Photo: Stephanie Long

We look for the foreign plant, but find so much more

Our quest for Chinese garlic, which is reportedly infiltrating and damaging the Bolivian domestic garlic market, began with a minibus ride to Avenida Las Américas, where prostitutes parade at night and market stalls crowd the streets by day. These same stalls have gained international notoriety for exhibiting one of the world’s weirdest New Year’s traditions – displaying wall upon wall of red underwear. Our minibus driver had already given me some indication of the locals’ superstitious nature, explaining that the baby’s shoe hanging from the dashboard had been left behind one day, resulting in him now seeing it as a protective talisman. Similarly, the red underwear during New Year comes with a superstition of its own: It is said to bring the wearer love for the rest of the year. The fact that yellow underwear – which is said to bring the wearer money – can scarcely be seen among this sea of red is perhaps a testament to the warm and loving nature of Bolivians.

As we emerged at the top of the winding road, a flood of minivans swamped us. But as we edged closer to a mass of overflowing stalls, the hectic roundabout and constant honking receded in the distance. Here we found clothes and knickknacks imported from China, and then – through a back passage lined with a tarpaulin – we were met with the earthy smell of nuts, dried fruits and spices. Once around the corner, the rows of overflowing sacks did not disappoint. Spotting a stall that not only sold dried peaches and mushrooms but also fresh garlic, we asked about the Chinese variety. The caserita said her garlic was from Peru, and that Chinese garlic is always large and white. Despite insisting that her Peruvian garlic was good, she urged us with evident pride to seek out the Bolivian variety. Another stall along and there it was: highly praised Bolivian garlic, and at a very fair price.

The fact that yellow underwear – connoting money – can scarcely be seen among this sea of red is perhaps a testament to the warm and loving nature of Bolivians.

The market was a surreal experience. Chicken cooked on skewers sprang up in one direction; from the other arose full walls stacked high with shoes and frilly bikinis. Other stalls were bursting forth with colourful fruits. There were women selling knitting supplies, others selling cholita hair braids and decorative outfits, as well as a plant by the name of flor de Jamaica. I was told that it is rich in vitamins and also an effective hangover cure. Suffice it to say, I was eager to try it.

Rounding a corner, we found two cholitas selling cherimoyas and pacays – both native plants grown in the foothills of the Andes. These vendedoras explained how to eat the fruits. They were proud of the native products they sell, with the fresh produce often being brought into the city that very morning. We asked about this mythical big white garlic, and were cautioned against buying it. One woman even stated that, despite the poor flavour, they are sold at the same prices as others in this market – a surprising fact given the rumours of Chinese garlic threatening the local market due to very competitive prices. Further down, we encountered a barrage of new fruits: nonis, carambolas, kinotos and many more, the vendors patiently explaining the flavours and how to prepare them. Wandering through the maze of streets, the familial nature of the market became evident in the numerous generations manning the stalls and the casual chats between workers. Private guards patrolled the area, assisted in their endeavours by the vendors themselves, who all work together to prevent any theft.

Further along, we stopped to marvel at a sign advertising caldo de cardan, right near a dog sleeping on a chair at the entrance to a fancy dress shop with a young child in a cardboard box at its feet. It was truly an eclectic array of offerings. A couple of blocks down this winding market street we spotted more garlic. Upon asking for the elusive big whites, the stall owner scrunched up her face. ‘They are big and stupid,’ she said. We thanked her for her insight with a chuckle and moved on to a covered market at the bottom of Calle Zolio Flores.

Chicken cooked on skewers sprang up in one direction; from the other arose full walls stacked high with shoes and frilly bikinis.

I was struck by the strong smell of quirquiña, an aromatic herb often used in llajua, permeating the air. We bought some from one stall, and upon asking the vendor informed us that Chinese garlic was more likely to appear on the weekends with the influx of buyers and sellers. Otherwise, stall owners tend to avoid it due to its strong smell but lack of flavour. She then kindly gifted me with a handful of huacatay to accompany the quirquiña. Exiting the market, we were hit once again with the hustle and bustle of La Paz, now laden with fruits and new knowledge on how to prepare these fresh Bolivian products. Despite originally searching for Chinese garlic, we came away with far more – gaining experience with the family environment of these markets and the tangible pride of the owners for both their fresh produce and the roads that have led them to where they are.

Photo: Courtesy of Coordinadora de La Mujer

Challenges Bolivian women face in spite of equal representation in parliament

With women holding 53.1% of the seats in parliament as of 2017, Bolivia ranks second in the world in female representation in government. In 2010, a series of electoral laws were passed that require an even gender split at the national level. In 2014, Bolivia became the second country to achieve a female majority in government after Rwanda in 2008, according to the World Bank.

