Gabriela (the Bolivian Express’s favourite Swede – not the vegetable, mind you) hates to cook, but on a whim decided to go on a cooking class and invited some of us to come along. Over the next few months, the Bolivian Express will publish recipes for each of the meals we cooked, along with a few interesting facts.

Having no idea where the class would take place, I obediently followed Gabriela to our final destination: the Instituto Don Bosco. It’s not the sort of building where you’d expect to find a fully equipped kitchen: the halls are tiny and dark, and the paint is gently peeling off the walls. However, opening the flimsy wooden door, we found ourselves in a vast, industrial-looking kitchen. Here could be found everything under the (culinary) sun: five heavy-duty ovens, pressure-cookers, many large pots and pans, plastic measuring cups, three wooden church benches and three long metal tables, to name a few. One of these tables was piled with all the ingredients we would need; time for the class to begin.

CHAIRO Recipe of the month: Chairo. ‘Chairo’ means ‘soup’ in Aymara, and it’s a meat and vegetable stew typical of La Paz. Originally developed by campesinos working far from home, chairo contains Andean vegetables such as chuño and is flavoured with oregano and hierba buena, an indigenous variety of mint. Chuños are freeze-dried potatoes laboriously produced following an ancient pre-Inca process, and originally found at Tiwanaku. Potatoes are left outside at night to freeze then exposed to intense sunlight and trampled to remove the water. (Unfortunately we make no promises that no chuños were harmed in the making of this stew).

INGREDIENTS: 6 pieces of pork 1 small piece of chalona (dried sheep meat) ¼ cup of wheat ½ cup of green peas and pealed beans 1 finely-chopped onion 1 finely-chopped carrot 1 heaped tablespoon of chopped celery leaves 1 heaped tablespoon of chopped parsley 1 large branch of mint ½ cup of cooked mote (freeze-dried corn) 1 cup of finely-chopped and soaked chuño 3 finely-chopped potatoes

PREPARATION Boil two litres of water, and once it’s boiling add the meat, chalona, vegeta- bles, herbs and wheat. Let it cook for an hour or more. If a lot of water evapo- rates add more.

Once the meat is done add the salt and the grated chuño. Once this is cooked add the potatoes and the mote. Serve with a large spoonful of finely chopped parsley and mint on top. You can also add some chicharron de cerdo if it suits!

The 15th International Book Fair (or ‘Fe- ria del Libro’) in La Paz took place from 18th to 29th August. This year’s main theme was ‘Celebremos la Bibliodiver- sidad’ (‘Let’s Celebrate Bibliodiversity’), but a huge part of the fair was also dedicated to youth.

The Feria del Libro in La Paz reminds me of the Belgian book fairs I used to visit as a child. Although most of the books and stands are local and the feria itself relatively small, the book fair in La Paz has the same kind of atmosphere: people wandering from stand to stand, seeking out both tasty finds and old favourites, discovering new wonders and delving into personal interests. Also, many visitors are children, to whom this year a whole area has been dedicated: ‘la Feria del Libro Infantil y Juvenil’. This special area is divided into five zones where workshops, books and short movie presentations are to be sampled: myths and legends; fantasy, fiction and adventure; suspense and terror; comedy; and environmental and cultural diversity.

One of the aims of this year’s feria is to encourage literacy amongst children, so for the fifth consecutive year, children from el comedor Wisllita came to the fair with a collective piggy bank where they’d been saving money all year to each buy a book during the fair. Friday 27th August was the appointed day for the pig’s fateful slaughter: the children broke their bank and went to various stands where they were offered special prices for the books they wanted. This initiative promotes reading and teaches the children to economise.

But this year’s main theme is a proud ‘bibliodiversity’ which, as the president of the book fair Ernesto Martinez puts it, centres on “the possibility to access books written in Spanish, Aymara, English, Quechua, French, Guar- aní, books written by men, women, Bolivians or foreigners, industrially-produced or handcrafted books, books which approach various themes and interests, books for adults or kids... All kinds of books.”

This so-called ‘bibliodiversity’ is attributable both to the lexically abundant collection and the activi- ties at the fair, which this year include anything from workshops and conferences to book presentations and more political talks. Martinez’s perception of bibliodiversity also encompasses new technologies and the way they affect reading and the circulation of literature: although often deemed an impediment to reading, these are also a valuable part of bibliodiversity. Evidently many visitors concur; indeed, many multimedias were sold, including e-books - some of them being accompanied by a traditional book - virtual reads which are increasing in popularity since the printing costs for real books are much higher than producing multimedias such as audio CDs. But with the production of e-books in Bolivia come some hefty obstacles: along with Chile, Bolivia is one of the few countries in South America where books are taxed on purchase, and huge charter fees have to be paid to import books. In spite of such impediments, this year’s fair has been a great success, and the increasing number of visitors proves that higher prices and new technologies do not stop people from reading: the 2010 fair was graced by 77000 visitors, 7000 (11%) more than last year. “I strongly believe that we’ve fulfilled the two main goals we’d assigned ourselves as regards the International Book Fair in La Paz,” says Ernesto Martinez at the feria’s end: “to celebrate the fact that in Bolivia, we can access an enormous range of books and gain new readers.”

