A Path to Another World

On the border to Achumani , a neighbourhood in southeast La Paz, the star-filled sky is blocked out in places by the borders of the mountains that jump out from the earth, circumscribed in the thin air in shapes like lanky black ghosts. Here, the nighttime sky is at its clearest and the lights of the metropolis look like a reflection of the sky above, as if the stars’ mirror image were being cast back from a sea. Through the radiant sky, Centauri beams down – it belongs to the eighty-six constellations that can be observed during a clear winter night. But Inca astronomy does not recognize these constellations. It is unique from Western astronomy in that it identifies dark clouds as its constellations instead of their stellar counterparts.

The centre of the Milky Way – the spiral galaxy of which our solar system is a part of, and of which we can only see the central part from Earth – contains the highest quantity of stars. It’s the brightest part of the Milky Way, and it comprises several star constellations in addition to other deep-space objects, such as interstellar clouds of gas and dust. These can be observed while looking at the dark regions of the Milky Way. They are extremely visible because they contrast with the relatively bright background of galaxy’s star field. The clearness of the La Paz sky permits one to make these observations with the naked eye—no telescope required here.

These interstellar clouds of gas and dust were called yana phuyu by the Incans, which means ‘black clouds’. These dark areas against the light background of the Milky Way are identified with the silhouettes of animals.

The Milky Way is called the mayu, the Quechuan word for ‘river’. Figures of animals drink its waters and darken its luminescence with their shadows, according to the Manuscrito de Huarochirí, a testament of ancient and colonial Andean religion written around 1600. The llama, or yacana, is at the centre of the animal constellations in the mayu; it’s the dark spot between Scorpio and the Southern Cross. Its eyes – called llamacnawin by the Incas – are its only bright part: the stars Alpha and Beta Centauri (the thirdand fourth-brightest stars in the sky). Underneath, an upside-down baby llama drinks from its mother’s breast. The prominent position of the llama in the sky mirrors itself in Incan religious ceremonies, in which black llamas were sacrificed to appease the gods. Back in our Andean skyline, a bird’s nest is visible near the Southern Cross, with two black spots – yutu and hanp’atu – representing a partridge and a toad. Unfortunately, these figures are constantly under threat from the snake, machacuay, in the east and a fox, atoq, in the west. The fox blazes at them through its red burning eye – the star Antares.

The Incas worshipped the yacana and machacuay black clouds, who were believed to be in charge of their species. The Incas venerated them, and forbade their subjects from harming their earthly incarnations. All the animals and birds had their anologues in the sky, who were responsible for their procreation and the augmentation of their species, a sort-of cosmological Noah’s Ark. They were the celestial blueprint of every living thing on Earth.

Similarly, the mayu is the ideal of a terrestrial river, the Vilcanota River. It rises in the Andes to the southeast of Cuzco, near Puno in Peru, and flows northwest for 724 kilometers before joining the lower Apurímac River to form the Ucayali River. The mayu flows in the same direction as its terrestrial equivalent.

According to legend, the Incan god Viracocha crossed the mayu to reach the hurin pacha (upper world) after creation had been completed. Travelled by shamans, deities and spirits in trance, the mayu is also traversed by the souls of the deceased – or by humans in dreams. It is the connection between heaven and earth.

This connection between heaven and Earth is at its most significant during the Inti Raimi celebration. Just after the June solstice, the Inca himself presided over the most important ceremony of the year, the Solemn Feast of the Sun. All Incan nobles were required to come to Cuzco for this ceremony, and all Incans, nobles and commoners alike, were encouraged to participate. The ceremony, which is still practiced, is a ‘centering of the universe’ around the Inca in the Temple of the Sun at Cuzco. The timing of Inti Raimi in the ritual calendar coordinates with the mayu – the galaxy that the Earth itself is a part of – aligning with the Vilcanota River, when heaven and Earth come together and the sun rises and sets in the mayu.

