In December 2010, Bolivia made headlines worldwide when it passed the Ley de Derechos de la Madre Tierra, or what became globally known as the country’s ‘Mother Earth Law’. The groundbreaking legislation gave legal rights to the environment. That is to say, in Bolivia, nature itself is protected by law, and in fact has its own voice within the government, via the creation of the Defensoría de la Madre Tierra, an office tasked with ensuring that the rights of nature are protected. Those rights largely encompass its relations with human society – within the law, ‘ecosystem’ means more than the natural world; it includes the social, cultural and economic impacts of human behaviour on the environment.
This is not to say that Bolivia’s relations with nature have since been completely harmonious. Litter remains an issue in cities and towns across the country, and pollution from agriculture and mining continue to plague Bolivia’s watersheds. Additionally, new government-funded programs will certainly have adverse effects on the environment. For example, in 2015 the government passed a law that opened up national parks and other protected areas to mining and oil concessions, and most recently Bolivia has broken ground on a nuclear-power research centre in El Alto. While some supporters of these projects insist their implementation can be consistent with the law protecting Mother Earth, many others question the ecological sustainability of such endeavours.
These pressing issues got us here at Bolivian Express thinking about the word ‘sustainability’. This ‘Mother Earth Law’, reinforced (and to some extent re-envisioned) through additional legislation in 2012, is intended to promote a healthy balance between natural systems and human action; the goal is to maintain existing ecologies in the long term, to ensure the sustainability of the natural world. But beyond the common associations with the environment, the term ‘sustainability’ is rooted in the key ideas of time and of endurance. Sustainability isn’t just about nature or ecology, it is about deep relationships; it is about politics and economics.
In this issue of Bolivian Express, we looked into this idea of ‘sustainability’ to explore not only ideas of ecological responsibility, but also ideas of consistency, of endurance, of continuation. We travelled to locales as diverse as the salt flats of Uyuni and the cloud forests of Caranavi in the Nor Yungas region to learn about technology-based solutions for litter cleanup and new strategies to support Bolivia’s coffee industry. We learned about the idea of ‘sustainable mining’, and Bolivia’s important role in the organic quinoa industry. We met people in the tourism industry invested in maintaining Bolivia’s environmental and cultural wonders through responsible tourism.
A common thread we often found in our work for this issue was the idea that for anything to endure, adaptation almost invariably has to happen. And we did not fall short in meeting individuals and groups finding new ways to work with old materials to make something new. We met designers who employ recycled items, from plant material to engine parts, to create clothing and sculptures. Such art gives old material new life, and this theme of sustainability through rebirth carried itself through this issue, through the maintenance of La Paz’s famous, ancient micro buses to the younger generation’s interest in finding their own fashion voice through the purchasing of used clothing.
Bolivia’s relationship with the environment is as complex as it is critical. The ability of the government to carry out its initiatives, from infrastructure development to social programs, is directly tied to its ability to capitalize on the bountiful resources Bolivia has to offer. But this can come with costs. Today we have the opportunity to experience how a society, taking a lead in creating legal frameworks to regulate human engagement with the environment, carries out such an initiative in the real world. We also have a chance to navigate a country where cultures and traditions stretch back for generations, even centuries. Let’s see what it takes to keep these traditions alive in a constantly evolving and changing world.
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Photo: Isabel Cocker
The New Quinoa Research Centre in Oruro
In England and the US, quinoa used to be the reserve of health nuts and hippies, found in stores selling tofu and hemp milk. But in recent years, this ‘wonder grain’ has exploded into the mainstream and is now almost impossible to avoid. Not only are more and more people eating it, but more people are taking an interest in growing the crop and finding new varieties, as well as researching everything from optimal soil acidity, potential health benefits, and the diseases threatening the crop’s production.
Starting in 2018, the bulk of this research will be focussed on one site: the newly announced Centro Internacional de la Quinua. This centre will be the first of its kind, bringing together countries from across the world with a budget of $25 million. The most exciting part is that it will be located in the epicentre of Bolivian quinoa production – the city of Oruro, on the Bolivian altiplano.
