Cover: Nicolas Prègre @nicoprg
NEIGHBOURHOODS
By looking at streets and avenue names in much of Latin America, one can learn about historical figures and dates. But we tend to not think about these too much, as they are such an integrated part of our routine that they lose their meaning. That meaning can be literal or historical, but, inevitably, the more comfortable one is with one’s surroundings, the less one actually knows about them. Which is why this 97th issue of Bolivian Express is dedicated to the neighbourhoods of La Paz, and to the residents and the history of each one. It’s a history of violence, love and modernisation.
Miraflores takes us to the Tiwanaku empire, where ancient ruins were excavated. Back in the 16th century, Garita de Lima was an area where travelers from Peru could rest; Calle Jaen used to be the market for camelid goods. An important moment of the 1952 National Revolution took place in Villa Victoria, which became known as Villa Balazos, or Villa Gunshot, after its residents, most of them workers, managed to stop the army from progressing any further. More recently, Gran Poder started in Chijini in the 1960s. It’s also in Chijini that the trans movement started gaining visibility in the 1970s with the participation of trans icons Barbarella, La Pocha, Rommy Astro and La Verónica in Bolivian folkloric dances.
The names themselves also tell us much. In Achachicala, a monument shows us the meaning of its name – a place where ancient, giant stones can be found. Calacoto comes from Qala Qutu, which also means ‘a lot of stones.’ There were at least three lagoons in Cota Cota/Quta Quta, which means ‘lake’ in Aymara. Munaypata is the heart of the city: munay means ‘to love’ and pata, ‘place.’ According to tradition, couples have been going there since colonial times. La Florida was named after the Orange State in a desire to emulate the idealised Miami lifestyle by building eccentric villas with large gardens.
La Paz is now expanding vertically in its center – Casco Viejo, Sopocachi, San Jorge, Calacoto – and horizontally in the south. The expansion of Zona Sur is fairly recent, but it has an interesting story as well. In the early 1950s, President Víctor Paz Estenssoro had a hippodrome built, where ‘glasses of milk were sold instead of soda. Horses were brought from Chile and Peru, but many died because of the elevation,’ wrote Bolivian historian Mariano Gumucio. The hippodrome proved to be a financial disaster, and the San Miguel residential urbanisation, with its streets in concentric circles that outline the failed venue, was born out of its failure. Los Pinos is one of La Paz’s first planned neighbourhoods where, according to its residents, the first trufi line started. Today, new suburbs are popping at the edge of the city moving its centre of gravity southwards.
This urban expansion doesn’t come with a cost. Pampahasi was part of the 2011 ‘mega’ landslide where 400 homes were destroyed. Neighbourhoods like Següencoma or Llojeta – which can be translated as ‘which sinks’ in Aymara – experience regular landslides; the latest one, in Bajo Llojeta, took place last April. Despite the fact that large sections of the city are in high-risk areas, unregulated and unsafe constructions are still being built. At the city’s frontier, loteadores cut trees and burn vast parcels of land to prepare the terrain for future construction projects without following regulations or taking the environmental consequences into consideration.
Next time you take the teleférico or bus or drive across town, make sure to pay attention to the neighbourhoods around you; each has a story to tell. Maybe even stop to read what a statue is about or what a sign has to say.
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Photos: Courtesy of Casa Real Singani
Singani, the national spirit
Singani is a drink made from fermented and distilled white Muscat de Alexandria grapes. Despite initially being a spirit drank neat, if one was to go into a bar in Bolivia today, it is highly likely that a number of Singani cocktails will be offered, the most popular one being chuflay which is Singani and ginger ale, but others include yungeño, té con té and sucumbé. Here are some recipes of our favourites Singani cocktails that can be easily reproduced at home.
CHUFLAY
The origin of this drink takes us back to the 19th century while the english workers of the Bolivian Railway Co where trying to consume their traditional Gin&Gin, a drink that combines Ginebra and Ginger Ale. But at that moment Ginebra was too difficult to get in Bolivia, so they decided to replace it and used Singani. They were fascinated with the result, and named the drink ‘Short Fly’ which is a railway term for a temporary rail (Singani was supposed to replace Ginebra temporarily) but then the drink gained popularity and the locals bolivianised the word and started calling it ‘Chuflay.’
