Traveling is an immersive act of learning. Suddenly, as we struggle to find a grocery store, get on the right bus or ask where the bathroom is in a new language, the mass of knowledge that lets us operate so easily in our hometowns becomes clear – because when we travel we often have to learn something new to accomplish even the most basic task. Maybe that's why learning is such an appealing theme for this month’s intrepid team, which set out to understand different ways of learning in La Paz, El Alto and beyond.
One of our writers this month decided to delve into the world of teaching indigenous languages in Bolivian schools – a requirement that gained steam with the Morales' government – and the challenges, and resistance, that schools face when trying to bring languages like Aymara into the classroom. Traveling up out of La Paz, through El Alto, across the altiplano and toward Lake Titicaca, we also tour the campus of one of Bolivia's indigenous universities, which brings together students from rural communities and teaches a curriculum designed to value and expand indigenous knowledge.
If knowledge is power, then the more we know the more powerful we become - and the more in control of our own destinies. That's the idea behind a program called Niñas Autoras de Su Vida, an alternative education project for girls who are at risk of dropping out of school. From teaching money management to a workshop where girls design a personal logo, the program strives to make learning a fun, and empowering, project.
This month's adventures also led to the Escuela de Adiestramiento Canina, high up on a hillside in the Obrajes neighborhood of La Paz, where police work daily with dogs, teaching them how to identify explosives and track down missing people. The dogs are enthusiastic pupils and valued companions whose finely tuned senses of hearing and smell allow them to do jobs well beyond human possibility.
Finally, one of our intrepid writers took it upon herself to explore the variety of things one can learn in La Paz through classes and workshops open to anyone. From yoga to crystal healing to tango, it was an at times uncoordinated venture into what the human body and mind are capable of at 12,000 feet above sea level.
Languages, ancient traditions, and the at times mysterious mini-bus signage system – every day can be an education in La Paz and El Alto. Looking out over Illimani's three snow-capped peaks, as cable car cabins pass silently overhead and pedestrians jockey around markets stalls, I feel certain that we are in one of the world's most spectacular classrooms.
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Bolivia Clásica School of Music helps young musicians take to the international stage
Even before the clarinet had reached his lips, I knew I was about to witness something special. It was his confident stride down the middle of the audience, his collected composure in those agonising few seconds of silence, and the assured smile he flashed the pianist when ready to begin. The music sang with sensitive expression and insightful character, controlled with a technical mastery indicative of years of experience. It appeared to provoke within him a movement so captivatingly fluid and contagiously energetic that I had to stop myself from swaying along for fear of colliding with the shoulder next to me.
His name is Lucas—a 16-year-old clarinetist and concert soloist for Bolivia Clásica School of Music.
Unique among Bolivian music institutions for its grand vision, Bolivia Clásica strives for artistic excellence. Pianist Ana-María Vera founded the school in 2011 after relocating from the United States to La Paz. Since then, it has endeavoured to empower young, eager students to use the language of music as a tool for personal and social transformation. The hope is that once these young Bolivians become professional musicians in their own right, the country—long overlooked on the global concert circuit—can become a destination of choice in the world of classical music.
A violin screeches next door as Armando Vera, brother of Ana-María and musical director of Bolivia Clásica, explains the circumstances that demanded its creation. ‘I worked for over ten years in various institutions and conservatoires in Bolivia, and in each one I encountered the same problem’, he says. ‘The people heading them have absolutely no interest in high-quality music education. Their only concern is the security of their own positions. Too much ambition from students or overseas musicians is seen only as a threat to stability.’
Dissatisfied, Armando chose to push the boundaries. Alongside teaching at the National Conservatory of Music in La Paz and the Instituto Eduardo Laredo in Cochabamba, he attempted to form his own elite orchestras. But it was only when he was able to freely engage with his own endeavours that he began to appreciate the damage that can be caused in the formative years of early childhood. ‘The kids from these institutions had not only technical flaws’, Armando says, ‘but psychological issues to do with low self-esteem.’
Bolivia Clásica began to experiment with a quartet system in an attempt to rebuild confidence, rehearsing and performing with just four musicians, as opposed to an orchestra which can include up to 100 members. The idea is that each player is vital: if one doesn't function, then the group doesn’t function. But when the group excels, each player is responsible. Armando asserts that they learn ‘not to hide but to lead . . . . It is quartet players that will form the building blocks of the orchestra.’