According to archeological findings from the basin of Lake Titicaca, quinoa was first grown in the Andes as a food source over 3000 years ago. Carlos Nuñez de Arco, the Bolivian-born Commercial Director of Andean Naturals, America’s leading quinoa importer, says ‘Bolivia is the origin of the world’s quinoa and it has been part of our heritage for thousands of years.’
Apart from a small hiatus in the beginning of the colonisation period when the Spaniards prohibited the grain because of its supposedly ‘magical’ properties, quinoa has always been part of the Andean lifestyle. Its potential as a powerful health food began to be recognised internationally in the 1980s. When the grain entered mainstream western diets in the 2000s, Bolivia enjoyed a huge leap in exports. There is an ongoing debate about the drawbacks and benefits of quinoa’s popularity, but there is consensus around the need to address the threats facing Bolivia’s quinoa production.
The growth in the exportation of quinoa in Bolivia is now slowing, but the boost in demand of the past years has caused the quantity of land used for growing the grain to increase exponentially. To keep up with demand, some farmers have discarded traditional practises such as crop-rotation and fertilization-by-llama, turning to industrialized methods using tractors and chemical nutrients. This has damaged the fertility of the already weak plains of the Altiplano, reducing yield and crop uniformity.
But this is not the only threat to quinoa in Bolivia. According to recent reports, climate change has bought late rains, strange temperature fluctuations and windstorms. The effects have been devastating and are another reason for the drop in average yield per hectare.
Additionally, the establishment of large, intensive quinoa farms in Peru and Ecuador have slowly knocked Bolivia off its pedestal. Nuñez de Arco admits, ´Bolivia's place in the world of quinoa is shrinking due to more countries taking an interest in its cultivation.’ He then adds, however, that ‘Unlike many other countries, Bolivia continues, in the most part, to use traditional organic methods of farming. This means we can carve out a specialized niche in the market, making us different from our international competitors.’
The quinoa centre in Oruro will research practical methods to help farmers reverse the drop in production. Its scientists will investigate hardier seed varieties bred to withstand pests and natural attacks, and study the production and commercialization of the grain in order to maximise revenue. The goal is to promote quinoa as a resource in the fight against world hunger and malnutrition. As Nuñez de Arco affirms, ‘Quinoa has many useful properties. We need this research to help farmers take full advantage of the grain and to provide the world with its nutrients.’
Photo: Courtesy of Cervecería Boliviana Nacional
‘Where’s your bottle?’
It was, in fact, in the bag I was told to store in a locker when I walked into this supermarket. As I continued conversing with the cashier, however, it became clear that she was not referring to my plastic Camelbak knockoff. She pointed to the large bottle of Paceña, the favorite cerveza of La Paz, in my hand.
‘If you want to buy that,’ she explained, ‘you need to bring an empty bottle to exchange.’
I stood there bewildered, as I instantly began to see a Catch-22: How can I bring in an empty bottle of beer without first buying a full one? I am 22 years old, and the drinking age here is 18. I recycle back home – what is the issue? Should I start dumpster-diving, just so I can enjoy a fine Bolivian beer?
Lucky for me, after some uncomfortably poor Spanish communication I was informed that this store offered a garantía for confused and unprepared folk like me. I paid an extra 5 bolivianos and was on my merry way.
On my walk back from the store, much before I could evaluate the integrity of the beer, the bottle caught my eye. The glass container seemed to have a little more character than I’ve seen in its imported counterparts. This isn’t to imply that my bottle had done more community service or had seldom told a lie in its life. Instead, looking at the 620 mL bottle of Paceña, I noticed a good number of scratches, the label was pretty worn, and the glass was rather dusty.
Great, I thought, I got the loaner beer.
""Around the world, returnable bottles have become common practice, and oftentimes bottles can average 20 to 40 trips back to the breweries for refilling""
I was later told by local friends that my beer wasn’t a loaner. Instead, I had just bought my first beer with a returnable bottle. While many beer companies pride themselves on the sleekest, sexiest, shiniest bottle for their beverages, many breweries in Bolivia have opted for a far simpler approach: botellas retornables, or returnable bottles.
In Bolivia, if you head to a tienda to buy a beer, your request may be denied. For stores offering the garantía, like the one I came across, even without a bottle you can pay an extra fee as collateral for your purchase. This money is guaranteed to be returned to you when you return your newly emptied bottle with the receipt of your purchase. This allows new customers an opportunity to enter the recycling cycle. The garantía is not mandated by any law, but voluntarily offered by some stores.
