Going Back to Bolivia – or – Reflections on Being Middle Class – or – An Unapologetic Ask for Money

I have a confession to make. I grew up in a middle class white Bolivian family.

I love my family, they are amazing people that I really admire. However, growing up in this environment has it’s issues. One of the problems that can happen when growing up middle class is that you live in a culture-bubble that insulates you from the rest of your neighbourhood and the world. We literally had people dying all around us, and we often didn’t do much.

Doña Pety and Don Pety lived just a few blocks away. Their nicknames mean Mrs. and Mr. “Tiny”, because well, they were small. Don Pety was our garbage collector. He would bring his horse and buggy to our house once a week and load it up with our garbage, and we paid him for disposing of it. He would then take it to his house, and burn it in his front yard. Doña Pety would usually come to our door about once a week and ask for money or food. Sometimes we would give her some money, other times she would have a meal in the kitchen with Asunta, our maid.

Eventually they both died from being really sick. I remember near the end of her life, Doña Pety didn’t come by nearly as often. When she did come by, she would come to the door and stick her hand through the iron gate and start mumbling and shaking her open hand like she was asking for money. I would go out to try to talk to her, but I didn’t understand what she was saying and I wouldn’t even open the door. She was so frail and sick that she probably was using all of her energy to beg for whatever we could spare. And that’s the problem, she was giving all of herself, penetrating the iron gate that kept her out of our property, and there I was being a 14 year old kid, scared of her because she smelled bad. I was not giving any of myself, I would go inside, find some spare change, and she would thank me and leave. I wasn’t inviting her into my life, I was trying to keep my life comfortable by keeping her out.

The middle class has many ways of avoiding the reality around them. Here are some tactics I have learned from being middle class:

“If you can’t see it, it’s not there”.
Simple enough, right? Live in nicer neighbourhoods designed to keep poverty out, build large gates and fences around your house, and segregate yourself! If you don’t see it, it’s probably fixing itself, and probably not there anymore. I think this is why suburbs were invented, and why they have so many church buildings.

The “Well, it’s their fault that they are poor” logic.
This allows us to suddenly have no guilt and no need to do anything about it! Simply put, it’s their fault, not mine. When in reality, it’s our fault more than we want to admit it. We forget that our greedy choices, our materialism, and our power, doesn’t just give us luxury but it also directly causes poverty. Having more than we need is robbing someone else of having enough.

The “I did my part already” lie.
This one is great, because it makes us look good while at the same time we can wash our hands of anything else we have to do. For example, you donate some extra cash to a charity, and you feel really good about yourself. It’s a start, but it’s certainly just that, a start. I think a big problem we have in Canada is that we budget our generosity. Generosity is not a line in your budget spreadsheet, it’s a form of living, a way of sacrifice where you purposely choose to have less so that someone else may have more.

And my personal favourite: “Be careful, you don’t want to be too involved”
I say favourite because it’s the worst. What we really mean is that we need to care for people as long as it doesn’t disturb our comfort. Once my roommate and I decided to invite a guy to come stay in our house for a while and he eventually ended up going to jail. Was it a bad idea to have a man involved with sexual offences living with us? For us it was our best way to love him. If we don’t risk being too involved, we will never learn anything. I think the only way to really love is to be too involved.

I grew up this way, and I still have these patterns I can default back to when I don’t think or I’m too tired to care. When I think about Don Pety, I see a beautiful metaphor of how the rich often deal with the poor. We give them our garbage. What would happen if instead, we became friends? What would happen if instead of giving him our garbage, we gave him our treasure? Sometimes I can’t believe I didn’t open that door for Doña Pety. I was afraid of her. She was smelly, incoherent, and dying, and I was proud, entitled, and scared. Only now do I realize that it was really me who was dying, and not her. I can only pray that Jesus continues to rescue me from the ghetto of the rich into a life where doors are open and love abounds.

Part II: Going back to Bolivia (Warning: I ask for money in this part)

When I went to visit Bolivia in August, I wanted to learn about what a few communities are doing to love those in poverty. There was no way we were going to learn about and understand every organization there, so we picked a couple and spent time with them asking a lot of questions. One of the questions we had in our minds during the whole trip was, “what does it mean for us, those that are rich and living in Canada, to love and be friends with these communities?” I don’t really know yet.

One of the communities we visited was Word Made Flesh (Palabra Hecha Vida) Bolivia. Even though we only spent 2 days with them, we were amazed by their hearts and their friendships. They are a group of people who in community “desire to see holistic transformation through Christ Jesus for those who prostitute in Bolivia.” Since my visit I have kept in touch with them and as I have gotten to know them a bit, they have asked me to come and do an internship with them in 2010. So, I am going back to Bolivia for about 4 months next year, to tag along some really amazing people and learn from them.

This is the awkward part where I have to tell you that I need money. The way this internship works is you have to raise your own support that will cover the cost of your flight, food, and housing while you are there. I am quite excited to offer my friends and family the opportunity to be able to partner with me as I go and learn from and serve with this community in El Alto, Bolivia. I need to raise $5,000 of support, and it is a great way to remind me that I cannot do any of this by myself and I really need the support of a lot of people to be able to do something like this.

If you are at all interested in supporting me, I would love to talk to you more in depth about it. Email me, facebook me, leave a comment, come visit me at my house, any of those work. Thank you for reading all of this and being interested.

Mikey Arce