Recommended Taxi Driver who knows the location:
Marco Zelaya, cell phone: 793-99289.
Marco is an old friend who shuttled me all over town as we figured out this process… if you’re even the slightest bit unsure, hire him! He’s worth the extra few dollars!

Right, so, yesterday I went with a Monkey Bread. Sweet, gooey, etc. The monkey bread turned out reasonably in that the flavor was there but, going right back to the temperature issue, the middle was too doughy. Still, the sugary doughy results were sufficient to send the household into a carbohydrate-induced foggy haze.

I’ve had to alter the water measurements significantly… about double that of all of the recipes I’ve found online. I don’t know if this is due to the flour available here, the lack of humidity, the altitude, or a combination thereof. I just mix the lot until it looks how it’s supposed to look.

This may have something to do with my exceedingly irregular results.

Ingredients:
(note: this was to feed 7 people plus possibly a few tea-guests.)

Dough:
7 cups Flour
2 Tbsp Yeast
1 Tbsp Salt
6.5 cups Water

Cinnamon Sugar:
5 cups Sugar
4 Tbsp Cinnamon

Glazey Stuff:
1 cup Butter
Arbitrary amount of Honey

Tools:
Monster-Sized Baking Dish to hold it all (greased)
Small baking dish
1 big mixing bowl
1 medium mixing bowl

I mixed the dry dough ingredients – flour, yeast, and salt – together in the big mixing bowl. and, um, I do mean big. Thanksgiving Turkey Big. Texas Big.

I then mixed in the water 1 cup at a time until the dough was sufficiently fluid. Very sticky and gooey. Mine is much clumpier than the recipes I’ve found for this dough mix tend to indicate online. It’d be smoother if I were using a mixer, but that would involve tracking down a transformer to ensure I don’t burn out my mother’s American current KitchenAid.

The dough was then left to rise for an hour. I covered it with a well-floured cloth (handful of flour on the cloth, rubbed the flour in, lightly shook off the flour) during that time.

After an hour, the dough had risen significantly. Bubbles were evident on top. Incidentally, this dough works as any general extra-yeasty bread dough. I’ve added more flour to make it bake like a normal bread, kept it flat and baked it in olive oil for a crispy rich bread, etc.

Meanwhile, the sugar and cinnamon were mixed in the medium sized bowl. Very cinnamon heavy. The monster-sized (still thinking Texas Big) baking dish was thoroughly greased with shortening and then floured.

I took fist-sized dollops of the dough and rolled/tossed/shook it in the cinnasugar mix until thoroughly coated. Those dollops were laid out comfortably in the baking dish until the dish bottom was covered. Poured butter and drizzled honey on top. I then layered more dollops on top, added butter and honey. I kept layering until I ran out of feasible space in the dish. Extra butter and honey on top with the remaining cinnasugar.

The monkey bread went on the top rack in the oven. Again, I live in crazy-high Cochabamba, Bolivia, South America, so I filled a small baking dish with water and put it on the bottom rack. That helps keep the oven humid. Or it would, were the air not so dry that it sucks every bit of moisture out of everything. Y’know.

Baked it for 30-45 minutes-ish at I-Haven’t-the-Foggiest temperature. It just looked right. With the unevenness of our oven, I should have turned it at least halfway through the process.

and, of course, the finished Monkey Bread of sugary foggy brains.

Juan, the drunk driver, had swept the side of his car into a tree by the road.

He was driving so fast that he had enough momentum to go forward into a little parking lot off the street and swerve hard left. He crossed the raised cement and grass divider between the east and west bound lanes, and drove head-on into our secondary gate. The owner of the house had previously installed a cement block to prevent cars from entering that driveway because it’s too steep for anything but a Range Rover. That cement block prevented the vehicle from entering our garage. Having crashed into our gate, he reversed and drove off.

To be clear: this man was drunk; he was driving on one of the busiest streets in the city; he rammed a tree; he almost rammed a hardware store, he almost rammed two houses, he crossed four lanes of traffic, crashed into our gate, and drove across two sidewalks where people, including children, frequently walk. The sidewalks where he hit were empty, but this was extremely unusual – we usually have people of all ages walking on those sidewalks. Where he crashed is a part of the sidewalk where my brothers will usually walk down to the bakery for fresh morning bread. Only coincidence prevented him from killing people in his drunken rampage.

