Caught between tradition and lifestyle

The Jewish presence in Bolivia dates back to the 16th century but spiked most prominently during and after the Second World War when thousands of Jews fled Europe and immigrated to South America. Bolivia accepted around 20,000 Jews during this period. Yet Bolivia was just a bridge for many, a starting point for a life in another South American country. ‘Now there are about 180 to 220 Jews in La Paz, approximately 70 in Cochabamba and about 150 in Santa Cruz’, says Dr Ricardo Udler, President of the Círculo Israelita (an centre for which caters for the Israeli community). These numbers make it hard to imagine a future. ‘If you ask me, what is the future [Of the Jewish Community]? I’d say maybe ten or at most fifteen years more’, confirms Dr Udler, in a somewhat sombre tone.

Illustration by Michael Dunn

There are many reasons for this shrinking trend, and as a father, Dr Udler can confirm at least one of them: ‘I have three children; one is in Israel, one in Panama and the third is in New York. When my children said: “Ok I’d like to come back to Bolivia”, I told them no, because young people don’t have a Jewish future in Bolivia with barely 180 people. When my daughter came back to Bolivia she had no young Jewish man for her. This is the reason I said: “No you don’t come back to Bolivia. If you like to come back to Bolivia, come back, but after you have created your own family. Then you can come back.”’

Most of the Jewish children attend an English-speaking school in Bolivia and then go on to study at universities abroad, with Israel and United States being popular choices. I am told that Jewish immigration to Bolivia has also become less popular since the President Evo Morales has deepened his relationship with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Iranian president. Six Mosques have been built in La Paz over the last ten years and Dr. Udler confidently affirms that ‘We don’t have anti-Semitism in Bolivia’.

Dr Udler himself is not planning to leave the country any time soon: ‘culturally we don’t have anything. It’s the life quality that matters for me. Many people have houses but here you have a cook, a driver, a maid and someone who does your laundry and all that for an affordable price. Please understand me, this is not arrogance, this is the reality of this country’.

However, Dr Udler and his wife express a sentiment familiar to many other Jewish families: ‘We are alone. My wife and I are separated from our children. This is the price we have to pay’. Dr Udler believes that he will be among the last standing Orthodox Jews in La Paz, bringing to mind the old saying, ‘an old tree should not be moved, otherwise it will die’.

Many of the thousands of Bolivians who migrated to Spain the beginning of the 21st century faced disappointment, difficulties and discrimination. Those who eventually returned to their home country often did so without the desired success. In the latest and strangest of migratory twists, many Spaniards hit by the economic crisis sweeping Europe are making their way over to South America.

If thousands of Spaniards migrated to Bolivia during the early years of la conquista, the first years of the 21st century show a mirror image. In the last decade, more than 250,000 Bolivians migrated to Spain, yet the search for higher salaries and a better life for their families has been hindered in many ways. Caught between decreased employment opportunities – brought about by the European economic crisis – and new immigration laws, the prospects for Bolivians in Spain have considerably worsened over the last few years.

Photo:Maria Laura Loayza

The rapid influx of Bolivians into Spain is largely attributed to a rumour (and eventual announcement) of an initiative to regularise the legal situation of all immigrants without papers in 2005. The so-called efecto llamada which ensued is attributed to this amnesty. By 2008, the Bolivian embassy in Ma-
drid estimated that around 350,000 Bolivians were living in Spain, only 70,000 of which were legally allowed to work and receive social and labour benefits.

While the recent reversal in this trend can be partially attributed to the economic crisis in Europe (the ambassador for Spain in Bolivia, Ramón Santos, recently reported that 50,000 Bolivian immigrants had left the country), a strong link can also be made between the mass-migrant departure and decisions made by the Spanish government: in April 2007 it became compulsory for Bolivian tourists to have a visa in order to enter Spain.

Naturally, the Bolivian government’s reaction to this was largely negative. Evo Morales openly criticised the Spanish government’s actions: ‘When the Spanish and Europeans came to America, our forefathers didn’t call them illegal.’ As detailed by Morales in
an open letter to the EU, remittances sent home by Bolivian migrants account for as much as 10% of Bolivia’s GDP. In the letter he explained that as the decision went “against human rights”, relations between Bolivia and the EU would be strained and hard to pursue.

This diplomatic aspect, however, is only an outward manifestation of this issue: the transition to Spain for any Bolivian is not an easy one, as pointed out by Marcia Seburo. Marcia did not migrate for work as many Bolivians do, yet for a year and a half in Madrid her search for employment went unrewarded. Having managed a city branch of a bank in Bolivia, this was a huge change. She explains the move was hard for other reasons besides: simply hopping on the Metro is not possible for those entirely unfamiliar with its usage. Marcia firmly, and without hesitation, explained that no matter where you came from, starting a new life in Spain, ‘Es duro, es muy duro’ – ‘it’s hard, very hard’.

