What NOT to do in Rome....
About five years ago I had the opportunity to do some volunteer work
with an organization in Bolivia. We were in the Berlin district, in
"el compo" or the "the country side." It is a very poor area. The
village of San Jose is the image that most people construct when they
hear the words "third world." A community of about 400 people with
one water well, many chickens, no electricity and children walking
around dirty and naked. Most families possess their clothes, a few
hand-tools and some livestock. It is the type of place where your
personal hygiene, what you eat and what you drink is of critical
importance, all the time.
We were there to work with some locals to help construct a permanent
community center that could also serve as a flood relief center. It
was a long, hot, ten days but across the language barrier and obvious
cultural barrier we seemed to connect with the local people. After
several days some of the men would bring grapefruit for us or help us
in small ways deal with the many inconveniences of living in "el
compo." The bond between all of us grew remarkably.
Finally, the last day one of the men, through a translator, invited
us to his daughter's fifteenth birthday party. In Bolivia, as in
many Latin cultures a girl's fifteenth birthday is, next to her
wedding day, the biggest social occasion she'll likely ever
experience. It is a "coming out party" sorts and a great event for a
community as the proud father "presents" his daughter (now eligible
for marriage) to the village.
That night, having graciously accepted the invitation, we all
gathered in the mud hut, thatched roof building that served as a
church. It was a simple gathering with candle lights flickering when
in through the side door stepped the proud father wearing the same
dirty pants he'd been wearing all week, no shoes but wearing an
immaculately prepared white shirt. He spoke a few words, tearfully
telling of the pride his daughter had given him and then called her
in . . . . and there was this beautifully dressed young girl wearing
a chiffon gown and ear rings and jewelry. In a room with dirt floors
and split rail benches this young woman was absolutely radiant. It
was incredibly in its juxtaposition of poverty and elegant and
poignant ceremony.
Everyone sensed the emotion of the father, the girl and all the
friends who had played a roll in this young woman's life.
Then, true to the long tradition, the girl moved between the benches
and provided each invited guest with what appeared to be a little
sugar-coated cookie. I ate it with some apprehension but realized it
was freshly baked and still warm from the mud bee hive oven.
Following the girl was her beaming and proud papa. He received the
congratulations of each villager and then offered them a drink of a
local mixture made of cloves, peanuts and water. Only when he came
to the man next to me did I realize ..............there were no
little cups, no glasses, only one five-gallon plastic bucket holding
the "punch" and one hand carved, wooden ladle. After each person
drank from the ladle, it went back down into the bucket and the next
person was offered a drink from the same ladle. For ten days we had
fanatically exercised every precaution NOT to drink the water, NOT to
expose ourselves to health risk, not to, not to, not....and now...
what to do? Do you risk offending the father on his proudest day by
trying, in English to explain about bacteria and virus and risk of
infection and illness?????? It was an agonizing thirty seconds
before the label was placed before me.... and......... I prayed
quickly and drank the stuff. It's taste (which was very oily and
silty, by the way) was secondary as to the health risk. But, the
father was smiling so broadly, I couldn't offend this kind, loving
man from another world who had asked us to participate in this very
special event in his life.
"When in Rome...." do what they do but do take precautions. If you
are still interested to this point, please let me know and I'll be
glad to share "the rest of the story." The moral is quite clear....
Richard
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