Recipe:
2 oz Casa Real Singani
¼ oz Fresh lemon juice
5 oz Ginger Ale
Method: Direct
Glass: Long drink
Preparation: Fill the glass with ice and directly pour all the ingredients in the order mentioned above. Add a slice of lemon for the final touch.
YUNGUEÑO
Yungas is the subtropical region east side of the Bolivian Andes, in this region a great variety of fruits is produced, among them citrus fruits such as orange. Thus, given the abundance of this fruit, people did not hesitate to combine it with our national spirit and baptize it Yungueño, which means ‘from the Yungas.’
Recipe:
1 ½ oz Casa Real Singani
5 oz fresh orange juice
½ oz syrup
Method: Direct or shaked
Glass: Long drink
Preparation: Fill the glass with ice. Combine the singani, fresh orange juice and syrup directly or in a shaker. Shake very well and serve with a slice of orange, drink it very cold. Cheers!
TÉ CON TÉ
‘Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.’ That’s what Hippocrates thought the year around 400 BC, at that time doctors use to mix medicinal herbs with alcohol to preserve the healing properties in a better way and in fact, those are the beginnings of cocktails. Talking about those therapeutic properties, we are sharing with you this recipe recommended to deal with colds or to enjoy at any cold night.
Recipe:
1 ½ oz Casa Real Singani
½ oz Fresh lemon juice
½ oz honey
4 oz of hot tea with cinnamon
Sugar (optional)
Method: Direct
Glass: Cup or mug
Preparation: Prepare the hot tea with cinnamon and honey, pour the singani and add a slice of lemon.
SINGRONI
Ok, this is not actually a traditional Bolivian drink but shows how versatile Singani is and how we can use it to revisit a classic cocktail. Honouring the classic ‘Negroni’, a cocktail that recently celebrated its 100 year anniversary, we share the recipe of ‘Singroni’ created by the mixologist JP Caceres, brand ambassador of Casa Real Singani.
Recipe:
1 oz Don Lucho Aniversario Singani
1 oz Campari
1 oz Vermouth (sweet)
1 slice of fresh orange
Method: Direct
Glass: Short drink
Preparation: Add the slice of orange and cubic ice in the glass, pour the spirits inside mix for 10-12 seconds.
Photos: Lola Newell
Thanking Pachamama amongst the sculptures of Francine Secretan
Throughout the month of August, Pachamama, the Andean earth-mother goddess, will receive thousands of offerings as gratitude for keeping fields fertile and life thriving. The traditional way to make an offering is through a mesa, and after purchasing one from the calle de Las Brujas in La Paz, I went to the sculptor Francine Secretan’s spectacular Espacio Ritual in Achocalla, a small town about an hour south of La Paz, to make my own offering. For Secretan, this ritual space is one of her most important creations, because it gives her sculptures a function beyond aesthetics. She described how ‘throughout history, sculptures had always been a part of people's daily lives’ and through her Espacio Ritual in Achocalla and her earlier ritual space in La Cumbre, she has given her art a higher purpose.
Inaugurated in 2015, this area consists of four large sculptures creating a circular space for performing traditional rituals. Secretan described how her objective was ‘to create a sacred space, a transcendental site, a viewpoint on the edge of the abyss, whose unlimited spectacles are accentuated by the sculptures found there.’ Raised up above the town of Achocalla, with the white peaks of Huayna Potosi and Illimani piercing the clear blue sky in the background, this ritual space lives up to Secretan’s objective.
Secretan’s Espacio Ritual is one of her most important creations, because it gives her sculptures a function beyond aesthetics.
The four large sculptures that make up the space are La Puerta (The Door), La Chakana (Andean Cross), El Guardián (The Guardian) and El Recipiente de Energía (The Recipient of Energy). In the centre of the space there is a stone table on which rituals are performed. Secretan explained how each sculpture has a specific purpose and meaning as part of the space. La Puerta, which is a doorway made of stone, ‘opens communication, delimits the space and gives access to another dimension.’ La Chakana, a red cross, is the ‘union of the past and present’ and signifies ‘bridge, transparency and passage.’ El Guardián helps ‘to protect the rituals and the sacred.’ And finally, El Recipiente de Energía, a circle without start or finish, ‘is a symbol of the eternal and the absolute.’ These four combine to create a sacred space perfect for giving thanks to Pachamama.