But despite the quantity of women in positions of power, rates of domestic violence and femicide in Bolivia remain high. According to a study by the Pan-American Health Organisation, 53.3% of Bolivian women between the ages of 15 and 49 experienced domestic violence in 2003. Fifteen years later, while there has been progress in the cause of equal rights for women, the situation of domestic violence is still critical.

Female politicians in Bolivia face all kinds of challenges, including harassment, threats and exclusion.

‘The patriarchal system has reacted against women’s advancement,’ said Mónica Novillo, Executive Director of La Coordinadora de la Mujer, an organisation that fights for women’s participation in politics and women’s empowerment. ‘We’re seeing that domestic violence has increased not only in number of cases, but also in level of cruelty. Due to the rising phenomenon of dating violence, we’re also seeing that the age at which women begin to suffer domestic violence is younger.’

On July 4, La Coordinadora de la Mujer hosted an event called, ‘Agenda Política desde las Mujeres hacia la Democracia Paritaria’, to promote a political agenda for women’s rights. Representatives of women’s organisations, empowerment groups and politicians from across the country were in attendance to address six key issues that Bolivian women face: political participation, the dismantling of patriarchal norms, the right to live free of domestic violence, reproductive rights, economic autonomy and environmental justice.

‘We consider women’s participation in politics to be very important,’ said Graciela Vásquez, a representative of Centro de Apoyo a la Mujer y a la Niñez, which is based in Cochabamba. ‘But this participation is not precisely a qualitative participation,’ she explained, pointing out that even in positions of power, women’s opinions often hold less weight than those of their male counterparts.

‘It’s a great jump to have achieved 50% women in various spaces of power,’ said Elizabeth Salguero, former Minister of Cultures of Bolivia, who is now Advisory Coordinator of UN Women Bolivia. ‘That is already a change – and it’s a process,’ she said.

For some, however, the fact that women occupy more than half of parliamentary positions doesn’t mean much. ‘We consider the quota between men and women in parliament to be nothing more than symbolic,’ said Mayra Rojas of Mujeres Creando, an anarcha-feminist group that assists survivors of domestic violence, but was not in attendance at the 4 July event. ‘Political contributions made at the state level do not meet the requirements or needs of women in Bolivia, and society continues to be sexist,’ Rojas added. ‘You can agitate, you can have the best ideas, the best actions, but you can’t force them to walk in someone else’s shoes.’

Others are more optimistic about the advancements that women in Bolivia have made, whilst recognising the ground that still needs to be covered. ‘I think it’s very valuable that women are occupying more and more spaces,’ Salguero said, ‘but we have no female governor and only 8% of mayors are women, so there are still spaces in which we need more women.’

Since women occupying positions of power in Bolivia is still a fairly new concept, female politicians face all kinds of challenges, including harassment, threats and exclusion. In 2012, the Law against the Harassment and Political Violence against Women was passed in response to the assassination of councilwoman Juana Quispe. ‘Obviously, if there weren’t women in positions of power, a law never would’ve been passed,’ Salguero said. ‘But there are more subtle forms of harassment, such as not letting women talk and excluding women from meetings,’ that still occur.

According to Novillo from La Coordinadora de la Mujer, ‘The laws are not sufficient for all that needs to be transformed so that women can fully exercise their political rights in confidence, without fear for their lives, their political careers, or their families.’

The solutions to these issues are not clear cut. As Celina Taveras, who is a representative of Mujeres en Acción from the department of Tarija, points out, these matters affect rural and urban women differently. While the challenges for rural women in politics include high rates of illiteracy and low levels of education, urban women are more likely to face political violence or harassment.

‘Violence against women is so naturalised and normalised that women end up feeling blamed for it,’ said Vanessa Rojas, also of Mujeres Creando. ‘Violence is not recognised as a structural problem. Sometimes women don’t recognise the pain they are experiencing; it gets worse and worse and they have to face it day by day.’

‘We consider the quota between men and women in parliament to be nothing more than symbolic.’

—Mayra Rojas of Mujeres Creando

Despite the challenges that remain for women’s advancements, recognising diversity, encouraging women to enter politics and continuing the progress that has been made in the past few years is of utmost importance. With more involvement and agitation for their voices to be heard, women in Bolivia can reshape what it means to hold 53.1% of positions in parliament: converting that number from a statistic to a force for change.

Photo: Marion Joubert

The lives of children in Bolivian jails

Rather than metal cell blocks meticulously controlled by guards armed with ammunition and authority, many Bolivian prisons could be described as autonomous communities. With shops, restaurants, and flat-type accommodation, the Centro de Orientación Femenina (COF) de Obrajes is a world unto itself. Regrettably, children also reside there.