Bolivia is currently without the platform necessary to launch its young musicians into the professional world, so those who can must travel abroad. ‘Students would come up to me and beg for help to secure a scholarship’, Armando recollects, ‘because there's just nothing here for them.’ Lucas, as an example, is hoping to apply to a conservatoire in Philadelphia, and has already spent two summers studying in the United States. However, leaving Bolivia just isn’t financially viable for the vast majority. The answer then? Start to bring the classical music world here to La Paz.
Through Bolivia Clásica, professionally renowned musicians travel to Bolivia to work with the students and their teachers. Their major event is the biannual festival, which most recently welcomed internationally acclaimed violinist Jamie Laerdo to the modest venues of La Paz. But smaller projects are also running continuously. It was, for example, a one-week exchange that brought Kevin Schaffter, an American clarinetist and founder of the charity MusAid, to the stage alongside Lucas.
MusAid was created in order to enhance the capacity of music programs in underresourced parts of the world, ‘so Bolivia Clásica is the perfect match’, Kevin explains. ‘Their whole philosophy is based on building local capacity here in Bolivia, and ours is to give them the tools necessary for this self-sustainability.’ In 2016, Kevin hopes to return to La Paz with seven teachers and a luthier to conduct a 12-day teacher-training workshop.
I ask Lucas what it was like to rehearse and perform with Kevin. ‘He saved my life!’ Lucas enthusiastically exclaims with beaming eyes and a wide smile. Confused, I ask him to expand a little. Lucas explains that his greatest fear before any concert is the dreaded prospect of a faulty reed—‘He gave me two whole boxes! He really saved my life!’
But there's little doubt that this exchange is in every sense mutual. In return for imparting their skills and knowledge, visiting musicians are gifted the inspiration of Bolivia’s determined youth. The Bolivia Clásica website boasts a whole host of glowing testimonies. English cellist Guy Johnston highlighted the spirit of the students as a ‘reminder of what it is to fall in love with music again’. Similarly, Matthew Hunt, who worked with Lucas during a 2012 festival, said that he had ‘never seen so much raw energy, imagination and passion’.
With such potential, I probe as to what's next. ‘I used to listen to how a clarinetist played with an orchestra behind and wondered what that sensation would feel like’, Lucas remembers. ‘Now I know that this is how I want to make a living, playing all over the world.’ As for Bolivia Clásica, current discussions with the Ministry of Education suggest the promise of schools in remote rural areas, whilst ultimately the hope is to expand into other creative arts.
‘My sister and I have always thought big’, jokes Armando. In my opinion, it’s that very quality that is to be praised above all else. For Bolivia, Bolivia Clásica enhances its distinct international artistic identity; for aspiring young musicians, it is a source of hope and empowerment.
PHOTO: Nick Somers
Carolina Interview
Name: Carolina
Age: 9
What’s your school called?
It’s called Max Paredes School and it’s really close to here (20 de Octubre)
What’s your favourite subject and why?
Natural sciences, because I love nature and animals!
Do you like school?
Yes, I do.
Who’s your favourite teacher? Why?
My ICT teacher, because I like the lessons and playing on the computer!
Do you play any sports at school or after school?
Yes, for example..running and ball sports in PE class. All of them are during school though, not after.
Do you have any other hobbies?
Erm..listening to music. I like Shakira!
Do you read too?
Yes, I like reading Mafalda (comic books)
What do you want to do when you’re older?
I want to be a vet when I’m older because I’d like to help animals!
Luz Interview
Name: Luz
Age: 14
What’s your school called?
Liceo La Paz
What’s your favourite subject and why?
P.E. because its really active and I like football, basketball and volleyball.
Do you like school? Why?
Yeah I love it! Because that’s where I learn, and I’ve met all my friends there.
Do you have any other hobbies?
Yeah, I listen to music and I like going online to look at pictures of different hairstyles to try out!
What do you want to do after leaving school?
I’d like to be a hairdresser or a chef, I think they’re both cool.
Mario Interview
Name: Mario
Age: 17
What’s your school called?
Cumbre High School
Do you like it? Why?
Yeah, because I’ve got good friends on my course. More than anything because of that.
What subjects do you take?
Languages, maths, physics, chemistry, humanities and a bit of arts
What’s your favourite one?
Physics
Do you do any sports?
Yeah, at school I play football, and after school, tennis
Do you have any other hobbies?
Yeah, I play guitar too. Umm.. that’s pretty much it!
What do you want to do after leaving school?
I’m thinking about studying civil engineering straight after school, at university here in La Paz.
