If you spend time on Lake Titicaca, you have the opportunity to experience one of Bolivia’s most serene and beautiful sights. As fisherfolk pull their nets out from the depths of the water, totora boats with their majestic sails and bows adorned with proud animal faces skim across the surface, taking their passengers on adventures across the world’s highest navigable lake. Much activity happens on this water, but below is an ecology all its own, with species of fishes and aquatic animals only found there, swimming in and out of legends of lost cities and civilizations believed to be submersed below the waves.
Our writer Julia McGee-Russell travelled to Huatajata, on the road to Copacabana, to work alongside master builder Máximo Catari, to learn the craft of reed boat building. For centuries, residents here have used these techniques to build vessels of all sizes to traverse the lake, providing opportunities for trade and exploration. These living practices continue to be passed on today, and offer a way to dig deep into the culture and history of the area.
In this issue of Bolivian Express, we are exploring the theme of ‘Surfaces’. We are taking a wide look at initial appearances of this diverse country and examining the details that give it the colour and life it has when viewed from the outside. We are also digging deep to see what is below the surface, to understand the inner workings hidden from first glances – the history, the structures, and the motivations of the people that make everything here move and come to life.
We visit Oruro to experience the Diablada, one of the most popular dances of Carnaval, which gives the opportunity for the devil to come out from his subterranean domain to perform for the masses. We explore Bolivia’s historical heritage through unearthed and recovered artefacts and once-hidden cave paintings that provide a window to the ancient past. Bridging the past with the present, we visit Huanuni, a mining centre on the altiplano recently featured in the award-winning Bolivian film Viejo Calavera, to see for ourselves the place portrayed, and to understand the motivations of those involved in the film – the director as well as the stars and residents of the town itself.
There is much history in Bolivia below the surface, but exciting and deep changes are constantly making the country a new place year after year. We examine the new distances covered by new lines of the teleférico, the cable car system in La Paz and El Alto, that will allow residents of far reaches of the metropolis to reach the city centre in record time. And we look to the future through the vision of restaurateurs who are changing spaces, re-envisioning both physical surfaces and Bolivian cuisine to create new experiences for the gourmands in La Paz. We examine the very present struggle for wildlife conservation, particularly the protection of wild quirquinchos, or Andean hairy armadillos, whose hard shells are prized for their usefulness in making musical instruments and ornaments and for generally bringing good luck.
Initial impressions of Bolivia are astounding enough. Anywhere you go in this country you will see nothing but the amazing. From the jungles of the Beni to the high peaks of Illimani and Sajama, there is so much to explore here. And this includes the boats and their builders on the shores of Lake Titicaca. As you take in all Bolivia has to offer, don’t forget to dig, to look under the surface to see the true inner workings of this wonderful place. The stories you will find can only enlighten your senses and offer you the full Bolivian experience.
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Burrowing Deep into the Protection of the Hairy Andean Armadillo
They have pointy noses and hairy shells, and they live in sand-dune burrows in the harsh, high-altitude conditions of the altiplano. ‘They’re not tigers or white rhinos, but they’re still important,’ urges Julia Quiroga, a conservationist from Cochabamba. She is talking about the humble quirquincho, one of the 20 species of armadillo indigenous to Bolivia.
A symbol of orureño identity as well as a fairly undocumented species, Quiroga’s subjects are more complex than your average conservation work. For hundreds of years, the quirquincho has been a trinket of good luck, its body traditionally used to make charangos, a stringed, guitar-like instrument used in traditional Bolivian music. Their empty carapaces can also be seen during Carnival as rattles, and even stuffed, as souvenirs for tourists. The animal’s population had sunk so low that by 1996, an agreement was made with CITES, an international wildlife protection agency, to prohibit the hunting and trafficking of quirquinchos across international borders, dead or alive.
But recent developments have changed the status of this armadillo, casting uncertainty on its future as a protected species. Argentinian researchers published findings in the Journal of Mammalogy in June 2015 arguing that there nearly identical genetics between the quirquincho of the altiplano and that of another armadillo type in the southeastern region of Chaco, effectively increasing the distribution and population size of the species; as a result the species was removed from the list endangered animals the following year.
‘This link isn’t impossible,’ says Quiroga, clearly frustrated, ‘but the process of adaptation of the altiplano quirquincho makes it unique. Not a single armadillo from Chaco would be able to survive for more than a week in the altiplano, even if they are genetically related.’ Her latest project will be to meticulously track, locate and chart the distribution of quirquinchos in the region as basis for need of conservation.
