Culture Collection "Construction"

Have you seen the carpenters pants replete with loops, pockets and crannies for all sort of tools? Those are the pants I am wearing today. All the crevices are filled with my stone collection; my culture stone collection that is. Today I am pulling out a rough rock that has many cracks and forced holes full of dirt and dust. It was picked up from a construction site. Allow me to tell you about it.

Crowded streets lined with shops, vendors, wares, and shoppers with their bags stretching over blocks as far as the eye can see in any direction is what would surround you if someone plopped you down in the middle of the ‘Cancha’. Cochabamba boasts of having the largest open market in all of South America. Cancha means field. Conservatively it is the equivalent of 12 city blocks by 12 city blocks squared. That is 576 blocks (when you count all four sides of the 144) at least of pure market. The scents are distinct as you move through the layout. Spralling blocks of tomatoes, potatoes, bananas, peaches, apples, onions, oranges, all fresh, all rotting, toppling and orderly, juices, bins and tarps. Merge now to the tiny restaurants where grease crackles filling your nostrils with too much meaty fried smell.  After passing by the dozens and dozens of eating places you come upon the housewares district. Repeating content over and over you walk and walk. So on and so forth with all kinds of goods, clothes, linens, spices, bicycles, trinkets, yarn and on and on.

If you want to buy a tool you ask someone where to get it. They tell you the Cancha. Then comes the meticulous explanation of just where that tool can be found. You maneuver your way through and find the sector of tools. Every shop looks the same. A fraction of a difference in price. Already the greater part of an hour has been spent searching, asking, looking, comparing. Finally you find one item on your list. Hopefully the rest are close by, even though you haven’t seen them yet. More walking. More traipsing. More hunting. More shoving. More crowding.

At the end of the list your hands are sore from grasping the plastic bag handles with sweating hands. Your feet are worn and you don’t want to even begin to guess what manner of goo you have stepped in. Your mind is overloaded from stimuli supreme.

This is what it requires for you to gather the items needed for maintenance. Rarely are the items expensive. If you contract someone to fix or make something then you understand why it takes them a day and a half to just get all the stuff they need together before they can even start the simplest job.

This tedium might explain why many times materials and tools are invented on the spot with scraps of things they have on hand. Why go buy a rake when this dried branch works fine? Why try to keep street cleaning vehicles in good working order when these bent ladies can use a bundle of straw instead?

This also might explain why daily the dumpsters are dug through for usable items. More than once I have been scolded for throwing out perfectly good broken toys, shoes with holes and (horror of horrors) disposable cups, flatware, and all manner of jars, butter tubs, carry out containers, etc. Everything can be reused. It is good for the environment, if nothing else.

Big machines, proper tools and quality materials can be attained. The price will be higher. The chance that you can find someone who knows how to use it properly is slim in comparison. The fact that you will have to oversee the project to prevent misuse and theft is just something you are going to have to accept. The hardest part with insisting on durability over the cheapest option is the mindset that it seems wasteful and foreign, thus rejected at every step.

Just think, buildings are made completely of: bricks and mortar covered in concrete. Not just the basement or foundation, but the whole complex no matter how many floors there are. People from North America are fascinated to stare at a construction site because of how rare it looks to them.

I could go on and on. Better to show you two very specific examples of around our property here.

Eight years ago we packed 13 Rubbermaid bins with our stuff to make the transcontinental move to Bolivia. Since we first unpacked our things these bins have been used as: end tables, seats, kids bathtubs, moving boxes more than once, storage units and now mainly as laundry baskets. Even the lids are used as serving platters for big events. My helper took it upon herself to repair the much abused tubs. You can see her handiwork in the images.

We added a concrete soccer / basketball court to the property. Between the square slabs the workers poured black tar. As you can see, they made a little fire place with stones. The grate for the tar cup are two old pieces of iron bar. The cup itself is an old tin can. It’s handle an old piece of wire twisted and wrapped around about.

The finished project looks great. I am impressed.

Here are some gloves I saw on the work site one evening. To the right of them are some unmentionables, to the left of them is a bundle of empty bags of concrete mix ready to be reused for another project of another sort.

I find these elements of culture intriguing. Hope you do, too.

Tagged as: Bolivia, Cochabamba, culture collection, Market, missionary