7:50am
Nicholas found Juan and his wrecked car on a little dead-end street behind our block. Dad reached it before me, and as I went to meet him a crowd of witnesses followed behind. In that moment I felt very strangely Firth-like (not something I would normally say. The video cuts out some of the crowd-following sequence.) as the gringa with a crowd of “What’s going on? Looks like a good show!” Bolivians in tow.

At the top of the hill and around the corner sat two vehicles: Juan’s and that of a Radio Movil taxi. We really have no solid idea as to why the taxi was present. As far as we could tell, his car was not damaged and none of the witnesses to the accident had observed his involvement. We do know that Juan paid him 250 Bolivianos in cash ($35.71) to absolve his guilt from something or another. Mom thinks that the taxista was blackmailing Juan. The taxi attempted to leave, and I asked him to stay and wait for the police. He refused. As he was leaving I took his photo, which made him extremely angry.

“Why would you take my photo? This is not my fault! I have nothing in this!”

“Why did he pay you 250Bs?”

“I have nothing in this! You do not need my photo!”

As he said all of this, he loomed closer and closer, which prompted my father to get between us. The taxista had clearly been drinking as his breath stank of it and his eyes were more red than white. He did eventually leave.

Juan also attempted to leave.

Lorien: “No, we all have to wait here.”

Juan: “But I’ll pay for the gate! I will! But I have to go.”

“No. The police are on their way. We will all wait here for them”

“Please, I need to leave. I will pay you!”

“No. Wait here.”

He motioned put his keys in the ignition – I attempted to grab them, but missed. That rather annoyed my father (“That’s my job.”). Meanwhile, when Juan opened his driver-side door… out tumbled an empty beer can. He hurriedly stuffed it into his pants pocket.

We spent the next hour waiting for the police to arrive, and trying to keep Juan from running.

The witnesses were fantastic. The entire experience was country justice at its finest. The people, a combination of curious witnesses and our neighbors, were lined up along the side of the road which had a steep hill down to a bike path.

For the first ten minutes or so my father and I were very conscious of needing to maintain the support of the people. Juan was a crook – no question. The people of Cochabamba are just astoundingly good-hearted. However! The reality of the situation was also that a a big, scary gringo (Dad!) was glaring down at an increasingly pathetic young Bolivian. The loving spirit of Cochabambinos will usually side with the underdog, and specifically with the Bolivian underdog, even to the detriment of justice. This is understandable, but sometimes delicate. When my father verbally defended my mother from a man who physically assaulted my mother, our neighbors sided against us – and they did so by saying that we were foreign, etc. Again, understandable, but frustrating.

Frankly, too, it took a good ten to fifteen minutes for the group to accept that we weren’t going to beat up pathetic little Juan. We just wanted him to wait for the police. They were watching both Juan and us with eagle eyes, waiting to see who was going to be worse.

Juan: “Please. Please. Let me leave. I’ll fix your gate.”

Lorien: “No, you must wait. We are all waiting. You need to wait.”

“I can’t be here!”

“You must. We know the law of Cochabamba, and you have to wait here.”

One of the men concurred, “Listen. They’re foreigners. They know the law.”

I don’t know why a foreigner is expected to know the law, but whatever, I wasn’t going to argue.

Juan: “Please.”

Lorien: “No. It’s better for Cochabamba, it’s better for us, and it’s better for you.”

“Not for me!”

“Yes, for you. I know it’s very hard for you now, but you must learn that this behavior [ed. I actually said manner, but I didn't know how to say it properly] is not good. You need to learn, and then your life will be better.”

Mind you, in the States that patronizing crap wouldn’t fly. It’s true, and I meant it genuinely. But while in the States it wouldn’t have been… kind to say it out loud like that, here in the semi-open air of Bolivian dialogue it worked. Juan wasn’t just a kid who had made a little mistake, Juan was a young man who came very close to killing people because he a) drove while intoxicated, and b) probably stole a car. Juan didn’t buy the explanation, but the people around us saw that Dad was NOT attacking the punk, and I was speaking firmly and sweetly, while talking about the good of Cochabamba and Juan’s future. I was speaking more nicely to him than any of the people there. Go figure.