For this system to work, breweries like La Cervecería Boliviana Nacional (CBN), creators of Paceña, have laid the groundwork of filling and packaging the botellas retornables. Since the very start of their business, 130 years ago this October, CBN has offered beers out of returnable bottles. At their eight plants, they divide the returned bottles into suitable and non-suitable groups. The non-suitable group is broken down and sent over to a glass container factory to be recycled. The suitable group undergoes a three-stage cleaning process in which the bottles are reviewed seven times to analyze colour, cleanliness and if there is any remaining liquid. Once clean, they are refilled, packaged and shipped back off to vendors.
Around the world, returnable bottles have become common practice, and oftentimes bottles can average 20 to 40 trips back to the breweries for refilling, according to the Consumer Goods Forum, a global organization that brings consumer-goods businesses together to dictate best and sustainable practices. At my local grocery store, Ketal, they send about 120 empty bottles a week to breweries like CBN.
Not to be outpaced by their alcoholic counterparts, many soft drinks are also served out of returnable bottles in Bolivia. At nearly every kiosk and food stall in La Paz, you can be served a drink like Coca-Cola or Sprite out of a tiny returnable bottle. You will be given a colorful straw to keep your consumption more hygienic, and you will be asked not to walk off with the bottle, as the returns will take place at the stand. These bottles are taken weekly to a factory in El Alto to be cleaned and refilled.
With half of the beer produced globally being served in returnable bottles, this practice is already beginning to overshadow single-use glass bottles. In many countries, the ease of purchasing soda or beer in bottles for quick personal usage is a major draw for keeping their beverage system in the status quo. As a focus on sustainability continues to expand into the mainstream of corporate citizenship, however, it is clear that the conversation regarding returnable bottles still has a lot of usage left in it.
Photo: Brian Weisbecker
Maintaining the Micros of La Paz Requires Massive Ingenuity
On the streets of La Paz, vehicles large and small breeze about. Speedy taxis pass cars whenever possible, honking at anyone that might block their path; minibuses crawl down the avenues, their colorful letreros, or signs, declaring their destinations; and slow, lumbering tourist buses and commercial trucks dare the steep passes of the city. But perhaps one of the most memorable vehicular sights in La Paz are the micros, colourful school buses providing cheap transport for the urban masses.
Dressed in different shades of red, green, yellow and blue, the buses are decorated with brightly painted model names and shiny ornaments, either stock or personally adorned. The micros of Línea 2, which have been running from Sopocachi to the bus terminal in Zona Challapampa since 1938, can be found in various hues of dark and light blue.
The inception of the line began with the move away from the city’s old tranvías, or trolleys. From that time, Línea 2 has grown to 120 drivers strong, working 365 days a year. Línea 2 grew into the union known today as the Sindicato Eduardo Avaroa, which currently runs 19 lines in La Paz.
The sector chief of Línea 2, Nilo Linares, says that his drivers are also accomplished mechanics, allowing them to fix whatever issue the difficult roads of La Paz bring to their vehicles. Showing the extent of the changes the buses have had to undergo to survive, Linares said, ‘All of this’ – pointing at the body of the vehicle – ‘this, and nothing else [has stayed the same]’. He continued, emphasising, ‘The engine, the internal gears, the brakes, the transmission – all of this has been changed.’
Linares states that a new Dodge, Ford or Chevrolet bus of the type they use costs between $80,000 to $89,000. ‘We can’t pay that with the fares we charge,’ he says, which come out to about 30 US cents per customer. Instead, Linares says the drivers will buy the necessary parts and fix whatever breaks down on their vehicles, some which have been running for 45 years. He explained they service their approximately 65 buses weekly, and have been doing so for the past 78 years. The people of La Paz rely on these buses for work and city travel; the drivers know this and work to make sure they are always ready and running.
The blue micros of Línea 2 are a fixture of life in La Paz, and are emblematic of the colourful, resilient nature of Bolivia. Through tough road conditions, traffic congestion and vehicle frailty, it is clear that it is the spirit and ingenuity of these drivers that sustain these buses on their long journeys home.
