Tag Archives: study tours

Bolivia: A Farmer with a Plan

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Story and photos by Carolee Riley,
Internal Communications Manager and Bolivia Study Tour Participant


“Everyone needs a plan,” said Savelio Lopez, a Heifer International project beneficiary who lives with his wife and young daughter in Potreros, a remote and isolated village located three hours from Tarija, Bolivia. “Every producer should have a plan. It is a good guide. But you need a community plan too. You must have both to be successful.”

Savelio Lopez does, and is.

Trained as a leader in sustainable agricultural production, Savelio attends sustainable agricultural trainings provided by a rotating fund from Heifer International and teaches these skills to others in his community. The funding from Heifer supports the “Improving Production, Processing and Marketing of Small Farmers’ Agroecological Products in the Department of Tarija” project, enabling Savelio and others in his community to attend trainings and purchase tools and materials for agricultural activities such as irrigation systems, vermiculture bins for composting and sheet metal for animal pens.


As a participant in Heifer International’s first study tour to Bolivia this past November, I learned that none of the land in this area is individually owned; it is owned by the community. Savelio and his family live on ¾ hectare of land that they requested and received from the community. They pay a monthly fee for access to drinking water, which gives them the right to 7,000 liters of water a month. They use 4,000 liters a month for themselves and the remaining water is used on their crops—peach trees, cabbage, squash, native potatoes, onions, oregano, chamomile, beans, kale and several varieties of flowers—and for their animals—pigs and hens. But it is not enough. At the time of our visit, the community was suffering from a drought. Every farmer we met in this area expressed a drastic need for rain. Crops that should have been over our heads and bright green in color were only a few feet high and were beginning to turn yellow around the edges. Despite these harsh conditions, Savelio’s spirit remains positive.

He and his family are able to eat the majority of the food they grow and sell the remaining fruits and vegetables at the market. Savelio’s family produces organic fruits and vegetables. He fertilizes his crops with pig urine along with a mixture of lime and sulfur. While he could raise the price of his organic produce at the market, he chooses not to do so. “If I raise the price of my organic vegetables, only those people with lots of money could afford them. Those poor families like mine could not afford to buy them. We’re not in this to make money,” said Savelio, “we’re in this to share with our community.”


Producing native seeds is a common practice here and crucial for the survival of the community, as this prevents community members from depending on external seed providers. For this reason, the community holds a seed fair on a regular basis for exchanging native seeds with other community members and for recovering native seeds that have been lost. Some of the native seeds include corn, peas and several varieties of beans and squash. It is a well-respected rule that native seeds shared at the seed fair must stay within the community. Savelio has grown potato plants from native potato seeds and is now able to produce his own native potato seeds.

There are four main pillars of sustainable production that Savelio says every community must have to be successful:
1) Production – Growing what people need to eat
2) Social aspect – Teaching what one knows to others in the community
3) Cultural aspect – Conserving natural seeds and food culture
4) Financial aspect – Earning money for family necessities such as clothing, and for Savelio, a backpack for his daughter to carry when she attends school.


It was clear to our study tour group that Savelio’s community has all four pillars in place.

Toward the end of our visit on his farm, Savelio asked, “Would you like to see my five-year plan?” Seeing our eyebrows raise and heads nod, he quickly retrieved it from inside his house. When he returned, he unrolled the bright yellow paper and proudly showed us a detailed drawing of the five-year plan he created for his farm, which identifies where his farm is now and where he hopes it will be in 2015.


Some of his five-year goals include having more peach trees, expanding his green houses, building fencing for cattle, building a storage room, obtaining beehives for honey production, planting additional flowers and citrus trees (orange and lemon), planting live fencing to avoid soil erosion and planting trees that produce large leaves that he can use for ground cover to prevent frost damage in the winter months.

Savelio Lopez exceeded my expectations that day. There is no doubt in my mind that if I were to return to this wonderful place five years from now, Savelio Lopez will have exceeded his own expectations, as well as those of his community members.

Tour to Bolivia – Part 2

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written by Catherine Scott

Filiberto Lopez, his wife Josefina Alvarez, and Domingo Barrios (CEO Heifer Foundation) at the presentation of the Golden Talent Award.

“Everything I have done is for my community. That is why I am happy” – Filiberto Lopez.

Several years ago, Filiberto Lopez was ready to pack up and move to Cochabamba, Bolivia in search of work. He was frustrated by the changes in the weather that meant an already difficult life as a farmer was becoming even more difficult. He admitted to us how, at the beginning of the project in Pajcha Baja, he had been a skeptic. He was unsure of how organic farming in such a poor area was going to be able to help him, his family or his community.

