The car shook with impact over every rock. We were on Bolivia’s “Death Road.” On our left were the Andes mountains towering over us as our tiny, red Suzuki cab drove over its piles of debris. And reaching at us from below was a thousand foot cliff that taunted us with the fear of death. As this was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, I looked up at my grandmother in the front seat of the taxi, completely unphased and only entranced by the mountains around her. I questioned her state of calm and the way she looked more at peace as we turned onto these dirt roads. But this was Nucchu. Her home. She had visited this town every summer with my grandfather since they moved to the United States. But this was her first time without him. This would not be the only time I would find that on this trip something so familiar to my grandmother taught me something about myself and the way I live my life.
When I decided to take this trip it was initially to meet my family and see the places where my grandparents grew up. For me, I have always felt a disconnect with my Bolivian identity. I was raised in Massachusetts and grew up surrounded by mostly white people with a large lack of people of color in my school system. Although my grandparents always kept their traditions alive like singing happy birthday in both Spanish and English, celebrating Bolivian Independence day, and speaking Spanish with their children I felt like I wasn’t a part of my community because I had never been immersed in my community. I thought that once I was in Bolivia and with my family that I would feel like I belonged. Instead I felt like even more of an outsider, alone in my inability to connect with ones I thought it’d be easiest with.
Not only did the language barrier play a large role in my loneliness, but my American mindset that set me apart from the rest of my family. I’ve always moved through life in a hurry; worrying about the next thing to do, the next homework assignment to complete, the next shift to work, or planning for my future. Life was not lived the same here. They moved slowly and I moved too fast.
As we made it to our home in Nucchu, I looked down at my phone and watched as the three letters, “SOS,” appeared on the screen. The area is very rural and the internet was only accessible through the purchase of a sim card or a phone from there. So, for the next five days we would need to occupy our time with the books we brought, walks in the nature around us, and our previously downloaded songs that don’t require any wifi to play.
On one of our walks through the town we traveled far into the village to find their school. I had remembered a picture of my mom and uncle at our house in Nucchu a year earlier, surrounded by children who had rushed over when they heard they would teach them English. Their eagerness to learn and smiles on their faces never left my thoughts, but its significance had only just hit me. The semester before I had recently joined a club at UMass Amherst called, the World Librarians. The students of the club needed a space to work and felt that their goals were related to the open access work we had been doing for the library, so they joined my office(The Scholarly Communications Office). As soon as I learned that the club’s goals were to provide openly accessible and openly licensed educational materials to schools that lacked the funds and resources to get them, I knew I wanted to be a part of it. It wasn’t until I was standing in front of the school in Nucchu, Bolivia that I realized I could help here. I didn’t want to fix a problem that wasn’t there or insert myself and my western values into their educational system; however I had seen their lack of resources and materials and I had a possible solution that I felt could help.
Since joining the World Librarians I have seen the world differently. It wasn’t only from the requests we received asking, “How can we use trash to make toys,” or “Can you send us a video of a practical way to recycle without polluting?” but the pictures and videos of the impact on the children. We recently found a way to send one of the schools a free music editing software and they sent us back a video of the dance they created thanks to the software. By joining this club I was given a real opportunity to reflect on my privilege. I was already taken aback when I realized I was able to look anything up that I wanted to know at any time and they could not. That small privilege is something that we all take for granted everyday; having access to technology, education, and resources.
After my trip, I didn’t know if this idea of adding the Nucchu School to the World Librarians program would be attainable. The idea and goal was so much larger than me that I felt like an imposter even trying to suggest that I could accomplish something like this.
I couldn’t have known it then, but in a couple of months I will be returning to Bolivia to begin this program with them. I hope I do them justice.
