Quite A Week (2006.10.21)

Wow…where to begin? That is the question. A week ago today, I was prepping to head back up to Pueblos Unidos with the rest of the Norte Cruceña well drilling crew (Andy & Bryan) to make another attempt at getting some people water who needed it badly. Joining us this time on our adventure was another American volunteer (not Peace Corps…she’s on a Fulbright Scholarship doing research here) who I met randomly the week before and said she wanted to see how we drilled wells. I told her she was more than welcome to come along, although it was guaranteed to be less than a vacation. That didn’t phase her, and along she came. Her name is Khalial, and she was a welcome addition to our team of gringos. Aldo (of earlier blog entry fame) did not accompany us this time with his truck, so we were banished to ride the slow “micro” (bus) that would take us on our trip north into the wild. However, our friend Isac Bedia (also of earlier blog entry fame) was certainly along for the ride. The micro pulled into Hardeman and we piled our rig, bag of tools, bag of bentonite, food, and 4 huge backpacks into it and we were on our way. About 5 hours later (about 10pm) we arrived at the river we would have to cross to get into “town.” Isac gave a yell and someone brought a canoe over. Using my spanking new headlamp (thanks mom & dad) we managed to load everything onto the canoes and get it safely across the river and up the hill, but the light unfortunately drew unwelcomed mosquitoes to us, so we lit up cigarettes to keep them away, the patented Joe Ranz method. Here is a shot of Andy and I in front of the river we had to cross. (Andy is also a part of the beard competition)


It was about a 200 yard walk to where we had to put everything, and in the dark with the bugs and heaviness it was kind of a pain, but all part of the experience. We got to the “plaza” of town and set up our mosquito nets to sleep in. The plaza was a nice big covered area that would keep us dry if it rained, but only offered dirt for sleeping. I had brought a sleeping pad, but the others weren’t so lucky. We brushed our teeth, talked a little bit amongst ourselves about the plan for tomorrow and were off to sleep by about midnight.

The next day we learned a few interesting facts. First, there was to be a big sha-bang at the end of the week, the official founding of the town, with official papers and all. But this was no average run-of-the-mill town founding. This specific town was the result of a lot of hard work of a group of people called MST or “Movimiento Sin Tierra” (Movement Without Land), which had been working with the Bolivian national government on a redistribution of land that was not being used. They had started back in 1994 I think and had been working hard to get land for people who had none so they could farm it and make money. Well, Pueblos Unidos was the fruit of all that labor, the first fruit of all their labor. This holds huge symbolic meaning, especially for the current government, which fights for the poor and represents the little guy. Pueblos Unidos is to be just the beginning. The government had given people land (300 families) and they all came to this place (a field, more or less), put up houses and started working the land. They live in sort of a communal fashion, sharing all the work and everything. The whole time we spent there, everyone was preparing for the huge shin-dig that was going to go down that weekend. There were groups dedicated to organizing all the food, getting transportation arranged for people to come in from out of town, some to build a health post, and some to help us with our well. There was also another group of people responsible for building a huge stage for the ceremony. Why was there such a big ceremony and people coming from all over to see the founding of this town? Well, the word on the street was that President Evo Morales was flying in on his Venezuelan helicopter to christen the new town himself. It was said that he was coming on Friday. We were all a bit skeptical, after all Bolivians haven’t proven to be the most trustworthy of the world’s citizens. All the same, we were pretty pumped at the opportunity to possibly see Evo. So, there we were, already a little anxious about getting this community water that needed it badly, knowing we had already biffed once. The town was just about to be founded, and having a well there would make the town founding all the more sweet. And if that wasn’t enough, the president of the whole stinking country was coming to check out how the town was coming along. Pressure? Yes.