‘They’re not tigers or white rhinos, but they’re still important.’
– Julia Quiroga
Ricardo Céspedes Paz, director of the Natural History Museum of Cochabamba, stresses the gravity of these findings and the declassification of the species. ‘We have been stripped of our legal recourse to stop people from over-hunting and trafficking these animals,’ he says. ‘The only thing we have to rely on is that attitudes towards animal rights have changed over the past few decades, and hopefully people won’t immediately return to killing quirquinchos en masse.’
The threat of hunting isn’t the only concern for conservationists interested in the quirquincho, whose habitat is distinctive. The armadillos dig holes in sand dunes, foraging for some indigenous plants – so little attention has been paid to the species until now that it isn’t even known exactly what their diet consists of. But the recent boom in quinoa farming, a crop that cannot grow in sandy soil, is leading to the reduction of the natural habitat of quirquincho. Quiroga explains: ‘When you look at maps charting the terrain over the past 20 years, it has completely changed: we are now only seeing isolated islands of dunes around the area, which is worrying for the quirquincho population. This is one of our main arguments for increased conservation.’
The current issue at stake is how to prove to the international community that the quirquincho orureño deserves its own consideration. ‘This specific species, or rather population from the altiplano, is unique and deserves extra protection,’ says Quiroga zealously. But what might be fairly straightforward work in some countries is a mammoth task here in Bolivia, which, along with Paraguay, is the only South American country to not have a state-funded organization to promote science and research. This means that any projects undertaken have to rely on external funding from abroad and an extremely proficient level of the relevant foreign language, discouraging for even the most passionate scientists.
‘Bolivia is light-years behind conservation projects that we are seeing in Africa and Asia,’ laments Césped Paz. ‘But we need to start with some small projects. The Natural History Museum of Cochabamba itself is supporting these projects so that in the long term we can have much more concise and concrete information on our indigenous species.’
‘We’re right at the beginning here, and there’s a lot of work ahead,’ smiles Quiroga. ‘But at the museum we work in a very supportive and collaborative environment, so I’m excited for the future.’ Although the Bolivian scientific community is fraught with obstacles, both financial and bureaucratic in nature, there is hope that the work of dedicated conservationists and passionate researchers will continue to protect the unique fauna of Bolivia, not least the modest quirquincho.
Photo: William Wroblewski
Bringing the blackboard to the streets of El Alto
I arrive at the Casa Cultural in Ciudad Satélite, a suburb on the southern edge of El Alto. It’s a shabby building that houses some of the city’s most vibrant cultural projects, including orchestra programs, a youth theatre, and breakdancing workshops. I was met by equally vibrant COMPA volunteers Anouk, Konstantin, and Lisa, who are affixing colourful laminate sheets with numbers, letters and pictures onto a large green box on wheels. This is what I have come here to see: the Mobile School.
The Escuela Móvil is quite simply a large box on wheels, whose walls can be pulled out to create a kind of mobile blackboard and space for learning. Originating in Belgium and now functioning in 38 countries worldwide, the aim is to uncover talent and self-esteem, and to empower young children, rather than replace a traditional curriculum. It is a project of the Community Foundation of Producers in Art (COMPA), established in 1989 and supported by the Fundación Munasim Kullakita. COMPA’s philosophy is simple: to provide outreach programs with an artistic and creative focus on social transformation. As we assemble the school in a square in La Ceja, a major commercial district in El Alto, and the organisers put on comic hats and clown noses, it is clear that the Escuela Móvil is no exception to the COMPA theatrical approach to community service.
As soon as the walls of the school are pulled out of the sides of the box to reveal colourful placards with letters, numbers, and games on them, an intrigued crowd of children and adults alike gather around. For many of the children, this is not their first experience with the school – the school occupies this same spot every Wednesday afternoon. Straight away, the kids are playing matching games, copying the alphabet, completing sums and watching in awe as they draw their own handprint on a chalkboard.
The main targets for the project are the children of street vendors who work in the district’s market, for many of whom the Escuela Móvil is their only contact with education. Although the market is less than a hundred metres away, many of the mothers who sell there cannot leave their stalls to take their children to the square. Gaining the trust of these women can be a difficult task, as many of the mothers are reticent to give their children permission to join in, either due to a lack of confidence in the project or valuing their children’s help on their stalls too much.
