“I’ll be there in nine minutes.”

“I don’t know” was my reply. “It is late in the day and it is a bit of a half baked plan”, I continued. “I’ll be there in eight minutes” was the only reply. Reluctantly I said yes and in eight minutes we were off to the “the concha”. The “we” was CBM Global Field Staff missionary Duane Guthrie, my son Matthew and myself. The “where” was “the concha” or shell in English which is the familiar name for the mother of all open air markets here in Cochabamba. Imagine an open air market the size of West Edmonton Mall with 100 times the amount of vendors in the same location. It is a city unto itself. There are numerous restaurants inside, barber shops on the outskirts as well as places to buy every item ever conceived as well as the required daily fresh fruits and vegetables. It is the only destination for many items and definitely the only destination for items at reasonable prices in Cochabamba. The mission was to find a small barbeque for our apartment. We have been living in Bolivia for 7 weeks now and so far we have done a good job of being Bolivian by consuming nothing more than chicken the whole time. For a Saskatchewan farm boy and a Calgarian who normally get nervous at the thought of less than 50 pounds of red meat in the freezer, we were starting to develop a combination between a nervous twitch and a Pavlov’s dog response at the site of red meat. We did some initial investigation and although natural gas is plentiful here, natural gas or propane BBQs are not. They cook things “old school” here using charcoal or “carbon” in Spanish. This idea is that eating is a social experience and taking more time is not an issue. As well it firmly secures the universal concept that the means to grilling meat must be complicated and multi-staged to ensure that the grill is the sole domain of the male of the species. (insert grunt sound here). We heard word that barbeques existed in the “la concha” but like finding a needle in a hay stack, the ‘where’ was the key to the problem. I knew that in order to succeed we must go further and deeper than anyone with white skin had ever ventured into “la concha”. This is why I had chosen my partner carefully. Having left a business in Canada to run the virtually non-existent micro loan program in El Alto Bolivia, I knew Duane was my man (not to mention his Spanish is better than mine). Because this was a significant cultural event, my son asked to be involved which was good because his color might make them think we were Bolivian for a second and make them slightly disoriented which would mask the disoriented looks on our faces. We landed in the extreme North West corner of the market knowing that the elusive BBQs would likely be in the extreme south but navigating the roads to that location is only for local and taxis. We set out walking and asked an unsuspecting young girl on the outskirts of the market if she knew of the existence of small BBQs in “la concha”. We both understood “that way” but not much else. Undeterred we marched on. We breezed through electronics and small appliances, then took a back route and walked for two blocks in a four foot wide aisle with nothing but clothes. Every five feet or so of the two blocks was a different vendor. How do these businesses survive? We emerged at section 1 of the market which is tourist items, musical instruments, school supplies and food stands for the people who work there. Continuing south we passed by section 2 which I have named Fabricland but also includes more food stands, backpacks, luggage and sporting goods. I think there is a bakery in there as well. As we came to the end of that section we were presented with a wide road and what appeared to be another market. This was the new world for all of us and in it laid the promise of a BBQ. With little hesitation we crossed the bus laden street and waded in. There were many vendors selling pasta, flour and similar cooking items and, of course, there were the ever-present food courts but there seemed to be no sign of anything like a BBQ. We paused to get out bearings, not wanting to get lost. As we discussed where we were, Duane suggested that we were likely deeper into the “la concha” than most gringos choose to go and motioned over my shoulder. I turned to see the aisle of ancient Inca herbs and mystic items, thought to bring good luck. There were herbs and other things hanging from string but what was impossible to miss was the sight of dehydrated llama foetuses. I had seen pictures and heard stories about such items and the ancient religion that exists here but it was numbing to see it first-hand. We decided that we were indeed not in the right place and it was time to move on. We turned and moved one more aisle only to find much of the same cooking supplies. We were about to give up when Duane asked a elderly female vendor if she knew of any small BBQs. Of course there are two or three words for the same item depending on your location in Latin America and after some back and forth she understood and proceeded to physically take us to them. It was only two aisles over but the scenery on route was a blur. There were numerous stands selling meat and parts of a cow that I am pleased to say I did not know or care to know. By now the smell was also somewhat intense and indescribable. We rounded a corner to find the aisle we had heard so much about and wondered if we would ever find. There we two vendors left open and they had BBQs from ultra-compact to top of the line waiting for purchase. We chose a small one that would we could use in our apartment. It was hand made from steel with collapsible legs and sold for just under $20. I completed the deal cheerfully and we made our way in the direction of a clear view of the sky. As we began the long walk back we talked and revelled in our success. We had gone deeper into “la concha” than most dared and survived. Another successful day in Bolivia, we agreed.
On a serious note, seeing the Inca “spiritual” items reminded me of the spiritual state of this land. Our adventure came on the heels of a large 3 day festival called Urkupina which took place in the town just outside of Cochabamba . It has become a major cultural celebration with lots of dancing and unfortunately a lots of drinking as well. The festival is actually based on a believed sighting of the virgin Mary by a shepherd girl near the town many years ago. Many people make a pilgrimage walk out to the town in hopes of bringing good fortune for themselves for the coming year. It is a strange mixture of Catholicism and mysticism. For the pastors and Christians represented by the Bolivian Baptist Union the struggle is great. There are many people who believe in a god or even the God we know yet are seeking hope and peace. They are searching for answers from anywhere but the truth of God’s Word and a relationship with His son Jesus and this is the challenge. Pray for a new ability amongst the Christians here to speak truth to their fellow Bolivians.