Soon, however, the families in the area were able to harvest cabbage, lettuce, and carrots, in addition to their traditional staple of potatoes. They were able to feed their families and take the excess to market. Having sheep and chickens also meant their children were able to have some much needed protein and to use the animal manure for organic fertilizer. With just a small amount of success, Filiberto became a true believer in the project and has emerged as a leader in his community.

With an air of quiet and humble pride, Filiberto Lopez was presented with the Golden Talent Award by Domingo Barrios (CEO of Heifer Foundation) in front of his entire community. Mr. Barrios spoke of how the people in Pajcha Baja “are not poor. They are rich in spirit, and rich in community.” We all saw what he saw. These are rich people in an impoverished land. However, through sharing and caring for one another, along with community training, they are finding ways to increase their income and improve their quality of life. Together, they have even built a bridge so that their children can continue to cross the river during the rainy season and attend school.

One of the most surprising and touching moments of the ceremony was when we learned that Filiberto has already returned some of his award money to be used by the community as a whole. He did not want to keep it all for himself, and that is part of what makes him such a strong leader and an even better man.

While Filiberto was the named winner of the award, he was quick to publicly acknowledge his wife, Josefina, as being a full and valued partner in their farming operation. Standing and smiling together with their three children, we saw hope for the future in Pajcha Baja.

Tour to Bolivia – Part 1

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written by Catherine Scott


Fifteen volunteers and staff from all over the United States traveled to Bolivia to embark on the first ever Heifer Bolivia Study Tour. After landing at nearly 14,000 feet in La Paz, we felt light-headed, but also filled with anticipation for what was to come. One of the most special events of our trip was the opportunity to take part in a Passing on the Gift Ceremony. On November 12th, after a 2.5 hour drive from Cochambamba, (filled with endless bumping up and down the rocky, one way road into the valley), our Heifer group finally arrived in Pajcha Baja. Many of us had been suffering to varying degrees from altitude sickness, but we were determined not to miss this ceremony.

The entire village had turned out to greet us with friendly handshakes, a kiss on the cheek, and many kind words of “Bienvenidos” and “Gracias” for making the journey. People and sheep alike strolled around the open square between the surrounding buildings, and we could sense the excitement for the ceremony that was about to begin. The women were all in their finest layered skirts and wide brimmed white hats. Chairs were brought out from the little school and we found a little shade against the side of the building, protecting ourselves from the intensity of the sun at such a high altitude.

After the official speeches were delivered and the thanks were offered, it was time for the Passing on the Gift ceremony. We leaned forward like kids on Christmas morning, so excited to see what would burst forth from the shaking, bouncing green bags! A representative from the donor family would step forward to have their name read, a list of the animal(s) they had received and the name of the donor would also be read. The donor would then place the leash for the sheep in the hands of the recipient. After the main gift of a sheep, the excitement really began!


Each person would step forward with a bouncing green bag, open it and gently drop forth whatever animal was hidden inside. Squealing piglets, clucking chickens and quaking ducks all emerged somewhat stunned into the mid-day sun. Children ran in all directions to chase down the scurrying animals and to return them to their rightful recipients. Some of us, as well as some of the Quecha people, both men and women, were in tears, overcome by the moment. It was, in many ways, beautiful and powerful, but it was also joyful and funny.

We felt incredibly honored to be able to share in this moment with these generous people, and to congratulate this community on having achieved so much in such a short period of time.

Bigness here.

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A Study Tour Reflection by Kelly Keena

Evident by the introduction of the group to the community was not only the gratitude for Heifer’s gift, but the intensity of what comes from within communities and individuals. The president of the organized group, Rubio Torrez, a small man with a strong conviction, spoke:

“We have bigness here. We have bigness in the trees. We have bigness in our people.”

I sat, thankful again for this experience, humbled by the hospitality and moved by the introductions where I learned that of the twenty-two people involved in the group, half were women and half were men, an important aspect of gender equality in Heifer’s mission.

After lunch, we walked through the community to visit group members at their homes and hear stories. These stories were not of receiving, they were of giving. As we wound through the main cobblestone path of the community we met Don Miños and learned that he had not had a cow since his childhood as his cherished heifer, I would say lovingly, licked his arm; we met Susana whose mother and calf (“Doll Face”) stood without disturbance to our presence…and our camera flashes.

And in front of Susana’s home, we formed a circle assorted by community members intermingled with study tour participants, hands held, and Rubio Torrez spoke again:

“You are our friends even though we have never met you.”