Pachamama comes from Incan mythology, something that had always interested Secretan. Originally from Switzerland, she has been fascinated by South American and pre-Columbian culture from a very young age. She moved to Bolivia 50 years ago after finishing school and has lived in La Paz and worked as an artist ever since. She described how initially she found the prominent use of rituals and appreciation Bolivians have for nature as a complete culture shock. In Switzerland, rituals no longer exist, she says, and she found it profoundly touching when discovering them here.
‘We think that human beings are the owners and masters of the earth, whereas it is the complete opposite, we are just inhabitants and we have completely blasphemed nature.’
—Francine Secretan
The appreciation of Pachamama is even more relevant today, with increasing global warming and widespread environmental destruction. ‘We think that human beings are the owners and masters of the earth,’ Secretan says, ‘whereas it is the complete opposite, we are just inhabitants and we have completely blasphemed nature.’ The month of Pachamama is an annual ritual that reminds people of the importance of nature and how we must do all we can to look after it.
In order to make an offering to Pachamama a mesa is traditionally required, I bought mine from a chiflera on the calle de Las Brujas. These chifleras will prepare the mesa according to a person’s wants and budget. Mine was quite small, costing just 30 bolivianos (plus 10 for alcohol). Some mesas cost as little as 20 bolivianos, but others can cost up to a thousand, depending on what is required. A mesa usually consists of multiple sweets, some with specific images relevant to what the person wants; mine had one for good exam results and a frog which is meant to bring good financial fortune. It’s also very common to include herbs, honey, fruits and coca leaves. A llama foetus, known as a sullu, will often be the main offering of the mesa, and these can vary greatly in size and are priced accordingly. When I bought my mesa, the chiflera topped it with some tinsel and wrapped it in packaging so that it would be ready to be offered to Pachamama.
The offering itself was quite simple. Once I arrived at Secretan’s Espacio Ritual, I unpacked and placed the mesa on a stone table in the centre of the space. After dousing it with alcohol, I set it alight and watched it burn while reflecting on what I had to be grateful for. I thought of my family, friends and the amazing opportunities I’ve had to travel over the past year, but I also thought of Pachamama, the embodiment of the earth mother herself, and for the life she continues to give, even as humanity is determined to destroy it. Being in the space, surrounded by Secretan’s sculptures and the snow-capped mountains was, to repeat the words of Secretan, profoundly touching. Although a little off the beaten track, this is a real must-see in La Paz that definitely deserves to be experienced by more people.
For more information on Francine Secretan, her art and her Espacio Ritual, visit fsecretan.com
Photos: Jack Curson
Urban art illuminates La Paz neighbourhood
When travelling on the red teleférico line towards El Alto, you cannot help but recognise the brightly coloured homes that make up the neighbourhood of Chualluma. Amongst the brick and adobe buildings that dominate the landscape of La Paz, the freshly painted neighbourhood is a striking burst of colour. Its vibrant buildings are some of the beneficiaries of the ‘My neighbourhood, my home’ programme, and are also the latest project of one of Bolivia’s most innovative contemporary urban artists, Knorke Leaf. The Chualluma community, led by neighbourhood president Tomasa Gutierrez, presented a unique proposal to illuminate the neighbourhood with a range of colours and murals as part of the programme, which was launched in 2018 to strengthen urban infrastructure across Bolivia. After winning government funding, the transformation of Chualluma was carried out between March and July of 2019.
Under the leadership of designer and painter Knorke Leaf, the neighbourhood of Chualluma has been transformed into a picturesque setting that illuminates the landscape of La Paz today. Alongside the aesthetic transformation in Chualluma, key work has been carried out to strengthen the previously unstable infrastructure of the neighbourhood. More than 90 construction workers were involved in strengthening the foundations of the buildings, replacing the former foundations of adobe and bricks with cement blocks. Bannisters and stairs were also brought to Chualluma for its residents, who face the steep climb towards the altiplano from the lower, central areas of La Paz everyday.
