To the youth and young-at heart of Battle Creek:

I write to you, in hope and pride for our hometown, from Bolivia in South America.

La Paz, Bolivia

With only a passport, backpack, and debit card, I am traveling over land and sea to Asunción, Paraguay, to explore the other American cultures with whom we share these American continents.

On Day of the Dead in Guatemala, I watched families wail to their deceased loved ones and ancestors. At a market in Ecuador, women wearing round bowler caps and pink-patterned shawls bartered over the prices of guinea pigs that they would later grill for dinner. In Potosí, Bolivia, I spoke to silver miners, as young as 13, who chew coca leaves to stay awake for their long shifts beneath the mountain. (Evo Morales, the president of Bolivia, wrote an interesting Op-Ed in the New York Times about coca chewing:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/14/opinion/14morales.html?em )

Miners chewing coca leaves

As a whole, I have found that foreign people and places are generally much more kind, happy, and trustworthy than many of us believe.

There is also much anger, pain, and injustice. A great teacher once taught me that we should ignore neither the beauty nor the suffering of our world, but that often we need an abundance of beauty in order to be able to help bear and alleviate the suffering of others.

Youth in Battle Creek used to tell me quite often me how Battle Creek “sucks,” how there is nothing to do, and how Elsewhere is so much better. Sure, there are thrills out here. The dormitory-style hostel where I stayed a few months ago offered an excursion to climb and “surf” down a nearby volcano. There is a toucan, slightly less colorful than in the Kellogg’s Fruit Loops commercials of yesteryear, bobbing his head in a palm tree next to the hammock in which I am currently typing. Museums, beaches, dance clubs, and tours of the jungle are all just short bus-rides away.

Thrills, however, eventually lose their charm, and most travelers look for good company as the most fulfilling part of their journey.

There is certainly good company to be found in B.C, and much else to enjoy about our home. I miss my friends and family, and the intimacy of our small population and common heritage. I miss the lakes and rivers of Southwest Michigan, and the soft, rolling, grassy (or snowy) hills which are so different from the jungles, deserts and mountains through which I am currently traveling.

A significant number of youth in Battle Creek drink alcohol and smoke marijuana as an escape from regularity; some have psychological or social addictions to these escapes. Adolescents have rebellion in their blood while attempting to both understand and remake our world at the same time. This is normal and healthy for all of us. But too often this rebellion is influenced by forces beyond the ability of young people to understand (and many older people, too, come to think of it.) If I tell you not to drink or smoke, you’ll probably just think I’m uncool. Perhaps you can hear me, however, a distant voice speaking to B.C. from far away, if I implore you to ask yourself, “Where do my desires truly come from?” and “What truly makes something cool or uncool?”

Although I think it is mostly healthy, even traveling is a form of escape. I get to examine and sometimes participate in cultures as an outsider, but I never really have to share their burdens of cutting firewood or selling potatoes at the market all day long for a profit equivalent to a mere 4 dollars. I get to decide my own schedule. And I always have the ability to move on and experience a variety of living that the locals will never know.

My return home will be the most important part of my journey.

Since I walked across the border into Tiajuana, Mexico over five months ago, we have elected and inaugurated a new president, one who might think and even look more like you do than his predecessor. Fine; if you happen to feel this way, enjoy your new relationship with executive power. But also know that President Obama is a symbol of potential change, and not the actual change itself. Often in the past, citizens have needed to push politicians to write into law the changes that we most need. The real change must come from us.

What do you wish for our hometown? What do you wish for yourself? Make it so. If you feel trapped, dig deeper. If there is something you are frustrated with, get to the bottom of it rather than choosing the comfortable escape of apathy.

The economy is tanking, and the joblessness rate is increasing. Many will tuck tail and leave for other places where the numbers are more appealing; they should be neither lamented nor envied, for each must ultimately discover his or her own path.

However, we have intimate knowledge of our home, and that knowledge calls for our responsibility and action right where we live. I personally do not know what to do to help the homeless here in Bolivia who spend their days with palms outstretched begging for a few pesos; their lives are too distant for me, and the causes of their sufferings are too complicated for me to deeply understand. But we do know Battle Creek, and we know some of the things that she needs and can give back to the world.

It should be easy for exotic Elsewheres to maintain their sophisticated appeal for simpler folk. We do not need to escape to them, except perhaps for a roundtrip journey. If we decide our own definitions of “cool,” we are investing in our own reality. If we grow strong at home, we can be an example for other places to follow. Our participation in the growth of Battle Creek, our simple yet beautiful home, is a part of our lives of which we can all be proud.

Joseph Rae Kunitzer is an independent journalist and world traveler who hopes to one day teach social studies at Battle Creek Central. He maintains a blog of his thoughts at beyondprodigal.blogspot.com, and can be contacted at josephkunitzer@gmail.com.

This entry, and comments on it, can also be found at http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/article/20090315/OPINION02/903150305/1014/OPINION
until March 22.