Welcome to Santiago

As of today, Saturday 7 July 2018, we have been in Santiago de los Chiquitos for one week. Even though we are hoping to make this place a home for our family, I nevertheless feel like a tourist.

Our friends here in Bolivia, the Whitakers and the Bravo family, hosted a welcome party for us. The Whitakers slaughtered one of their cows and invited the village to their farm for a barbecue. 

Sadly, the weather turned extremely cold the morning of the barbecue. The temperature at one point read 66 degrees Fahrenheit, but it felt nothing like a spring day in Utah! We had left the house in the morning, not realizing what it was going to be like. As quickly as we could, we went back home and found our jackets. I put on two layers of pants, a down-filled jacket, and wool socks and I was still cold!

The turnout for the barbecue was smaller than we'd hoped, because of the cold weather and rain misting through the trees. The fire was a relief, as was the wood burning stove inside the house. Unfortunately, Juliette forgot the stove was hot as she ran past it as the party was winding down. Thankfully, our friend Rachel reacted almost as fast as Juliette did. 

Before I even knew what was happening, Rachel had JJ in the kitchen running cool water over her hand. The local doctor also was at the party, and the two of them administered first aid, including a balm the people here use all the time. By the next morning, she was back to normal, with only a mark on the skin to show for it.

Jon and I joined the choir this week and participated in a concert on Saturday evening. The musical tradition of Santiago and the surrounding villages is tied to the Jesuit priests who came several centuries ago. The priests did not have much success converting the natives to Christianity, but when they introduced music to them, the hearts of the people softened.

Now there is an international music festival held here every year. People from around the world come to celebrate Baroque manuscripts written centuries ago by native Bolivians in their own language. The region and its dialects are called Chiquiteña. The Chiquiteñan Baroque music is a fascinating juxtaposition of the so-called “civilized” Christian and the mis-labeled “savage” natives.

Another fascinating juxtaposition I experienced this week was Santiago’s equivalent of pumpkin pie. The girl who made it is the daughter of two Quakers from Indiana who own a dairy farm here in Santiago. The squash she used is called joco (ho-ko) and the locals apparently feed it to their animals. But the pie she made with it was the most delicious vegetable pie I’ve ever had. I don’t want to call it pumpkin pie, because to do so might give you the same impression of pumpkin pie that I have, which is mostly unfavorable but with a willingness to see if this time it might be different.

Jon, sadly, missed the joco pie, since he had to go to Santa Cruz to take care of our residency paperwork. When I told him about it, he said I should have demanded to have pie making lessons. I think he’s right. If I could make pies like that, I might be finally converted to the tradition of cooking as a way of nurturing others.