Juan didn’t want to hear it, so he turned around to walk over to my father. Now, for context: my father had already spoken to Juan in limited Spanish (“No! Wait here! No!”). He’s still learning Spanish, and because of our extremely low funding his classes have been put on hold. All Juan knew, though, was that I had been talking to him in limited and childish but essentially understandable Spanish, and that my father had used some Spanish with him as well. So he turned to my father and again began with, “Please, I cannot meet the police.”

Dad didn’t want to argue more. He crossed his arms, and in the most perfect Spanish accent of all time, “No entiendo español.”

The people cracked up. One guy doubled over and clapped his knee. Juan turned to them in frustration, and the fellow in the open shirt exclaimed, “Nope! Can’t talk to him! Just her!” and cackled.

Juan: “Please!”

Lorien: “No.”

Juan assessed his situation. His best bet was to jump down the hill and run down the bike path. He tried to subtly move closer to the edge of the hill. The group just as subtly inched down closer to him. My father met him at the edge, and when Juan stepped onto the hill Dad grabbed his arm:

Dad: “NO. Wait here.”

Juan stepped back up, and Dad released his arm. Juan came back to me.

“PLEASE, miss. PLEASE.”

“No. We are all waiting here.”

He got right up to me, inches from my face.

“PLEASE!”

“No, and please, I want space.”

He didn’t move.

Louder, “Space. I want more space.” I held up my hand as if I was about to push him away. “Give me more space.”

He didn’t move. Dad took a step closer. Juan didn’t notice, so I swiveled around so that the group could see the space differential. “I WANT SPACE. PLEASE.”

The men took a step closer to us, and Juan stepped back once.

I moved away so that I could observe but so that I wasn’t between him and the men. Juan turned as if he was going to just walk off. Dad stood in his way.

“Here. Take the keys. You can have the car. Just let me leave.”

He dropped the keys to the ground.

“No. Wait here.”

Dad picked up the keys anyway, although Juan tried to step on his hand. Juan decided to go sit in his car. He had another set of keys, so he was still a flight risk as far as we knew. He started gathering his things into a duffel, preparing for a run.

Dad walked over and opened the car doors. Again, the group found this hilarious. The perfect solution: we weren’t touching him, we weren’t hurting him, but he wasn’t going anywhere. They loved it.

Juan put his duffel in the trunk and went back to standing in the middle of the little road.

He pulled out his phone and pretended to have a conversation, acting all nonchalant about everything… but steadily stepping further and further up the road. Dad just went up and blocked his path. At first it was subtle. Juan would take a step forward and to the side. Dad would step back and to the side. A happy little waltz. After fifteen feet of this, the group started laughing.

One pointed at Dad and tapped his own skull, as if, “ha! clever!” Juan started freaking out and taking bigger steps. The guy in the gold shirt walked up to block the corner. I thanked him, and he nodded as he walked up to give Dad backup. I’m rather perturbed because in the video it sounds like a grassy-ass gringo accent. Sigh. Anyway, I was taping that bit because if he did run for it I wanted to have evidence of the sequence of events.

The Waltz of Dad and Juan the Drunk from Lorien Johnson on Vimeo.

Juan got ticked and gave up on that tactic.

He had already said that he didn’t have a license. Dad asked me if he had a general ID.

Lorien: “Do you have a carnet?”

Juan: “Carnet? Yes.”

Gold Shirt Guy was standing a few feet behind him, and I haven’t the foggiest idea what he mouthed in Spanish but he motioned and my brain translated it as “Get it!”

Lorien: “Can I see it?”

Juan: “My carnet?”

“Yes, can I see it?”

He pulled out and opened his wallet to display his ID in a clear plastic pocket.

Lorien: “Can I read it?”

Juan: “Read it or take it?”

I just laughed and said, “Oh, I don’t understand. Can I just read it please?”

He took it out, turned it over, and replaced it in his wallet.

Lorien: “I can’t read it in the plastic. Please?”

I held the wallet as if I was tilting the angle to read, but his grip was iron and it would’ve been a fight, so I let it go.

He put his wallet back in his pocket and backed up to stand on the edge of the hill and his escape. Dad and the men were primed to go after him.

“Please, Juan. I have your photo. I read your carnet and know your name and ID number [I didn't]. It will be much better for your life if you just wait here.”

