‘The New World’, a term coined by Amerigo Vespucci in the 16th century to refer to the Americas, carries the idea that history on this side of the globe started when Columbus arrived to this ‘undiscovered’ continent. There is still a lingering misconception that there is not much history here in the Americas, that all is new here. However, the pre-Columbian civilisations have left a rich legacy behind that one can experience in the food, such as chuño, quinoa and anticuchos; the traditional dances of Gran Poder; the work of artists such as Roberto Mamani Mamani and Joaquín Sánchez; and the ruins of the Tiwanaku, Aymara and Inca cultures. Even the landscape tells a million-year-old story: the footsteps of dinosaurs imprinted in the sedimentary rocks of Torotoro National Park, where one can see the natural history of the world itself.
This issue of Bolivian Express wants to challenge this notion of ‘the New World’. We want to embrace the past that surrounds us, whether we realise it or not. History binds us and survives in the customs and conscience of people, but history is also being written and shaped by the difficult and continuous struggles that the indigenous peoples of Bolivia have faced against wave after wave of colonisers.
One of these long and harrowing fights was the recognition of the victims of the 2003 Bolivian Gas War. It took 11 years of long judicial procedures to have their pain and suffering recognised. On 3 April 2018, a US court, under the Torture Victim Protection Act, declared former Bolivian president Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada and his minister of defence, Carlos Sánchez Berzaín, responsible for the violence that left 60 people dead and nearly 400 injured in El Alto. But 11 years is nothing compared to the centuries-long indigenous struggle to be acknowledged, and in this context, the Goni trial represents a huge step forward. It’s the beginning of the end of impunity for foreign leaders who escape abroad from their crimes.
On a lighter note and facing a different type of oppression – but roaming now freely on the altiplano and experiencing a recovery in numbers since the 1960s, from 13,000 to 112,000 specimens – vicuñas are a fitting symbol of longevity despite long odds. The wool from this wild camelid, when properly processed, is one of the warmest and most water-resistant natural fabrics in the world, and it is highly coveted on the international market. The challenge is now to find sustainable ways for Andean communities to maintain and increase the population of this gracious relative to the llama.
But perhaps the secret to longevity is the menthol-based ointment called Mentisan, beloved to generations of Bolivians. Since 1938, this same recipe has been curing Bolivians from burns, bruises and afflictions of all types that they may suffer. After 80 years, Mentisan’s longevity in the Bolivian market can be attributed to a long-lasting recipe and the loyalty of a people who, in all aspects of life, don’t give up easily.
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Photos: Iván Rodriguez Petkovic
An artist’s new vision brings a novel spin to traditional Bolivian food and drink.
Acclaimed Bolivian painter Roberto Mamani Mamani is known for his intensely colourful depictions of Andean pastoral scenes. He’s gained fame over his 30-year career by churning out iconoclastic near-psychedelic likenesses of cholitas perched atop mountain peaks and the flora and fauna of the altiplano. But, no longer content with being one of Bolivia’s most recognised contemporary artists, Mamani Mamani has in recent years been carving out a new niche on La Paz’s Calle Jaén, a rare stretch of colonial calm in the centre of the hectic city.
Mamani Mamani’s new venture, the restaurant and club Jallalla – which shares space in an immense colonial building with the Centro de Artes Mamani Mamani and the Fundación Para Desarrollo Artístico Cultural Mamani Mamani – will have its grand opening on May 25. Already up and running on the second story of Mamani Mamani’s house and headquarters, the richly detailed space has been hosting Bolivian and foreign visitors alike in the lead-up to its official opening. Its intimate interior is dominated by an enormous mural painted on the ceiling, depicting what Mamani Mamani calls his ‘Andean cosmovision.’ Sun and moon figures loom above restaurant-goers, surrounded by stars, an Andean cross, figures of men and, of course, the Pachamama gazing down upon the room.
But if it’s Mamani Mamani’s celebrity that gets patrons in Jallalla’s doors, it’s the live music, polished service and visionary gastronomy that keeps them coming back. Jallalla is one of the new breed of restaurants that has lately begun to transform La Paz’s centre, along with renowned establishments such as Popular, Ali Pacha and HB Bronze. These boîtes are part of a culinary scene in La Paz that was kick-started by Gustu, in Zona Sur, in 2013. That celebrated venture, which consistently ranks as one of Latin America’s top restaurants, has upped the hospitality game in La Paz, and enriched its sister restaurants throughout the city with a steady stream of its alumni who have gone on to staff kitchens and bars throughout the city. In fact, bartender Gonzalo Guerra and Jhon Montoya and Ricardo Iglesias, who run Jallalla’s kitchen, were all graduates of Gustu before working abroad and then returning to La Paz.
Following Mamani Mamani’s Aymara/Andean aesthetic, the food and drink at Jallalla are strictly Bolivian, with an emphasis on local and traditional food, the ‘food of our ancestors,’ as general manager Antonio Taboada Bilbao La Vieja says. Anticuchos, the sliced beef-heart dish normally eaten on the street after a night out drinking, have been transformed at Jallalla into haute cuisine. The meat is tender and deeply flavoured; it’s accompanied by a rich and spicy peanut sauce and potatoes that soak up the heat. Queso humacha, the traditional cheese and vegetable paceño staple, is also transformed into a sumptuous meal, with choclo and beans giving it a zesty bite. (Jallalla has a limited menu, but Mamani Mamani and Taboada are will soon open a restaurant, Qarma Qatu, with a more extensive food offering, and a wine cellar in the same building as Jallalla.)
