I had a silly charming story to tell and instead decided to post this boring rant about politics and slums. That´s how it goes.

This week, while sifting through some volunteer abroad sites, I came across this advertising line which probably expresses what I most despise about concepts of development work:

After your first few days sampling the delights of these two cities, you can, if you wish, get down to some serious work with street children, or perhaps volunteer with orphans!

My instant grumblings went something like- howcanthesepeoplebeokmakingmoneyofftheideathatcharitymakesyoua
goodpersonandworkingabroadisasacrificeforthepoordefencelesssuffering
peopleof theworldmerrrrrrrrr.

And then I found myself in Santa Barbara for the first time. Santa Barbara is a slum, a product of neoliberal policies, privatization, modernization, and internal migration. It is a community built on the highest point of a steep, rocky, dusty mountainside to the south of Cochabamba. It may be the first place I have ever been where people told me the folks were poor, and when I looked around, instead of thinking about how calm and idyllic their meager living spaces were (re: Mexico, Nicaragua), I just thought- shit, this looks miserable. But the thing is, I immediately started to think- well, it could be worse. I bet in India and Africa you really see how horrible and disgusting and... and I caught myself and thought- what the hell? Is that what I want? To see people suffering? To be shocked? To be justified in all my years complaining about the state of the world? And if what I want to see is suffering then, on some level, don´t I buy into my most hated- I came here to save the world and do good- bullshit? I know that I don´t, which should be enough, I suppose. But if I´m not just spectating here, what do I think I can do?


Well, for starters, the people who live in Santa Barbara are amazing. That was always a part of the idea, what I wanted. To learn. And I don´t know what it says, that they are so lovely. That we can make inhospitable awful places into homes, I suppose, unlivable lives into... lives. Whether that should be considered a good thing or not is hard to say. And then of course we of Pro Habitat are up there to do development work. So there are our projects. I like them. Sure they are community and empowerment based and all that, but of course, at the bottom line, they aren´t exactly political tools. But still. If the world is one enormous disaster, it´s nice to know that there is in fact some bizarre and intricate patchwork of projects spreading across it. That there is no real answer but there are folks driving pick-up trucks, and community groups talking. And that might be enough, from the development perspective. It´s up to collective action and politics and whatnot to meet it half way, in the transformative sense, i suppose.

And so, speaking of transformative politics, on Saturday I went to see almost every Latin American president come and talk in a stadium filled with indigenous peasants and assorted South American residents. I went with Red Tinku, a social movement I´ve joined up with. Their movement seems to consist primarily of selling leftist books and conducting free popular education classes in the plaza most nights. Within five minutes of meeting the organizer he had sent me to make photocopies. Well, I wouln´t be one to knock the revolutionary fire of the xerox machine. Anyhow. We went and sat in the 100 degree sun. I was forced to wear a Bolivian flag and felt somewhat silly. We waved flags and yelled. Chavez, Morales, Correa, Ortega, Zelaya, and Cuba´s vice president (sadly, no Raul), sat onstage and watched dancers dance, singers sing. They declared the creation of a new Latin American currency. Talked about unity. Sometimes it´s hard to see how politics on that level connect with reality in its everyday forms. It´s nice to hear about the revolution and the possibilities, but life changes so little, and so infrequently. For the first time that I´ve ever heard of, the presidents met with the folks from the social movements here and said- sup? what can we do with you? And that´s kind of amazing, to me. But when do meaning and reality coincide? And can our eco bathrooms be a part of the change? Does it matter so long as the folks building them are making demands?


And of course, in the end, I do believe in all this. That a better world is possible. It´s below, and to the left, as the Zapatistas like to say. That collective action and solidarity and struggle can produce change, even on the daily level where you feel it, and that change is necessary. I don´t know about how it will be led or constructed or planned or if it can be. I don´t take myself too seriously, as I sort of stumble around and look at stuff, but I do mean it. For the record.