Again, laughter. “Better for his life! hahaha!”

He rubbed his head and went to go lean against the car to think.

Eventually he climbed in.

Thomas, my brother, had gone to get soft drinks for everyone present. I passed them out to everyone, and convinced Juan to have a coke to relax, too. We were about a half hour into the process, and the police still hadn’t arrived.

Open Shirt Fellow explained, “It’s a Sunday. You have to insist.”

Mom kept calling the police, and some of the people had left to go call from their houses or to go to the courthouse down the street to try to convince the police to actually come out.

We spent the next half hour sitting around and waiting. The men circled the car to ooo and aah over the excessive damage, which also effectively kept Juan contained. I eventually went down to the house to let one of the people call Transito (I think the equivalent of the American Department of Moving Vehicles”) and report it as a stolen vehicle (which the people had decided amongst themselves that it must be). While he called and I brushed my teeth (finally! half an hour of talking in my pyjamas and unbrushed breath. Horrid!), we got the call from Dad saying that the police had finally arrived.

9:00am
I got back up the hill and talked briefly with the police. The group had dispersed quickly, and were waiting on the other side of the street in front of our house. We took the police to show them our gate. They nodded and decided to bring their jeep and Juan’s car down to the street. The police went up the hill. Juan followed them from about 40 feet behind. I was baffled by why he was left alone, so I just stayed right behind him. We’d gone halfway up the hill when the lead officer saw us and yelled at his assistants, “Why is he walking? Why did you leave him? Put him in the car!” So Juan, bless the pitiful little guy, shuffled up hill to the jeep and got in the back of his own accord.

Back at the house, we explained the sequence of events. Dad had gone inside to print of my photos. A second police jeep arrived. A third jeep. Then a red Transito jeep. Apparently departments had not been tracking that the calls were all for the same event, or at least the sheer number of calls pressed them to show up in a group. I think we had ten or fifteen officers there at the end. They had Juan pick up the pieces to the car and wait.

My father then came out with the printouts of all of the photos. One officer just looked at them and was amazed. He took them over to the group of officers who were standing in a circle around Juan, and I’ve never seen an officer happier.

“Look at these! [flip page] Look at that! [flip] That’s his face! His face! [turned it over to show Juan] Your face! [flip] The license plates! Your plates! They have everything!” They were laughing uproariously, and as he said that last bit he clapped Juan on the back, “Pobrecito!” {poor little thing!}

Pobrecito, indeed. The officers were amazingly thrilled, because we’d essentially done most of the work for them – kept him there and taken and printed pictures of him, the other taxista, and the damage. Probably the first time in a long time that they’d walked into a situation and actually had witnesses and evidence. They just stood there laughing at the situation and at poor Juan. Juan was definitely guilty, but he just happened to be guilty in the worst possible spot in the city.

Well. I suppose he could have crashed directly into a police station or the DEA building. But, y’know.

Still, it was just so… Andy Griffith. The neighborhood rallied in the only possible justice available to them, and we kept it on a strictly peaceful level. Ordinarily a petty crime is frowned upon but earns merely a glare and a shrug. I frequently hear folks shrug in semi-apology, semi-indignation, “Eh. This is Bolivia. It happens.” This time, however, the neighborhood saw that Juan was a risk and he had carelessly and illegally endangered their families, their property, and their peace. They solved the problem. By the time the police showed up an hour after the neighborhood beginning the process, the officers were so busy being amused by the ridiculous efficiency of the entire affair that all they could do was laugh and pat the crook on the back with a jovial but sympathetic, “You’re fried, man. You’re fried.”

I adore Cochabamba. Andy Griffith Southern Justice in the morning, and at noon we left to go to the Feria de las Flores {Flower Feria}.

That’s Bolivia.

‘Tis a curious thought, that as Americans this is the first time since we’ve been here in Bolivia that we lack any actual U.S. presence. We are effectively on our own. The apparent lack of serious danger somehow does not reduce the slight ill-at-ease of that state of being.

This map shows the nine departments of Bolivia. Each deparment has a prefect. This is superficially comparable to the American States and their governors.

Four of the departments, those marked with a blue half moon, are referred to jointly as the Media Luna, or Half Moon. The Media Luna are currently in strong opposition to the current president, Evo Morales, and his political party, MAS – Movimiento al Socialismo, or Movement towards Socialism. Evo and the administrative capital of Bolivia are located in La Paz.