Fortunately, we were much better prepared this time. We had brought bentonite, which would help to keep the well from collapsing again. We had learned a lot from our mistakes last time and, being proud males, were not about to let the ground beat us again. Also, the townspeople were much more organized this time, and there were about 5 groups of 4 people who would be pulling the rope for us as we drilled. “The gruntwork,” if you will. With 5 groups, there was little chance they would get tired. We dug a big hole behind where we were going to drill, got a hold of a tarp to make a little pool, and even more townspeople (mostly women) trudged up the riverbank with buckets and bottles and whatever they could find to fill it with water. Having a lot of water on hand is very important for the success of the drilling. We got going without incident. We constantly took samples of what came up from the bottom so we knew what we were drilling through. What we were looking for was a nice layer of clay, followed by a few meters of good sand (not too fine, not too coarse) and then another layer of clay. The clay layers seal off the sand, so that the water that comes from the sand is clean. We progressed fairly quickly, being extra careful around 18 meters, where we had lost the rig the week before. By about 2pm, we had hit what we wanted around 33 meters. We pulled out the drill rig, changed bits to widen the hole, widened the well and cased it all by 3:30 pm. A short downpour of rain made the casing a bit tricky, but it all worked out well (no pun intended). It felt good to have our rig out of the ground and the casing in. Now it was time to see if it would give good clean water.
The Drilling Process – You can see the Bolivians pulling the rope in the foreground and me guiding the rig into the well.

The next step is to backwash the well. This is done by using a primitive hand pump, which pretty much looks like a bicycle pump. One end is put into water and that water is pumped down into the well, which has been sealed off with a plastic bag and strips of rubber. This forces the water out through the filter we made, “developing” it so that the water can enter it. We backwashed for two more hours that day and a few hours the next day. After backwashing, we remove the rubber seal from the well, and pump water out of it to see if we can pump it dry. If we do pump it dry, we need to wait to see if it recharges (if water comes in fast enough through the filter). We pumped for about an hour and never pumped the thing dry, which means that a lot of water was coming through the filter, which was a good sign. One thing that worried us though was that the water had a sulfur smell to it. We had no idea what that meant, but kept on pumping. Around noon, we were ready to move onto the next step. We took a lunch break, and then got to work on the pump. All of the parts we use in our pump can be found in any local hardware store, which makes it easy to fix. We instructed a few Bolivians how to make the pump and watched to make sure they did it right and then installed it. The water progressively got clearer, but never came out 100% crystal clear, and it still had the smell. But as far as we know, those are things that are out of our control…we haven’t done it enough to know if they will improve or not. The fact of the matter is, the well water is 100% cleaner and clearer than the brown mucky river water everyone had been drinking before the well was there. Two days of hard work and the town had water. Almost immediately, a line formed as people showed up with their buckets, pots and bottles to be filled up with water. We just sat there and watched with smiles on our faces, proud of a job well done. Some kiddies putting our well to use.

Our nights in Pueblos Unidos were a lot like camping. Except they brought us food instead of us cooking it. Usually a bowl of rice with some type of meat, sometimes with lettuce and tomatoes, other times with potatoes, other times with eggs. The food was pretty good in general, much better than the bread and bananas we had brought and planned on eating all week. Andy and Bryan had also used some of the mashed up bananas to make some excellent banana bread, which lasted all week and was delicious. At night, it got dark around 6:30 and we made a little campfire and just shot the bull until we got tired, which usually happened no later than 8:30. We slept a lot this week, even though we were usually up by 6am with the sun. Every morning we awoke to one of the main guys in town yelling for all of the town representatives to come to the planning meeting, which usually got underway at about 6am. So there were groups of people from each of the little towns along the road to Pueblos Unidos, and each of these groups sent their representatives to the meeting each morning and then they went back to their own groups and gave them the low down. There was even a group from Hardeman, denoted by this cool sign I got my picture with:

Each morning they doled out responsibilities for the day in order to prep for the big party. Our well was for all intents and purposes, done on Monday evening. Tuesday morning we got up and decided to try and drill down next to our old rig that was stuck in the ground to try and loosen up the collapse around it and perhaps salvage the rig. We were pretty sure this had never been tried before, and we were a little wary to try, but the townspeople jumped into action and were all about helping us. Unfortunately, we weren’t successful. We unscrewed the one pipe we could get off that was sticking out of the ground, then buried the thing with dirt, never to be seen again. Sayonara. We were a little bummed we had to lose the rig, but they say it happens to the best of them. We decided to drown our sorrows by cooling off in the river for a swim…it was excellent and felt great. Here is Bryan taking a jump into the river (this is also the river they drank out of before their well arrived)

