Photo: Kit Fretz

After 17 hours of hairpin bends, we arrive in the northern Bolivian town of Rurrenabaque, situated on the banks of the Rio Beni, which separates the La Paz and the Beni departments. I’m on the trail of ayahausca, the legendary medicine renowned for its psychedelic and healing properties that has been used by indigenous cultures for thousands of years.

Rurrenabaque, a popular entry point to the jungle, is considered the best place to search for an authentic ayahausca experience in Bolivia. People say it is less commercial than Cusco, Peru, another popular destination for those looking to expand their consciousness. I step into the humidity of the jungle air, dodge the speeding motorbikes, and trudge through the muddy streets into what I assume is the centre of town. Imagine my surprise when I am accosted by a middle-aged Frenchman who takes me to his Parisian bakery. Unfortunately, the pre-ayahausca diet prevents me from trying the pain au chocolat, but the name of the washing machine in his bathroom summarises my days to come: the Fuzzy Logic.

I had read decent reviews of shamans online, comically on Tripadvisor, but I had been discouraged by the commercial nature of their practice. I found my answer in a group of dreadlocked artisans who were selling their wares and drinking Paceña on a street corner they affectionately named la oficina.

The next day, two of my new friends take me across the river to the agricultural town of San Buenaventura. Inquisitive looks come our way as we hike up the hill to Don Alfonso’s cabins. Unlike the businesses across the river, they insist, Alfonso is not in it for the plata.

Soon, Don Alfonso ascends the hill for his lunch, visibly tired from his morning's work. ‘I never believed my parents when they said my strength would decline at age 55,’ he says. ‘Now I'm 63 and I finally believe them.’ But, claro, we can proceed with the ceremony tonight.

I'm woken up from my pre-ayahausca nap by voices shouting, ‘¡Propiedad privada!’ This isn't exactly what I'd expected. When I exit the cabin, a policeman and an immigration officer demand that I present my identification. I return with a photocopy of my passport, which is deemed insufficient, and I'm whisked away back across the river to an immigration office on the edge of Rurrenabaque.

Apparently I'm not in the system. I text friends in La Paz and ask them to send me my visa number, while the officer alternates between amicably showing me how to get the most out of my phone credit and threatening to deport me. At first, my visa number changes nothing. Either I'm going to have to pay a multa of 210 Bolivianos or someone is going to have to fly my passport down to the jungle. In the corner of the room, a tiny TV set blares a chat show where a couple argues over whether their hypersensitive 4-year-old daughter should be treated with a marijuana sandwich. I slyly mention that my colleagues in La Paz will be contacting a lawyer. Within minutes, I'm legal again. ‘The system was slow because of the rain,’ the officer explains.

Within an hour, I’m back across the river in another of Alfonso’s cabins. I sit back in a deck chair while Alfonso sprinkles pure alcohol on four piles of coca leaves as an offering to Pachamama. He prays before handing me a ceremonial wooden bowl, filled with an ayahausca infusion poured from a two-litre Coca-Cola bottle. I meditate. I’ve been told it takes at least forty minutes for the ayahausca to take effect, but almost immediately brightly coloured fluid patterns swirl behind my eyelids.

As is custom, I drink a second cup a little later and am greeted by the stereotypical psychedelic tunnels of light, rotating fractals, images of my Mother kissing and then strangling me. The Buddha. But I open my eyes to the world I have always known. Alfonso says I may not have ‘broken on through’ – to use Jim Morrison's words – as I didn't throw up after drinking the liquid. ‘The purge’, as it is known, is a crucial part of the ceremony as it symbolizes the body’s expulsion of evil.

‘Sometimes it just isn't your time,’ Alfonso explains. I realise that I won't be leaving the cabin a changed man and that the experience will not transform me into the Buddha or Jesus Christ. I realise that perhaps another cup would allow me to delve further into my psyche, but I can see that Alfonso, who is furiously munching handfuls of coca leaves, wants to call it a day. My sense of compassion asks him if he'd like to go to bed. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It’s 2am.’ I hadn’t realised that.

Image: Screenshot from ""Volivia"" by Sergio Pinedo

Foreign and local films about a surreal country

“Bolivia, a country in itself very surreal, has no formal surrealist film movement to speak of.”

Four friends hang out, laugh, fool around. They travel to a desert. They visit farms. They get drunk and take drugs. They go out, party, dance. They throw up. They suffer from a hangover. They procrastinate.

