The 'easy' walk to poverty...

Saturday a group from the language institute had organized hikes to various locations around Bolivia. One group was headed to the peak of the mountain Tunari and one group was headed to a small pueblo situated at the top of a smaller peak in the Andes. Knowing my limited physical capabilities, I chose the easier version and decided to head to the pueblo. The description of the walk said 'facil' which translated means easy, so naturally I went for that hike. The description also said the hike would take around 5 hours there and back, which in all honesty is not that much and it seemed like a worthwhile experience.

We left our house at 6am and took a trufi (public transportation) to Quillacollo and then onto Vinto, both small towns outside of Cochabamba. In Vinto there is a small 'national' park so to speak and from there we started walking. It was around 7:30am. Our group all agreed to take the easy route and so we headed off. Pretty soon we all realized that we had passed the easy route and had taken the more direct and therefore more difficult path. Soon, we were hiking up the dry river bed, over the small river and over the large rocks. After an hour of the rock hike, a girl from the hiking group, Carrie and I decided that we had taken the wrong route, which much to our dismay, we had. Luckily our guide was able to find a shortcut back to the proper trail and off we went, after a bit of a scramble up a steep cliff. I want to say it was around 10:30am, three hours after our start, which according to our guides was the time we should have arrived. The trail that leads to the pueblo was a steep, rocky and actually quite difficult trail. At every switchback I had to stop and catch my breath, at every corner I needed a rest and yet I kept going. Never in my life have I attempted to do something so hard, when what I thought I was doing was supposed to be easy. Finally around 12ish, our group needed a lunch break. We sat on a group of rocks that overlooked the cities of Quillacollo and Cochabamba and laughed about the difficulty of the trip. Little did we know we still had almost an hour to go, yet the guides kept saying, not much further. From the lunch spot you could see the pueblo, well perhaps it's better to say, you could see the trees and a small house in the pueblo, but nothing more. I was exhausted. I keep saying that I couldn't go any further, that I was fine to stay right where I was, sitting on the rocks, exhausted. Yet, I kept going for some odd reason, slowly, but I kept going. Finally at 1:20ish, I made it to the top, in last place, but I made it.

K'aspicancha is a pueblo with around 25 families that survive on the top of the hill with next to nothing. The purpose for this hike was to deliver notebooks and pencils to the 16 school children that are learning the basics for survival. The only way up and down is the hike that we took, each way almost 5km. As we reached the top, the weather was starting to turn and after quick introductions our group headed back down the mountain, never to forget the experience that we all shared, the true meaning of poverty. Will I ever again travel to this remote village? Most likely not, but the lessons that I learned from that hike to the village will remain with me forever.

Poverty is the children (and most indeginous people in the mountains) wearing nothing more than sandals on their feet. Snow, rain, hail, sleet, any type of weather hot or cold, sandals are their only choice. Poverty is walking down a 5km trail around 2-3 times a month just to buy simple supplies in the village. Poverty is only going to school until age 11 because that is the time in which you learn to read and write and for the people there, that is sufficient. Poverty is growing only enough to survive. Poverty is living hours away from civilization. K'aspicancha is poverty for me and finding this definition was a powerful, exhausting, difficult, laborious and well worth the effort experience.