told by Richard he expected resolution (i.e., me writing my recollections)
post haste. So Lee (Henderson) Martinez (another unappreciated, underpaid
government worker, animal lover, lighthouse lover), Class of '68 and grand
Pooh-Bah of the found list begins her long overdue tale . . .
Ah, yes, Bolivia. Mi linda La Paz. Next to being married to Oscar and
coaching Karen through Joshua's birth-after all, she tells everyone that
I'm the mother of her child-my time in Bolivia ranks right up there. Don't know if everyone knows it, but my father and mother were stationed in
Bolivia twice; once in the early 1940's and then again in 1963.
Two stories about my parent's first stay in Bolivia. My parents arrived in
Cochabama in the early 1940s-which is were the Consul General lived at
that time (after an arduous journey, meeting Giocasta Taendler's parents on
the trip). They were staying in a hotel until they found a home. When my
father went to look at a place, an Indian woman was sitting on the curb,
waiting for him. They got to talking and she said she was there to be their
maid. When my Dad said he wasn't sure when they would move in, she just
said that she would know and she would be there. Little did my father know,
that here was this Indian woman who could neither read nor write, but she
knew when the new gringo had hit town and where he would be staying. Talk
about networking!
Well, he shrugged it off and the day came to move in. And there she was
saying "Como siempre, senor, tarde." Well, she stayed on and was their
maid, taking care of my oldest brother, Peter, (Petey-tie) after he was born
(including peeling his grapes for him). I tell this story, as Aurelia
(Lileeli) comes back into our lives 20 years later.
The second story involves a pair of Franciscan priests who checked in with
my father on their way out into the countryside to preach to the masses. My
father told them that the area they were headed into was full of cannibals
but they said God would protect them and all would be okay. Well, a couple
of months went by and no word so my father had to go look for them. All
that was ever found was a pile of their robes, crucifixes, bibles and
sandals.
In 1963, my father had just finished a difficult assignment in Peru, first
as Economic Officer, then Deputy Chief of Mission (DCM), then Charge. He was told he was being nominated as Ambassador to Bolivia-cool! We returned to the United States, staying with my grandmother in Weston, Mass. The most horrid schoolexperience I ever had! This was used as a tool by my mother to keep us inline-any misbehavior and we were threatened with being returned to U.S. schools-so needless to say, we did not participate in the rumble at the race track nor do I remember anything like that every happening! And Richard says my Dad called in parents to give them a dressing down-not
like him at all.
We drove down to Washington for my father's swearing-in by Dean Rusk and
while we were there, President Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas
(thus the picture at www.acs60s.com of my father with President Kennedy --
my father was one of two Ambassador appointments President Kennedy had the day before he left for Dallas). I remember standing out in the rain on
Massachusetts Avenue as they brought his body to the Cathedral to lie in
State. President Johnson decided to keep all Ambassadors in place and
appointments on track so we returned to Massachusetts to pack and depart.
On the drive out of D.C., we heard on the radio that Oswald had been shot
and killed. Months later seeing the coverage of the funeral on the movie
screen in the auditorium (Juli and I talked about that in Austin).
We then flew from Massachusetts to La Paz, stopping in Panama so my father
could get his credentials in order to present them upon arrival. At that
time, there were no jet flights to Bolivia so the airplane had to fly down
the coast of South America and if they were informed the mountain pass was
clear, the plane would then turn and fly up the Andes mountains. The
stewardess came around with a little silver tray handing out soroche pills
for everyone to take. Upon arrival there was a very elaborate welcoming
ceremony and tanks of oxygen! Anyone else remember being greeted with tanks of oxygen?
Arriving just as a group of Americans were being held hostage by a group of
Bolivian miners. So not only did Dad have to adjust to the altitude, he
immediately had to jump in and negotiate, successfully without any deaths,
the release of the Americans. At the time there were two Juan Lechins in La
Paz and Juan Lechin el malo was the principal negotiator for the miners.
We then were driven to the Residence on the Plaza Abaroa. My mother would
joke about waking up every morning with the finger of Abaroa pointed at the
house in a manner which questioned what they had done the night before.
What a vista-the city of La Paz nestled in this huge hole with Illimani,
like a mother hen, looking over the city. I don't remember my first day of
school but I'm told by Marc Landry and Richard that the students were told to be on their best behavior because the "Ambassador's children" would be attendingthe school. he rest of my time was all fun!
I started adopting animals -a "watch-dog" at the residence, Pepe; my dog,
Mo; then a Bolivian dog, Chapi; birds -- 4 macaws, a toucan, assorted
parrots and little birds; rabbits; ducks; a goose, George; monkeys, Blanche
and Pepito; guinea pigs; a coatimundi; my horse, Calamar and later Playboy.
We always joked all we needed was a llama to make it a real zoo. One day
the marine guard called up my father to say there was a "package" for him.
