Chapters 4, 5 and 6

MC

I have to learn Spanish so I´ve bought myself a word association course. The first word I learnt was cow; una vaca. I sat there and imagined a cow vacuum cleaning a field. It stuck, so I carried on, learning more words each day and practicing the rolling of my r´s. Burro, burro, burro.

Preparation was manic. Saying goodbye to my family, horrible. I knew I wouldn´t be seeing them for a whole year; seemed an awfully long time. But soon we were on the plane. Four teammates signed up for a year of “doing some good in the world”. All ready to work and get our hands dirty; linked by a common purpose, if not a common bond.

Hours later we landed at Viru Viru airport, Santa Cruz, Bolivia. That´s one of the first things I thought, “I have to find out what Viru Viru means.”

JC

I completely forgot to get the cash. I spent the weekend with Guapy in the Avion Pirata[1]. He got hold of some thinner, so we mixed that with clefa and petrol to make a killer concoction. We were flying. That plane will never leave the ground again but I tell you, every time I´m in it, I´m flying high. Guapy got bad at one point. He started screaming that he could see the devil. I got the bad laughs. I sat there, looking at the stupid bastard, making demon noises and trying to scare him even more. Fatima arrived with some cocaine, so we added that to the cocktail and I don´t really remember the rest. It was really cold, that I remember, so we slept almost on top of each other. Fatima started pleading for sex. She always does when she´s high. She likes to get hurt. Guapy was out of it so I gave her what she wanted just to shut her up. I think I came inside of her. Flying high.

[1] Avion Pirata- in the centre of Santa Cruz, there is a plane on a roundabout. It stands as a symbol against drug trafficking, seized by police in a massive drug raid. Ironic really that street kids use it as a hideout for drug consumption.

MC

What a vibrant city. Colour and noise everywhere. I liked it immediately. On the way from the airport, Richard, the project leader, gave us a little tour of downtown. It´s chaotic but charming. There´s even a real plane stuck on a roundabout. I spotted someone climbing up into it so maybe it´s a simulator or something.

We are on a tight schedule so have not had much time to explore. Our base is a secure home on the outskirts. Eight guys in a room with only one shower and toilet to share. Great people and they are already beginning to feel familiar.

Every morning is dedicated to Spanish learning. I have to learn it fast otherwise I know it will be a huge frustration for me; not being able to communicate with the kids. The Bolivian leader, Mercedes, came to us today and explained that tomorrow night will be our first contact with the kids. We will be going to the markets to find them and introduce ourselves as the new team. Roger laughed when he said, “Prepare yourselves. I´m sure you´re all ready in your minds but nothing can prepare you for the reality. And don´t take any money. They have really sticky fingers. One of them hooked a note right out of my back pocket just last week.”

I lay in bed wondering how I would feel when I saw them. Then I imagined how they would feel when they saw me.

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Chapters 2 and 3

MC

I heard the letterbox open at 08.07. As I had been doing for days, I sprinted to the front door to see if the letter had arrived.

“We´ll let you know by post within the next fourteen days,” they had told me from their head office. I had applied to do a year voluntary work in a third world country. The missionary organization had accepted me, so I knew I was going; I just didn´t know where.

“Mum, Dad. It´s here. It´s here!” I sat cross legged on the sitting room floor in our pokey end terrace in Reading, Berkshire. I smiled at my Mum, as I opened the letter.

“Wherever they send you, that´ll be the place for you,” she said with characteristic aplomb.

I read the words, “Congratulations. You have been selected to join a team who organize and manage CASA CRUZ, a day centre for Street Children and Alcoholics located in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia.”

“Bolivia. They are sending me to Bolivia.” It looked so amazing typed on the page. “BOLIVIA!” I repeated. 

“Where precisely is Bolivia?” Dad asked. He knew, as I did, that it was in South America but neither of us knew any more than that. He took out the atlas from our cluttered sideboard and located the land locked country.

It is pushed away from both Atlantic and Pacific coastlines, nestled in between Peru, Chile and Brazil.  At the bottom of the page, there were some key facts:

Population 6.5 Million, divided into nine provinces, La Paz is the highest capital in the world, Potosi the highest city on the planet, high indigenous population, poorest country in South America.

JC

Another police raid today. They got me. With no shoes I could hardly run.

 Some Brazilian diplomat is coming to town, so they want us out of the way. Vermin, they call us. Only for the weekend. Then, if one of us pays up, they´ll let the rest out. Same old story. Only this time, I´m the one that was left out. Sonia, Edela, Chico, Indy, Jhonny and P Chino are all inside. Poor buggers.  I´ve got till Monday to get 60$. If I could find the fucking Brazilian bastard I´d steal it right off his back. Snatch his watch or his wallet. I´d phlegm up and spit right in his face and scream at him to go back to his own fucking country.

I am too nervous to go stealing today though. My nerves just aren´t right. I´ll see if I can get some Rohypnol[1] or more clefa. Or I could just go to the Mission House. Those gringos that think they fucking own the world. Last time I took 50$ right out of one guy´s back pocket. Fancy walking around with that in your pocket in a room full of thieves and drug addicts. Stupid idiot…

---

[1] Rohypnol – a heavy sedative marketed by Hoffman- La Roche, ten times stronger than a Valium. It´s use as a medical drug, for anesthetic or for treating insomnia, has never been approved in the USA.

Chapter 1 Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia. 1992

JC


Fuck.

* * * * *


Uff.

* * * * *


My shoes. They´ve taken my shoes again… Bet it was Indy. “Is Indy here?”
I look around in the dark. I´m so cold. I hurt all over. The only part of me that doesn´t hurt is my tongue. Damned winters of Santa Cruz. Hottest summers and cold, damp winters. There´s no escape.

Why did I have to be born here? Did I ask to be born in this shithole?
“Guapi, have you seen Indy? The bastard has stolen my shoes again.”
I shake Guapi but there’s no response. I turn him over and his face is red raw.
“Shit man. You´ve overdone it again. You look dreadful. Have you seen Indy?”
I´ve no idea why I ask him. Of course he hasn´t seen Indy. Guapi fell asleep in his own vomit. That´s probably why Indy took my shoes and not Guapi´s. Guapi´s are covered in vomit.

I stick my hand down Guapi´s pants and grab his glue pot. It´s stuck to his crotch so I snatch at it. He lets out a yelp of pain, writhes and spits at me. I think I must have pulled skin right off his stinking penis. I have a bit of clefa left and I squeeze every last bit into the pot. Once my nose is in the pot, the dreaming starts; colours, letters, movements of light that take me faraway. A yellow word, can´t read it. A woman in flight. A bed. A ship.

That feels better. Who cares if I have no shoes? I live in Bolivia. I am a Bolivian street kid and I am looking at fucking fireworks going off in my head.


NOTE: "Clefa" is a  a mix of glue and lighter fluid, inhaled by street kids.

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Hi Folks

There are now a decent bunch of us signed up so I am set to start posting. I just wanted to run this test first, to see that it gets through.
A Happy and Creative 2011 to you all.
Much love M

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