In my experience, Bolivia is the taste of and quirquiña. It’s biting into a salteña and spilling an unpredictable amount of sauce all over myself. It’s jumping into a minibus and being greeted with a ‘buen dia’ by fellow passengers. It’s drinking a multivitamínico juice from a plastic bag on the way to work. It’s thinking that you need a new broom and running into a broom-seller 10 minutes later. And it’s still wondering after years of living there if it’s spelled Avaroa or Abaroa.
It’s sitting in the plaza on the weekend at dusk and sharing a warm api con pastel with friends. It’s waiting for the bus to fill up so it can leave and then encountering a roadblock on the way. It’s finding out that today is dry day, so you cannot purchase alcohol – unless one has good relations with the tienda owner on the corner. There, you will be able to purchase everything that you need, whenever you need it.
There is much more to Bolivia than this limited list, but for people who haven’t grown up here, Bolivia is a riddle that remains unsolved. To gain an understanding of this country is a lifelong quest, but a fulfilling one. In this issue Bolivian Express, we’re looking more intimately into the lives and realities of some aspects of Bolivian life.
We entered the newly built Casa Grande del Pueblo for a sneak peek inside. Our journalist wasn’t too impressed, but we cannot deny the imposing presence the building has in the skyline. Outside the Casa del Pueblo, in the streets of La Paz, over 300,000 streets dogs trot about, a friendly bunch, but their numbers are increasing exponentially and are creating public-health issues.
A few blocks from the Casa Grande is MUSEF, the Museum of Ethnography and Folklore, Director Elvira Espejo Ayca opened the museum’s doors and showed us the latest exhibit. Here, objects are more than just pretty artefacts; they tell the story of Bolivia and its inhabitants. And to better understand Bolivia, we had to leave the city. We travelled to Sapahaqui, a few hours south of La Paz. There, our team of journalists escaped the urban frenzy and had lunch with the locals in a hairdresser’s salon.
There’s also a lot to learn about from its people, and for this issue we profiled Bolivian rock star Grillo Villegas, an icon who opened his home to us. Rock is, for many Bolivians, as essential to their culture as the sounds of quena and charango. Bands such as Gun N’ Roses, Led Zeppelin and AC/DC have had profound impacts on local pop culture. Which is why it felt so surprising to realise that there hadn’t been a Hard Rock Cafe in Bolivia until just a few years ago.
Ultimately, one can find Bolivia’s ethos in its artists – poets like Benjamin Chavez, playwrights like Eduardo Calla and cineastes like Alvaro Manzano. They represent a prolific new generation of artists who are inspired by their country but also want to give back with works of quality and substance.
Bolivia is applying Mentisan and feeling immediately better. It’s the people and their innovative spirits and determination. It’s the mountains, the jungles, the festivals, the wildlife. It’s the babies’ red cheeks. It’s home.
Download
Photo: Ira Lee
The national museum that brings the artefacts to life and identity to the people
The Museo Nacional de Etnología y Folklore (MUSEF) in the centre of La Paz, is one of the most prestigious and popular museums in Bolivia. It boasts a collection of more than 30,000 cultural artefacts, with exhibitions that display a wide range of traditional vestments and craftsmanship, among other items. Its new exhibit of beautifully intricate stonework, which is part of the cycle La rebelión de los objetos, continues the museum’s mission of preserving indigenous identities and spreading the cultural heritage of the diverse ethnic groups that make up the Bolivia we see today. The future of the museum looks bright and promising, with exciting new ventures on the horizon, including the ambitious and innovative project of the Portable Museum, or Museo Portátil.
The idea of the Portable Museum was conceived in 2013 in conjunction with the cycle of exhibits entitled La Rebelión de los Objetos (The Rebellion of the Objects) that revolutionised how the museum organises its collections. The structure of the exhibitions begins with a focus on raw materials, such as textiles, ceramics, wood and metals; proceeds to displaying objects crafted from these materials, such as ceremonial masks, colourful feather headdresses and metal weapons and tools; and then illustrates the social functions of the objects.