The mayu partitions space and connects heaven and Earth. Similarly, it incorporates the perfect, ideal model of every terrestrial creature. It is a path that leads to the other world, as opposed to the Western interpretation of the Milky Way – a representation of godly milk, a metaphor for birth. And unlike Western astrology, the Incan sky – as brilliantly lit as it was – was more notable for its dark spaces, in which the ancient legends, animals and spirits resided.

Daniel Escalante and his mission to change the situation of the city’s street children

As night-time begins to envelop the streets of La Paz, thousands of street children, many of them shoeshiners, sense opportunity and danger in equal measure. When one considers the manifold threats they have to grapple with, from freezing temperatures to violence and drug dependency, it is astonishing that so many street children survive to adulthood. Yet despite these hardships, one occasionally encounters the success of those who have made it out like Daniel Escalante Vargas, co-founder of the Luz de Esperanza homeless shelter in El Alto, and a former street kid himself.

Following the death of two of his friends, Escalante Vargas established a shelter with the help of Sister Doris Huertas where children could live free of alcohol and drugs. Huertas bought the land on which the centre now stands with help from her church and picked up its first residents by trawling the city cemetery, an area frequented by the homeless. She enlisted Escalante, who helped make it the success it is today by involving the shelter’s beneficiaries in the running of the organisation.

Eloquent and polite, Escalante challenges many preconceptions of someone brought up homeless in the streets of the city. Though a childhood on the streets does not necessarily breed contempt, one might at least expect a certain degree of gruffness or unease. Rather, he speaks lucidly about the difficulties and typicality of his formative years. Born in La Paz to a working mother and a largely absent father, he first took to the streets to join his friends after school. At the age of eight, seeking a small income, he began to work aboard the city’s micros. As the middle child of seven brothers, it was his responsibility to look after his three younger siblings, but the longer his hours became on the buses, the more he neglected his family duties.

Craving more autonomy, he became a shoe-shiner and joined a group of boys with whom he would sleep rough. While the job afforded him the opportunity to buy more than just the food that his mother was capable of providing, the luxuries he so craved remained beyond him.

He began to drink strong-proof alcohol at age thirteen (diluting it only with water) and later moved to inhaling clefa.

Night-time in La Paz allowed him to consume such substances away from prying eyes, and morning presented him the opportunity to earn some money. He drank before and after school, and during the evenings busied himself with finding an alleyway to sleep in. Every so often, him and his friends would escape to an abandoned house that his uncle owned outside the city. It was there that Escalante would first seek to change his situation. As a first step, he moved to Santa Cruz for two years, where he found work as an assistant mechanic. Upon returning to La Paz, two of his friends died in quick succession, events which marked him profoundly and gave him the mission to change the situation of the homeless.

When I ask Escalante about the causes of child homelessness, he argues that the lack of parental investment -often worsened by long working hours- forces children outside in search of independence. He tells me that while education is important, ‘the lack of affection from their parents is what forces the kids onto the street’. Escalante believes that the city’s state schools should build ties with the families of those at risk of pursuing a life on the streets

Tribalism abounds in the calles, and factions coalesce to claim and defend their localities, often by violent means. Among the homeless, this sense of community is both a defense mechanism from other such threats, and a safety net for financial hardship. Typically, a shoe-shiner needs ten clients every day in order to make enough money to eat. Should a member of the group fail to meet this threshold, the others will contribute to make up the shortfall. Similarly, shoes and other such luxuries are frequently bought with money that has been jointly saved.

Familiarity and friendship is often a conduit for many of the vices that typify life on the streets of La Paz. As such, alcohol and drug dependencies are carved into many of the expressions that during the working day are so frequently masked by balaclavas. Unsurprisingly, such addictions usually start off as a way to combat the cold, as sleep comes more readily to those who are under the influence.

A ten-year-old housed at the shelter (name undisclosed) gives a telling example of the circumstances which lead to a child becoming homeless. His parents used to travel frequently for work, leaving him with his uncle. Apparently oblivious to the child’s vulnerability, the uncle kicked him out, abandoning him to his fate on La Paz’s most dangerous streets, where he lived for two months. Now, although his parents have returned to the city, he remains in the shelter, as they are incapable of - or uninterested in - taking care of him.