Chuquisaca is the seat of Sucre, the constitutional capital of Bolivia. Chuquisaca is a bit of a toss-up in its political leanings; not traditionally part of the Media Luna, but unwilling to lose its constitutional and historical position as having the primary capital in its capital city of Sucre, which is what MAS would prefer.

Cochabamba is traditionally a neutral location. Little violence hits Cochabamba, and usually the elections are extremely close. Neither MAS nor the opposition have a strong foothold here. Cochabambinos tend to be rather like Texans; Cochabambinos care mostly about the condition of Cochabamba.

We’re located in the city of Cochabamba, which is the capital of the department of Cochabamba. We’re approximately 8500ft above sea level. Although we are very high up, the city is located in a valley bowl surrounded by mountains. Three solid “highway” passes exist which lead outside of the valley towards the Chapare (countryside, essentially) and the other departments.

The Media Luna departments border Argentina and Brazil. Unfortunately, in blowing the natural gas pipelines to those countries which imported Bolivian natural gas, the Media Luna has made political enemies of them. No foreign support there.

Evo / MAS have the strong support of Chavez in Venezuela. Chavez has committed his support politically and militarily to Evo. Venezuelan military are currently in parts of Bolivia.

The Media Luna have more or less closed the domestic borders to the other departments. Exports from those departments have been ceased. Gasoline and beef are those which chiefly affect Cochabamba.

Active violence is occurring in the Media Luna departments. The violence is incited by both MAS and Media Luna.

Now then. Let’s evaluate our position. We’re in the center of Cochabamba. The Bolivian military is currently in the Pando. In order to defeat the Media Luna, the military needs to stay a fairly intact force. They will probably opt to enter the Beni, followed by Santa Cruz, and then down through Tarija if they deem it necessary. They could cut through Cochabamba from La Paz in order to get to Santa Cruz, but, a) nothing really seems to be gained by this, b) it would split the strength of the attack, and c) it would alienate the people of Cochabamba who have heretofor been pretty neutral.

That’s why we’re staying for now. The physical danger is out on the street, and that’s reasonably handled by additional safety measures like only leaving our gates in groups and remaining armed with police nightsticks when we close and open the gate for entering students. For us the largest interference is on the political level more than anything else.

Dear Warden:

Below please find a Warden Message from the U.S. Embassy in La Paz, Bolivia. Please share this warden message with any U.S. citizens in Bolivia with whom you have contact. We hope this information is useful to you. If we may provide further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact us.

Sincerely,

American Citizen Services Unit

U.S. Embassy La Paz, Bolivia

WARDEN MESSAGE

U.S. EMBASSY LA PAZ, BOLIVIA

September 13, 2008 at 5:40 p.m.

A Travel Warning has been sent out informing U.S. citizens that the Department of State has authorized the departure of non-emergency personnel and all family members of U.S. Embassy personnel in Bolivia and suggests all U.S. citizens defer non-essential travel to Bolivia.  U.S. citizens currently in Bolivia should remain vigilant, monitor local media, review their security posture on a regular basis, and consider departing if the situation allows.

At this time, all air carriers are flying, except for American Airlines flights between Bolivia and Miami which have been canceled over the next few days.  American Airlines suggests that those travelers affected by these flight cancellations should contact AA via 800-100229 in Bolivia or http://www.aa.com to confirm flights and make reservations.  All airports are open, except for airports in the cities of Tarija, Trinidad, and Cobija, in the Departments of Chuquisaca, Beni, and Pando, respectively.  This information is subject to change at any time, so U.S. citizens should stay current with media coverage of local events.  American citizens may wish to access tips on emergency preparedness through the Department of Homeland Security’s web site at http://www.dhs.gov/xcitizens/editorial_0711.shtm.

The U.S. Embassy in La Paz continues to review its security posture and may, from time to time, close for routine services. U.S. consular personnel remain available to provide emergency information and services to U.S. citizens. U.S. citizens in need of Embassy assistance should call the Embassy’s Consular Section at (591) 2-216-8297 during working hours (M-F, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.) or 216-8500 after hours or on weekends.

