A Llama Fetish

I met Naomi about twenty two years ago during a EMT training class held at the Illinois Valley Fire Department. I was the stand in (or in this case, lay down) dummy for the the patient survey portion of the class.  I can unequivocally say I have never received as complete a secondary patient exam as I did from Naomi that evening in the thirty plus years in the fire service, all to the amusement and encouragement of our instructor Micheal Yanase.   Naomi heard some months back that I was interested in going on a humanitarian mission somewhere and invited me to check one out that she was joining through Project Helping Hands to Bolivia.  I applied to be on the Bolivian medical team and lo and behold they let me join the team.  Before I let Naomi post any stories on my blog she had to promise not to tell you I am not as tall, handsome or wise in real life as I am in the stories I write about myself...  Enjoy


written by Naomi, Emergency Room Charge Nurse


Have you ever wondered why there aren't Bolivian restaurants in America? Well, me neither, until recently. Having just returned from Bolivia I believe I can explain...

Llamas are in essence Bolivia's cattle. They graze in herds along the roads, sometimes in the roads, they're everywhere. They are also known to spit, kick and bite when challenged for food or maybe just because they feel like it. And they are eaten in just about every meal encountered.  I was excited to try llama meat. So, here we go, rising at O-dark-thirty (five in the morning) to scatter our group of 37 into 3 directions on various dubious vehicles to visit remote outposts.  (At this point I should refer the reader to Bill's recent post about trying to divide all of us into 3 vehicles, an entertaining look at ineptitude and poor organization skills in my opinion).

Naomi, Erika, Sherry, Natalie, Candace

Suffice to say, after loading, unloading and the RELOADING 3 vehicles we all set off into different directions to find the villages that are truly "at the end of the road". At least Bill had the nerve to shout "STOP" during the first attempt at loading the vehicles, thus preventing gear from being separated from it's owners.  Piling onto the top of pickup bed loads we set off and reached our destination of Palaya around breakfast (in Bolivian time).  If you wanted to be somewhere my 8, in Bolivian time it would be closer to 10 before you actually arrived.

Our small village had a beautifully built tile and brick clinic that was been built by Manos Y Manos.

We shortly learn that the toilet (thank you god)  had no water since the water truck didn't arrive until tomorrow.  As stuff began to pile up, and I do mean that, we finally hear that they are going to turn the remaining rationed water on for us to allow our clinic to proceed. OK, one thing accomplished, what next?

Oh yes, breakfast! They want to serve us a meal as thanks for coming. WONDERFUL. We sit down to a nice long table in the clinic and are served warm Quinoa with one cooked egg over it, 2 slices of carrot, a chunk of potato and a small chunk of llama bone with meat on it. OK, I think, not bad. Kinda unseasoned, but entirely edible. The piece I got was not quite as rough as the ones I saw others trying to eat.

Our next plate arrives-soup this time. Quinoa in a llama broth with 2 slices of carrot and a small chunk of potato. Hmm, ok, sort of repetitive, but I can handle it. This time my llama chunk is not edible. It might have gone over well with Bill's Lab, Stryker back home, but I can't eat it. I pass it to Brian Aeschelman, my paramedic team member who volunteers to eat all leftovers. (always bring someone like him along, it goes over great with the hosts). Here is a picture of him at the very table...
Last, but not least is the piece de resistance- a round piece of dough that has been deep fried. It is akin to Indian fry bread in the United States, but larger. Edible but no salt or sugar. This is the highlight I am told because it is made from a very small ball of dough that is hard to shape thin enough to create the big bubbles of crunchiness that are formed when done right. We leave lots of crumbs on the table hoping it is polite to do so.

very dead unborn llama fetuses

No spices, very little salt (even though they obviously live next to a 520 square mile salt flat) and no seasonings offered on the table. I was thinking it would be SPICY, being that it's down in South America, but Noooo. There were no hot sauce bottles, no shakers, no adornments offered. hmmmm.
Then just when you think you can handle llama again, you happen to be walking the street stalls in town and run into the "Bruja" (witch) stalls. Here is what you see. Yes, those are dead things hanging up for sale, very dead and in fact mummified llama fetuses. They are good luck totems, to be bought and buried at the foundation of your building. UUUUUGGGGHHHH.
Now I really am going to have a hard time eating tough llama meat.  After having eaten at several establishments in Bolivia, I can say that the trend is mild, bland and lots of quinoa, rice and llama. I hear that llama steak is good, but as it was, we were with the peasants and were not fed the choice cuts. Good luck finding it it in the US. And don't even look for a Bolivian restaurant because there aren't any.