The stories I bear witness to unfold along poignantly similar trajectories. Early familiarity with the streets combined with a craving for an income and independence often lead to jobs in shoe-shining. Eventually, so much time is spent away from home that living on the streets becomes a natural next step. Here, the ubiquity of strong proof alcohol and solvents all but ensures a period of addiction. Another resident of the shelter, 32 year-old David Mamani, suggests that this existence is a symptom of the manner in which the homeless are perceived in the city. Abandoned by the state and ignored by the rest of society, he suggests that every street-dweller creates a reality of their own; a world in which they alone exist and strive to survive. David identified himself as neither a paceño nor a boliviano, words enjoyed by those with a place and a status in society. David confesses that before the shelter’s intervention, he was ready to die.

The shelter steers those it houses away from addictive substances and keeps them occupied with carpentry, pottery and the maintenance of an onsite farm. It is easy to see the value of such vocational training, and its tangible results (such as hand-crafted bunk beds) are visible everywhere. The Luz de Esperanza project can only accommodate so many of those in danger; eradicating the problem of homelessness must start with government initiatives to restructure the sagging bonds of families in poverty.

Tonight’s DJ is Marco Cuba

http:// www.marcocuba.com
http:// www.soundcloud.com/marcocuba
http://www.beatport.com/artist/marco-cuba/122443

Walking into Traffic on the Avenida Arce at midnight on a Friday night wasn’t exactly a mind-shattering experience. Too early to attract a substantial crowd and being served a so-so cocktail by the hovering bar staff, the night didn’t seem to be headed anywhere interesting. Over the following hour, increasing numbers of people streamed into the club, each litter looking a little more tipsy than the previous one. As the empty dance floor slowly filled up, repetitive house beats had the crowd timidly bopping up and down. Yet when the clock struck one, a man in a bright turquoise shirt took over the DJ booth and started playing Mark Knight’s Alright, immediately drawing frenzied club-goers to the floor from tables and bar-stools far and wide

Marco Cuba, a Peruvian born DJ based in La Paz, plays techno and house beats and has performed at festivals and shows that have featured DJ powerhouses such as David Guetta and Seb Fontaine. DJ Marco Cuba is one of the most important and well- known figures in the Bolivian electronic music scene.

When asked about the origin of his career as a DJ, Marco Cuba speaks of his upbringing. In his house he was ‘bombarded’ by disco music his mother played in the house, as well as being exposed the 60’s rock his father used to listen to. Speaking of what attracts him to this line of work, he mentions the appeal involved in the never-ending search and discovery of new music, constantly looking for new artists and songs. Beyond his passion for harmonies/ dark beats/mixing, his profession has also given him the opportunity to travel to countries such as Argentina, Ecuador, Peru and Chile to play at various festivals and shows. While he admits that dealing with club-goers while working can be stressful, learning to control the situation from the DJ booth comes with experience. Marco Cuba loves his job and sees no obvious downsides. Well, that is, except for his one complaint: ‘the loss of hearing.’

While Marco Cuba has travelled throughout Latin America mixing music (at times bemoaning the popularity of reggaeton in the region) he believes that La Paz has a distinct nightlife scene. He tells me:

People come to La Paz for many reasons and with different energies. There is a tendency to drink a lot. La Paz is incredible, it is growing and despite having huge clubs, or such a developed night scene, it has something very special that is difficult to explain.

He loves playing in many of the different clubs in the city, though can only think of two venues with sufficient scale to be considered ‘proper’ discotecas: Soundbar and Forum. Far from lamenting the absence of grandiose Ibiza-style clubs, he is quick to point out that it is these smaller venues that together create the vibrancy and energy for which the city has become known. When asked about his favourite place to play in La Paz, he affirms without hesitation, ‘Traffic. Friday nights.’