Procrastinacion is a film by Bolivian director Sergio Pinedo. It was shot in a span of about five years, but it was assembled in 2015. It is Pinedo’s first feature-length film, composed of videos of friends hanging out together, almost like a family VHS collection. It might sound quite normal, but the composition and technique of the film shocks and surprises the viewer. It can only be described as ‘surreal’.

Surrealism usually makes people think of Salvador Dali, and surrealist films bring David Lynch to mind. Bolivia, a country in itself very surreal, has no formal surrealist film movement to speak of. One would think that a country with hundreds of ethnic groups and thousands of local traditions, would inspire experimental motion pictures. But perhaps this diversity is normal and evident in everyday life for Bolivians and they simply do not see anything surreal about it.

Even though there is not a surrealist film movement in the country, there certainly are surreal filmmakers in Bolivia. Film students here like to experiment, but they rarely get a chance to screen and distribute their films. Only independently funded filmmakers get their shot at screenings.

The opening scene of Pinedo’s Procrastinacion shows a man wrapped in tape and woman who is moaning under a tree. The film uses rapid cuts between scenes to create a tension. There are shocking images of a girl masturbating under the covers or of the main characters throwing up, either in the room or on the street. The scenes are mixed with videos of TV ads. The music contrasts with the images on screen. Heavy, noisy music accompanies shots of sunny fields and rainbows. All of these unexpected effects make the viewers feel uncomfortable and tense.

Volivia is Pinedo’s short film, made completely of found footage. The film is quite difficult to understand. The images are pixelated and lack a meaningful order. The mesmerizing imagery and the arbitrary shots in irrational order (football match, naked woman, tarot TV ad) create a parallel ‘reality’ that is a at times more real than what is usually perceived as such. Through the use of pixels and very bright colours, Pinedo creates a psychedelic dream world. The viewers remain in a sense of mystery and suspense throughout the whole 6 minutes, which is what surreal films tend to do to their audience.

Even in Bolivia, surrealism is used as humour. The music video Bolivia te espera Papa Francisco, by Saxoman y Los Casanovas, is a perfect example. The Pope appears repeatedly on different parts of the screen (sometimes even floating) either by himself or with President Evo Morales, as the main singer, Saxoman, flies through Bolivia and outer space. Badly edited, this video creates a hilarious effect with the use of the sky and clouds on which the band appears to be singing. Perhaps it is illustrates the band’s dream to fly in the sky or to sing to the Pope.

Bolivia’s surreal landscape is very attractive for foreign filmmakers, especially the Salar de Uyuni, which is one of the most surreal places on Earth. El Regalo de la Pachamama, a film by Japanese director Toshifumi Matsushita, tells the story of a 13-year-old boy named Kunturi, who lives in Uyuni, where his family works at the salt flats. His family cuts the salt with their bare hands and he travels with his father to exchange it for other goods. In the film, normal Bolivian life becomes surreal because of a location. Wide-angle shots of the salt desert create a dreamy atmosphere in true Dali-style.

Uyuni is also a location for the music video La la la, by Naughty Boy, which features the British singer Sam Smith. The video in itself is surreal. It is about a boy who travels to Uyuni with an old dusty man, like in the story of ‘The Wizard of Oz’. The dusty man is handed a real, beating heart from an ice cream man. Then there is a man dressed as a puppet, dancing in the middle of the street, looking like a scarecrow. There is a chow-chow dog that resembles a lion. The Salar and the characters make the video look like a bedtime story. There are imitations of a dream world; disorientating, irrational and juxtaposed images that make the film surreal and are inspired by Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis and his theory of the unconscious mind.

Even though Bolivia does not have a formal surrealist film movement, there are films that certainly fall into this category. Unless the local film industry is supported by the government, there will hardly be enough resources for young, talented filmmakers to create a cinematic work for global audiences, like the foreign films that have been made in Bolivia. At this point, one can only imagine how Bolivians would capture this surreal and beautiful location.

Photo: Oliwia Rogala

Two drugs that challenge the country

‘From coca leaves to lithium, Bolivia is rich in beautiful and dangerous resources.’

Coca leaves are deeply rooted in Bolivian history and tradition. There is evidence that suggests they’ve been used for centuries. Miners use it to boost their energy and it helps with altitude sickness, headaches and hangovers. The leaves contain more than 10 different vitamins and minerals, such as calcium and protein. They can be drunk as mate, chewed or made into sweets. Beyond its health benefits, coca leaves are also used in different rituals while praying to Pachamama. It also used to be an ingredient in Coca-Cola.