PHOTOS: Nick Somers and Phoebe Roth
Bolivia's first indigenous university takes a step outside of the classroom, but just how far?
Imagine the serene expanse of Lake Titicaca rippling just metres away. Its distant shores are distinguishable from the sky thanks only to the thin green layer of hills that rise a little here and drop a little there. Here you sit, nestled among tall green trees whose shadows flutter on the ground, a cluster of buildings dotting the horizon. This idyllic image is not, in fact, the perfectly picturesque weekend retreat, but the campus of Tupac Katari Indigenous University.
Founded in 2008 as one of three institutions that form the Indigenous University of Bolivia (UNIBOL), Tupac Katari is the first higher education institute designed specifically for the Aymara communities of the altiplano. At present, there are roughly 800 students enrolled in the available degrees: Agricultural Engineering, Industrial Food Engineering, Textile Engineering, Veterinary Medicine and Animal Science. Each degree has a unique curriculum that focuses solely on the resources available to the Aymara people. The understanding is that upon completion of their studies, graduates will reinvest their knowledge back into their communities.
This is the first time this educational model has been applied in Bolivia, but similar steps have been taken in Perú, Ecuador, Chile and Colombia to respect and preserve the livelihood of indigenous peoples. All of these countries are engaging somehow with the question of an alternative system of higher education; a separate, indigenous university. The challenge here is clear: how do you harmonise the knowledge and practices of indigenous people with an essentially Western institutional model?
'When I was in university,’ says the current professor of plant sciences at Tupac Katari, ‘I had no option but to study in the city. We were so far away from the arable land that everything had to be done in the classroom. But here, the course is very practical and the majority of lessons are conducted outside.' This ensures absolute relevance, he says, not only for the students, but also for their communities.
I peek my head into classrooms filled with agricultural machinery and brush past students dressed in ponchos, polleras and abarcas. I attempt to listen in complete bafflement to lessons given in Aymara. This certainly doesn’t feel like an average university open day.
'We are very happy to have watched the University develop,’ says Damilo Kamtari, who is in his fifth year of Textile Engineering, 'we've grown up with it. We were selected by our communities to come here so we can help them grow. They have all the raw materials they need, but are lacking in the knowledge to best utilise them. That will be our role.’
UNIBOL is again unique in this sense: each community chooses one candidate to represent them. A local governing body named Fondo Indígena filters the recommended candidates who are then considered for admission to the university. Each branch of the Indigenous University of Bolivia has its own tailor-made selection criteria. The south eastern Guaraní branch, for example, chooses candidates for a unique program of study, one that focuses on the Forestry of the Amazon region, Fisheries Science, and Gas and Petroleum Engineering.
By designing a university system that serves the specific needs of local communities, the Bolivian government hopes to strengthen a larger process of decolonisation and supposedly subvert the Western educational model. It’s no coincidence, then, that the campus on the altiplano is named after Tupac Katari, an indigenous rebel leader who raised an army of 40,000 against the Spanish in 1781.
Rapid developments in the Tupac Katari campus promise further advancements to the courses on offer. I must have spotted at least three different construction projects during my visit that will become laboratories and technical classrooms. 'Not only this,' adds the professor I spoke with 'but there is an entirely new Campus to be built in Warisata.'
What the UNIBOL institutions are lacking, however, is national kudos. They are still in their infancy and are yet to be considered with the same regard as the more established, private universities. 'Graduates of Tupac Katari will need the support from external organisations when trying to find jobs’, the professor tells me. ‘Having political links in the area, for example, would make it much easier.'
Whilst the priority at Tupac Katari is definitely technical expertise, there is also a core academic program that is compulsory for all students of UNIBOL: the study of indigenous history. More than to add diversity and breadth to the courses on offer, this program is seen as essential for the students to build an identification with their own ancestry. The idea is that by learning the story of their ancestors, graduates of UNIBOL will approach indigenous social issues in the future with insight and respect.
It is inevitable to borrow some aspects of the Western education model for the progression of UNIBOL and the communities it serves; aspects such as progressive research and studied history that converge here with traditional thinking on a localised scale. Scholar Luciano Pedota refers to the creation of indigenous universities as a ‘dialogue of knowledges'; a harmony between tradition and modernity.
Perhaps this is not the complete reconstruction of Bolivia’s education system that Morales had envisaged, but the birth of a hybrid institution. Only time will reveal with what success Tupac Katari and its sister universities fulfil the potential for an original education system.
PHOTO: Jenny Dinwoodie
