Cambio de Planes

A change of plans for today. I was ready to go to the archdiocesan youth conference in Quillacollo with three of the brothers until a few moments ago. We were getting off to a very late start: it was already 9 o’clock, and the conference had begun, but we were still here at the convent, and the brothers were still preparing to go. That didn’t bother me. I ate breakfast leisurely. I tarried in the cloister garden. I went from the garden to the garage and waited. I saw the bed of the truck loaded with all kinds of objects for the Franciscan table at the expo. The brothers had just finished loading the truck. What all these things were for, I don’t know. Why the brothers didn’t load the truck yesterday, I don’t know. But that didn’t bother me, either. While waiting in the garage, I met two other people, an older couple from the parish. They asked me if I was also going to the conference. And then I looked again at the truck. You could seat only two in front and squeeze three people in the rear. There were six of us. Don’t even ask about seatbelts. I felt my anxiety rise.

Fray Bladimir, the organizer of this trip, was the last to be ready. He looked at me and said I could sit in the truck and he could sit in the bed with all the cargo. I angrily refused and said over and over again that there is no room for six and it was not safe and I was afraid. He tried two or three more times and I refused. Well, the other five crammed into the truck, opened the gate, rolled out and closed the gate. And that was it. 

I am sorry for backing out of going to the conference. I regret not being able to meet other Franciscans and other women and men in religious life. I really regret not being able to practice Spanish in a real-life ministerial situation. But I am not sorry for backing out of unsafe transportation. There are cultural differences, and then there are practices that are just unacceptable. I do not accept the risks that Bolivians accept when they travel. I do not accept packing people like sardines into vehicles that lack safety standards. No apologies there. 

What will I do instead? I have some homework—some catching up to do there. And after that, who knows? It is a beautiful day. Maybe I’ll just hang out in one of the plazas and soak up la vida cotidiana around me. The admission-only parks, like Parque de la Familia, which charges 8 bolivianos, are free this weekend because of El Día del Niño. Maybe I’ll go soak up some sun at Parque de la Familia. 

Up to now my routine has been confined to the Franciscan convent and the Maryknoll Mission Center. Whatever I do is based around those two communities alone. Is there not more to this immersion experience, and should I not be attentive to the leadings of the Spirit beyond what I know? I’ve been living in Cochabamba for two months. It’s a big city. There are lots of people here, communities of communities. There are lots of options. It’s time to take more of them.