We stepped off the plane in El Alto, Bolivia at about 5:00 o’clock in the morning after a full day of travel. We had been warned that El Alto was the highest altitude airport in the world and that most who fly into it experience altitude sickness, so I had been in a state of worry and constant prayer since we left the airport in Atlanta. As we walked through the terminal and into the airport my stress stayed consistent as I rushed to fill out customs forms and fumbled around with my luggage. As my squad and I stood in line waiting to be let into the country, I began to really look around. I looked at the woman sitting behind the desk stamping passports; the older gentleman in line behind me in his scuffed-up dress shoes and faded derby cap; The man in uniform in front of me with a stern face, directing people where to go. I looked into their deep, chestnut-brown eyes and at their rich, dark skin and I saw the most breathtakingly beautiful people I had ever seen in my life. It finally sank in that I was in the middle of South America, about to spend the next month of my life in Bolivia, and I can’t articulate the feeling of pure joy and excitement that washed over me.
After arriving in the airport, our squad split up into our teams and we each went our separate ways to the cities where we would be doing ministry for the month. For some they were already there in El Alto or the neighboring city, La Paz. Others had a bit of a longer journey. For my team, it was a 28-hour ride in a double-decker bus on “Death Road”— ranked as the most dangerous known road in the world. In that 28 hours of no AC, sweaty people crowded into dusty seats and slippery, mud-covered road ways, I experienced a roller coaster of emotions: frustration, exhaustion, hunger, discomfort… But along with those came laughter with my teammates about the ridiculousness of our situation. Joy in watching the children play in the seats ahead of me. Beauty and majesty each time the fog opened up and you could see the breathtaking view of the Andes Mountains and valleys in between. And every now and then I would have the uncontrollable urge to throw my hands in the air and shout, “I’M IN BOLIVIA!”
As I watched the sun begin to set for the second time since we’d boarded the bus, we arrived at our destination, the little town of Rurrenabaque.
It has now been a month that I’ve had the privilege of calling this town my home. It’s taken me until now to sit down and write out my thoughts and feelings about this place, because there hasn’t been a minute where I’ve wanted to take a break from being fully immersed in the amazing people and places I get to be a part of here every day.
There is so much I want to say about this place that it’s hard to condense into a blog post. But here it goes: my best attempt to walk you through a day on the World Race in Rurrenabaque, Bolivia.
Every day we wake up and walk down to the kitchen, where our host mom, Daisy, fixes us the most incredible breakfast. We always have something delicious, and most importantly super sweet, like pancakes with apples baked into the middle and syrup on top; deep fried pastries with homemade strawberry jelly or empanadas. My host family also has a yogurt business, so every breakfast and snack includes delicious, homemade yogurt. Mmm.
We have a big family here. The household includes Daisy, her husband Franc, their two sons, Jeremiah (25) and Franc Lee (15), Daisy’s sister and her family, including a 3-year-old boy that we all call Babeo and an 8-year-old girl named Artisar. There is also Daisy’s other sister who teaches Zumba classes at the house, and the grandfather who I swear walked straight out of a Pixar movie.
Did I mention that Daisy also runs a nursery from her home? So I get to see tons of adorable, Bolivian babies every morning — my dream come true.
After a breakfast filled with endless laughter over our confusing Spanglish conversations, we gather up our things and start our walk across town to be sure we will make it in time for Happy Hour at 9 o’clock.
Happy Hour is my favorite time: full of singing, dancing, goofiness and drinking. Singing and dancing to “Father Abraham” and other children’s bible school songs. Being goofy, playing games and having bubble gum blowing contests. And guzzling down bright red Kool-Aid from paper cups.
Oh yea, and everyone there is under the age of nine.
This takes place every Sunday morning at the “Mission El Faro” and is just one of the many ways Jack, a long-term missionary now in his seventies, does outreach to the community. In addition to children’s church, the mission also holds church services every Sunday night for adults, a youth night on Saturdays for teenagers to come watch Christian films and discuss, and really anything else Jack can think of to spread the gospel in his community. He also uses his house to take in boys without a home or who do not have healthy living situations.
