Thanking Mother Earth
Friday morning marked the next leg of our trip, destination Caranavi! We would first venture to Yungas(literally "Valleys"), the lowlands, to document the Integrated Management of Natural Resources and Agriculture (MIRNA) project. The Yungas road's reputation preceded our journey. It is described in travel books as the scariest road in the world.

Johnny Reyes, project manager for MIRNA, picked us up at 8 a.m. We met our interpreter, Sache, and made our way out of the city. Pausing first at a massive statue of Christ, we doused the wheels of the car and the earth surrounding them with alcohol. "Por la Pacha Mama," Johnny explained.

La Pacha Mama. Mother Earth. She needs thanking. She requires recognition. Bolivians revere Mother Earth, paying tribute to her often. The building of a new house warrants the burial of a llama fetus out of homage and respect for La Pacha Mama. These were rituals that begged good luck. We passed a vial of alcohol among us, splattering its contents on the ground, against the thick tires of the jeep, wearing shaky smiles, each of us wanting whatever piece of good luck La Pacha Mama could spare.

From where we stood on this, the highest point before beginning the descent into the Valleys, a harrowing and impossible looking dirt road lay before us. From a distance, the road resembles a ball of yarn mistakenly dropped to roll down a mountain. It winds and snakes, twisting relentlessly.

What the road lacks in pavement and guard rails it makes up for in scenery. The views are spectacular. The ride is like flying. Sheer drops showcase the meetings of mountains at the distant bottom. Waterfalls tower inside the curl of hairpin turns. Covered in lush green, the mountainsides give the illusion of a soft, padded fall, but makeshift memorial crosses and tombstones doting the roadside belie this.

For the people that must travel this road often, the Yungas road is not merely a passageway to the thick dense jungles of Bolivia, but is in itself a rite of passage. In the dry season, the road is treacherous. The rainy season makes it worse. Mud slides, falling rocks and overflowing waterfalls spill onto the road, making traversing it incredibly dangerous.

Our drive ended some seven hours after it began. The plains surrounding La Paz were exchanged for rugged mountainsides covered in vegetation and a soft, warm, sweet-smelling air. Standing in one place, turning 360 degrees, one might see coffee, papaya, lemon, orange and banana trees growing on the hillsides.

An Introduction to MIRNA
The CARE office in Caranavi is sparse and efficient. The same might be said for the village of Caranavi itself. Nestled in a flat spot of land, Caranavi is a meeting place for farmers and middlemen to exchange goods for sale in La Paz. Trucks could come here and load up the coffee, fruit and rice grown on the mountains that circle it.

After hours of jarring bumps, the main road in Caranavi was noticeably paved smooth. Like the many tiny villages that we passed through on the way to Caranavi, the main street was lined on either side with makeshift stores selling virtually identical inventories: candy, soda, cookies, juice.

We were treated to a series of presentations introducing us to the MIRNA program. We learned of the history of the program, its CARE Denmark sponsorship, and its long-term strategy promoting sustainable farming practices.

Javier, an agricultural extensionist whose work focuses on commercialization, spoke up. "The MIRNA project, like all of CARE's programs, is about trust. It's about what the towns, the families, want. When we first meet with towns to determine whether or not they would be interested in working with us, we start by asking them what they want for themselves. What would make their lives, their work, better and more livable. How can we tailor a program that meets their needs long-term? That would be eventually self-sustaining, and ecologically sound for this climate and area? We look at all of these things, and then take it from there.

"There's an expression: apprender haciendo. Learn by doing. We live the work with them. All of them. We work with children. We work with parents, men and women. We suggest solutions-- not pat answers. We learn from them and they learn from us. We call it CARE's brand of appropriate technology. Their goals become ours."

Poly, a technical assistant, picked up on Javier's thoughts. "We are now a part of the town. We share their joy as well as their grief. We offer technology to improve upon what they started.

"Before any work in the field can start, we must work first in the hearts and minds of the people. We must earn their trust. Other organizations have come to the area before and made promises to them of help and long-term commitment. But it is extremely hard to live here. When we first came to Caranavi, CARE was one of 20 organizations here. Now there are only seven.

"At first the people were skeptical. They couldn't imagine that CARE didn't have another agenda. Time would tell, they said. And it did. Each month, CARE staff and spend 20 days in the field, three days in the office. We get seven days a month off, at the end of the month. We work, eat and sleep out there, with them, where they live. Through continuous contact, and two-way communication, they trust us now. And we are doing very exciting work."