So, he said, "well bring it up.". The marine said, "well, sir, you don't
understand, it's a very large snake.". To which my Dad said, "well, send it
home to my daughter." Meeting Vesty, who helped us feed the poor thing
because all its teeth had been pulled. Cleopatra would stretch herself out
across the front steps to sun herself-spooked more than one guest to the
residence. After she died, my father buried her in his rose garden --
'swears those were the best roses he ever had. It seems that every time
someone left the country who had an animal they couldn't/wouldn't take with
them, it ended up with us!
Since the residence was "up-town" versus in Calacoto, where the school was,
we tended to board our buses (colectivos - what did they say, Richard --
"apurase Gringo") and return home at the end of the day so we started
looking for friends in our area-resulting in our friendship with the
"Sharks." Also, there was a group of "girls" who took up horseback riding
(Candy Meckstroth with Titanic; Annabeth Meister, first with her little
white horse and then with her brown horse, Pat Buls, Robin Nydell, Pat
Penaranda, Trish Lester-without a doubt Candy and Pat were the best
riders around!). We spent our weekends on horses and organized and held
gymkanas. Anyone remember Roberto Nielsen-Reyes? How about "Baby-Huey" -- Mr. Granier's (sp) horse? Tommy Herrmann and his terrible accident?
One day, the marine guard called my father to tell him that there was an
Indian woman waiting to see him in the lobby. He said see if someone else
could help her but the marine said she refused to leave. So my Dad comes
down and there is Lileeli-"como siempre, senor, tarde." She had found
out that we were back in Bolivia (remember, she couldn't read or write) and
had come to see her "Petey-tie." So, when Peter came to Bolivia on a summer
visit, we went to Cochabamba. Aurelia was now working for a German family
and she got to see her Petey-tie all grown up.
Senior Prom with Jose Barrientos?oh, how I wish I could find him. And to
think my mother had to drag me away, kicking and screaming, from my horses
in order to get ready to go!
Jennifer dressing up and dancing with President Barrientos at his
inauguration-she always was the party girl. And me standing outside the
door in riding breeches and boots. Karen breaking both her arms falling off
Playboy.
Parties with the Sharks-carnival and riding in open trucks being sprayed
by water and throwing water balloons, celebrating the winter solstice --
Noche de ??? -- someone help me out here - remember the bon fires (warming
Pacha Mama - mother earth), dancing all night in the street with those great
Bolivian bands and drinking "leche de tigre?" And the cloud of smoke
settled over the city the next morning? The party Jen and I went to where a
threat to kidnap us was called into my father and Lucho Arrien getting wind
of it and hustling us out to our chauffeur-driven car and getting us home
safe. I wonder where Lucho, Mariano and Billy Arrien are now?
My mother returned to Peru to fly in with Bruce on the first jet into La
Paz. They didn'- know if it would start again so they landed, got off, held
a ceremony and the jet took right off again-the start of jet service to
La Paz. Standing at the airport, placing bets on what color the Braniff
plane would be and who would spot it first circling for a landing over the
altiplano.
Alicitas, Ekkekos, Saltenas, a full moon over Illimani, Illimani behind the
alter at the Methodist Church on the grounds of the Bolivia-American
Institute, Mr. Meister playing the piano/organ? for Even Song, when the
Anglican Bishop visited three Church services, the Altiplano, La Muela
del Diablo, the dried llama fetuses in the market (put in the cornerstone of
a new house for good luck), having an 18 karat gold graduation ring! (I
still have it), signing Blanche's name (my monkey) as a requestor for
American music when the first American hamburger place came to town,
Bolivian music, our one-eyed driver, Carlos, being the first to honk your
horn at an intersection so you could go through, our Scout International
that I learned to drive on that had three stick shifts, Bishop Charlie Brown
craning his neck to see if the Wednesday evening Open House is going on and
running into the back of the Yugoslav Ambassador' car-and offering his
papal ring to pay for it, The Beatles, The Four Tops, Twister.
The visit of Armstrong and Gordon and our fascination with the fact that
these men had been in space and yet needed to suck on that oxygen tank!
My Dad being best buds with Col. Fox and his utmost respect for his DCM, Mr. Fisher. My Dad's social secretary, Ms. Bedoya, sister to Carlos, Grace and Lia. My mother with her circle of friends (Pat Chatten sticks in my mind)
and activities-folding bandages at the hospital, working in orphanages,
her lifelong commitment to Girl Scouts. Her shopping for gifts and clothes,
stockings and film, for two years at a time so that her children would have
nice things for birthdays and Christmas. Falling for the line "but Mom, it
just followed me home."
My Dad telling the military that they needed to get rid of their old weapon
storage. They removed a bunch of shells to the altiplano to blow them up
and everyone stood a discreet distance away-only it wasn't far enough
away, shells flew over their heads and everyone had to hit the ground. My
father still has some sort of piece from that day that he uses as a plant
stand. A couple of years later, we heard that a mouse must have stamped his
foot and the whole storage area (which was in downtown La Paz) blew up --
they hadn?t removed everything!