On all other mornings of the week, upon arriving at the mission, we do a bible study with Jack. After that, we get started on work. Our project for the afternoon may include cleaning the walls of and painting the outdoor amphitheater where church is held, working in Jack’s gardens, refurbishing the inside of the mission, designing flyers to invite community members to the mission, and helping anywhere else we are needed. We are never working alone. Jack always joins us, along with our new friend Jeremiah from our host family, Jose (22) and Gonzolo (19), who are brothers that are staying at the mission with Jack until December to study the new testament under him, and Elias, the 15-year-old boy from an indigenous village that Jack has taken in and is raising as his own. I am getting significantly better at Spanish, compared to what I expected at least, and can actually hold conversations with some of the boys. Sometimes I thank my high school Spanish classes for kicking in, but most times I thank God for giving me the Spanish words that I know did not come from anywhere in my own memory.
I absolutely love my new friends. We spend the whole day joking and just being our goofy selves with each other. There’s never a day with them that I do not feel completely filled with joy.
After work we typically have a big lunch that we cook in Jack’s kitchen, which usually consists of fish from the river, wild hog from the jungle, rice, vegetables, stew or whatever we can muster up to feed all 10-13 of us. Usually after lunch we start back up with work, unless Jack has planned a different adventure for us for the day, some of which have included traveling to indigenous villages to speak with the tribes about Jesus, to pray over them and to hand out candy to the children and play games with them. We have also made some other unforgettable memories, like massive mud fights in the Beni River, taking 3-hour backpacking trips up Mount Susse to camp out under the stars at night and so many more.
A large part of our ministry here is also just to create relationships and closeness with the boys living in the house and all the children who visit the mission seeking help or attention. After an afternoon of working hard and playing hard, we typically have a small dinner with the boys and Jack and then stay until about 9 or 10 sharing stories and laughing or playing card games together. When we arrive home at night, we join our host family in whatever movie they’re watching as a family together in Spanish, or to play more card games like Uno around the kitchen table. Some nights all the aunts, my team and Jeremiah learn to salsa, merengue or flamenco dance together outside under the pavilion. My Bolivian family reminds me of my own family: playing cards, watching movies or strange TV shows on the discovery channel and just laughing and being weird and crazy together. I feel right at home.
Once the fun is over and everyone is settled and ready for bed, if I’m not too exhausted from the day, I will climb up on the flat rooftop with my iPod. I’ll stand under a vast abyss of stars, more than I have ever seen in my life, and look out over the mountain ranges and the rooftops that vary from the two-story, cement buildings to the tin and tarp roof coverings of the shacks below. I will turn on my worship music, throw my head back and my hands in the air and sing and rejoice in my savior with all my heart in the crisp night air. Before my head hits my pillow, I reflect on all the incredible experiences I’ve had and the outstanding people I have meet here and that I know I will never forget. I thank Him for sticking me in the middle of this town in South America with my new, crazy, weird friends. I thank Him for my 28-hour bus ride. I thank Him for the beautiful, inspiring women He has placed me on this team with to grow me and encourage me through this process. And I thank Him for the beautiful life He has called each of us to live.
It is now only a few days until we leave this place and move on to our next ministry location in Peru. It is crazy how fast this month has flown by and how much love my heart has already experienced for each person I’ve met here. I know the day we leave will be a giant cry-fest, and that there are 10 more unavoidable, teary-eyed goodbyes to come after this one, but I thank God for placing me where He has and for the opportunity to fall in love 11 different times this year.
It is the most incredible feeling to have the assurance of knowing that right now, I am exactly where God wants me to be.
I want to thank all of you who have loved and supported me though this journey and who have made it possible for me to be here right now, bringing the kingdom of God to the people of Bolivia. I love you all and am blessed to call you my friends and my family.
Keep an eye out for another blog to come with photos from my time in Bolivia.
