In the waters of the Beni River near Rurrenabaque live pink dolphins, a vulnerable but friendly species which locals and tourists can sometimes see and even swim with. Do not be fooled, though: legend has it that at night these affable creatures may turn into handsome men in order to seduce young girls of their choice. The pink-dolphin-turned-man then visits his loved one at night until she herself cannot be separated from the river – or gives birth to a half-human, half–pink dolphin child. Eventually she throws herself into the water, never to be seen again.
The jungle is an alluring place full of treasures and wonders, but one that can never be underestimated and still remains shrouded in mystery. It is an incredibly diverse environment containing most of the earth’s biodiversity and the source of all the latest superfoods: camu camu, copoazu, açai berries, etc. These products will cure you, rejuvenate you, relieve your stress, even make your skin glow thanks to their cocktail of antioxidants, vitamins and other advertised properties. It may be that we are only learning about these now, but humans have inhabited the jungle for centuries: the Moxos in the Beni department of Bolivia were an advanced civilisation whose inhabitants shaped their surroundings and thrived in one of humanity’s most treacherous and inhospitable environments.
In this issue of Bolivian Express, we wanted to travel away from the Andes and descend into the Amazon basin. Bolivia’s share of the Amazon rainforest covers almost 75% of the country’s territory; 30 of the 36 the country’s officially recognised indigenous groups live there, including at least two still living nomadic lifestyles. This is a region rich in history, art and culture. We’ve met Juan Pablo Richter, a promising young cineast from Trinidad whose latest movie, El Río, showcases the Beni region. Our journalists also ventured under the green canopy to find a Bolivian Mennonite community. In this edition you’ll also learn about the Festival de Moxos, an exuberant display of indigenous and Catholic traditions.
The jungle is a utopian, dreamlike place that has reminded us, and still does, of a lost paradise, a place that enchants and entices the human mind. But that paradise can easily turn into an inferno, when the abundant rainforest becomes a death trap for explorers and reveals its dark side. The past centuries brought ‘modernity’ to the jungle and with it the transnationals looking to exploit the rubber, wood and natural gas. The region has been experiencing a modern gold rush; half of the gold exploited in the history of humankind has been extracted in the last 50 years. ‘Modernity’ also brought narcotrafficking, contraband and organised crime. Giant dams and highways are being built that affect the the ecosystem in unmeasurable ways.
Endemic species such as the pink dolphin are threatened, and the rates of deforestation and contamination are only increasing. Even the latest superfood fads have a dark side – their exploitation can lead to soil erosion, water depletion and land degradation. Demand increases the cost and decreases availability of these products to local populations. Cultivation of new superfoods is often not regulated and might not be the most ethical option. The impact of climate change on the Amazon rainforest is not known today, but the future of the planet will likely depend on it. And it’s not just the trees that need protecting, but also the people and the cultures of the Amazon rainforest that deserve respect and recognition.
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Photo: Adriana L. Murillo
How saya afroboliviana preserves the traditions and culture of Africa in Las Yungas
Hidden away in the tropical paradise of Coroico, in the Yungas region of Bolivia, is the Afro-Bolivian community of Tocaña. Amongst the folkloric celebrations found in this community, the culture of music and dance, particular to the Afro-Bolivians of Tocaña, is one of a kind.
Saya, based on drumming, singing and a hip-swaying sidestep, is an amalgamation of African and Bolivian traditions with distinct characteristics. The men play the drums, cuanchas and maracas alongside women who dance and sing about their African descent. Rhythmic and sensual, the women’s short steps and hip movements are magnetic, almost hypnotic. Dressed in white outfits, the women adorn their indigenous white skirts trimmed with multi-coloured belts and accessories. In saya tradition, the captain of the dancers wears a set of bells around each leg to lead the dancers, symbolising the chains and shackles once worn by their ancestors.
