Photo: Caterina Stahl

Name: Emma Ramos
Age: 52
Home: Bolivia
Job: Making fresh juice

Doña Emma appears lost in deep thought at first look, but her smile lines readily deepen as soon as she breaks into a well-worn sonrisa.

Craving some fresh hand-squeezed juice? Back home in Maine, USA I could only buy such a thing at an organic hippie fair (and only during the summer), or by making it myself. Since arriving in Bolivia a few weeks ago I’ve become spoiled by the abundance of fresh juice. Orange and grapefruit? Mango and banana? The fruit combinations seem endless, and come with milk, water, or just pure undiluted juice, or zumo. The creators behind these healthy treats are men and women, usually sitting behind a small stand or pushing a juice cart.

In my quest to learn more about this occupation I decided to talk with a real juicerista to make it more personal. Enter Emma Ramos.

Doña Emma appears lost in deep thought at first look, but her smile lines readily deepen as soon as she breaks into a well-worn sonrisa. For twenty years she has been squeezing (or one might even say squeezing by) for a living. Now, at fifty-two, Doña Emma is still making fresh juice to support her family. There is a lot of competition among street vendors in general, but juicers in particular. Many are known to be fiercely territorial.

Doña Emma started selling juice when she detected a location with untapped juice-selling potential. She has never looked back and has now been selling juice for two decades. ‘I used to bring my son when he was three and now he is twenty three!’ Ramos lives with her companion and has two children. ‘I used to be a housewife but we lacked money’.

Doña Emma works from eleven ‘til five, almost every day. ‘I work for rent and food but it’s not enough all the time.’ As she gets older the job takes its toll on her. She has to push the large cart full of oranges and grapefruits by herself most days. 'I have pain in my belly and side.' I was amazed at the initiative and strength Doña Emma showed. Here’s a woman about thirty years my senior who’s more physically active in a day then I possibly am in a week.

After downing my orange-grapefruit zumo I handed the cup back to Doña Emma feeling refreshed in many ways. The juice of course left a clean healthy feeling in my body but I also left with a fresh perspective on what incentives people will take to support their families.

Photo: Caterina Stahl

Name: Vicente Mayta Rivero
Age: 48
Job: Typewriter

‘I’ve written many letters for people to presidents such as Victor Paz Estenssoro, Hugo Banzer Suarez, and Evo Morales’.

'Me llamo, Vicente Mayta Rivero nací en el año 1965 un 5 de abril en la ciudad de La Paz.'
~~~
I can’t remember the last time I wrote a letter to someone. Vicente Mayta Rivero does it everyday—on a typewriter. He’s been at it for the past twenty-five years. His job has suffered transformations during this time period, largely due to the democratisation of computers, but Rivero still has enough work to support his family.

One might reasonably ask, how does this occupation continue to exist? ‘It survives because you need it,’ Maya explains. These needs can include typing up credentials, tax forms, and writing plain-old letters. Bolivian people find these tasks are done faster and more efficiently using a typist.

‘I’ve written many letters for people to presidents such as Victor Paz Estenssoro, Hugo Banzer Suarez, and Evo Morales.’ Rivero has also typed out many love letters during his time. ‘Love letters, yes. Just ask for them’, he says with a twinkle in his eye.

I ask him how he began in this line of work. ‘In ‘86 there weren’t many job opportunities. A new tax law came in and it was too messy to fill in the forms by hand, so people got students to help them with typewriters. I just stayed with it.’

Mayta once dreamed of becoming a lawyer but he had to continue the with typewriting to support his three children. In giving up his dream, Mayta came to find joy in his job, and joy in watching his three children succeed in the fields of law, commerce, and mechanics. I asked Rivero if he would ever consider practicing law, but he’s found so much fulfilment in typewriting, with all its ups and downs, that he won’t be leaving his occupation any time soon.

‘Overall it is lovely working on the street. The only thing is that we also have to go through is the harshness of the weather. Sometimes its cold and we have to dress up warmly, and sometimes its hot but, anyhow, we’re happy.’

Photo: Caterina Stahl

Name: Tania Mamani
Age: 35
Job: Nail artist.

 Watching her work makes me realise it's essentially a combination of sculpting and painting on miniature canvases.

This is just too good to be true, is my first thought upon discovering that for as little as 1 USD, I can get my nails done by women at little manicure stands in storefronts, and even on the street. When I first meet Tania Mamani she is with a client. She agrees to talk to me while she replaces an old set of nail extensions. I’m afraid I’ll cause Tania to lose focus, but she talks very animatedly while doing her job with uncanny precision.

Photo: Caterina Stahl

Tania began her career after studying at a beauty institution and specializing in acrylic nail extensions. ’It’s an art’, she tells me with full conviction. I’d never really thought about nail technician in that way before, but watching her work after she tells me this makes me realise it's essentially a combination of sculpting and painting on miniature canvases.

She made the full time switch from being an auxiliary nurse to doing nail extensions about a year ago. Leaving nursing was beneficial for Tania in many ways. Not only does she love her new job but she earns more money and has more time to take care of her two sons, who are ten and twelve.

Tania’s abilities are in high demand even when she’s not on the clock. Tania has many examples of her work, which she eagerly displays for me on mini nail models. To be honest, I’m a little giddy myself at the thought of knowing a nail technician as good as Tania—I’d want them to do my nails all the time. ‘Yes, my friends love that I can do their nails. There are even boys younger than fifteen who want one nail done’.

During the interview I notice a certain familiarity between Tania and her client, Aime. When I ask about it Tania tells me that most of her clients are regulars. ‘They like my designs. It’s more personal. Many come back two times a week.’ Infact, Tania’s fan base is so big she hardly has any walk-ins. ‘My clients know about me before they come. They come and find me.’ Aime proudly tells me, ‘girls like cute long nails and someone to do it for them. I am very happy with Tania’s work’.

I’d been told by various Bolivian locals that the religious festival El Gran Poder brings in much work for nail technicians because of the elaborate costumes of over 50,000 dancers planned right down to the fingernails. I assumed Tania had done much work during the day but when I asked her she simply said, 'no, I didn’t work during it'. She knew everyone would be vying for business that day but she decided to relax and enjoy the time with her family.