I also spoke to Manuel Canelas who, as a Bolivian student, lived a life far removed from those Bolivians who left striving to earn a better living for their family. His skin is reasonably fair, he wears the type of thick rimmed glasses that are currently a la moda in Europe and, along with his casual jacket, t-shirt and jeans combination, it is easy to see how he easily would fit into any European society without appearing unusual or out of place. With ample financial support from his parents, he was not left struggling to find a job that wasn’t there and his occupation also placed him opportunely in social situations where he could meet new people – namely other students in similar positions to himself. But he too had seen the difficulties for Bolivians in a country where not everyone welcomes their presence.

Photo: Maria Laura Loayza

Both stories, however, are atypical. Marcia has Spanish citizenship and her two sons have the right to residency; Manuel’s appearance and fortuitous position allowed him to live comfortably in the centre of Madrid. Others, however, are less fortunate. The police will stop people simply on account of their appearance and, in the knowledge that a large Latin American population lives in certain barrios of Madrid, will station themselves outside specific metro stations to catch immigrants without papers. Discrimination by appearance, accent, and behaviour means that even those who are legal and who do have the necessary documents don’t necessarily escape the sometimes-violent actions of the police – Manuel’s sister included - he told me. Perceptions of institutional racism and accounts of ethnic-based profiling are abound.

This is not to say that full integration to Spain does not require entirely discarding Bolivianidad but it certainly seems to require exercising one’s own nationality with discretion: Manuel’s own contact with other Bolivians, especially at first, largely took place on a one-to-one basis rather than within the context of a larger community. He did recognise that many would recreate Bolivian communities and practice their culture together, particularly the Bolivians who had been established for many years, it is as if an adaptation process must occur before Bolivianidad can be recreated. Such large groups organise fiestas and dances, and such is the degree of local integration that this sometimes takes place in coordination with local government authorities.

The Bolivian community in Madrid is so large that numerous resources have sprung up to cater for their specific needs. For example, Marcia tells me that the website BMTV (Bolivia Magazine TV) features sections on all aspects of Bolivian life: traditions and customs, food, dance, fashion, current affairs and tourism. The website even has a ‘Legal consultation’ section, as issues with work permits and nationality can be, in the site’s own words, “a terrible headache”. BMTV also tries “to be an instrument for union between relatives on opposite shores of the Atlantic” and “an interactive portal and be a window of products and services that Bolivian businessmen offer in Spain.” Marcia primarily uses the website for recipes, but clearly it is an important tool for Bolivians in Spain who want to maintain their Bolivianidad, whatever their societal position. Many other formal and informal organisations have sprung up to cater for this demand, among them a sporting organisation called LIDEBOL (La Liga Deportiva Boliviana). In the 2011-12 competition, over 50 clubs of male and female footballers descended on the parque
Pradolongo, Madrid.

The difficulties faced by many are not enough to dissuade all Bolivians from setting down roots in Spain. For example, Marcia told me she has rarely considered returning to Bolivia, explaining she has never really felt very patriotic; Manuel returned to La Paz for the purpose of writing his Doctoral thesis, but would consider returning to Spain to live in future.

The migrant’s discourse has long been fraught with the idea of not just travelling away from one’s country, but with one day returning. Yet predominantly for those Bolivians who left for economic reasons, el retorno has become less a sign of success than the result of having no other choice at the hands of new unfavourable laws and unemployment; the effect of the latter hastened by discrimination. This is all part of the distinctive circular character of migration and suggests many of the Bolivians returning home from Spain are not doing so permanently, but already have their sights set on the next destination - increasingly Brazil.

Yet there is another trend that could well be worth keeping an eye on in the following decades: whilst the economic crisis is forcing Bolivians in Spain to continue their migratory cycle, the native Spanish are equally under pressure to move elsewhere. In 2011, 63,000 Spaniards emigrated, the emerging markets of South America a key destination, and a fall in the Spanish population of almost a million people has been forecast for the next decade by the INE (Instituto Nacional de Estadística). In a curious twist of migratory fate, it seems quite possible that a Bolivian Dream – similar, perhaps, to the one imagined by their colonial ancestors in the 16th Century – might just be possible across the Atlantic for Spaniards too.

Despite the distance from their families and difficulties in their new country, Bolivian immigrants have found a corner in which to feel at home in London.