In August, the cycle of materials and objects is moving forward with the new exhibit of stonework. From displays that detail the process of mining precious gems and regular stones, to exhibits that celebrate the vast array of sculptural and architectural achievements of indigenous civilisations in Bolivia. The objects are shown in their respective contexts, connected to the history of the peoples who used them, and thus they are brought to life as an interconnected cultural tapestry. According to Elvira Espejo Ayca, who has been the director of MUSEF since 2013, ‘The objects begin to shout, saying: I am identity, I am culture, I am science, I am technology, I am economy, I am history. In short, they constitute a complete whole.’
The MUSEF team aims to expand the museum’s activity beyond the colonial building of that houses its impressive collection.
In addition to conducting extensive anthropological and archaeological research, the MUSEF team aims to expand the museum’s activity beyond the colonial building, known as El Palacio de los Marqueses de Villaverde, that currently houses its impressive collection. The Museo Portátil programme seeks to bring the exhibitions to communities outside of La Paz that normally wouldn’t have access the museum and its resources. The programme consists in setting up tents or stalls with photos and even 3D replicas of the artefacts from the exhibits and hosting educational workshops to teach people about the history of the objects.
Milton Eyzaguirre Morales, head of the MUSEF’s Extension Unit and overall supervisor of the programme, explains the social mission of the initiative: ‘When we take the Portable Museum to these communities, the people learn about themselves, fundamentally because they see objects that their own people have made.’ According to Eyzaguirre, there is often a feeling of surprise amongst the public in rural communities when they ‘recognise themselves in the exhibit.’
The MUSEF team also works with teachers and community leaders to help explain the history of their ethnic group and its original language in Quechua or Aymara, for instance, rather than in Castilian Spanish. The Museo Portátil is a way of celebrating Bolivia’s cultural heritage with the people themselves, the very people whose ancestors created the artefacts that are now on display in the city.
The Museo Portátil brings the exhibitions to communities outside of La Paz that normally wouldn’t have access the museum and its resources.
Some museums might treat such artefacts in a way that reduces them to soulless details on a timeline or aesthetic trinkets hanging lifelessly on the wall. MUSEF’s vision, however, is interdisciplinary and in touch with the reality of the objects. With the expansion of its collection and its Museo Portátil programme it will help preserve the memory of Bolivia’s rich and diverse indigenous heritage.
Photos: Rose Cocks
The small fruit-farming community is a picturesque respite from the citified chaos of La Paz
In the small town of Sapahaqui, lying a bumpy two-hour minibus outside of La Paz, is a warmth and hospitality that is hard to find in large cities. With a population of around 1,000 people, Sapahaqui sits below picturesque mountains and is surrounded by countryside, not far from the hot springs of Urmiri. It’s known for its fruit production – which is notable given that most fruit available in Bolivia comes from Chile, Argentina or Peru. When one arrives in the town’s central plaza, there is little to see – just a church, the mayor’s office and a smattering of shops surrounding the square; however, the character of the town can easily be discovered through its inhabitants.
There is a contented quietness around the town, in stark contrast to the busy, chaotic and loud life of a city such as La Paz. The kindness of Sapahaqui’s inhabitants is clear to outsiders, as after visiting for just one day we were invited into a local’s house for soup, made by her elderly mother, and thanked repeatedly simply for taking an interest in the town. Victoria Infante Rodríguez, a hairdresser, has in the past lived in Cochabamba and La Paz, but has now come back to Sapahaqui to be with her parents. Infante told us about the town’s tradition of hospitality. Any person walking past will immediately be greeted with a ‘buen día’, and elders are usually referred to as Tía or Tío, regardless of family relation. Whilst this may be common within a number of small Bolivian towns, to an outsider this goes above and beyond simple social courtesy.
The character of the town can easily be discovered through its inhabitants.