*This message was stuck onto the children’s piggy bank.

If you’re like me, when someone mentions hip-hop your mind will be inundated with images of bling, fast cars, and jeans swinging super low with knees struggling to keep them from falling to the ground. Or perhaps you’ll think of Tupac Shakur, bandanas and gangs - granted, all valid associations. Now spin the record back a few centuries to the Colonial era, add some panpipes, and imagine yourself in a place where Túpac is the name given to an indigenous rebel leader, and not a best-selling, prison-dwelling East Coast MC. This is hip-hop, Bolivian style.

Just as a hip-hop subculture helped black Americans from every NY burrough to protest against social injustices and white supremacy in the 70s and 80s, young Bolivians are challenging cultural colonialism and the oppressive influence of Western capitalism by the means of rhythmic, defiant raps. Despite strong influence from U.S music imports and shared aesthetic ideals with their American counterparts (such as ill-fitting clothing), ‘Bolivia has its own battles to fight,’ shout the hip-hoperos from the Casa Wayna Tambo, the epicentre of hip-hop culture culture in La Paz.

‘Wayna Tambo’ roughly translates from the Aymara as ‘meeting place for youths’, and indeed its goals can be summarised as the unification of young people combined with the preservation of their indigenous heritage. Since 1995, Wayna Tambo has been a cultural epicenter for Alteño and Paceño youths. It is here that rap - in both Aymara and Spanish - has carved out a haven for itself and is one of the prime exports of the centre’s radio station and magazine. This very unique tutelage includes rapping workshops, studio time, hip-hop festivals, and interactive lectures about social and political issues affecting young people. This proactive program of urban culture promotion was spearheaded by the late Abraham Bojorquez, one of the most notorious figures in the Bolivian hip-hop scene to date and member of the El Alto based group ‘Ukamau y Ké’. Inspired by the rebellious raps that resounded from the overpopulated, poverty-stricken Brazilian slums of his youth, El Alto-born Bojorquez en- couraged a branch of particularly Bolivian hip-hop, initially bustin’ out rhymes in Spanish, Aymara, Quechua, Portuguese and even English in order to shake up the political, economical and cultural climate of his homeland. The addictive hooks and blunt, daring lyrics of Ukamau y Ké propelled the group to instant popularity among the younger generations, while the use of indigenous instruments, traditional dress and Aymara drove many older listeners to melancholy tears (eat your heart out, Vanilla Ice). Bojorquez even impressed President Evo Morales with his urban rhymes, and was invited to perform at a government event celebrating the construction of new homes in El Alto. Surprisingly (and perhaps even admirably), despite this gesture of approval from the country’s supremo, Bojorquez turned Morales down - opting instead to honour previous commitments with aspiring rappers in Cochabamba. This unerring commitment to the causes of his peers and Bolivia’s younger generations, partnered with his refusal to be at the beck and call of the government, is an attitude also echoed by Ukamau y Ké’s “Medios Mentirosos”, a biting denunciation of the political propaganda and apparent lies fed to the Bolivian public by its own media.

Tragically, Bojorquez died last year at the age of 26 after being hit by a bus on a dark El Alto street. However, his widespread appeal, catapulted by collaborations with artists such as Manu Chau and Dead Prez, fuelled by his sizable back-catalogue, and propelled by his commitment to the dispersion of Bolivian hip-hop (both inside and outside the country), has ensured that in Bolivia hip-hop is still very much alive today. And hip-hop doesn’t stop outside of La Paz and El Alto: record releases and anti-racism events have also taken place in Santa Cruz, Sucre and Tarija. This subculture can be seen, heard, worn and danced all over the continent, with Facebook groups and sites such as epicentrourbano. com promoting and showcasing rap, breakdance, music, cinema, graffiti and fashion - all with a hip-hop slant. These movements and collectives are living proof that young Latin-Americans in impoverished urban areas are capable of positive self-expression - a far cry from the stereotypical path of delinquency which the media often uses to stigmatise them. The Bolivian rap/hip-hop revolution is loud and clear: its MCs refuse to be silenced or censored, speaking out against the political game which continues to marginalise them, and discussing everything from AIDS and coca to machismo with their beat-driven lyrics. To give but one example, female hip-hop artists Sdenka Suxo Cadena and Carmen Rosa Alarcón Mamani construct their message around the egalitarian ideal that “we’re all human beings” in order to advocate gender quality and prove to young girls that they can carve their own paths. In this way (and countless others), young Bolivians seek to balance the artistic demands of taking part in popular culture movements sweeping the globe whilst honouring their commitments to their ancestral indigenous identity. Not to for- get they must constantly guard against the danger of letting their dreams be hijacked by the deceptive pursuit of an American dream. As Abraham himself declared: “We can’t – and don’t want to – talk about the same things as American rappers”. Through hip-hop, bolivianos are changing the record.