Preserved since the arrival of African slaves who were brought to Bolivia to labour in the mines, the saya rhythm has served as a tool to communicate the hardships faced by black people. Through song, they express their needs and desires. In spite of emancipation, in 1851, and the right to own land, granted by the agrarian reforms of 1952, Afro-Bolivians have long faced discrimination and been ignored by the Bolivian government. In a nation in which only two percent of nearly 11 million inhabitants are black, Afro-Bolivians are a forgotten minority.
‘We have always been discriminated against for the colour of our skin, and saya has always been used as an instrument to fight.’
‘Africans have always been seen as slaves,’ Nilo Vázquez Rey explains, who is president of a Afro-Bolivian saya ensemble. ‘We have always been discriminated against for the colour of our skin, and saya has always been used as an instrument to fight.’ Due to discrimination and racism against Afro-Bolivians, saya was forgotten about for some time, only to be revived in 1983 by a group of school students. Since then, it has reemerged as an instrument to be listened to.
‘Our main weapon has always been to create music, which we can use to achieve our goals,’ Vázquez continues. ‘Tocaña, for example, is now recognised as an Afro-Bolivian town, but before we had always been marginalised.’ Article 32 of the 2009 Bolivian Constitution, recognises Afro-Bolivians and their economic, social, political and cultural rights.
In spite of emancipation, in 1851, and the right to own land, granted by agrarian reforms of 1952, Afro-Bolivians have long faced discrimination in the country.
‘The principal idea of saya is to preserve our culture to ensure it is always alive and present so that our history doesn’t die,’ Vázquez says. ‘We have three children between the ages of six and eight who dance with us. There is no age limit. Saya is danced virtually from the mother’s womb.’ Passed down from generation to generation, saya has integrated a part of African culture into the Bolivian way of life.
Photos provided by Fundación VIVA
A competition to save endangered species
In early August of this year, the entry deadline for the National Photography Contest of Endangered Bolivian Species passed. It is an annual competition held by Fundación Viva, the charity branch of Bolivia’s popular telephone company. The photographs of the winners, featuring some of Bolivia’s most endangered species, will be printed on over 10 million prepaid phone cards for national distribution.
Claudia Cárdenas, Fundación Viva’s manager, says that distribution of these images will spread awareness of Bolivia’s endangered species. ‘People can’t love and care for animals whose existence they aren't aware of,’ she says. The first release of cards in 2011 featured images by foreign photographers. For the next year, Cárdenas saw the competition as an opportunity to involve Bolivian people in conservation efforts. She hopes that an awareness and pride in Bolivia’s wildlife will help support efforts to protect them by forming a relationship between the average Bolivian and endangered Bolivian species.
The competition’s past winners successfully captured the freedom of the animals in their natural habitats. ‘The photo must not only be a good photo, but a respectful one,’ Cárdenas emphasises, ‘where the animal is not being maltreated, mishandled or ridiculed.’ It should inspire people to want to protect the animals. A photo where a monkey is attacking a child, she helpfully points out, would not be good publicity for the animal.
As for the future of the competition, Cárdenas points out that they still have a great many species to photograph. ‘We have at our fingertips one of the most biodiverse countries on the planet,’ she says, ‘so this contest still has a long way to go.’
Thinking of applying next year? Don’t be dissuaded if you’re an amateur photographer. ‘New technology allows anyone to take a lovely photos without having to be a professional,’ Cárdenas says. ‘Sometimes one can be a professional, but they haven’t been able to capture the animal in the perfect moment.’
And if you’re travelling in the Bolivian jungle and witness or suspect any illegal trafficking or maltreatment of the local animals, please call this free landline, run by Viva.