Dozens of languages reverberate through the winding streets. Children play together, different races and cultures blending into one, shrieks of excitement echoing out. London is known for being a hotchpotch of different cultures; in my high school alone we had kids from more than 50 different countries, each with their native tongue.

Photo: Vania Gonzalvez

With friends from all corners of the world, I grew up as part of this mix, delighting in learning phrases from new languages, trying different foods and experiencing a scramble of different fashions. One community, however, that I was not aware of, which congregates in the southeast of London, is that of the Bolivian immigrants.

There is definite, albeit small, Bolivian presence in London. Estimates suggest that there are between 15 to 20 thousand Bolivians living in the UK, of which 8,000 live in the southeast of London, most of them originating from La Paz, Cochabamba or Sucre.

Vania Gonzalvez runs a community programme for immigrant Bolivian children, organizing arts initiatives to encourage them to express their identities and their heritage through music, dance and other creative forms. The programme, which is part of the Migrante Project in southeast London, also makes use of photography and media to illustrate the children’s ideas about their identities.

Through Vania’s programme, immigrant children are able to discuss the difficulties they have encountered after leaving their homeland. Nevertheless, these kids have integrated into the London community far better than their parents. While adult immigrants frequently speak a limited amount of English, their children often lose their mother tongue altogether. Vania’s project actively encourages them to speak Spanish in order to maintain their cultural heritage, as most of them only speak it as a second language.

Claudia Gonzalez was born in London, but she grew up and went to school in Bolivia. She moved back to the UK eight years ago and has British citizenship. Despite this, however, she still feels firmly Bolivian, living in a Bolivian community in London, directing a Bolivian dance class and interacting with Bolivians daily. ‘Ninety percent of my friends are Bolivian’, she says. She moved to London in order to try to pursue educational opportunities, and although she’s proud of what she’s accomplished – a master’s degree in English, to name one of her many achievements – her journey hasn’t been easy. Her job in a financial company that transfers money worldwide is not what she envisioned. However, compared to other Bolivian immigrants, who often work as cleaners, Claudia has been very successful.

In addition to the struggle most immigrants face in trying to find a well-paid job, there are also many personal issues they have to deal with. With Bolivia 6,000 miles away from London, and with flight prices costing in excess of 1,000 pounds, it is not always easy to stay connected to their homeland. Claudia missed out on a lot of important events with her family and close friends throughout the years. Weddings, birthdays, and Christmases all had to be celebrated in a strange and sometimes scary country, far from her extended family. But this is something that Claudia felt helped her to grow: ‘I have become stronger since I came to the UK. I had to learn so many things I was not interested in at all – like cooking. I had to take responsibility for myself as my parents were not there to support me anymore’.

Photo: Vania Gonzalvez

Walking further through the streets of southeast London where the Bolivian community is most concentrated, I arrived at a Bolivian restaurant called ‘Parrilladas del Sur’ (Grill of the South) on Old Kent Road. It is a community-centre-cum-canteen that transports its customers to a La Paz eatery. The menu includes pique macho, a traditional Bolivian dish which consists of a lot of meat and some chips, and on the weekend it sells hundreds of salteñas.

The restaurant’s menu and welcome signs are entirely in Spanish; the TVs blare out Latin music, and huge red, yellow, and green flags hang from the walls. I am greeted by the young Bolivian owner and we converse in Spanish before he directs me to a table and recites the set lunch. Similar to nearly all of the restaurants I visited in La Paz, they’ve barely catered for vegetarians, so we eventually settled on the fish and the sopa sin carne. The meal is large and tasty, though wouldn’t quite call it a fine dining experience. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose and keeps me going for the rest of the day at only £7 for the two-course meal, including drinks. The other diners in the restaurant are all Bolivian-looking; some clothed in alpaca sweaters and more traditional dress, while others sit around wearing the typical London a la moda fashion. Their presence confirms what I’ve been previously told – that Bolivians like to keep to their own circles. But they’re all very welcoming, greeting me in Spanish and wishing me a nice day as I depart from this Latin corner of London.

Bolivians who migrate to London normally do so as a result of the strong ties between family members who have already established themselves in the UK. This exemplifies the strength of the Bolivian community found in London and the ubiquity of Bolivian family ties throughout the world. Claudia says, ‘Bolivian people do not mix that much with other cultures, they generally stay among themselves and go out to dance or eat to Bolivian or Latin places only’.

Despite the foreboding that will always be associated with moving to a new place, most Bolivian immigrants in London settle into their new lives, helped by the tight-knit community already present. Despite the hardships that Bolivians face in London – the distance from their homeland, uncertain employment and the cultural assimilation of their children – the Bolivians I spoke with unanimously say that they are happy to continue living in the UK.