Existential Engineering: who are we really helping?: June 2011

Last summer, I had the privilege to go to Bolivia with Engineers Without Borders to reconstruct decrepit roads. My eyes were pried open and jabbed with an indigenous Bolivian culture. I went down there for an engineering experience, but came back with an altered perspective on reality and what we actually can do to help humanity--let alone our own society. I have since continued my involvement with EWB, because I have felt that this NGO is attempting to do what I want to do in the world--help people through means of engineering. I want to share a few journal entries (unedited, only just typed up from a dirty field notebook) I had from this experience. Since then, my perspective on developing world engineering has changed, but my voice in these entries shows my young perspective. Here are two journal entries:

"10 more days left until I fly back to the states, I have much excitement and sadness at the same time. However, there is still much to be done here--I need to finish my site. The lower gabion wall of 27 gabions is almost complete, but that is pretty tough when I have only two workers show up and I end up doing most the hard-labor. I am leading the site alone today. I actually got a ride here instead of walking the 5 km because Ciscel, Claudia and Guido went to Acasio to take care of some business with the bulketa. They dropped me off on their way there. Now I am here, it is 9:15. Workers, if any, won't show up for another hour. I don't mind at the moment because it gives me some alone time with my journal and the early morning parakeets.

I made a deal with one of the workers from L'lutara, Hidalgo. He is one of the only workers from L'lutara. He is 46, with a wife, two boys, and owns a bee farm. For the past five days, we have come quite close as workers and as friends. I like him for his work ethic (sometimes) and his awkward personality. So the deal was, I have these steel-toed boots I bought at Wal-Mart that are extremely uncomfortable for me and I told him about them one day. I told myself earlier that I should give them to an honest worker before I get back to the states--they are heavy, uncomfortable and take up a lot of room in my bag. Hidalgo is very poor and his rubber-tire made sandals are falling off his feet. We compared foot-size and determined that we were approximately the same. Since he is kinda weird and is always asking of things from me, plata (money), checha, singani (80-proof alcohol), I was not just about to give him my shoes for free. I told him I'll make him a deal. If I gave him my brand new shoes (cost $30 USD), then he would give me two jars of his bee-honey (I had to specify because they also make hornet-honey, not so good), and he would also work for me at the site for one extra day. The L'lutarans are supposed to work five days in a row (even though most of them don't. I also mentioned that he had to be at the sire by 10 am, we will see if this happens. He accepted my deal, now I am just waiting to see if it this happens. He accepted my deal. He is a weird guy, and a lot of times there is miscommunication due to the language barrier, but he is trustworthy. For him, these shoes are gold. Even if they do not fit his feet, he will wear them with pride as a sign of status.

I am so fortunate to have more than one pair of clothing. I am American, I am automatically more privileged than even the richest lady in Tuquiza, Dona Fani. I have socks with my shoes. In America, I eat other things than potatoes each day. I am going to school to become an engineer. I know English and am educated enough to learn Spanish. I can take warm showers more than once a week. In fact, my group is very lucky here, we get access to at least a private shower, it's not hot, but is running water. I average about one complete shower a week, not too bad... The things we bring from America fascinate the people. We bring our grubbiest clothes, but to them they are clean, brand-new clothes.

I am glad I gave my shoes away to someone who would never have an opportunity to get such nice shoes. Guido has these opportunities [our EWB-Bolivian-in-village worker] all the time from the other EWB-ers. I plan on giving Don Effrien a couple notebooks and pens, because I have not used them very much and he, if anyone, is the hardest working man and leader I have ever met. I saw his notebook one day, almost full and ripped pages with a picture of Enrique Inglesis on the cover. A man of such power and respect needs a more professional looking notebook. It's the least I can do to show my respect for this man. By the way, Don Effrien is the leader of Tuquiza. most leaders of a pueblo will sit back and talk the talk, but not Don Effrien. *Haha, side note, a man just walked by with a goat on a leash and greeted me with a toothless smile saying, 'Buen Dia!'-common occurrence in Bolivia* Anyways, Don Effrien is small, cross-eyed, kinda funny looking, but this does not stop him from leading a town and working along with the rest of the workers five times harder. He is first to arrive in the morning, carrying the group's lunch, and also the last to leave the work site, finishing up the job he started. On top of that, he runs community meetings successfully and makes sure we are taken care of each day by having the women of the town prepare our food (which is their role in this project). I have so much respect for this man. If he asked anything of me, I would do it, even though he never will ask of anything. He would be an excellent leader of even a greater city, maybe even president of Bolivia--the next Evo Morales.

The people here can surprise you everyday. They can do so much with so little. I also have made many friendships with the villagers. Don Effrien, Dona Fani, Guido, Julieta, Rueben, Hidalgo, Bidel, Fidel, Victor and some of the older women of Yanayo Grande. All of these people are friendly, but a few of them go unseen by most EWBers, like Hidalgo. If I can make a positive impact on just one person here, I can go home happy and successful. Many of them have expressed graditude for our roads work, but I don't care about that. I want to show them opportunity, and possibly a life beyond potatoes. Maybe this road will lead them the way, maybe it already has.

[a little later that day...]

It's my lunch break now, and already many things have happened. I ended up getting three workers from L'lutara today, two falta from the five that are required. Claudia and Guido stopped by on their way back from Acasio to see how things were going. They were upset that I, personally, was doing the majority of the hard labor and that there was a lack of workers. Guido wrote a message declaring a mandatory meeting tongiht at 7pm in L'lutara. I am a little nervous, but it's true, L'lutara has not been keeping up their end of the deal. I am basically doing their work for them. I am only supposed to be there as supervision, but I end up doing more labor than most of them because I want to finish this project." (7/22/2010)

"Sitting ontop of the nearly finished man made Gabion wall at Tarcuni, all that is left to do is level the road and pour the concrete. However, we can't pour the concrete until the 9th, after the parties are over (2nd-8th) because there will be a lot of traffic through the road, and the concrete needs to cure for seven days. Basically this means we cut down on the amound of work we can do, we only will work today and tomorrow at Tarcuni. Huzzah! I am almost done here...

It's getting strange here... Everyday, we experience something of the ordinary here, which would seem extraordinary back at the states. Last night, I made my last batch of bread with the Horno (clay oven), washed my clothes in the spring, threw my last few rocks into gabions, watched some goats pass by as the main traffic for the day, pooped in the compostible toilet, stuffed my stomach beyond capacity with potatoes, shared lunch with the locals, spent time at night with my heart burn, and listened to the same traditional Bolivian songs over and over again in the car on the way to the work site. All of those things are my everyday here, I am starting to feel nostalgic at every moment. It's going to feel very weird as soon as I pass through the US Border. I miss everyone at home, but I know I will not act the same. I will probably laugh more openly, since that was one of my main forms of communication here, as it is an international language. I will also probably feel awkward having so many clothes and foods to choose from. So many changes are about to occur..." (7/30/2010)