The sun beating down on the central plaza gives the town a lazy and relaxed feel; however, the work ethic of sapaqueños could be described as anything but. Having been given the opportunity to talk to the president of the junta de vecinos, Alfonso Guarachi Ayaviri, who works alongside the mayor’s office, we were provided with an insight into how the town functions.
Ayaviri discussed the ‘communal’ way in which the town works and develops, in contrast to larger cities. ‘I have to make sure that everyone works,’ he said. ‘Those that don’t work, we sanction them.’ This communal way of living reflects how residents are tackling the biggest issue Sapahaqui currently faces: the recent and continued lack of water. Because it’s a fruit-farming community, Guarachi informs us that ‘more importance is placed not on the personal consumption of water – here more importance is given to water for irrigation.’ Because of this, water is allocated depending on the size of someone’s crop.
Sapahaqui also suffers from a lack of modern infrastructure, which Guarachi wants to address by the community becoming ‘a consolidated town, a town where all the neighbours have the documentation of their houses in order, have owner’s rights, have good lighting and principally have basic services.’ He also addressed sapaqueños’ distrust of outsider institutions, claiming that, whilst they have money, ‘they don’t deposit the money in a bank, they don’t trust it; it’s in the mattress.’ However, this distrust is aimed externally, as residents have formed unions to facilitate the production and trade of fruit. Guarachi said that ‘people from rural areas, their essence is to mistrust,’ an attitude epitomised by the community’s suspicion of authorities from larger metropolitan areas such as La Paz. ‘In the past,’ Guarachi said, ‘money only used to come to the cities, it didn’t come to rural areas.’
Although both boys and girls are educated within Sapahaqui’s school through the primary and secondary levels, Guarachi admitted that ‘older men didn’t want women to study here,’ citing antiquated attitudes of machismo that still remain somewhat common. Even now, he said, in district meetings ‘not much importance is given to the position and to what a woman says.’
Post-secondary education is still uncommon for Sapahaqui’s young people, but Guarachi would like to see a technical institute founded within few years, providing students with skills that are vital within this type of community, such as farming, mechanical and electrical engineering, and nursing. Victoria Infante Rodríguez, the hairdresser, also highlighted the need for not only trained medical professionals, but a modernised and properly supplied medical centre.
Although Sapahaqui’s customs and traditions are still incredibly important to its inhabitants, Infante expressed dismay that ‘traditional customs are being lost little by little,’ among them the knowledge of the town’s language, Aymara. Infante is proud of her ability to speak this language, and said that it is vital to the preservation of the town’s individuality as a community.
Here, visitors are welcomed with open arms.
When travelling through Bolivia, it’s easy to view large cities such as La Paz as the main attractions; however, spending even a day in a small town like Sapahaqui demonstrates the worth of expanding one’s touristic view. Here, visitors are welcomed with open arms, with sapaqueños displaying a work ethic, sense of pride and respect for one another that is admirable. So if you’re on your way out of La Paz, or travelling to Urmiri, stop in Sapahaqui and have a bowl of homemade soup with locals who will welcome you with open arms.
Photos: Rose Cocks
Controversy and art inside the new government building
Visible from any point across the skyline of La Paz, Bolivia’s new presidential building, the Casa Grande del Pueblo, looms over the historic Plaza Murillo, cutting through the traditional and colourful architecture of the surrounding government buildings. The question on everyone’s mind, however, is whether this novel structure of 29 floors can really be a house of the people when the people don’t know much about it.
At present, to the disappointment of paceños and tourists alike, if one approaches the ‘Great House of the People’ at any time other than the short visiting hours on Saturday, one is greeted at each door by a soldier announcing one cannot enter.
Although the Saturday morning tours seem a reasonable way to reveal the building to the public, visitors are left wanting more after partaking in them. Queueing from 8:30am, visitors are allowed through a side entrance of the building in groups of ten. After passing through security, they are taken to the rooftop helipad and granted five minutes to take photos. They then descend to the third, second and first floor to view a sparse, but impressive collection of artwork. There is little clarity throughout the tour and no consistent guide to escort the groups of tourists.