I am grateful for the opportunity to witness the power of small, impoverished communities with everlasting bigness.

Kelly Keena was a participant on this summer’s first session of the Study Tour for Educators in Honduras.

Go Away, For Good

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Did you read the World Ark article about “voluntourism”? Check it out before it’s shunted off to the archives.

“For those who want to become more engaged in hunger and poverty work, educational travel can be an invaluable tool. ‘Nothing beats face-to-face interaction if you want to learn about an issue, a community or an organization,’ said Nancy McGehee, a sociologist at Virginia Tech who studies volunteer tourism. ‘All the Web surfing, social networking and YouTube videos in the world cannot come close to the actual person-to-person experience.’ “

The Richness That Lies Below

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by Amy Carter

“I am going to Tanzania to learn.”

That’s what I told people who asked about my upcoming trip. I explained that Heifer International’s study tours are unique educational experiences. I hoped that I would be positively changed in some way, so that my time on the African continent would not be wasted. To be merely a tourist would be tragic; to be only an observer would be cause for shame.

My purpose was to be a student, as much as possible to be a tactile participant of a culture that had enamored me since I was a young girl asking Santa Claus for a globe, please. When it stopped spinning, gracing my fingertip was Africa.

Now, after having connected my flesh-and-blood feet with its earth — finally outside the boundaries of my imagination, a good book, or a film — I haven’t let go.

The landscape changed from green to orange and back to green within the span of an hour. The outdoor markets were filled with red bananas, yellow bananas, green bananas. The smiles were wide and welcoming, but there were also eyes that quickly turned away or avoided us completely.

It was the latter that made me sad, but I could only speculate at what could help provide a solution. The airplane that brought me to Tanzania was filled with mostly foreign faces. How many of them arrived to tour the land on safari, having been dropped in and later lifted out without appreciating the people who lay claim to the mysteries of the lakes, mountains and animals?

Although the objective of the study group was to engage with Heifer’s project partners, one morning we embarked on a game drive at the Ngorongoro Crater, the world’s largest caldera. Soon after our arrival into the crater, we spotted a pride of lions crouching in the grasses as two Maasai men herded their cattle toward them. The cattle clearly sensed the lions’ presence and ran in the opposite direction, disappointing the drama. The Maasai men held their spears quietly but aggressively against the threat hiding in the lion-colored grass, and we were protected spectators who were reminded, in that moment, that our leisure was someone else’s life.

It was a difficult line to distinguish, that demarcation between genuine interest and insensitivity. I continually found myself in this conflict, trying to remain grounded in respect when, for the price of a scowl, I could capture an image that would help to illustrate what I’ve seen and heard. One of the women’s groups encouraged us to practice the art of carrying bananas on our head. This was fun, and it whetted my curiosity, but have I also made light of a way-of-life?

That was never the intention. I returned home with many reminders of my visit in the form of photographs; a few pieces of artwork and jewelry; and gifts for friends and family. If only I could have also brought home with me the sense of community, rich cultural traditions, resourcefulness and connection to the land. Only then could I have given gifts of true value, found within the roots of a country I had the deep honor of experiencing for a brief time.

Those are qualities that I feel are in large part lost in my own culture, and it was these things that I tried to absorb by gazing at a strong woman carrying luggage atop her head with a baby wrapped against her back. I admired the man who pulled his cart of fruit that was covered not by a sheet of wasteful plastic, but by a mosaic of leaves and grasses.

Our group met a stingless-bee farmer, highly educated and renowned in his science, very friendly with an ever-present smile. His home was modest but indicated a relative financial success we hadn’t witnessed at other farms. He grew his own crops and managed some livestock. He was questioned about why he doesn’t market more of his honey and accumulate more wealth.

His tone indicated that the answer was obvious. I gathered that it must be the secret to his seeming peace and contentedness:

“Why, I am a simple man. I have everything here that I could need.”

His few, profound words embodied my study-tour experience. As my favorite journalism professor would say, it was my “take-away,” and it was achieved by listening to the rhythms and words of people living different but equal lives. I did not keep at a distance, nose pressed against glass peering at the stunning surface. Instead, I was given a view of the richness that lies below.


Amy Carter is a research and communications specialist at Heifer International. She recently completed a study tour of Heifer projects in Tanzania. You can read the previous posts of her travelogue here.

Maasai and cows in Ngorongoro Crater

Maasai roasting goat to share with Heifer study tour participants

There is Tragedy, But There is Hope

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Mama Didas and her 17-year-old son who is disabled

by Amy Carter

During this trip I have spent many frustrating minutes trying to learn pieces of Swahili.