But perhaps the star of Jallalla is its drink list. Taboada explained, ‘We only use four alcohols that are produced here in Bolivia. We have a whisky called Killa Andean Moonshine, which is produced in the historic centre. Then we have the gin La República, which comes with Andean and Amazonian flavours. We also have the vodka 1825, which is the year of the foundation of the republic. And, of course, our star product, the singani.’ The bar staff uses only freshly squeezed, Bolivian-produced juices, and there are no refrescos on the premises. It makes for a short drink menu, with each drink expertly crafted and presented.
Jallalla, which means ‘for life’, features live salsa on Tuesdays and live jazz on Thursdays. Christian Asturrizaga, the director of the National Symphonic Orchestra, books the music, and, according to Taboada, ‘he knows everything about jazz.’ Indeed, a recent visit to Jallalla found a packed room of guests enjoying standards and bossa nova.
Mamani Mamani and Taboada have created a contemporary establishment that leans heavy into tradition for its menu and bar offerings. Its modern interpretation of Andean staples is sure to attract the new type of restaurant – and music-goers who have a sophisticated palate and a deep appreciation of local food and drink.
According to Mamani Mamani, Jallalla is an ayni, a reciprocity. ‘If you receive something,’ he says, ‘you have to give back. So for me, this is giving back all the love that I’ve received, towards my work and myself.’
Photo: Gabriel Barceló
The artist bringing the country’s culture to the forefront of Bolivia’s art scene.
Last month, the Mérida Romero gallery in La Paz’s Zona Sur neighbourhood was home to the work of famed Paraguayan-Bolivian artist Joaquín Sánchez. His art has been shown in galleries, museums and exhibition spaces all over the world, from France to Australia as well as almost every country in South America. This particular exhibition, spanning over 10 years of his work, allowed gallery-goers to gain insight into the artist’s rich and varied oeuvre. Just as Sánchez’s body of work focuses on how things change over time and the relationship they maintain with their past, the way in which the artist’s work has evolved over the years is as evident as the aspects which unite each new piece or project.
Born in 1977, Sánchez was raised in the Paraguayan countryside during Gen. Alfredo Stroessner’s dictatorship (1954-89). His family frequently moved around as his grandfather was the proud owner of a mobile cinema, something which sparked Sánchez’s interest in film. But Sánchez, a multimedia artist who speaks Spanish and Guaraní, the indigenous Paraguayan language, uses video in addition to sculpture and photography. This fusion of methods and media derives from the fact that he comes from ‘a unique territory, an amorphous frontier between two countries,’ he says. ‘I’m very aware of my mestizo condition, as well as being bilingual. For me, nothing is pure, and so I must use different languages and resources to express myself and my ideas.’
Growing up during such a turbulent time during his childhood in Paraguay – and of course living in Bolivia as of late – Sánchez is naturally preoccupied with politics. His artistic themes often revolve around both countries’ social and political landscapes. ‘My artwork arises from a kind of conflict, whether sociopolitical or cultural and personal,’ he says. ‘And this is expressed through a story, which comes to me either in the form of words or images that tell a certain tale.’ Traces of his birthplace’s influence can be seen in works such as Corazón de Ñandutí, a diagram of a heart encased in glass and rendered in traditional Paraguayan embroidered lace. A nod towards his concern for Bolivian politics is his installation and photographic work involving polleras, the skirts worn by cholitas paceñas, spread like wings on the dusty altiplano ground and scattered with freshly dug-up potatoes.
Sánchez’s work not only deals with two countries and their two respective cultures, but with two periods of time, too. He’s fascinated by the interface between the past and present, the ancient and the modern. This is clear in Sánchez’s tendency to combine and juxtapose history with popular culture. The ‘omnipresence of the natural landscape,’ as he says, enchants him, the way in which the past is so close to the surface in old buildings and rugged, rural settings. In ILLA 1, Sánchez places an enormous, inflatable gold bull on top of a thatched-roof cottage somewhere in the Bolivian altiplano. The contrast between the evident remoteness of the hut and its crumbling cow shed and the gaudy, pop-art bull – which has a hint of Jeff Koons’ tongue-in-cheek absurdity (Koons’ Balloon Dog comes to mind) – references the artist’s desire to ‘erase and rewrite the past, rescue near-forgotten stories in order to return them to the future, injecting them with new, fictitious elements to give old facts a poetic spin.’
The way in which the form of objects can morph over time but still carry historical remnants, and thus memories, fascinates the artist. Whether by placing latex-balloon animals on stacks of hay, making bodily organs from wool or carved wood, or photographing pieces of clothing but not the humans that should be wearing them, Sánchez draws much attention to disparity and absence. And, in doing so, he depicts a country’s unique culture by engaging with the present while simultaneously exploring the past.