After our afternoon dip in the river, Isac and a few other guys from town took us on a bit of a jungle hike into uncharted territory…it was really awesome. First we walked through some soyfields, then into sort of a prairie looking area, and then into the thicket of the jungle. We even saw some monkeys swinging from the trees at a distance! It was sweet. We finally arrived to another branch of the river and did some fishing. Fishing has never really been my bag (sorry, E.Busch) so I just kind of relaxed on the river bank. But Khalial (our Fulbright scholarship friend) caught 2 big piranhas and Andy nabbed one, which they promptly fried up for dinner for us. It was actually pretty good fish to eat, I was impressed. I was also a little worried that the river we were swimming in was also full of piranhas. Here’s me in the Prairie area

Tuesday evening was the clearest night we’d had yet, and we all sat out looking at the zillions of stars that were visible. It was really incredible. I mean, the closest town was 15K away, and there were probably only 2 or 3 electric lights in the whole place…so light pollution was not a problem. We sat there for a good two or three hours pointing out shooting stars and discussing our Top 5 recording artists and movies. It had been a good day.

Wednesday and Thursday were even more furiously dedicated to prepping for the party. They had cut down enormous trees and were cutting planks out of them using chainsaws, it was pretty amazing. We helped them haul the planks out to the field where they were building the stage for Evo to speak and also helped them make the palm roof that would keep Evo dry if it decided to rain while he was in town. The townspeople were happy to have us help and we were glad to contribute. We started to feel like we were a part of the town…I mean we had been there for almost a week and had gotten to know almost everyone. We worked alongside them during the day and played soccer with them at dusk. We were lucky to be sharing this cool experience with them. We also spent a good part of those two days swimming in the river still, which kept us nice and cool. On Wednesday they had found us our own little hut to inhabit, as opposed to camping out in the town plaza with no real privacy. A lot of people were going to be coming, and they thought it would be better if we had our own little place to ourselves instead of being right in the middle of everything. It was good because Thursday morning, they hauled in this huge tree trunk and started carving a new canoe out of it to assist the huge amount of people that were going to need the cross the river. Before that, they had only had two little canoes that held 4 people each. This new longboat could hold about 10 people or so, and the guy who was making it was a real badass. He was from the Beni, which is one of the regions in Bolivia that has the most jungle. He had a lot of great stories to tell…he had been along with us when we were fishing a couple days earlier. His name was Belfeo, and here is a shot of him, Bryan & Khalial.
We also took a hike on our own later that day, back near the same area where we had gone fishing. We were sure to capture a moment in the jungle:
Aviators, beards, jungle, bandannas…you can almost taste the testosterone.

The sunsets in Pueblos Unidos were all pretty breathtaking too:
You can see our well there on the left.

Thursday evening, one of the town “dirigentes” came up to our little hut and informed us that the well had stopped pumping water…so we went to check it out. It turns out that they had pumped it so much that they broke part of the pump! No worries, it’s reasons like this why we make the pump easy to fix. We pulled it out, cut off the broken piece, wrapped some more wire around the iron part and heated the tube again and slid it back over the iron part. A picture would explain this better, but I don’t have one. The moral of the story is that after about 10 minutes they were pumping water again. Phwew. That night was also when all the outsiders started arriving from other towns. Busloads of people started crossing the river and didn’t stop until the next morning. When I woke up (around 5:30 am), the whole town was hustle and bustle. There was a big group of women that had started preparing the food…peeling huge piles of potatoes and yucca and prepping the meat for cooking. Check it out.
There were so many people visiting, and it was strange to see so many unknown faces. We felt kind of cool because when we woke up, the townspeople started talking with us, instead of the other Bolivians that had arrived. We had somewhat become part of their town, which felt pretty special. I ran into a couple of guys who had come in from Hardeman and when they saw me there, they were quite surprised. “¡Puta madre, carajo! Qué haces aquí?” was the response I got. I won’t translate word for word what that means in order to keep this family friendly material, but needless to say they were surprised to see me. (For more on cusswords in Spanish, email Steph at swoody@indiana.edu ) I explained to them that we had been there to drill a well and had been there a week. I even ran into my good pal from Hardeman, Aldo, who had driven us the last time we came to Pueblos Unidos. It was nice to see him and he even offered to give me a ride back later that afternoon, which worked out well for me. My friends would be staying for the fiesta that night, but I had something I needed to get back to my site for. So I packed up all my stuff, then we headed out to the stage area where Evo would supposedly be arriving.
Evo’s stage…and we helped!

