Note to Bolivia

It’s funny how you can meet someone and question everything you are doing.

Recently I’ve been thinking, who am I to think I can come into someone else’s country and ‘help’.  I come with my way of life, my opinions, my way of doing things.  These aren’t the best way.  Organising something more efficiently doesn’t mean its better.  It just means it is organised the way I like it. The way my culture tells me is best.

The concept volunteering and its worth continues to baffle me.  Especially being Bolivia where ‘us gringos’ aren’t that highly thought of. Discussion after discussion, in the nice bars and restaurants that ‘us gringos’ have the privilege of dining in, doesn’t get me anywhere closer to comprehension.

But the other day I met a man who is living in a single room (3mx4m), no kitchen or running water, situated in the bad part of town and, right next to a toxic dump.  He has chosen to retire there to help the people in the area.  So far the people don’t like him, it has been a year. He’s still hopeful.  If he can’t help, who can?

Some days I think I should just leave the rest of my money on someone’s doorstep and get home to earn some more for another doorstep.   But the truth is, I don’t want to leave yet, I’m having too much fun.

I hope the man I met is too.