By Father Liam Tuffy

(Editor’s Note: Father Tuffy is a priest of the Archdiocese of Atlanta, presently doing missionary work in South America. While he was assigned in Atlanta Father Tuffy occasionally wrote columns for the Georgia Bulletin.)

With the hiss of the last Petromax lantern, the shadows recede in the old house in Paria on the Oruro-Cochabamba Road and allow a view of sparkling star-hung Bolivian sky through the broad sun windows. Under the immovable weight of several alpaca blankets and listening to the Radio America news broadcast theatrically announcing the latest Carter primary success, I feel hung between two diverse worlds and begin to ponder my relationship with them both.

By the grace of God, the generous release by the archbishop and people of Atlanta and the support of the St. James Missionary Society, I am privileged to experience this unique moment in time of tremendous communion with far-flung friends of varying backgrounds; and, like these Universal Brotherhood begins to appear to me as a more than possible dream and emotes the renewed desire to continue with greater zeal “that all may be one.”

Most of what I have to report is probably known to many of you in a disjointed fashion through the medium of an erratic mail service. But I would like to set down in a more orderly fashion the wonders of God at the hands of men in this sphere of the Church’s life so that you may see and thereby be encouraged and sustained by them in that sphere which is yours.

I arrived in Oruro in the Altiplano of Bolivia in November of last year. Here in this small university town of 110,000 people of Mestizo and Indian background I was to spend the next four months during which time I was to be impressed by the great problem of orphaned and abandoned children. Being a mining town since 1601, it has suffered at first hand the fluctuations of the international tin market and the even less predictable claims of Mother Earth on the lives of the mining populace. For that reason, Oruro has suffered and still suffers but especially in her orphaned and abandoned children. Thanks to the initiative and efforts of many generous people, Atlanta is now helping to re-house and train some of “these little ones.”

It was December, planting time and the rains had begun to fall, transforming the sandy wastelands of the previous June into a seed-hungry earthen patchwork, when a position to work in the campo (country) and my original choice of mission became open. I took up residence in Paria on March 1^st and since that time I have lived and worked in the campo while still maintaining an interest in “the lost children.” Recently, the site of an unused factory has become available in Paria and this will shortly become the home for rehabilitation of problem children from the Department of Oruro.

However, right now, my primary commitment is to the St. James mission in the Paria area. Perhaps a few words on the geography of the area may help to situate our task. Bolivia, the fifth largest country in South America is (at least as yet) completely landlocked. Its population of less than five million people is unevenly distributed but favoring the highlands. It is described as the “microcosm of the planet” because within its borders, one encounters every variety of altitude, scenery and climate—from eternal snows to the steaming jungles. It is divided by nature into three distinct regions: (1) the highlands of the west which includes the Andean mountains and the high plateau known as the Altiplano, (2) an intermediary region of tropical gorges known as uungas and the high valleys and (3) occupying the vast eastern and northern sections, the Lowlands which include Amazonian swamplands, grasslands and rain forests.

Confining myself now to the Altiplano, a formidable windswept plateau whose average altitude is 12,500 feet which comprises 16 percent of the territory of Bolivia and 35 percent of its population, it is best described by Harold Osborne’s book, “Bolivia, A Land Divided: “…a high, bleak, barren windswept tundra with the paradox of a tropical sun blazing through a frigid air.” He continues: “The Altiplano has the forsaken aspect of a landscape of some…ancient planet where life has long been obsolete…an immense dreariness of solitude stretches incredibly to the eternal barrier of the mountains on the horizon like the scene of a nightmare dream. Yet in the very magnitude of its implacability there is a grandeur which humbles and turns one to admiration of those men who for centuries have made it their home.” It is this last sentence which best characterizes my own reaction and to some extent explains my love for this great region.

Moving within the region as a missionary explains more fully my love for this territory because it is all and more than I as a more youthful dreamer of the missions could hope for…its scattered pueblos in the sandy plateau and the threatening mountains demand and exact an exciting physical exertion.

Too, being ‘on the trail’ for visitation purposes draws one closer to the people and to an easier lifestyle and, finally, the cultural adaptation and effort to live the Catholic faith in such drastically new surroundings and with people so beautifully direct and simple in their faith brings a new surge of meaning and excitement and a new dimension to the priestly life.

For all this I am very grateful and more appreciative of the commitment of fellow priests working in the so-called more civilized world who can only enjoy at heroic sacrifice what I now enjoy by gift in this land of hybrid culture and religion.

The St. James Mission to Paria was established as a gift of the late Cardinal Cushing to his interpreter while he was visiting Bolivia as Papal Nuncio and on the site of the first settlement of the Spanish conquistadors in Bolivia. We now live on the site of that first Augustinian monastery and, apart from a new roof, the adobe church still serves the village of Paria. As then in 1559, missionaries go out to serve the surrounding campo in all direction …today, we number but four. We actually serve in two dioceses; Oruro and Caracolla, covering a region of approximately 2,500 square miles. Doubtless, not much has changed in this area apart from our pastoral approach and means of transport. Today, in place of the horse, we use four wheel drive jeeps; however in the mountain regions and working up to 16,000 feet we are happy to avail of a horse if we have to resort to “shanks mare.”

The challenge of the Paria mission has tested the mettle of priests from the United States, Scotland and Ireland for 13 years now and through success and failure the present pastoral has been arrived at and proved appropriate for this time, although always undergoing constant revision.

The task is so great that we must be selective and we do so on the basis of the Gospel mandate to visit and stay in any village where our peace is received. There we form a small community who pledge to forsake their pagan sacrifice and customs, elect three leaders and schedule weekly worship services. The elected ‘responsibles’ then must sacrifice at least two weeks per year for catechetical instruction after which they become the catechists and leaders of worship for their people.

Later some of these ‘responsibles’ will become regional organizers and even missionaries. Today, three of them serve as permanent deacons. In this once practically abandoned area, there are now 35 such communities and the number continues to grow surely if a little slowly. As for the other pueblos who persist in customs inconsistent with the Gospel, we pursue a policy of “benign neglect.” However, the force of the leaven in the lump is having its gradual effect now where in the past direct approach failed.

A good indication of the growth rate is the annual ‘concentracion’ or convention hosted each year by different communities. This convention is attended by representatives from all active pueblos in a joint Oblate-St. James mission. Seven years ago at its inception, less than 200 delegates attended, the most recent such meeting attracted an attendance of 1,500. Some of these came from as far away as the Chilean border and here despite the ‘confusion of languages,’ Aymaras, Quechuas, Chipayas and Mestizos joined together to grow in the knowledge of God and fellowman.

Before coming to South America, I was a strong advocate of the cliché “You can’t preach to empty stomachs” and while still generally believing that dictum, I have come to the conclusion that there is no help that you can give to people that surpasses in ‘wealth’ the sense of worth and dignity that comes with Gospel enlightenment and liberation. The direct outcome of encounter with the Gospel is community formation and community building. Today, we in Paria are confidant that development will occur in these pueblos at the pace and in the direction that the people themselves will determine. Development wise, the campesino is still abandoned; St. James Mission hopes to insure that they are not God forsaken as well.