Konstantin, a COMPA volunteer from Germany who has been working with the organisation for over five months, explains how hard the project was to get off the ground at the beginning. ‘We usually go to La Ceja market and find children to join up there,’ he explains. ‘At first it didn’t work very well because the sellers didn’t have much trust in us, even though we tried to explain what we were doing in the Escuela Móvil. Now it works really well, and some of the children from the market come every week, and there are more and more each time.’ The hard work that COMPA has put in to build a relationship with these women and encourage their children to get involved with the project cannot be ignored; mothers smiled as they recognised the volunteers, who were adorned with their distinctive clown noses.
Speaking to the mother of 8-year-old old Daisy, who has been going to the Escuela Móvil regularly for four months, it was clear that the project does not only benefit the children who attend. As she fried some mouth-watering fish to sell, she said, ‘It seems really good. I enjoy the free time when she goes to the school. It also means I can sell more, and it is more enjoyable for my daughter who gets bored sitting here with me all day.’
The kids watch in awe as they draw their own handprint on a chalkboard.
Aside from the education component, giving the children an activity to do with other kids is a central part of the project’s aim. ‘They come here with so much enthusiasm,’ Konstantin says as he smiles.
The volunteers say that they have noticed a real improvement in some of the children’s abilities, especially those who were coming frequently. ‘It’s hard to see the improvement with the children that join in with the project infrequently, especially with their writing,’ says Hilma, a Finnish volunteer who has been involved in various outreach programs city-wide. ‘But I think a lot of them have gotten better at maths.’
As the afternoon moves on, the children pack up and get taken back to their mothers in the marketplace. The volunteers fold up the mobile school, collecting rogue pieces of chalk and paper cut-outs off the ground and painstakingly push the school onto the back of a pickup truck. The Escuela Móvil and its volunteers leave no trace, but it is clear that the impact they have made is significant.
Photo: Nick Somers
Mí Teleférico expands with a new route across the flats of El Alto
‘The Línea Azul will definitely improve our lives. It will be much easier for me to travel and sell my products and go down to La Paz more quickly,’ says Carlos, a Río Seco resident and kitchenware vendor in the 16 de Julio Market. He seems to see the intended benefits of Mi Teleférico’s latest project, a cable car line across the flat city of El Alto. Although this mode of transport is typically designed for cities with severe inclinations, as of March of this year, the new Mi Teleférico line will serve a horizontal city and extend the reach of an integrated public transport system.
The new passengers will be able to travel the length of El Alto in under twenty minutes, an unthinkable journey time at ground-level. ‘We saw that there were huge populations in these peripheral alteño neighbourhoods,’ explains César Dockweiler, executive director of Mi Teleférico, ‘areas that are in full expansion and with an increased necessity for transport services.’ The line will provide direct access from the far reaches of El Alto to the centre of La Paz through the Blue-Red Line connection. This could catalyse a change of demographics in the city. Susana, who is an English teacher from El Alto, explains that young professionals could choose to live in more affordable neighbourhoods and commute to the centre of La Paz.
Critics of the project question the exorbitant funds required for the cable car line, compared to more affordable transport solutions for a flat city. Although the city’s landscape suggests the need for improved ground level transport, one of the particularities of El Alto is that it houses one of the biggest markets in Latin America, the 16 de Julio Market. When the feria comes alive on Thursdays and Sundays, the entire area becomes inaccessible, as the main roads are blocked by stalls, sellers, and customers. The new line would effectively bypass this whole part of the neighborhood, alleviating ground level traffic and making the journey through, or rather over, the area much easier.
It will provide direct access from the far reaches of El Alto to the centre of La Paz through the Blue-Red Line connection.
Vendors at the feria see this new teleférico line as an opportunity. ‘I’m very excited, I think we will see a lot more business,’ says Carmen Rosa, owner of a makeup and second hand clothing stall in the market. ‘We already have much more commerce since the Red Line opened, so hopefully we will see even more customers from the Río Seco area’, one of the most isolated parts of the city.
The blue line will end in Río Seco not only to facilitate the commute of local residents, but also to connect the city’s transport system to well-trodden tourist trails. As Dockweiler explains, Río Seco is a crossroads for multiple destinations. ‘We have Tiwanaku nearby, which is one of the main tourist attractions in the country, and we have exit points to Copacabana and Lake Titicaca. Day to day, it is incredibly difficult to get to these places, and even worse on market days. There is a huge demand for transport.’
With the inauguration of the Linea Azul around the corner, it is impossible to not have doubts about its aims. Is it the best use of public resources? Will it actually increase accessibility and social mobility, boost commerce, and reduce traffic and pollution in the area? Although none of this is guaranteed, the intentions of Mi Teleférico seem genuine in trying to improve the lives of alteños and paceños alike with this novel project.