U.S. citizens should be aware of possible mass street demonstrations and blockades if planning travel to or within Bolivia. Roadblocks may also affect the route to and from airports with little or no prior notice.  U.S. citizens are encouraged to avoid the areas where these mass assemblies and demonstrations are expected to occur. Under no circumstances should anyone attempt to run a roadblock, even if they appear unattended.   You are reminded that even demonstrations intended to be peaceful can turn confrontational between security forces, demonstrators, and bystanders, and escalate into violence. Americans are urged to avoid the areas of demonstrations and to exercise caution if within the vicinity of any protests. If you find yourself in the vicinity of a large gathering, it is recommended you leave the area immediately for your own safety.

The police are on a heightened alert for potential civil unrest. Traffic is expected to be congested throughout all major cities. Because the police will be involved in addressing potential civil unrest, there will be minimal municipal patrols. As a result, you can expect criminals to take advantage of large crowds and use ruse or diversionary tactics to prey on potential street victims. Pick-pocketing, purse snatching, and car thefts are the most common street crimes during such periods. Everyone is advised to limit their cash on hand, unnecessary credit cards, jewelry, and other portable valuables.

In addition to civil unrest in cities, it is not uncommon for roads between cities to be blocked by protesters or marchers. If you are planning to travel by land (bus, rented vehicle or other), please reconsider your travel plans and check with the local police (‘Unidad Operativa de Transito’) to see if the road to your destination is open. You could become a convenient target of opportunity. Please note that the police have limited capabilities outside major cities and communication is poor.

Consular Agencies in Cochabamba and Santa Cruz may not be opened to the public, depending on local conditions.  However, U.S. consular personnel remain available to provide emergency information and services to U.S. citizens. U.S. citizens in need of Embassy assistance should call the Embassy’s Consular Section at (591) 2-216-8297 during working hours (M-F, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.), or 216-8500 after hours or on weekends,  or via email at USCit.Services.Bolivia@gmail.com.

Americans residing or traveling in Bolivia are encouraged to register and update their contact information at the U.S. Embassy in La Paz, or the U.S. consular agencies in Cochabamba and Santa Cruz, Bolivia, when open. Registration may be done online and can be done in advance of travel. Information on registering may be found at the Department of State’s Consular Affairs web site: https://travelregistration.state.gov.

U.S. citizens should consult the Country Specific Information for Bolivia and the latest Travel Alerts and Warnings and Worldwide Caution at the Department’s web site at http://travel.state.gov. Updated information on travel and security in Bolivia may also be obtained from the Department of State by calling 1-888-407-4747 within the United States or by calling 1-202-501-4444 outside the United States. During regular work hours, the American Citizens Services unit at the Embassy in La Paz may be reached at 591-2-216-8297. The consular agencies may be reached in Santa Cruz at 591-3-351-3477 and in Cochabamba at 591-3-411-6313, when they re-open.

We hope this information is useful to you. If we may provide further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact us.

Sincerely,

American Citizen Services Unit

U.S. Embassy La Paz, Bolivia

Issues:

• The Anti-Evo region is in violent protest, possibly even secession.
• They’re not doing it intelligently – so they have made enemies of Brazil and Argentina.
• MAS (Pro-Evo, simplistically) is possibly inciting further violence.
• Evo might send in military troops.
• Chavez has stated that if Evo is deposed, he will send in Venezuelan troops.
• Brazil and Argentina are siding with Evo because the opposition have shut down vital natural gas exports to those nations.
• Brazil is preparing an evacuation for its citizens.
• Bolivia and the United States have expelled each others’ diplomatic teams. Venezuela has expelled the U.S. ambassador as well.
• The U.S. embassy is closed over the weekend for “training”.
• The DEA has been expelled from the country-side.
• It’s possible that the DEA will leave entirely.

The DEA is the only official evac option we have. If they leave, so does our protected evac. The State Department have already stated that no evacs will be conducted here. We, and the other gringos here, will be on our own.

Evacuation requires:

• Spending $10,000-20,000 to go… nowhere. Maybe the US, maybe Brazil (temporarily), maybe Paraguay. Unknown.
• Putting our dogs to sleep.
• Losing our home, vehicle, and any property not taken with us.
• Possibly not being allowed to return to Bolivia.
• If we’re gone for more than 90 days, then my family’s 4-year visa process to earn permanent visas will have to be completely restarted, which is a loss of over $7,000.

