One of the biggest concerns that I have for the children who live in the Villa is the enclosure of the Villa itself. Surrounded on all sides by barbed wire fences, you get the feeling that you are trapped inside. Even after two weeks, I have experienced moments in which it seemed that I was in a prison rather than a loving orphanage. The fortified surroundings of the Villa are by no means intended to create such emotions. To the contrary, they keep the many young children safe from dangerous intruders and the numerous stray dogs that prowl the neighborhood. But on more than one occasion, I have talked to mamás who say the children in their house are bored of the routine of going to school and coming back to the Villa for the rest of the day. These children, they tell me, probably know fewer parts of Cochabamba than I do. They also attribute some of the children´s aggressive behavior to the fact that they are isolated most of the day. Whenever I leave the Villa to walk up the road and catch the bus, I have several children ask me if they can accompany me. When I tell them that I am only going a few blocks, they say that they don´t care, that they just want to tag along.
I worry that these children´s intellectual and cultural growth is being impeded by the enclosure of the Villa. When the children do not get the opportunity to go into the city and interact with others outside the Villa, it compounds their feelings of isolation that stem from being abandoned. During my first two days here, in which I partook in meetings between the mamás, tiás, and administration, I heard many plans to have more outings in the upcoming year. I hope that this will be the case, but as progress and change is notoriously slow in Bolivia, I would prefer not to wait and see if these ideas come to fruition. As part of my schedule, I want to start taking the older children out on Friday nights to see more of the city. Whether it be going to a movie, taking in a play, or watching a sporting event, I am convinced that these children need more social contact. There is no activities coordinator in the Villa, and so usually on weekend nights, children go to the gym and play until they are tired (which doesn´t happen before 11). I have started to encourage the mamás to have their children accompany them when they run simple errands, and I think that many of them are already doing so. Hopefully, short trips to places outside the neighborhood will become commonplace.

In the Villa, Tuesday nights before dinner are reserved for dance classes. Estela, the instructor, usually comes to teach a variety of traditional dances to a crowd of about thirty children. This past Tuesday, however, was an exception, as the mamás and tías were the ones in the limelight. In anticipation of the 17th anniversary party of the Villa in December, Estela has begun training the adults in the Villa folkloric dances. I knew nothing of this until Evelyn, a young girl from La Casa Kantuta, knocked on my door at 6 on Tuesday night and told me that the dance classes were about to start. I asked her what she was talking about, and she reminded me of how I had agreed to dance in the fiesta in December. I certainly did not remember saying anything of the sort, but I also did not want to disappoint the many children (apparently) who were waiting outside the gym to see me perform. As I entered the gym, some of the excited children clapped their hands, while others led me to the center of the group of mamás and tías. I sheepishly said hello and immediately felt awkward upon noticing that I was the only male in the group. I asked if these dance lessons were for women only, but Estela assured me that men were an important part of the dance we were going to practice called ´´Tinku.´´ Yes, men, I thought, not just one American who has no clue what he is doing.
Still not feeling wholly comfortable but realizing that I was not going to be able to escape easily, I tried to prepare myself for the lesson. Estela said that we were going to do some exercises before we got started, which I interpreted as stretching to warm up the muscles before some serious cardio. It turns out that she meant we were going to get to know each other´s body chemistry better by pairing off and mimicking our partner´s movements. While it seemed comical and mundane, it did help me to focus on what we were doing. After several more similar exercises, we lined up for the real deal. I was sure that I would be lost amongst these people who had grown up watching the popular Tinku dance. But my worries were quickly eased when Estela showed me the one movement that the men perform--an upward thrust of the right knee and some bouncing from side to side. Even a gringo with two left feet like me could master this part. I danced in front of the women, bobbing up and down, leading them to the end of the basketball court. Outside of the gym, the children peered in and cheered me on (or they mocked my style, not really sure). In any event, after an hour of this repetitive motion my right leg ached, and I was sure that the nightime games of basketball and soccer were going to be difficult. Finally, Estela called for us to stop, and I issued a sigh of relief. Despite the fact that I was tired and in need of a Bengay treatment, I was happy that I had gone and learned the dance. As the mamás and tías filed out of the gym, I asked Estela if she could bring me a video of the dance next week, so that I could see what it really looked like in action. She agreed and thanked me for my enthusiasm. More importantly, she promised me that I would not be the only male in the dance during the big fiesta.
When I left the gym, the children who had watched the lesson complimented me on my form and energy (which may have been a little too much, as Bolivians are pretty reserved people). Even though I thought I had probably looked quite silly during the dance, I appreciated their support. I got the opportunity to actively participate in a part of the Bolivian culture that I otherwise would never have pursued. I hope that by next Tuesday I will have improved and that I will have a male counterpart to share in the experience.

