K'anchy Cooperative, DAY 2

Monday, April 20, 2009

So, remember when I mentioned I realized I forgot something? I am very disappointed to say I forgot my camera cord… you will not be able to view my photos until my return. UGH! Oh, the suspense…

Last night I arrived to my hotel in Santa Cruz at 11PM. Of course I was not able to go right to sleep; I had to figure out the internet so that I could post my journal entry. I suppose I didn’t HAVE to… but I did tell my mother the only way she would know I was safe was to read my blog (this was to force technology on her, make her actually use her Facebook account, and to raise the number of viewers to my blog. Sneaky, I know). With a 6:30AM flight to Cochabamba today, the morning came WAY too early. I had a total of three hours of sleep. As soon as the plane began to roll, so did my eyes. I was out like a baby and didn’t wake up until we aggressively touched town in Cochabamba. I love this city, but geez, every time I arrive at this airport there is a new challenge to face. We were unable to bring the medical supplies through security (!). We were told we had to leave the supplies (that were needed today for surgeries) at the airport until we return with a “doctor’s note.” It didn’t matter that we had one of the top heart doctors in the US with us along with all his credentials. I mean, come on! Would this distinguished doctor come to Bolivia along with HEART VALVES for any other reason than to perform surgeries? Apparently they didn’t trust us (or someone needed to feel important). Long story short, after we arrived at our hotel we were able to send someone back with a note and the boxes were recovered. This was great news, since we had four Bolivianos waiting at the hospital for us today to begin surgery.

DAY 2: Visiting K’anchy cooperative.

When our small group arrived to our hotel in Cochabamba we were greeted by Puente de Solidaridad staff’s (my Bolivian partnering non-profit and Solidarity Bridge’s Bolivian staff) hugs and kisses. Immediately I was told they would not be speaking English to me (group laugh), and they wondered why my hair was no longer blond, and why I looked like I wasn’t eating as much. In Bolivia blond hair is a rarity and a little more “meat” on your bones implies you are living a good life. I assured them I am living the life of my dreams and that I am trying to be healthier so I have better luck with a husband (every time I visit they wonder why at 26 years old I am not married. In Bolivia this age is really old. They worry that I will soon be too old for a husband). Of course I don’t share the thought that immediately races through my head each time this question is asked “Are you kidding! I am ONLY 26 years old!”

We have a great breakfast and Jose (my college who coordinates all Solidarity Clothing’s orders) and I separate from the medical group and head to K’anchy cooperative. Just a quick background… K’anchy is the cooperative that produces the polo shirts, t-shirts and canvas shopping bags for Solidarity Clothing. I am especially excited to visit and share all the recent excitement surrounding our last order.

K’anchy: On the ride to the cooperative Jose and I discuss the many challenges we have been dealing with importing (Jose in broken English, Jen in broken Spanish). Each time there seems to be something new. After many confused looks and interesting sentence structures we are able to create a plan for future orders. We arrive at a half finished building which is now the home of K’anchy. This is really hard for me to see. In the last year they were forced to move out of their previous building because the owner decided to no longer rent the space. I walk up the steps to the fourth floor of the building and I am greeted by the now 6 member cooperative (we used to have close to 12 members). The US isn’t the only country experiencing the hardships, lack of work, and price increases due to the current economic crisis. Bolivia has been hit just as hard. Solidarity Clothing is not the only organization providing work for this cooperative. Thankfully we have been able to keep our orders somewhat consistent. Unfortunately, the work load from other organizations has been lessened a great deal due to the economy.

After our hugs, kisses, and hellos we all sit down to talk. This is where it got really emotional for me… Times are rough, and they are not happy with their current building. “How am I going to provide them work?” they asked. They amaze me with their commitment to each other and their craft. I want so bad to tell them it’s ok, we have more work coming, but I can’t. There is so much uncertainty. Sometimes I feel like so much pressure is on my shoulders. In a way, I am the one controlling their future. The harder I work in the US, the more work they are able to receive and the easier they are able to rise out of poverty. This is a lot of pressure… but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The way I look at it is that these people are my family. Just like any family, we need to work together to survive, grow, and support each other. Never would I give up on them, and never would they give up on me. We talked about how we are going to get future orders and I shared with them the new marketing materials I recently distributed. It was great to see hope start to fill their eyes as they viewed the FANTASTIC photos of their shirts that were donated by a photographer friend of mine. “WOW!” They said. “How could we not get more orders with these photos?” We also talked about the recent Coleman Center order (http://www.cec.depaul.edu/) and all the great feedback I received. I realized that even though I may not be able to say everything I want to say, just me being here in Bolivia taking the time to visit with them gives them hope and confidence that together we will make Solidarity Clothing work. I need their presence, energies and reassurance just as much as they need mine.