While raising children behind bars isn’t ideal, mothers often feel that there is no other option. They fear their children will face abuse in orphanages or shelters, or that their family members will be too poor to properly care for them. In certain cases, a child’s whole family may be in prison, literally leaving no viable alternative. In Bolivia, in accordance with article 106 of the Child & Adolescents Act, children up to the age of six may live in prison with their mothers. Although children are legally prohibited from living in male prisons, this occurs regardless at the San Pedro prison in La Paz and the Palmasola prison in Santa Cruz. Such living situations may seem incomprehensible, but remaining with a family member in prison is the lesser of two evils for many children.

COF de Obrajes in La Paz is home to approximately fifty children, such as nine-year-old JJ, who has called the prison home for almost all his life. Like for JJ, it is all too common for children over the age of six to remain living in prison when there is no-one else to care for them. During our visit to Obrajes, he gave us a comprehensive tour with detailed explanations of how each section of the centre functioned. He seemed proud to assume such responsibility, making it clear that an old head sat on his very young shoulders.

Remaining with a family member in prison is the lesser of two evils for many children.

Inundated with hugs and hand-holding, it was difficult to navigate through the swarm of children that suddenly surrounded us. Their inquisitiveness and happiness was remarkable. JJ was eager to tell us about his life plans: to be a lawyer, a film director and a doctor. When asked which one he would choose, he seemed confused at the absurdity of the question and replied: ‘All three!’. Living inside a prison hasn’t affected his life ambitions, but there are serious consequences to growing up in such living conditions.

Through los Centros de Apoyo Integral Pedagógico (CAIP), the Ministry of Education ensures that all Bolivian penitentiaries that accommodate for children have spaces dedicated to education. According to one of the teachers at Obrajes, due to the minimal time and resources at their disposal, they focus their time with the children on psychological and emotional support. The children generally live in an environment dominated by aggression and even violence, which can influence their daily behaviour. While instructors teach them writing and reading comprehension, they emphasise on helping the children build self-confidence and learning how to build relationships.

Unlike their mothers, the children are free to exit the prison. Once they turn four years old, they leave the centre during the day to attend local schools. It is not uncommon, however, for children to be denied this freedom. According to one prison instructor, one mother doesn’t allow her two daughters to go to school. ‘The girls understand perfectly why,’ he explained. ‘They tell me: ‘If we go to school, dad might take us and not let us come back’, so it’s safer for them to stay inside the prison.’ Consequently, basic education may be lacking for many children who reside in Bolivian prisons. COF de Obrajes fortunately has a relatively relaxed environment, but in more dangerous centres such as San Pedro, one may worry about the attention and education the children receive.

The Bolivian government recently announced a plan to remove children above the age of six from all penitentiaries across the country, motivated by what children unwittingly witness and are subjected to in prison: mistreatment, rape, bad behaviour, power games. What’s more, given their innocence, children are regularly used to smuggle contraband past the unsuspecting guards. General hygiene is another problem, as overcrowding is prevalent. However, the most poignant issue facing the children that live in prison is abuse from other inmates. Given the lack of formal reports on the subject, it is difficult to gauge what these children experience. Nonetheless, under such conditions the quality of the education they receive is certainly questionable and the alternatives they have don’t offer much more hope.

To get a better insight on the best way to help these children, I talked with educator and director of ZERA Bolivia, Sharoll Fernandez Siñani. ZERA Bolivia carries out long-term projects that work directly with children in these situations, taking them on trips to the cinema or to the park as a way to build social skills. ‘It’s easier to pack a box full of books, clothes and toys to send to the prisons,’ Fernandez said, ‘but what works better is when the children get to leave the prison to have a real experience. Kids need to feel that they can go out, not just to school, but to have fun. Social emotional tools are the best form of support for them.’

By focusing on empowerment tools, ZERA Bolivia aims to provide these children with emotional and psychological support that they may not otherwise receive. ‘Before considering the possibility of abuse or rape, once these children enter into shelters they are practically parentless,’ Fernandez said, warning of the dangers that children may face in the alternative to living in prison. ‘They feel totally abandoned and lose any sense of belonging,’ she continued. ‘At least by being in prison, they can stay with their mums and have some sort of family and face a less traumatising situation of neglect.’

‘It’s easier to pack a box full of books, clothes and toys to send to the prisons, but what works better is when the children get to leave the prison to have a real experience.’

—Sharoll Fernandez Siñani, Director of ZERA Bolivia

While these children face a plethora of difficulties inside the prison walls, the alternatives they have are less promising. By attending local schools, children retain a certain level of normality in their lives despite living in a correction centre. However, what is necessary is an expansion of current programmes to help incarcerated family members properly support children so they can lead the best life possible despite living behind bars.