Blockades

You might say that we are milking this for all it is worth but Niki and I decided to have one more 30th anniversary fling, this time with another couple whose anniversary is close to ours. Although our anniversaries were in June this last weekend was the first chance we had to get away. We decided to go out to the town of Pailon and visit the work that is going on there among some of the Mennonite colonies.

The drive out was fine. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon and traffic not bad. Just before arriving at Pailon there is a checkpoint/toll booth. I had already paid our road fee when we left Santa Cruz so I handed my slip to the attendant and he, after stamping it, handed it back and on we went. But there is also a police checkpoint at the same place and a policeman was stopping traffic. When it came my turn he indicated that I needed to go to the window and show my documents. No problem. I had my ID card and driver's license. When I got to the window the officer informed me that I needed to give him 20 bolivianos. Ok. I handed it to him but wondering why I needed to give it. FInally I asked him what it was for. After all, I had paid my fee and had my slip to show it. His response: You need to hurry. There is going to be a strike. Ok, so there is going to be a strike but what does that have to do with my giving him money. Again I asked him. In fact I told him, respectfully, that I didn't believe him that I needed to pay. Where was there any indication that this was a legitimate fee. Could he please show me? At least he needed to give me receipts. His response: You need to hurry. There is going to be a strike. Yes, I had heard that before. In the middle of the conversation another driver came to the window. His slip was simply stamped and he was sent on his way. Hmmm. I asked the officer if I could please have his name. After all corruption is corruption. He gave me his name. I also wanted his ID number. He never produced that but reached into his drawer and pulled out 10 bolivianos to give back to me. I reminded him that I had given him 20. Reluctantly he produced another 10 bill and gave it to me as well. Now I could leave.

Afterwards as I reflected on the incident I thought if he hadn't been so greedy and only asked for 5 I would have given it to him without much question. But 20 was a lot more than the usual required voluntary fee. Anyway it provided fodder for a lot of humor during our stay.

We stayed in guest apartments at the Trans World Radio station. Very nice and fully furnished. We had a good night's sleep and the next day dawned sunny and bright, if not overly warm. We had decided that at noon we would drive into town and eat a nice lunch together. By now the strike that the kind officer had warned me about was in full force. The highway was blocked at several points between Pailon and Santa Cruz. But we were able to drive to Pailon without difficulty although we did observe people stranded by the road waiting in vain for their normal transportation to arrive.

After a good lunch of grilled pork, rice, yuca and salad we headed back to the radio station only to discover that the blockade had expanded and that there was now one between us and the radio station. So off to adventuring, we headed down a dirt road following a couple of other vehicles who seemed to know where they were going. After a nice sightseeing trip through rustic countryside and farmland we eventually found ourselves on the highway again on the other side of the road block.

The next morning, the day we were to return to Santa Cruz, we discovered that the road block was now even closer to us, just up the road. Ok. We had plenty of food and our friends so we prepared to stay another night if necessary. But lo and behold, by about noon the blockades were lifted and we decided to hightail it home while the getting was good.

Now as I reflect on this little trip, I am challenged by my own words to the policeman. Corruption is corruption. Living here in a country were corruption is at every level, do I contribute to it? At what level am I willing to overlook it and live with it, put up with it and even accommodate it and when do I object? Hard questions. The Biblical prophets call us to promote justice, to let it roll like rivers. So. . . what do I do as a believer and foreigner? How do I work for justice and truth? Good questions at the least. Perhaps life changing at the most.

While I ponder the answers for me I feel a snack attack coming on. Could you give me 20 bolivianos so I can consider these things over a Toby burger and fries? Until next time . . .