I remember family trips all throughout Bolivia, the Beni (where a bat flew
around in the room with my Dad, brother and marine security officer, fishing
and catching piranha); Santa Cruz (staying with Sandy White and his family);
Oruro our first year there for Carnival; Cochabamba (and visiting the
abandoned estate of Patino and catching up with another old family friend,
Nova Dickson, whose husband went there as a missionary and was killed on a
mountain road making way for a chola truck; meeting Wally Kaederling, who
kept us in stitches, visiting the market and drinking chicha); the visit
with the Farahs, where they were translating the Bible into the local Indian
dialect (swimming in the same river where there were crocodiles and piranhas
and the little bug that burrowed under your skin that later had to be popped
open and removed, visiting the village where the men wore dresses made of
tree bark). Then there was the trip with the Raaf family visiting Potosi
and Sucre. Lake Titicaca and Tiahuanaco. Glacier Lake. Chacaltaya (the
"ski resort" at 18,000 feet and the headaches at that altitude).
The overthrow of Paz "El Mono" Estenssoro. Rumors had been going around
that things might be getting ready to happen. Arriving home in the evening
with men standing outside the residence gates, wanting to speak to my
father. Looking for asylum assurances (the U.S. Government does not provide
asylum) in case the coup should fail. Then the coup actually happening?a
group of Americans caught on the street, banging on the gate to get in to
safety and my mother having to confirm their identity before letting them
in. And, then, playing Monopoly on the floor with them. Watching the
airplanes straff the Ministry of Defense on the corner and bombing the hell
out of the mountain ledge in Miraflores where the Christmas Nativity always
was.
The build-up of American military teams (we had General Tope stay at the
residence with us) out of Panama for the "insurgency" in the jungle. A
Bolivian military team being ambushed and a "horse" acquaintance being
killed. Finally, waking up to the newspaper with the front page article and
picture of the death of Che Guevara-little did I know the importance of
it.
Mrs. Gemmell, the school counselor, advising me on colleges to go to in the
fall-the hell with that, I wanted to stay in Bolivia FOREVER! Oh, how I
envied Linda that she would be staying there after graduating.
Then my mother was diagnosed terminally ill and we were medivaced (all of
us, plus my brother Peter and wife Pam, Bruce and my cousin Merrill) out of
Bolivia on the General's plane from Southcom. The tearful farewell at the
airport and my mother stepping out in the airplane doorway to wave
good-bye. We arrived back and thanks to the kindess of the Korens and
Springsteens were put up in their homes in D.C. until we could figure out
what next.
The culture shock on arriving back in the United States?remember, we
hadn't been back for any extended time in over 8 years (3 in Peru and 5 in
Bolivia). The Democratic Convention in Chicago and the Vietnam Protests.
Pipes, bongs and pot. Going off to college at Bethany College in West
Virginia and being so homesick. Sodas out of a can, not a bottle. Jennifer
struggling to cook her first Thanksgiving meal-and now she LOVES to cook.
A washing machine that you just threw the soap and clothes in and they
washed and spinned themselves-imagine that.
My mother passed away in September of that year. Was I one lost kid.
I went on to do one year at Bethany College, but I was so homesick that I
returned to Washington, where I did another 2 ½ years at American
University. Eventually, I finished up my last ½ year and graduated from
there. Jennifer, meanwhile, graduated from high school in Washington and
went on to Goucher College. When she got out, we both got jobs at the State
Department and rented an apartment together. So, after doing stints in
European Affairs, Latin American Affairs and Diplomatic Security, I am now
settled in the Bureau of Administration, handling the reservations for the
Diplomatic Reception Rooms (a donated collection of over $90 million
dollars, which is used principally by the Secretary of State to host
visiting dignatires) and looking forward to retiring in 478 days-but
who's counting. In addition, I worked 15 years as a Reserve Officer with
the Metropolitan Police Department-now THAT was an experience!
At age 43 meeting and marrying Oscar-never thought it would happen but
the past 10 years have been extraordinary-without a question, he's the
best!
It was truly our fortune and what a unique experience that we were in
Bolivia for 5 years-we had an extra advantage of meeting so many people?and developing lifelong friendships (Annabeth Meister) -- and now so many being renewed to last me my next lifetime. I always wondered what happened to all those wonderful people I went to school with and graduated with. I'm still missing some of those I graduated with and sure would like to find them-Joe Parsons, Cecilia Gill, Chelita Villegas, Kathie Tempel, Fernando
Pelaez to mention a few, but so grateful for being back in touch with Linda
Gemmell, Mike Myers, Mona Grams and Angie Raaf.
Being in a school that spanned kinder to 12th grade, with a brother and
sisters in a wide range of classes, gave me so much more interaction with
all grades and years. I don't want to mention specific names as I'm afraid
I'll leave someone out but you were, and are now, very dear to me. So many
fond memories-all re-kindled by finding so many of you in the past year
and a half. I feel like I could go on forever and ever but Richard has
probably run out of space and is tired of re-typing this. I love you guys!
The best is yet to come. Con carino, Lee (Henderson-Martinez)