Free landline: 800142052 (Santa Cruz); 800140270 (Beni)
Photo: Iván Rodriguez
A film on toxic masculinity in Bolivia’s farmlands
Set in the Beni, in the Northeastern lowlands of Bolivia, Juan Pablo Richter’s feature film, El Río, tackles rocky family relationships, toxic masculinity and the emerging identity of 16 year-old Sebastian, played by Santiago Rozo. Richter’s debut film follows the teenager as he struggles to fit into the traditional conservative world in which he finds himself after being sent from the city to his father’s logging ranch. Tensions rise when Sebastian fails to conform to his father’s vision of the macho boss’ son, but Sebastian is not immune to the pressures of this hyper-masculine world either. Pensive shots of the breathtaking countryside are juxtaposed with images of intense violence, which allows El Río to deliver a prime example of Bolivia’s artistic potential and its political disposition.
When I met Richter to talk over coffee, he seemed far too cheerful to be the director of a thematically dark piece of filmmaking. As Richter delved into his creative process, however, he revealed some of the motivations behind the film, reminiscing about the moment in which he decided to make El Río.
‘It was 2012,’ he said, ‘and I was a producer for a kids news network. We covered the news of a young girl who was kidnapped downtown and, in that moment, I don’t know how, but the story came to me. I’ve very much inherited machismo because I live in a machista country and I have a very machista family. It’s like a generational chain.You inherit, you learn and you live surrounded by this. So in that moment I decided I needed to explore this subject. I needed to put my masculinity on the edge and try to defy it. That’s why I started to write El Río,’ he explained.
Although Richter grew up in La Paz, he is originally from El Beni. The story’s deep personal resonance comes across in the treatment of its characters, each of which develop into a complex, three-dimensional role. Although it is generally the case that rural areas tend to be conservative, El Río confirms this phenomenon in El Beni. ‘It was hard to face my family, to see our ghosts, and to see that we’re doing something wrong,’ Richter said. ‘So I wanted to make this film in El Beni because of that and I also wanted to explore a new environment. I wanted to discover the visual imagery that comes from that side of the country.’
Richter’s debut film follows a teenager who struggles to fit into the traditional conservative world in which he finds himself.
According to Richter, one of the film’s most important artistic choices was to draw a comparison between the violence of nature and naturalised violence in people. Nature is beautiful and awe-inspiring, but also an irrepressible force. In the film, Richter repeatedly returns to wide, expansive shots of the river, which make the audience suspect that there is an ominous presence lurking beneath the water.
After talking about El Río’s upcoming release, Richter shared his impressions on the overall condition of Bolivian cinema. Despite the difficulty of securing funding and government support for independent projects, Richter was very humble about his efforts, emphasising the importance of relying on a trusted team. He specifically stressed the input of Paola Gosalvez, his producer, in bringing the six-year project to completion.
To illustrate the intimacy of his relationship with filmmaking in Bolivia, Richter compared it to something that is almost equally as close to his heart: the national Bolivian football team. Even if they lose, he said, you have to show up and put on the jersey to support your team. He also spoke about the inherently political nature of filmmaking, arguing that any film, be it artistic or purely commercial, takes a political stance. Despite his view on the matter, Richter admits that El Río’s political dimension took him by surprise. ‘The things I want to do right now,’ he explained, ‘I think they’re very political. For many years I was denying that, but I think I now need to assume that I make political films… There’s nothing more valuable than someone who talks to you from the heart, and not from the mind, the body or from the pocket,’ he said.
Richter’s first inroad into the world of Bolivian feature films was released on the 2nd of August, and it will be interesting to see how the film performs in the long run. It is a bold, opinionated work that is likely to cause controversy. ‘It is a very dark and tense movie because violence is dark and tense,’ he said. ‘As David Lynch once said,’ he continued, “if you’re looking for light, you need to go to the darkest places to find it.” Maybe my generation is lost, but we need to guarantee that the next generation will not deal with violence and toxic masculinity, with inequality and all those things. We need to recover lost time. We’re facing it and we’re making things change.’ Richter’s passion and conviction in his work suggest he will succeed in this mission. It certainly seems that he is not slowing down for anything.