Alexandra Bravo, one of the artists featured in the collection, was present to speak briefly about her work with real life feathers that addresses issues linked with immigration within Bolivia and discusses human and women’s rights. In the lobby of the building there is a colourful tribute to Pachamama created by the highly acclaimed Bolivian artist Roberto Mamani Mamani. Angela Pachawte, one of the visitors on the tours, expressed her deep appreciation for the atwork in the Casa Grande del Pueblo, confessing she would like to see more of that art around the city.
La Casa Grande del Pueblo will replace Bolivia’s former presidential palace, but there are clear distinctions between the two.
The tours focus more on the art and the facade of the building, than on the actual use of this new government structure. Although La Casa Grande del Pueblo will replace Bolivia’s former presidential palace, called the Palacio Quemado, there are clear distinctions between the two. The Palacio Quemado, which is now set to become a museum, only permitted the entrance of people in suits and formal attire and was closed to the public. Although La Casa Grande del Pueblo was going to have the same policy at first, President Evo Morales decided to create permanent exhibition rooms that are open to the public, with the hope that the building will become a cultural hub in Bolivia. He presented the building on Twitter as evidence of ‘the change and renovation of the new Bolivia we are constructing.’
The helipad that crowns the building was created for the additional use of wedding photos and ceremonies to make the structure more accessible to the public, but the conditions of this accessibility have not been confirmed. The same goes for the nature of the tours. Ivan Ayaviri, a communications officer of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism who now works on the 19th floor of the building with a spectacular view over the south side of the city, informs us that the visiting schedule will likely change in the coming months.
Ayaviri discussed the artwork both inside and outside La Casa del Pueblo, indicating ‘the union of Bolivia’s three climatic zones’, the Andes, the valleys and the lowlands, depicted in the three icons on each face of the building. He also described the 36 faces painted over the archway of the spectacular lobby, which represent the 36 indigenous groups of Bolivia recognised by the constitution, each divided with a half male, half female face.
Aside from the artwork inside the building, the official use of the structure has been a point of contention.
Aside from this artwork, the official use of the building has been a point of contention. According to Ayaviri, Bolivia’s ‘growing economy’, demands more space for the government. The skyscraper not only houses the Presidential Suite, but also parts of at least five government ministries: Presidential, Communication, Culture and Tourism, Energy, and Environment and Water. The offices of most of these ministries are split between La Casa del Pueblo and offices around La Paz. Citizens, however, have contrasting opinions on this way of organizing the nation’s bureaucracy.
‘The ministries are a little displaced,’ said Angela Pachawte, adding that it would be better if they all worked under the same roof to facilitate public access. In opposition to this view, Carlos Arispe, a language teacher working in La Paz, believes ‘a government needs to decentralise. It needs to work in different areas, not only in one large place,’ he said.
A highly controversial element of La Casa del Pueblo was the use of public funds for such an extravagant construction. Arispe describes the lack of ‘hospitals and medical centres to address the health of the people’ in La Paz, which he says is noticeable given the ‘supposedly socialist’ nature of the government, and the ‘immediate visible needs’ around the city. Pachawte points out that, despite her appreciation of the building’s use and the artwork it contains, La Paz is ‘seriously lacking health and education services’ for young people like her. Williams Madrano Cuiza, however, who is a Bolivian from Tarija, claims that the government is building hospitals, but due to a ‘lack of communication’ in the media, this is not made obvious to the public.
Other residents of La Paz, like Carlos Arispe, display a distaste for the building and describe it as ‘an absolute waste of money… a demonstration of the government’s power and economic control.’ Regardless of these opposing views, Williams Madrano and points out that ‘when Evo Morales leaves the government, the building will stay in the city.’ This sobering insight gives room for thought. La Casa del Pueblo will indeed be part of La Paz’ skyline for a long time to come, so why not embrace it as the cultural hub that it is intended to become?
