Sponsor Test

Click the word Sponsorship to be taken to a post about the children you can sponsor.

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Test

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WhAt?

Coming back to Bolivia this time has been a challenge. If there has been one thing that has gone as planned, there have been 853 that have not. Last week, I was messing with paperwork that I need to be a Board Member at church. Actually, I never got it started so I guess I'm still messing with it. Anyway, a funny conversation between me and an employee at the police station (the police station where Marco told me I couldn't leave my stroller downstairs b/c someone would steal it) for your amusement:

Me: "I need 3 documents please", as I put down my exact change (b/c he had refused us once before for not having exact change).

Him: "Why do you need them?" (these docs are only used for one purpose)

Me (getting frustrated after a long day): "Is your job to sell these documents? Yes? I know why I need them, just sell them to me." I'm very sure I was still smiling and pleasant. I mean, I'm quite positive. Or at least semi-certain.

Him: Something like, 'Well you don’t have to get all huffy about it. I just know that I sold the same ones to you already today."

Me: "Yes, and (because I am so efficient and organized) I filled them out by hand before I handed them in and they won’t accept them like that.

Him: "Oh no, you’re not supposed to do that. They have to fill them out upstairs on an old fashioned type writer that never works anyway. It says that right here on this miniscule, discolored piece of ripped paper, in size 2 font, that’s taped to the inside of the window, that I never told you to look at the first time you were here." (or something)

Me: "Uh-huh, just sell me the documents I need."

Him: "Sra, communicating without shouting solves everything."

Me: "It’s been a long day, I've already been here 3 times, please just give me the documents!" (I'm still sure I was smiling and pleasant)

Him: "Which ones were they again? Okay" – passing them to me – "now don’t write on these!"

THANKS BUDDY!

Chubby Cheeks

I asked his mother what his name was. She giggled and said in mumbled Spanish, "we just call him Cachetin (chubby cheeks)." I also asked how old he was. She wasn't sure. Somewhere around 2 years old.

I took them to gather wood for their fire. And while they chose the good ones: dry, just the right size, easy to split and stack, I took pictures of my little prince and his playmates.

Then it begain to rain. Just a sprinkle, but enough for this.