It was a blazing hot day, and we definitely all sunscreened up once we got out to the field. We were all still a little skeptical he would make it, but after about a half hour of waiting, he came zooming in on his helicopter, a gift from the President of Venezuela Hugo Chavez. Why is Evo spending his time speaking to a small crowd (no more than 2500 or so) in the middle of nowhere? Well, Evo is the country’s first indigenous president in Bolivian history and likes the symbolism of coming out to see the little guy. Every president before him had been of white/European descent, but now Bolivia has a president that actually looks like 85% of the population…he is someone that can really relate to the working man, since he was one for a long time. Evo, addressing the people

He asked that they make an example of this town, to show the rest of the world that this idea can work. He related to them stories of working on his farm…of how after half a day of working with an axe or machete, your fingers don’t want to open because they are so tired…to which everyone around agreed. It was pretty cool to see him relating to his people. We also managed to snap a sweet shot of me with Evo in the background.Evo is the one in the hat.

After his speech, they fed him a quick lunch and he was back on the helicopter, taking off.
I went and grabbed my backpack and headed to the river to cross in order to meet up with Aldo to roll out. On the way out, I saw a bunch of people from town, who had asked me if I was leaving. I told them I was, and they all shook my hand and repeatedly thanked me for coming and for the well. It was a really awesome feeling. After much hand shaking, I made my way down to the river. The problem was, about 1500 other people had the same idea, so it was going to take a while with only a few boats. They were piling people on these boats like you wouldn’t believe.
One of the boats loaded to the brim.

There was absolutely no order to the process, and whenever a boat got close, people just grabbed it and jumped in, almost tipping them every single time. I was at the edge of the water, but people just kept hopping in front of me, then no boats came near me for a while. Worried that Aldo was getting antsy and was going to leave without me (I wasn’t sure if he’d crossed yet), I finally flagged down a boat being driven by someone who had helped us drill the well. People tried to hop in front of me but this time the guy was like “no, THAT guy is coming” and pointed to me…it’s nice knowing important people, I felt pretty cool. But I ended up just giving him my backpack with my videocamera and stuff that needed to stay dry. I gave up my seat to someone else and swam across, which was a welcomed refresher from the hot day. My pal gave me my stuff on the other side, shook my hand and wished me well. It felt good to cool off. I found Aldo’s truck in the parking lot, with no one in sight…good, they haven’t crossed yet, I thought. I sat on the tailgate and wrote a little about the week in my journal, until finally about an hour later Aldo and some other folks from Hardeman showed up and we made the long trek back to our home. It was without a doubt the dustiest ride I’ve been on yet, since I was riding in the very back of the truck. By the end of the trip, the dust had darkened my skin so much that my family kept laughing at me and telling me I looked like an Arab. I took my first shower in over a week and man did it feel good. I slept well that night, knowing we’d done some good work and ready for the next one.
The water from our well. Not 100% clear, but a ton better than the river.
And here are the four of us, standing proudly in front of the brand new Pueblos Unidos sign.

Epilogue: That night before the party began, Bryan and Andy talked to a few more people in town and Isac, and they decided that they would be needing another well…so the plan is to head back up there in a couple more weeks and do it all over again. Sweet!