Tour Leader Pete Selman's account of his visit to Que Rico!
In 2009 we introduced a group tour , Que Rico! which travels from Chile through Bolivia, spending 3 days with the Que Rico! charity and burns unit in Cochabamba. Tour leader Pete Selman had this account of the experience:
"As part of my recent tour in Chile and Bolivia, I spent time with my group visiting a rehabilitation centre in Cochabamba for child burns victims run by the charity Que Rico, and the hospital where the children are treated.
Que Rico is a non-profit organisation who support Mosoj Ph’unchay (meaning ‘new beginning’ in Quechua) in Cochabamba, Bolivia, and work to ensure that children with severe burn injuries heal and grow to enjoy their future. They provide medical equipment, pain relief, medicine and volunteer doctors, specialists and teachers.
A short walk around the hospital emphasised the size of the task facing those caring for the children. There was no waiting room for those waiting to be treated – some queued outside during the cold highland nights. Children who had infected wounds were placed together in a single room. Many children rarely, if at all, saw their parents. We spoke with Doctors and volunteers, and it was apparent that they were doing the best they could with limited resources. Bolivia is a country where over 60% of the population survive on less than $2US a day, and the President seems more interested in playing football with Diego Maradona than financing hospitals. The lowest income families are always those with least access to good medical care, and those more likely to suffer these kinds of injury.
It was difficult to walk through the burns unit. Every child had suffered a serious injury, and as we learnt some of their stories it began to make us feel sad and helpless. An eight-year old girl, Viviana, from a tribe in the jungle regions, had been pushed into a fire by some boys, and suffered 50% burns. She had been carried in a hammock on a plane to Cochabamba, and had miraculously survived. She couldn’t return to her tribe for fears surrounding revenge from the boys who had pushed her into the fire. Twelve-year old Gloria had been burned by boiling water while she protected her brother from her parents, who were fighting. During her rehabilitation process, she revealed that she had been sexually abused by her step-brother for the last three years, and was frightened to return to her family. A nurse told us that a concern is that some of the burns victims may attempt suicide. One volunteer told me he’d seen a six-week old girl with 90% burns to her body.
Inside the hospital there was an overwhelming sensation of pain. To be honest, I was pleased to leave the hospital because we there to help and I felt pretty helpless when faced with so many children suffering. However, some of the children were nearly ready to go home, and they were staying in an ‘Albergue’ near the hospital so they could get their bandages changed daily. We’d met one of them at the hospital, a young girl called Michaela who had a mischievous smile and followed us around the centre curiously, jumping around playfully trying to catch our attention. An American nurse told us, “she’s too happy to be burned”.
Our guide for the two-day visit, Laura, walked us from the hospital to the Albergue, where Michaela was waiting along with half a dozen children eager to play. We shared fizzy drinks and cake with them, and helped them with a painting exercise. I helped the shyest of the children, Oliver, who was quite withdrawn and didn’t seem to speak much Spanish. He came from a family in the countryside who spoke predominantly Quechua. The children were a bit shy at first, and seemed surprised that a group of rich white foreigners were here to play games and eat cake with them. The Albergue was part of a lovely building, donated by the Franciscan Order in Cochabamba.
When we arrived at the Albergue the following morning, the screaming kids were delighted to see us. Little Oliver, who had been quiet and nervous the previous morning, ran towards me and hugged my leg. Diego and Kevin came and welcomed me with big hugs as if I were a returning long-lost brother, and Lizbeth pinched my sunglasses and demanded I take her picture as she modelled them. The children had clearly accepted us. It made me realise that the children, many of whom were noticeably disfigured, had been thrilled to have a group of gringos visit. We had accepted them. Many people in their society hadn’t done so and maybe wouldn’t do so. Laura told me that during the carnivals, when all the buses had been full, they had refused to let Diego on, because ‘he was different’.
We piled all the children into taxis, and headed off towards the cable car. We were taking the children up the hill to the Christ statue that overlooks Cochabamba and the surrounding valley. The children were delighted that we had arrived early, and had to wait twenty minutes. They had great fun on the climbing frames and swings and slides. Having seen the children in the hospital the morning before in so much pain, to see these children having the chance to be children made me smile. I hoped all the others I’d seen in the hospital would be playing in the park before too long.
Up at the top, the children found another playground, before climbing up the last few steps. They climbed trees, and found a mouse to throw stones at. We bought them ice cream, and every so often Oliver and Lizbeth would come and steal my sunglasses and demand I take their picture, before Cristian, the oldest and most mature of the children, would give them back to me a few minutes later. Cristian, who was about to turn fifteen, wore a scarf over his burn wounds. In front of the Christ statue, some of the children began to spread their arms like the figure behind them. Of course, they insisted I take their photo. First Michaela, then Kevin, then Diego. Each child wanted their turn in the limelight, looking out over the city, on top of the world, spreading their wings under the huge statue, the immense blue sky and the strong altitude sun. Oliver was the last child to get his picture taken, and he screamed out into the valley,
"I’m flying! I’m flying! I’m flying!"