After one week living in the Villa and getting to know all of the children, mamas, and tías, I am becoming acclimated to the daily routine. After morning spiritual reflection and prayer, the children who go to school in the afternoon stay in the Villa and perform chores, such as watering the many plants in the Villa, cleaning their respective houses, and washing their clothes. Other children attend various workshops, such as musical training, arts and crafts, and academic tutoring. Mornings are relatively peaceful and afford me the opportunity to interact with the children on an individual basis.
Thursday morning I relived my days as a young child by playing in the sandbox with five of the young children who were on a break from their Montessori classes in the Villa. I was surprised by how much I actually enjoyed building sandcastles and waterways to sculpted docks and pools. The children were particularly thrilled when we dug holes in all four corners of the sandbox and formed passageways leading to a large cavern in the center. They jumped up and down clapping as they filled the holes with water and saw the slow streams creaping towards the middle of the sandbox. Within several minutes we had most of the sandbox flooded, and the children began splashing each other with water.
While playing in a sandbox seems to be nothing more than a juvenile activity, it highlights something that I have noticed in my first week here; that is, these children receive great joy from simple things. Whether it is getting a piggy-back ride, singing songs, or jumping rope, the children of the Villa are happy to be outside and engaged in any activity. Instead of playing videogames (which they don´t have) or chatting on the Internet (which they do have), they prefer to partake in games with each other.
Friday afternoon, Zulma, the mama of La Casa San Francisco asked me to walk with her to take two of her boys to school. She told me that they ha been having a lot of difficulty recently, wanting to leave the Villa to live with their biological Mom in Santa Cruz. Zulma said that one of the brothers was leaving school midway through class and wandering around the neighborhood outside the Villa. They did not want to do homework and were not stimulated by any of the activities offered in the Villa. On our walk back to the Villa, Zulma asked me if I would talk to them and try to help. I agreed, and the last two days I have tried to slowly develop a closer relationship with the boys. The type of emotional burdens that these boys carry surely are not to be resolved quickly or easily, but I was encouraged this morning when I sat next to one of the boys in church and he put his arm around me and told me he was glad that I was there. Because the boys of the Villa have a lot fewer interactions with men than women, I hope that my presence will be a positive change for them. Basketball practices will start this week, and many of the older boys in the Villa have showed interest. Sports seem to be a great way to communicate with them, and I am hopeful that these practices will be a bonding experience for everyone.

After spending two relaxing weeks in Buenos Aires, Argentina with my friend Sam (who has a delicious burrito restaurant in the center of the city, www.californiaburritoco.com), I arrived in Cochabamba, Bolivia. Although it had been three years since I last came to Cochabamba, everything seemed to be quite familiar. From the incredibly lax immigration checkpoint to the inevitable bartering with taxi drivers, and of course the imposing statue of Cristo de la Concordia, I felt as if I had not been away from Cochabamba for more than a few months.
However, my excitement upon seeing familiar landmarks was secondary to the anticipation I had to see the children of the Villa. Alas, upon arriving that first day, most of the children were at school and a major planning project was underway in a nearby residence of the Villa called La Morada. At La Morada, I met and reunited with the mamas of the Villa, who were discussing activities and goals for the upcoming year. These discussions would last two days, and during this time, I learned a great deal about the daily operations of the Villa, as well as the difficult emotional circumstances in which these children are living. One of the administrators at the Villa noted that 70% of the children do not know the facts of their origin. And as many of the mamas noted in our discussions, one of the greatest challenges they face is explaining to a child that he or she was abandoned. When I asked individual mamas how they dealt with this situation, I received different answers, some preferring to be direct and telling the child that their parents could not support them and others opting to say that their mother or father was working so that one day they could be reunited with their child. I do not feel that I am in any place to judge whether one approach is better than the other, and through these conversations, I began to develop a great respect for the mamas of the Villa and the courage and dedication they impart to each child under their care.
Today, we returned to the Villa to resume the daily activities of morning prayer, sholastic tutoring, and of coure, sports. As there are seven houses in the Villa, I have made a schedule to eat with each house twice a week. Already, I have gotten to know many of the children, either from meals or from going place to place. It is amazing how affectionate and excited they are with me, even after such a short time, and it makes my job here much brighter. After eating lunch today with La Casa San Miguel, I took some of the children to play basketball. While most of them still struggle with the basics of dribbling and shooting, it was clear that they enjoyed themselves. The most memorable moment of the day came when a young girl named Lucero, who could not dribble and shot underhanded, made her first basket. Before the epic play, Lucero and I strategized about how we were going to get her open for a shot. After several successful fakes and no timely passes, she got the ball and shot, underhanded, from about five feet away...nothing but net (actually the baskets don´t have nets). She was so excited, running around, waving her arms in the air and shouting in delight. After we finished playing, Lucero told me that she wanted to play again tomorrow. Sure, I told her, we will keep practicing.
The last two nights, after eating dinner in La Casa Kantuta and La Casa Copacabana, I have helped children with their homework. The mamas of the casas tell me who needs the most help, and I try to do what I can to assist them. Tonight I began what will hopefully be the first of many English lessons with children in the Villa. Gardenia, a girl in La Casa Copacabana, and I practiced writing answers to questions about important dates in Bolivian history. I was glad to partake in this exercise, because I learned some things myself, such as the Bolivian Independence Day, Cochabamba Holiday, and the Bolivian Mother´s Day (it´s different than ours).
There certainly are many more details to fill in about my first few days in the Villa, but it is hard to put everything into words. Throughout the next 365 days, I will be updating you on what I am doing here in the Villa. But if you have any additional questions that are not answered in the posts, fell free to email me. Also, I would encourage you to check out some of the links, especially the one pertaining to the Amistad Mission. It will give you an overview of what the goals of the Mission are and how they are achieved.