and ready to be Bolivian again. I tell my family I will be leaving next week to spend Thanksgiving in Santa Cruz with other Peace Corps volunteers. Its odd when holidays and customs just don’t translate; surely it is the same for us and customs here. I am anxious about leaving, if only for the time it will take to get accustomed once again to living in such a remote place. I am on my second candle, watching it burn as I write or read. I keep waiting for a phone to ring, a car to pass by, or a random horn to blow. But had you never heard these sounds in your life, a day here in Pucará would be perfectly normal… and loud.