Coca leaves are also the main ingredient of the hard drug cocaine. Bolivia was and still is involved in the production of the drug, especially after the cocaine boom in the United States in the 1980s. It is responsible for many deaths around the world, not just through overdoses but also through the violence of drugs cartels.

Just over a century ago, cocaine was considered medicine. In 1884, just before Sigmund Freud became famous, he wrote a book, “Über Coca”, in which he described his experiments on the effects of cocaine. It started with his willingness to treat his friend’s morphine addiction using cocaine. The friend unfortunately died, yet Freud continued this method with other patients who were struggling with addiction. He tested effects of cocaine on himself, completely unaware of its addictive properties. He sent it to his sister and father as something ‘to cheer them up’ in low moments. He also worked with doctors at his local hospital, where they injected cocaine into the patient’s body to numb it before the operation. After two years of experimenting, Freud completely cut his drug use and hardly ever mentioned it again.

‘Bolivia was and still is involved in the production of the drug, especially after the cocaine boom in the United States in the 1980s.’

After that, Freud became famous for his psychoanalytic theory and for his discovery of the unconscious mind, which inspired the surrealist movement across all art platforms, including Salvador Dalí. According to Freud, human attitude, behaviour, thoughts and manners are all deeply rooted in the unconscious mind. We discover them through free associations, fantasies and dreams, which Freud considers ‘the royal road to the unconscious’. Today, many psychologists argue that Freud’s psychoanalysis is hardly influenced by cocaine, but his book, Interpretation of Dreams, suggests the contrary. His invention of ‘the talking cure’, which is a form of talking therapy, stems from the cocaine effect of wanting to talk about feelings and thoughts that we normally don’t share. His famous Freudian slips are also an example of that, as they represent thoughts of the unconscious mind that we usually don’t think about. Furthermore, Freud’s theory on dreams, in which he argues they are a mirror to the unconscious, is also influenced by cocaine which ends to gives its users unusual, or even surreal, dreams.

Of course, today cocaine is not considered medicine anymore but lithium is, and Bolivia has more than 50% of the world’s lithium resources stored in the Salar de Uyuni. The country is sometimes called ‘the Saudi Arabia of lithium’. This chemical element is used as psychiatric medication to treat bipolar disorder and depression. It prevents suicide and allows ill people to live normal lives without mania or psychosis. Since its long term use is damaging to the health of its users, lithium is used less and less to treat psychiatric disorders. However, lithium is found in tiny amounts in drinkable tap water. Studies show that these small concentrations can affect human behaviour. High lithium concentration in an area’s water supply, leads to lower rates of crime, suicide and rape. Many studies suggest that small amounts of lithium are actually beneficial for humans, as it creates new neurons in the brain and helps prevent dementia. Lithium was even an ingredient in the drink 7-up until the 1950s. The number seven referred to element’s mass number.

“‘Bolivians still do not trust Western medicine,’ she told me. ‘They prefer to talk to their family and friends about their problems and deal with them themselves.’”

However mental health is still a taboo subject in Bolivia. According to Geraldine O’Brien Sáenz, a former psychoanalyst in La Paz, psychiatric medication is unpopular in the country. ‘Bolivians still do not trust Western medicine,’ she told me. ‘They prefer to talk to their family and friends about their problems and deal with them themselves.’

Although the use of lithium to treat mental disorders is declining, the metal remains quite lucrative today. The element is being used to manufacture batteries for electric cars as well as smartphones and laptop computers. The global need for more eco-friendly means of transport has helped Bolivia become the number one interest of many international companies. Consequently the prices of lithium have increased, giving Bolivia a big economic opportunity that could raise the standard of living for Bolivians and therefore improve their mental health. However, the Bolivian government is concerned about the extraction of the resource and what it could mean for the country’s economy. Still, many scientists worry that given the growing demand for the resource, Bolivia might not have any lithium left by 2050.

From coca leaves to lithium, Bolivia is rich in beautiful and dangerous resources. It is one of the poorest countries in the region, but it paradoxically sits on a golden trove of natural resources. The government is trying to monitor the production of coca leaves in order to curtail the cocaine business and improve the lives of common farmers. It is also trying to exploit its lithium reserve with little or no help from foreign corporations. Both of these endeavors might seem surreal because they are very hard to accomplish, but these difficult roads to success could help change the future of the country.