Once again, apologies for the lack of updates. So much has happened since our return to La Paz! We visited Potosí, said to be the highest city in the world. One day we went down into the mines of the “cerro rico” (rich mountain), which essentially funded the entire Spanish empire with all its silver. During it’s glory days, it was the 3rd biggest country in the world, bigger than London, Paris, and New York. We visited the Casa de Moneda, which used to be one of three mints for the Spanish empire in Latin America. Now the city is fairly overrun by poverty, and it was hard to imagine it’s extravagant past. Going into the mines was especially memorable. The miners work all day, without breaking for lunch. Each mine has it’s own shrine of sorts to the “tio”, the so-called god of the mines, or underworld. They give him offerings of coca leaves, cigarettes, and extremely hard liquor as an exchange for taking his minerals. I was told that most miners die after ten to fifteen years of work, usually of the lung disease silicosis. Still, they seemed to have so much pride in their work. On the same excursion we also visited Sucre, called the white city because a municipal law requires all buildings to be painted white. It once was the country’s capital, but after the civil war with La Paz it was demoted to the position of judicial capital.
About two weeks ago we got back from Santa Cruz, the biggest and most modernized city in Bolivia. Recently the region has fought for autonomy from the rest of the country, since they believe they possess all the resources and income supporting Bolivia’s economy. Similarly, Cruceños (as Santa Cruz residents are called) are known to be somewhat racist and adverse to the increased role of indigenous peoples in Morales’ government. Santa Cruz is in the lowlands, which actually make up 2/3 of the country, though most people identify Bolivia with the Andes mountain range. Despite the intense heat and humidity, I enjoyed the slower pace of life that people seemed to live there. We talked to several groups about the massive problem of deforestation. The whole system of getting authorization to cut trees is so corrupt that all legislation addressing the issue has been pretty ineffective thus far.
Now I am working on my independent study project (ISP), which makes up the last month of the program. I’m currently living with a family in El Alto, the 80% Aymara and rapidly growing city above La Paz, studying the indigenous political organization CONAMAQ. That stands for the National Council of Ayllus and Markas of Qullasuyo. Ayllus and Markas are traditional forms of community authority structures that prevailed throughout the Andes prior to Spanish colonization. Qullasuyo is their traditional term for the entire nation of Bolivia. Basically, their overarching mission is to reconstitute these forms of traditional authority into the modern day political system. Since the beginning of the ISP period a week ago, I have visited the ayllu Bombo outside of Oruro and attended their community meeting about gaining legal rights to their land under the new constitution. I also made several visits to the CONAMAQ headquarters in La Paz and interviewed several representatives. This week I am back in Cochabamba for the “Peoples’ World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights”. I will be examining CONAMAQ’s proposals at the conference and how they correspond to Andean Cosmovision.
So far my most extraordinary experience has been observing the striking differences between the neighboring cities of La Paz and El Alto. For several days in a row, I would wake up early and catch a bus to the “ceja” (literally, eyebrow), the edge of El Alto that overlooks the valley rim down to the capital. It’s very hectic during the day, with large crowds of bustling people and buses constantly honking. Still it feels very desolate at times. All you can see in every direction is the same panorama of orange brick buildings, with hardly any greenery in sight. After the 45 minute ride from the ceja down into La Paz, you’re suddenly in a cosmopolitan city of people in business suits, skyscrapers, tourists, cafes, etc. So much more wealth.
Though El Alto is not the most inviting place to live, I’ve really come to like my family here. There are lots of people in and out all the time, and I’m still trying to figure out how everyone is related. Maria, the oldest daughter who takes care of me for the most part, is going to teach me to make salteñas when I get back from Cochabamba. These are the tastiest of Bolivian specialties, in my opinion. A tiny, football shaped pastry traditionally filled with a stew of chicken and/or beef, vegetables, potatoes, and usually an olive and hard-boiled egg. You can also find vegetarian varieties. They are sold all over the streets for a mid-day snack. It took me at least three times to master the art of eating a salteña without spurting juice all over myself. Apparently if you spill while eating salteñas with a group of people, you are expected to pay for everyone. My strategy is to hold it vertically, gently take a small bite out of the top corner, and (without slurping) drink the juice inside. From there on you can proceed with small bites.
That is all for now. Only three weeks left in the program and I can’t believe it! Hopefully I’ll get another post or two down before then. Love to all!
