Un Recuerdo de
Bolivia: Living the Global Locality
Josh Meuth-Alldredge
Living and working at the UAC-CP is
often feels like exploring the innards of a paradox. This place is
fundamentally defined by what is local, just as it is essentially characterized
by its global engagement. Every day I learn new things both about the
university and the village in which it was founded. Carmen Pampa is a mostly
Aymará community of two hundred people that dedicates itself primarily to the
cultivation of coca, coffee, bananas, and the raising of livestock and
chickens. At the same time, this village
is home to 700 students of the Unidad Académica Campesina-Carmen Pampa.
The UAC-CP is one of the premier
accredited undergraduate institutions in rural Bolivia, and represents one of
five such Campesina Academic Units
within the Bolivian Catholic University system. Situated in a mile-high jungle
valley, our university offers B. S. degrees in Agronomy, Education Sciences,
Veterinary and Zootechnical Medicine, and Nursing. Additionally, we offer a
3-year technical program in Ecotourism and a one semester Pre-university
preparatory program.
Our students hail from across all
of Bolivia, and most of them come from low-income families as the first member
to attend university. Studying in the UAC-CP, for them, is a unique gateway to
a rewarding and empowering professional life. But just as importantly, it
allows them to gain the skills necessary to return to their communities and
empower the entire population. In a very real way, these graduates sustainably
develop their communities: They often return home and improve the local schools
through their teaching, implement and share new crop technologies, bring higher
quality medical attention to their communities, and make animal production more
safe, efficient, and humane. Through these actions, they help to integrate and
advance rural Bolivia in the global economy. In short, our empowered graduates
become the next generation of development in Bolivia.
Through
our five majors and diverse projects, the students we serve are entering the
global marketplace as nurses, vets, teachers, sustainable farmers, researchers,
and ecotourism guides. The uniquely local-global aspect of the university
exists most visibly within them; coming from rural, poor, and often isolated
villages, they receive a heavily subsidized quality education, which helps them
seek new opportunities in a developing Bolivia and a globalized world.
Crucially, though, the graduates strive to remain involved in their localities, either working within
their communities to effect change or improving their region by pursuing
careers in the nearby cities and countries.
Working within this university
context as the External Relations Coordinator is truly eye-opening. Every day
runs the gamut from tasks such as advancing international collaborations,
grantwriting, and coordinating international visitors to local jobs like
advertising our guest speakers, scheduling traditional dance workshops, and introducing
campus staff to newly engineered water facilities. The work is never boring,
and there are always new projects and crises to be approached (and hopefully
handled!).
Best of all, the local, intimate,
real aspects of this community permeate my life, and hold the pressures of our
globalized work system at bay. Making it to Skype meetings can become a novelty
when the tropical downpours cut power every other day.
Twenty feet from my front door is a trail
that winds through the jungle for hours of hiking, accompanied by good-natured
hunting dog.
“Commuting” to and from my
home to the upper campus, where I work, involves a thirty-minute trek up
Uchumachi mountain through coffee plantations, groups of livestock, and
forest.
But it’s the people, and getting
to know them, that really solidify the connection to this locality of rural
Bolivia. Walking down from upper campus the other day, I came upon the
washed-out remains of a log bridge crossing a stream. On my side, watching the
flow, there was a stooped and elderly
chola
(
cholas are indigenous women who
wear a distinctive outfit of multiple skirts, elaborate shawls, and
tophats).
Clearly unable to balance on
the few wooden poles that remained of the bridge
, she
turned and muttered a few phrases to me. Together, hand in hand, we managed to walk
her across one of the logs. On the other side she loudly thanked me in Spanish,
grabbed my hand again, and said a few words in indigenous Aymará, ending with “
waliki.”
Waliki is one of the few Aymará words I know, and it means
good. Little things like this give me
strength and perspective, and hardly a day goes by that I don’t appreciate this
link with “the local.” It balances my stressful workdays, and it helps me
understand better the reality from which the UAC’s students come. And that
perspective is sure to be the most lasting lesson of my time here in Bolivia.