The family pictured here, like thousands of other Bolivians, is expected to survive on a pittance. They are also denied water and sanitation, things that we take for granted as our basic right. Yet, when Britain's hottest actor Damian Lewis takes time out to travel to South America's poorest country, he discovers tales of extraordinary survival and hope.

By Sophie Wilson, Photographs by Kalpesh Lathigra, Marie Claire, April 2006

"I bathe my children once a week. Not always the whole body, just the hands or face," says Maxima Tambo Cari, 26. "My children are not always clean. They do not have that right." British actor Damian Lewis and the Marie Claire team are in the front yard of a typical family home in El Alto, a sprawling shanty town overlooking Bolivia's capital city, La Paz. Lewis is here to meet Maxima, mother of three girls, as part of a fact-finding mission.

"We dig the wells with picks and shovels up to 10 yards down," she says. "People also dig wells as toilets, and that contaminates the water we drink. My children get sick with diarrhoea, so I have to take them to the hospital. It's not nice to live like this."

Maxima grew up in a house with running water. She dreamed of going to college, but she had to leave school at seven after her father died. When she was 12, Maxima became a cleaner. At 16, she got married and followed her husband to El Alto.

About 200,000 people in El Alto live like Maxima. Victims of a devastating privatisation policy of the Bolivian government as a condition of a World Bank loan, they can't afford water.

Nothing prepares you for the highest capital city in the world. Set in the bottom of a steep canyon, a skyline of tower blocks backs on to snow-capped mountains. Bolivia is the poorest country in South America and largely segregated: while the European-descended elite live in comfort, the indigenous majority suffer. In December 2005, their first indigenous president, Evo Morales, was elected. He has promised to reverse the fortunes of his native people.

It costs about £250, more than an average six months' wages, to get connected to water. And most people here are rural migrants without steady jobs.

Lewis speaks with farmers, gas workers, teachers and community leaders and, each time, unearths a similar story: "It's about the poor not having enough to survive," he explains later. "Multinational firms make huge profits, but it doesn't filter down. Most people earn only $2 (about £1.20) a day.

"Learning the extent of the manipulation, corruption and exploitation makes me angry. I'm glad for the chance to expose some of those dark practices," he adds.

We visit Antonio Paredes Candias primary school. "Buenos dias, Dam-ee-an," sing the children. It could be a classroom anywhere, with finger paintings displayed for the VIP guest. But it wouldn't exist without volunteers -- the head teacher, Zoila Montiel, says she brings in her own bottles of water for the children. There is no sewage system either. The 140 pupils have to relieve themselves in the school yard.

It's a bit like entering Dr. Who's Tardis as we step inside another building and are confronted with shiny new showers and toilets. Seven-year-old Maria Condamendez tugs on the taps, but nothing comes out. The water company isn't interested in poor customers who won't bring profits.

"It's the children who affect you the most," says Lewis. "They run around faeces-invested, litter-strewn yards, yet they're smiling. It's the only life they know, but it's likely it's the only life they'll ever know. In 60 years, they may be in the same house. But hopefully, they'll have running water.

We visit the Fejuve Medical Centre and discover the effects of unsafe water. "I see patients with gastrointestinal problems, such as diarrhoea or dysentery, and with scabies and other skin infections," says Dr. Rosalba Gonzalez, 26. "This is the only clinic in the neighbourhood, and I'm the only doctor."

Dr. Gonzalez also buys the clinic's water herself. She works here seven hours a day and is a postgraduate student, too. Recently married, the only way she can afford to do this is by relying on her parents. "My family have supported me, and now I'm hoping my husband will help," she says. "I've thought of quitting, but my commitment is too strong."

Gas is another utility that has been plundered by globalisation. Bolivia's gas resources are worth billions. But its gas gets sold abroad -- and the people here see none of the profits. It all goes to foreign companies, like British Gas, which controls a large part of the Bolivian gas industry.

"Gas o muerte" ("gas or death") reads the El Alto graffiti. In Bolivia, gas really is a matter of life or death. Last May, thousands of protesters from El Alto descended on La Paz and were met with rubber bullets and tear gas. As a result of these "gas wars," president Carlos Mesa resigned. Two years earlier, 67 people, including a five-year-old child, were killed following road blockades and mass demonstrations calling for changes.

But today there is hope. The new left-wing president, Evo Morales, has pledged to renationalise the gas industry. A former llama herder and coca-leaf farmer, he has also vowed to redistribute unused land to the poor, many of whom are farmers.

We meet Abrahim Mamani, a typical dairy farmer in Bolivia's Andean planes, the Altiplano. With no subsidies, harsh winters and vet bills to pay, life is tough. Abrahim's herd produces about 25 litres a day, which he sells to a multinational, Pil Andina. But Abrahim will only earn £1.20 for his efforts. With more investment, he could set up a co-operative with other farmers to process their milk into cheese and yoghurt.

"People are realising that, working as a collective, they can get more for their products than working as a single farmer," explains Lewis.

And councilor Rosa Choque Muruchi, 29, has proved that women at grass-roots level can make a real difference. She has introduced greenhouses across the southern region of Potosí. "Now, people can sell 11 lb. or 13 lb. of tomatoes or cucumbers, so they can afford to buy their children school materials," she says.

Other projects include a health centre, orphanage and boarding school, so girls don't have to walk two hours to school.

With President Morales in office and more women taking an active role, times are changing. "At first, men wouldn't allow their wives to come to meetings," says Rosa. "But now they are participating. We must stick together to make a difference."

See www.christian-aid.org.uk for information on Christian Aid Week from 14-20 May.

Caption: Damian Lewis in El Alto, left, where Maxima Tambo Cari lives with her children, Marisol, seven, Lizbeth, three, and Cecilia, five, opposite. Like many of those living in the area, the family does not have access to clean water, forcing them to draw it from a well.

Caption: Women workers at a local milk processing plant, above. In [El] Alto, children are living in desperate conditions, right and far right.

Caption: Like many farmers and their families in the Altiplano, Gregoria Assistiri and her son, Wilmer, right, live in poverty due to a lack of government support. Lewis visits a school that is forced to function without running water, above.

Caption: Despite leaving school at 11, Rosa Choque Muruchi, above, has led a successful campaign for more greenhouses and plans to help women market their handicrafts. Lewis visits a small-scale cheese and yoghurt producer, right.

Caption: With a wage of $2 a day, life is tough for dairy farmer Abrahim Mamani and his wife, Pilipa Quispe, left. Dr. Rosalba Gonzalez, right, has to buy water for the local medical centre herself.

Caption: President Evo Morales in indigenous dress on his inauguration day in January.

Contributors: Damian Lewis

106 - Could You Live On $2 A Day?

Bolivia highlight: "Standing above Lake Titicaca at 6 am watching the fishing boats leave the shore."

Idea of heaven: "Outdoor table tennis with champagne and foie gras."

Last time you were star-struck: "On a red carpet in L.A. I was having my photo taken and turned to see Dustin Hoffman politely waiting with a bemused expression. I scuttled away, but he called me back to get a photo with him."

Click here to read a transcript of, and see photos from, the documentary "Bolivia For Sale" filmed during Damian's visit to the nation.

Click here to watch "Bolivia For Sale" online in its entirety. (If that link fails, go to this page and click the link on that page to view the video.)