The Priest - Day Eighteen

yesterday i kept thinking about the priest i met on ISLA DEL SOL. when i got to the northern part of the island and one kid threw a rock at me for not giving him any money, i met a young boy that was very reserved and told me about a very modest church that was being restored down the block from where we were. i decided to see who these people were. to repair or build anything on the island, with contemporary materials and tools, takes a lot of effort and dedication. you have to first get the materials from LA PAZ, drive three to four hours to COPACABANA. once you get there you have wait and see when the next boat to ISLA DEL SOL is leaving. that usually takes another couple of hours. once a boat is ready to leave you have a four to five hour boat trip to the northern part of the island. in total, that's about eleven hours of traveling for some tiles or roof shingles.

as i cornered the street to get to the church, i realized how modest it really was. the inside was probably the size of a large master bedroom but with very high ceilings. you could tell that they were hard at work. i asked one of the CHOLAS waiting outside to feed the workers if the priest was around and if i could interview him for an investigation i was doing on the area. she called out the father's name a few times but they were busy at work. finally after about the fourth call, he came out and greeted me. a young indigenous-clark-kent shock my hand and i asked him if we could talk. under some shade, close by, we proceeded. only after a couple of questions, i went right in for it and asked how he felt about BOLIVIAN CATHOLICS mixing the faith of the VATICAN with that of the INCA's PACHAMAMA. he was polite and said that his mother subscribes to that brand of religion and he understands that people will pull from their own history in order to make sense of the situation that they are in. after that, i asked if there were people, where he was from, that only believed in the PACHAMAMA. without hesitation he replied "NO! you wont find people like that anywhere." although not surprised, i was taken back by how defensive his response was. i chimed in by telling him about how i just recently met, on the central part of the island, the mother of a man that just believed in PACHAMAMA. he was a bit shocked but immediately responded by telling me, with a nervous laugh, that "he may live and believe only in the PACHAMAMA but when he will die a christian." confused, i let him continue "his family will give him having a proper CATHOLIC burial with the cross of christ on his coffin." i was again stunned, but really in the end really not surprised, at how hard-shell this priest was. even though i was a bit disgusted by his response, it was at that point that my curiosity about this man began. after our short interview he excused himself as they had lunch ready for everyone. across from their lunch spot, in the shade, i began to put my equipment away. as they unveiled the smoked trout, sundried potatoes and beans from inside the muti-coloured blankets of the CHOLAS, the priest called out to me and invited me to eat with them. i replied "it's okay, i just ate," which i had. before meeting him i scarfed down two fried egg sandwiches. right after my response, they laughed hard, thinking sarcastically "i'm sure you did!" it was obivious that they believed i was scared of their food. what they didn't know is that on i'm my many trips around the country, i've sat with many people and had food prepared and presented in the same fashion. i decided to create another spot in my stomach and walked up to them and jokingly said "you guys think i haven't feasted like this before... thank you, i will sit and eat with you." as soon as i sat down and started to eat and the younf priest started to ask me about north america. i told them about the health care system, the racism in canada and specifically in the states towards black, latinos and indigenous people. they were a bit shocked hearing this. i guess they, like many latin americans, subscribe to the AMERICAN DREAM. the younger priest in training was a bit of a piss-ant and teased me in AYMARA to his female friend, maybe trying to impress her. by this time, i had an idea of what they were saying about me and decided to keep quiet. my interests were with this priest. we continued to talk about north america and it was at that time where he invited me to go back with them on their boat. i accepted.
after lunch we left shore. just as we were moving fewer away from the mainland, the motor started to have trouble. it was during these intervals of engine repair by the driver that i got to speak more indepth with the priest, without the recorder. the more we spoke about the island and BOLIVIA's history, the more i realized that this man wasn't you're typical CATHOLIC priest. he went go on and on, while drawing me diagrams, about BOLIVIA rich history. this man had such a wealth of knowledge of this own country that i just sat there like a school boy and listened. after a while, engaged, i asked him what it was like being an indigenous man in such a conservative religion? he paused and first the time, i saw pain fall on his face. he thought about for a long moment, as the boats motor buzzed and softly said "hard." (long pause) "its very hard." i asked him why and he told me about the racism within his sector and how the BAQUEST priest, who is in charge of the biggest and most influential church in BOLIVIA, located in LA PAZ, detest indigenous people and their culture. also saddened and became very sympathetic for this hard working christian. it was at this point that i realized how much of an importance this man was. bridging the between the two classes that are constantly in conflict amongst each other; the white CATHOLICS from SANTA CRUZ and the country's indigenous population. putting himself through humiliation in order to bring two vastly different groups together. for the second time that day, i had to contain myself from tearing up at this man's pain, commitment and humility.
we finally docked in the small town where they had a pick-up truck parked and drove to COPACABANA. i road in the back with one of the church restoration worker.
when we arrived in COPACABANA, i jump out and thank them kindly for the ride(s) and caught the next bus to LA PAZ.