All of which would probably be for nothing. Cochabamba doesn’t usually get hit with the violence. What we are definitely going to experience, and are already experiencing, is transportation and food shortages.

No gasoline exists in the city. We’ve got 3/4 of a tank in the minivan. Most of the taxis here, luckily, operate off of natural gas. As of yesterday morning that was still available. No beef is being imported. One store received beef by plane yesterday, and we purchased about twenty kilos at a 420% rise above usual costs. These are both very survivable problems.

Our problem, here, is that the cost (practical more than money… God always provides the money when necessary, we’ve seen that time and again) for the safety of leaving for a little while is possibly our entire ministry and life here. Do we bank on safety and lose everything (plus putting down the dogs), or do we hunker down in faith? Further, in which area does God want us to have faith – our safety (if we stay) or the preservation of our ministry (if we go)?

One element for prayer is that we’ll work out some solution for my passport. I don’t have it – it’s in La Paz, Evo capital. If we go, then the embassy will have to get an emergency passport to me. If we don’t go, then it’s not a problem. If I take it out now, we risk my having to spend an addition $250 to restart my student visa. On a gamble.

We will evacuate if:

• Physical danger exists.
• We are unable to obtain basic food or water.
• We are expelled by Bolivian government.
• We are ordered out by the US government.

But like I said. Right now, all is well, and that probably will not change for Cochabamba city.

A meeting was recently held in which the leaders of the Opposition movement and Evo Morales, president of Bolivia, were scheduled to discuss solutions and compromises in light of the recent referendums. The opposition leaders attended. Evo did not; Evo sent a low-level flunky in his stead. The opposition closed the session and returned to their respective locations.

Santa Cruz is, essentially, taking the attitude of – “Fine. We can the blockade game, too. You [Evo, et al.] have three days.”

This means, for example, that:

• The roads from Santa Cruz to the non-opposition departments, including neutral/stuck-in-the-middle Cochabamba, are closed.
• The borders to Argentina and Brazil from the opposition departments are closed.
• Gasoline lines from Santa Cruz to the non-opposition departments are closed.

Pragmatically, this affects our family’s life in a couple of ways:

• Most of the beef in Cochabamba comes from Santa Cruz and Argentina. The grocery stores and butchers are selling just chicken at the moment. Our preferred butcher, which is seemingly ritzier than the others with its nice building and clean environment, but is in fact cheaper than anywhere but La Cancha, is planning to fly the meat in from Santa Cruz. This means that although some beef will be coming in by plane, it will be a) in short supply, and b) much more expensive.
• Gasoline is being rationed today and tomorrow, after which it will probably not be available at all. Our car is gasoline only. The government is providing free conversions to natural gas, but that will require gutting the car of its A/C, power steering, etc. We’ll wait, thanks.

Politically, Bolivia could be reaching a breaking point. Up until now, the leaders of the opposition have been refusing to make too many ultimatums in preference to a desire for negotiation and, to a certain degree, a willingness to compromise. They’ve sat with the mediating organizations. They’ve kept their autonomy movement limited to politics and words. They agreed to the August referendums. After Evo’s extreme, and frankly silly, rudeness by sending a flunky instead of attending the meeting himself as promised, the opposition have made their ultimatum:

“Agree to our terms, or…”

Public buildings are being stormed. Borders and roads are blockaded. Hey, this sounds familiar – is this not extremely similar to how Evo led MAS in 2003/4 and 2005 in the Gas Wars and the run-up to the presidential election? The difference is that Evo and the Masistas could just sit in the way, cause problems, and have protests. The opposition this time is made of political bodies -  whole political departments. Evo is considering sending in the military… which would cause him to lose all credibility and would escalate the situation even further. News reports are filtering in of people caught inciting violence under the banner of the opposition – but when investigated, they’re members of MAS. Both sides are in on this.

We arrange the big room downstairs so that the chairs are in a half-circle shape through the middle. I took some videos this week from the hallway, looking right through the center. The space is starting to get a bit cramped, so the hallway was where I could camp out without distracting everyone with the camera!

Nicholas Leading Music at Wednesday Study from Lorien Johnson on Vimeo.

Dad on “Moral Truths” from Lorien Johnson on Vimeo.