The most striking aspect of the project is the distinct focus on resident involvement. Whilst professional urban artists from outside the neighbourhood were involved in painting the homes, the people of Chualluma were crucial to the project’s success. Locals carried construction materials to each house to create the foundations upon which Knorke’s team of artists painted the art that exists today. The neighbourhood people also chose the colours that would adorn their homes from a palette of ten colours. For Knorke, the involvement of the residents was essential ‘It was really important,’ she says, ‘that it was never something that was imposed.’ Knorke came to Chualluma almost a month before carrying out the design to understand the neighbourhood so that the urban art could reflect the people who inhabit it. ‘All the murals, all the lettering that is here in Chualluma represents what they do, who they are and what kind of people live here. That was the most important part of the project – not just the touristic aspect, but to keep the neighbourhood happy and represent their culture.’
The project was not without certain issues. For example, Benita Choque, a resident of Chualluma for 40 years, commented that despite the neighbourhood meetings some residents were unaware of the project before the construction materials and paint were brought in. However, the prevailing atmosphere in Chualluma is one of satisfaction. When speaking to the residents, the overwhelming expression is one of gratitude towards the painters who have brought happiness and colour to their neighbourhood. For Rafael Quispe, a resident of Villa Fatima but who has worked for a La Paz public health company in Chualluma for eight years, the impact of the urban art has been dramatic. ‘The work done here has changed people’s outlook. Your surroundings impact your attitude and now people are more happy and motivated. Before people threw their rubbish outside the front of their houses, but now they care for Chualluma more.’
The Chualluma community is mostly comprised of migrants from rural provinces who live in La Paz to access the local economy. Many of the women sell food and produce in El Alto or La Paz, whilst residents work as tailors, construction workers and drivers in the city. With so many residents from rural areas, Aymara is the dominant language in Chualluma. Knorke was eager to represent this linguistic trait through the Aymara lettering that adorns many of the buildings. ‘It is a revindication. Visitors can come and learn. Yes, we are in La Paz, a multicultural place, but people here still speak Aymara. It is a beautiful and elegant language – it has a different way of thinking.’
Asencia, a rural migrant who speaks Aymara lived in the final house of Chualluma before the ascent to the altiplano. She has to leave the community at 5:30 am each morning to make the long descent towards Zona Sur where she sells street food. Asencia has faced a difficult life. She lost her husband and has a son who has struggled with severe mental illness. When Knorke asked what colour she wanted to decorate her house she chose orange – a colour that brings happiness. Struck by Asencia’s story of hardship and resilience, Knorke decided she would embellish Asencia’s home with a mural of a hummingbird. In Andean culture, hummingbirds have a spiritual quality, representing an individual’s ancestors when they appear. Knorke painted the hummingbird on Asencia’s house ‘so that they will take care of her and her family.’ For Knorke, ‘every mural is a story’ and the urban art that now decorates Chualluma is a representation of its inhabitants.
Knorke’s previous projects, such as her work on the #TimeToAct campaign against sexual violence, are evidence of the transformative power of urban art and Chualluma, her biggest project to date, is no different. During the five-month transformation process a micro-economy emerged in Chualluma, with local women cooking for the construction workers and painters. With continued organisation, there is potential for an enduring local economy to be established. Tourists, attracted by the radiant neighbourhood and its stunning panoramic views of the city below, have already asked about the possibility of creating a hostel or a restaurant in the neighbourhood to cater to visitors. The project led by Knorke has given the people of Chualluma a unique opportunity, and though the residents are not accustomed to the influx of tourists, Knorke hopes ‘it is a process that will happen.’
Alongside its touristic elements, the project has had a pertinent impact on the residents, construction workers and other people involved. According to Knorke, ‘It was a really special exchange of knowledge, food and views.’ Since construction, like urban art, is a sector dominated by men, Knorke found it difficult to get the male construction workers to respect what she was saying in the first two months of the project. ‘They were not used to having a female boss,’ she says, ‘but Tomasa and the women of Chualluma are also strong women, so it was a nice experiment to show our capabilities, strength and determination as women.’
Looking back on the project, Knorke says her work in Chualluma is ‘the biggest and most intense experience I have had, but also the most beautiful.’ For her, the project ‘is not just drawings on the wall, it is public art. It is a way to decentralise art and bring it to everybody.’ Although the brightly coloured houses are striking when seen from the teleférico approaching El Alto, the true beauty of the murals can only be seen from inside Chualluma. To witness the stunning artistry of the murals and appreciate the local culture, one must explore firsthand what Knorke describes as ‘a truly special neighbourhood.’
