Bolivian Express | Bolivian Express

Magazine # 36

RELEASE DATE: 2014-02-01

EDITORIAL BY AMARU VILLANUEVA RANCE

It would be possible to connect forty thousand hamlets […] with a spider web of six-foot-wide trails […] providing the country with 200,000 three-wheeled mechanical donkeys – five on the average for each hamlet […] A ‘donkey’ could make 15 mph, and carry loads of 850 pounds (from Deschooling Society) It was 1971 and Ivan Illich had spent over a decade and a half in Latin America. This was his utopian vision for a transportation system which was at once practical and built for a society like ours. At its heart was the idea that the six-horsepower engines that powered these ‘mechanical donkeys’ could also be used as a plough and pump, and designed in such a way that anyone could learn to repair them. Fast forward four decades and look around La Paz. While there are no mechanical donkeys in sight, the system we have in its place is just as outlandish—and sometimes almost as visionary. The country is home to an estimated 1.2 million vehicles, of which over 300 thousand can be found in La Paz alone, a figure that has risen 90% in the past fifteen years. Bridges and roads are constantly being built but the traffic seems to grow at twice the rate. Heads peer out of the windows of minibuses shouting destinations; young men and women dressed as zebras teach people to cross the road; cholitas wearing Robocop-style helmets enforce traffic routes to prevent trameaje; a 50-year-old blue bus known as ‘El Inmortal’ continues to grumble in circulation. A steel spider web is also being spun up above: the teleférico has arrived, and dangling cabins henceforth associated with Swiss ski resorts will soon be part of the world’s largest network of urban transit cable cars. This superorganism is evolving beyond the infrastructure. With the gradual disappearance of the voceador comes the rise of a new character known as el datero who, in exchange for some coins, tips off public transport drivers allowing them to better plan their routes: ‘the 230 just passed, followed by an empty 355’. Local minibuses have invariably been adapted to fit an extra row of seats (the move is consistent with the anatomy of most locals, but remains a practical joke on anyone taller than 5’9’’—ie most tourists). And roaming alongside 1967 Land Cruisers are living-room-sized-2013 Hummers, unviably huge compared to the narrow streets of the city centre. It’s retro-futuristic, anarcho-anachronistic, organised chaos in all its glory. Whether or not you are aware of it, you are also part of this superorganism. The moment you set foot out of your house you are plunged into a whirling world of pedestrians, vehicles, smog and chatter. E pluribus unum: ‘one out of many’; each element seemingly follows a logic of its own, yet somehow it all comes together as a single whole on the busy arteries of La Paz. Missed connections, chance encounters, transport strikes, and the daily honking war are all part of this choreography. As if caught in a trancadera, these musings are (appropriately) going nowhere. We invite you to stay put, hop on the Bolivian Express and start flicking the pages. We’ll help you get to nowhere twice as fast.

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THEY BATIN´

March 08/2014| articles

THE NEPTUNE

The Neptune also known as the aguatero is one of the mightiest of La Paz’s police riot control water engines. It has a 2000 liter capacity and 2 power jet motors, yet this aquatic monster was not created with this purpose in mind.

In the museum of the National Police of Bolivia I meet Captain José Arancibia Mollinedo. A political scientist by training, following in his father’s footsteps he entered the world of the military over 16 years ago. Captain Arancibia boasts an imposing size and an unshakable character.
Wearing a gray suit, pink shirt, impeccable mustache and drooping eyelids, he explains how these vehicles were originally used exclusively by firefighters. An old photograph of the vehicle taken in Antofagasta back in 1960 backs his claim. Yet during the coup that took place in 1975, the police had its eyes on Neptuno. When the Fire Brigade received another set of fire trucks imported from Brazil by Firefighters Without Borders, the police got its chance and adopted the Neptune, ritually adopting it by painting it over with the same olive green as their uniforms.

Apart from water they experimented with ammonia, which can produce a momentary loss of consciousness after coming into the slightest contact with the mouth or respiratory system. They have thankfully discontinued use of this chemical, but continued to experiment with other liquids, including red paint to mark rioters and rebels and thus making them distinguishable and easier to capture.

Captain Arancibia, had the opportunity to operate these vehicles for 4 years (1982-1985). He recalls a Carnival when the Neptune sprayed pepinos with water jets, provoking them to battle this aquatic monster while the crowd looked on at the comedic water battle. Yet he also recalls painful experiences such as the time he was ordered to use it against a strike of elderly war veterans. Unable to disobey the orders of his superiors, he tried hard to shoot the powerful jet of water towards their feet in order not to cause them any harm. During his work he also remembers feeling helplessness as he was not able to succour buildings caught in large fires due to the lack of fuel and water caused by insufficient funds. Such experiences were common during difficult, and at times warlike, moments during the country’s history.

According to Captain Arancibia, the impact of the Neptune truck on the population is based on the ‘control of the psychology of the masses’, since their mere presence has a powerful effect which remains the ace up the police’s sleeve when masses are out of control; a common occurrence in the country.

THEY SEE ME ROLLIN´

March 08/2014| articles

TORITOS

A new form of transport has descended on El Alto. Toritos (‘little bulls’) or mototaxis, as they are otherwise known, have made it their aim to conquer the whole of this ever-expanding city.

They currently cover routes from Villa Adela to Kenko, Cumaravi, Villa Mercedes and Callipampa, and tend to work at night. A trip costs roughly the same as a trufi (Bs 2 to Bs 3).

Alexander Apaza, mototaxi driver and radio operator for the toritos , tells BX that the service doesn’t just cover the centre of El Alto or the Ceja area, but rather connects the scattered neighbourhoods that surround it. They come into their own during busy periods, as evenings often can be, but also when minibus drivers refuse to finish their route, with the classic argument that ‘It isn’t worth it for one passenger, it’s here and no further’.

As Alexander explains, this is where the toritos can offer an alternative. The cost of the Indian manufactured Bajai mototaxi (of which 450,000 are made every year) is $4900, roughly the same as a used taxi from the early ‘90s.

Expensive for a glorified motorcycle you say? ‘It’s very economical, in terms of fuel and repair costs. It’s a motorbike but has the financial yield of a car’, Alexander explains. And its true; these astonishing three-wheeled creatures can carry up to 3 passengers. An impressive feat, considering their diddy 200cc engines. We might not be impressed just yet, but the environment is undoubtedly grateful with their arrival.