Break them rocks, boy!

By any measure, the city of El Alto - where La Paz's international airport is located - doesn't need another house. As you fly into Bolivia - assuming you can pull your eyes away from the towering peaks of the Cordillera Real - the sprawling mud and red brick homes of El Alto are the first signs of civilization that you see.

El Alto doesn't even appear on many world maps, but it should. Not only is the city the country's third largest - after not even existing a generation ago - but it contains the largest indigenous population of any city in the Americas AND is the fastest growing city in all of Latin America.

Perhaps not surpringly, El Alto is also extremely poor. A large percentage of the population is underemployed, with little access to clean water, electricity, or much else. But poor doesn't mean powerless. When the alteños, as they are known, got riled up in October 2003 they brought down the country's president, and they continue to exert a powerful influence on the government. A few limp effigies still hang from lamposts as a reminder of those heady days.

All of this was on our minds as we drove up to El Alto last weekend to take part in a weekly Habitat for Humanity project sponsored by the Embassy. As everyone knows, Habitat is in the business of building homes. And while I may have a few bold relatives who cleared land in the middle of the Sierras and built their dream home while hunting local wildlife, I consider it a success if I can hang a photo on the wall correctly. In short, I have few real skills when it comes to manual (ie. useful) labor.

Fortunately, the Bolivian architect for Habitat saw my value for what it was and I was put to work making the mortar that would keep the brick home together. In the U.S., this would probably be done by machine. In Bolivia, making the mortar, or mezcla, is a process that the Incas would still recognize.

After shoveling and then wheel-barrowing an enormous pile of dirt into the house compound, a 110-pound bag of cement powder was poured on top of it. To mix the cement and dirt, we shoveled the entire pile from its current location to a spot about two feet away. We then repeated the process so that the dirt/cement pile had effectively never moved. When we finally added water to the pile and tried to blend it all together with our shovels, the muddy amalgamation turned into the densest, most back-breaking substance I've ever encountered.

While this is all going on, four Bolivian builders are waiting around with empty buckets, impatiently yelling "Mezcla! Mezcla!" When we finally finish, the liquified pile of mezcla disappears into the nooks and crannies of the home disturbingly fast. So the process starts over and your back groans in protest. At one point, while wheel-barrowing my fifth hillside of dirt into the compound, I realized that the only difference between me and an Alabama felon was an orange jumpsuit. I half expected to run out of dirt and to be sent in the direction of a pile of rocks. "Break them rocks, boy, and make us some more dirt!", the architect would holler at me.

By the end of the day, half of a three-bedroom, 700-square foot house stood before us. The future occupants, Lúcia, Martín and their two children, had been on hand all day and were visibly excited. This family of four currently lives in a single bedroom in Lúcia's sister's home. Lúcia commutes nearly three hours a day to work in La Paz as a maid for a couple of embassy employees. Martín is unemployed. He had been working in Argentina, where jobs are more plentiful, but returned because he couldn't stand being away from his children. When Lúcia was hit by a mini-bus late last year the family's entire income was at risk, but she has recovered and the family has commited to making monthly payments to Habitat for the next few years.

Despite their difficulties, Lúcia brought a huge lunch of grilled chicken, rice and potatoes to stuff us with at lunch. And we'll be invited back to the home's opening later next month, after plumbing, electricity and a roof are installed. But as newcomers in this country, we're already looking forward to our next flight into La Paz, when we can turn away from the mountain vistas, look down on El Alto, and know that at least one of those red brick homes was built - in part - by us.