Our driver named Jonathan taught me, “Tafadhali naomba kupiga picha,” – May I please take your picture – and this is the phrase that kept me awake from 4am to 6am on Monday morning.

“Jambo,” or “hello,” is pretty easy, but I have a difficult time remembering “Habari ghani,” which means “How are you doing?” (Although judging by the competency of my fellow tour participants, I am alone in my deficiency.)

However, what I realized today is that all I have really needed to learn is the Swahili word for “beautiful.”

Sister Alexandra, a nun we met in the city of Moshi who is responsible for 199 families receiving pigs, radiates peace. Mama Didas, the mother of a 17-year-old boy who cannot speak or get out of bed, is strong as she cares for her disabled son.

“All of her other children left her,” Ansila, a neighbor, told me. “So she suffers alone.”

They are beautiful.

Sixty-five-year-old Joseph Lui Massawe cares for his three grandchildren whose parents died of AIDS. His immaculately constructed goat pen illustrates the pride he must feel for his animal, his land, himself, and his family.

His wise face is beautiful.

Bernadina Michael is a 56-year-old widow who lost her husband to AIDS and now lives with the illness. She has a family of five children and showed us her goat pen with a smile, beaming even more brightly when we asked her daughter, who has completed a secondary education, what she wants to do for an occupation. “I want to go into tourism,” she said, shy but happy.

There is tragedy, but there is also hope. There is beauty.

Amy Carter is a research and communications specialist at Heifer International. She recently completed a study tour of Heifer projects in Tanzania. You can read the previous posts of her travelogue here.

Developing Their Dreams

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Maasai perform a traditional dance in Tanzania

by Amy Carter

We met our first Maasai families on Tuesday morning in the village of Losikito. Many of the children, upon seeing the eager faces of mzungu, or “white man,” ran from us in tears. One of our tour leaders explained with a laugh that we looked like lions to them. It’s likely he was telling the truth, because one baby in particular did not care for my smile.

But other children – particularly the boys – wanted their photos taken and then asked to serve as photographer. I happily obliged, handing over my camera and glad to show them a bit of my world.

The children followed us to our new location within the village. A group of Maasai men and women adorned in their traditional reds, blues and purples stood in single-file lines. They bent their knees up and down in a gentle, graceful bounce, as the beads of their jewelry clinked together, like glass againt glass or rain landing on the tops of banana trees. But their voices held the intensity of a warrior, reminding us that the Maasai’s history is a nomadic one. High, athletic leaps tell us that we are in the presence of a people whose spirit is powerful and intense. We are showered with flower petals, and I think about gentleness as a kind of strength as well.

After the dancing the group gathers into a circle in seats as we sit beside them, prepared to observe them in a self-evaluation of their project. A Heifer Tanzania staff member asks them to call out Heifer’s 12 Cornerstones, the principles on which our work is based. “Pass on the Gift” is the first to be written on the sheet of flipchart paper pinned to a goat shed. This group knows how to pass on the gift well, as it has collectively passed on 13 cattle since April 2008. They move through the list of Cornerstones, finishing the exercise with Gender Equity.

Next they discuss indicators that will help them evaluate whether or not they effectively embody each Cornerstone. Behind us, a group of village children watches captivated behind a fence. We learn that men and women increasingly share workloads and that women vote as well. Their village council is comprised of half women and half men. However, the women spoke less than did the men during the open discussion – perhaps out of shyness, maybe because they had an unexpected audience, or possibly because they are still developing their dreams.

But as the meeting came to a close, one of the women thanked Heifer and blessed us with these words: “Now we are empowered and can stand in front of anyone in our country and speak out.”

During final goodbyes and hugs, a man said, “Don’t forget Losikito.”

I don’t think we will.

Amy Carter is a research and communications specialist at Heifer International. She recently joined a study tour of Heifer projects in Tanzania. You can read the previous posts of her travelogue here.

An elderly Maasai woman in Tanzania

Discovering Joy at Mount Meru

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by Amy Carter
part 2 of 2

From the Kitomari home we traveled more than one very bumpy hour in Land Cruisers up the slope of a dormant volcano named Mount Meru. At an elevation of 6,000 feet above sea level, we were still only at the base of the mountain. As our bodies bounced and swayed up the windy, dirt road, we passed many women, men and children walking down. The women carried baskets of avocadoes on top of their heads and children waved at us with smiles that lured out our cameras. It is impossible to not smile in response to even the sight of these children, who nearly always turn their eyes to stare at our own. For many of us missing our own children, every day it is tempting to wrap each of them into a hug and kiss their dust-covered faces.

When we finally arrived at our destination, we were greeted by Mama Anna, a short, round woman with the personality of a natural entertainer. She and the other women in her group welcome us with a song and undulation, their tongues trilling in a way that none of our group are able to accurately mimic. Afterward we introduced ourselves, each of us labeling ourselves “Mama” and “Baba” followed by our oldest child’s first name. I was “Mama Owen,” and I don’t know that I’ve introduced myself as proudly as in that moment.

“Ubuntu” is an African term meaning, roughly, “I am because you are.” As we stood in the circle, chanting in Swahili — I, however, not managing much more than the commonly used greeting “jambo” — and sharing our lives, we weren’t separated by geography, economics or gender. We instead were united as parents, children and individuals earnestly seeking to learn more about one another and celebrating our humanity, successes and challenges. We shared a lunchtime meal of chapati, stew, rice, fruit and tea prepared by their hands. Mama Anna and her husband Ishmael then told us about the Heifer training he had attended in 1992 that taught him how to build a cow shed and how one year later they passed on one of their cows to another family in need. In 1997 they began producing award-winning cheese, and now people in the community travel to their home to purchase the cheese and other produce. One of their children has gone to university and they have contributed to the building of a school.

“I am thankful,” Mama Anna said. “All things have happened because of Heifer.”

Each member of the group participated in churning butter as the women danced and sang around us. Even I, rhythmically challenged, was glad to take one of their hands after I finished turning the heavy blue cylinder. They gladly taught us how to transport their luggage — bananas, in this case — on top of our heads, and we helped to smash coffee beans in a large mortar. Three of the women demonstrated by alternately lowering and lifting their pestles in what — for them — became an easy, graceful dance. Ishmael joined us around the mortar, throwing his grandson into the air, the giggles of a little boy joining in our song.

We were family that afternoon, discovering joy, blessings and unity at the base of Mount Meru.

Amy Carter is a research and communications specialist at Heifer International. This week she joins a study tour of Heifer projects in Tanzania. You can read part 1 of this post here.

Amy Carter (center) practices the art of carrying bananas.

Passing On The Gift…And The Knowledge

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Ndeianiswa Kitomari (left foreground) and others pump water at her farm in Tanzania. Photo by Kate Merrill.


by Amy Carter
part 1 of 2

Ndeianiswa Kitomari stands tall and silent. She has just arrived home from church on this Sunday, striking in a blue two-piece dress suit, purple sweater and floral head scarf.

But few people know that her real name is Ndeianiswa. She known widely as “Mama Nana,” a designation that announces she is the mother of eldest born Nama.

She is the first matriarch met by my group of Tanzania Study Tour participants, 14 individuals from across the United States journeying around the city of Arusha, its countrysides and mountain slopes to learn more about the ways in which Heifer International partners with resource-poor people to help them lift themselves out of hunger and poverty.

Mama Nana’s husband is named Zadock. He speaks to us in Swahili explaining that he was loaned fish, training and then goats by Heifer several years ago as part of the Northeast Tanzania International Livestock Assistance Project. Since then he has become what our team called a “master farmer.” Not only has the passed on the gift of animals to others in his community, but he is a model for other farmers and leads them in training to pass on the knowledge that he has gained as a result of his partnership with Heifer.

His voice is steady but soft, and his eyes are averted out of what seems to be a sort of shyness and humility — but the occasional laughter and smile indicate a kind heart. Mama Nana looks at him with pride as he explains the intricacies of cultivating a “kitchen garden,” the patience of growing vanilla beans — Mama Nana immediately brings us a photograph of him with the vanilla plant — and the science behind mixing the perfect blend of compost and soil.

Two hours later we walk to the four carefully constructed ponds where he farms tilapia fish, and he and son Nana roll up their pant legs and walk into the water with a large net spanning the pond’s width, bringing up with it a dozen fish into its folds. How often do you gather the fish for personal cooking? he is asked. “Whenever Mama says,” is the response.

“Asante sana,” I say to Mama, thanking her very much for welcoming us into her home, her garden and her world. She smiled and responded in kind — sharing with me a bit of the brightness and life that I know must sustain her husband, her family and her land.

Amy Carter is a research and communications specialist at Heifer International. This week she joins a study tour of Heifer projects in Tanzania. Read part two of her post here.

Women grind grain into meal at a Heifer project in Tanzania. Photo by Kate Merrill.