The kusillo is one of the most enigmatic figures in Bolivian folklore and dance. Most often seen as a buffoon or jester-like character, this animated clown can be found in a wide variety of traditional dances from the Aymara communities in and around the city of La Paz, always leaping and creeping in and out of packs of dancers, teasing his way through amused crowds.
The acrobatic and comic dances of the kusillo are unmistakable, but the most striking thing about him is his appearance. Tall and lanky, this long-nosed clown has clothes that are often sewn together with a variety of fabrics, including solid colors, pinstripes, and elaborate rainbow patterns. Even his mask is often stitched together from one or more patterns, to comic effect.
Characters in folklore everywhere are always changing, and the kusillo is no different. In today’s festivals, including La Paz’s Gran Poder and Oruro’s massive annual Carnaval celebrations, kusillos of all colors can be found dancing in costumes that are becoming more and more elaborate and gilded. Kusillo costumes of the past, however, were more humbler affairs, piecing together dirty and plain fabric in a patchwork of patterns. And in some ways, such a patchwork of patterns is fitting of this character of unclear origin.
One of the most popular beliefs surrounding the kusillo is that the character is in fact a mono, or monkey; others equate him with a tricky fox, relating his history to local Aymara folktales. Some even believe the kusillo is an adulterous adventurer, wandering the streets of towns and cities in search of women to seduce. Perhaps tied to this idea of ‘fertility’, in rural settings our jokester friend is often associated with successful harvests and agricultural abundance.
Bolivia is a lot like a kusillo: what you see is a patchwork of history, tradition, and modern expectations, presented as a beautiful and complete whole. And the end results are important cultural markings of unclear origins. This month we wanted to celebrate the ways in which historic and cultural diversity in Bolivia converge before our eyes to make up the wonders that make this country what it is today. With the idea of ‘patchworks’ in mind, we took the spirit of our loveable kusillo, and his unknown origin and rag-tag appearance, to look at Bolivia in rich new ways.
In this issue of Bolivian Express, we spend time with Lucia Campero at her store, Mistura, where she and the team have created a boutique shopping experience bringing together artisanal traditions and modern style. We sit down and have a beer with Panchi Maldonado, who for more than 20 years has been mixing musical styles with his wildly successful band, Atajo, which he is retiring – hopefully for the first but not last time – in April. We learn from amateur paleontologists trying to solve the mysteries behind the aquatic fossils littering the rocky slopes where the 18,000-year-old glacier at Chacaltaya once rested before completely disappearing ten years ago. We explore how a web of ‘fake news’ and ‘alternative facts’ have woven together Bolivia’s current political climate, and wander the streets and galleries of Cochabamba to uncover the city’s state of modern art through its many contributors.
Bolivia is much like a kusillo: it is full of life and energy, can always make you laugh, and is at times provocative and flirtatious. And akin to a kusillo, both Bolivia’s tradition and modern appearance is the result of a patchwork of ideas and origins. Because of his rich yet unclear history and pieced-together appearance, the kusillo is very memorable, something that can stick with you for a very long time. Hopefully with this issue of Bolivian Express, you will find Bolivia to be the same.
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Photos: Nick Somers
A disappearing glacier peels back to unveil an ocean of symbiosis
Chacaltaya Mountain (30km from La Paz) is the site of a 5404-metre-high, 18,000-year-old glacier of the same name, which an international team of scientists observed beginning to disappear due to global warming around 1992. Now, 25 years later, the glacier is completely gone. Chacaltaya was also home to the world’s highest ski resort: what remains of the resort is cared for by Samuel Mendoza, the former ski lift operator. Visitors can no longer ski, but there are tours to the site every day.
I had the chance to hike up Chacaltaya on one of the rare days on which it actually saw snowfall, although on our descent, the snow had already melted. We ascended the mountain along a rickety dirt road, holding on for dear life until the vehicle was overwhelmed by hail and its wheels no longer found grip. Unsurprisingly, I was soon told it would be safer to disembark and go the rest of the way on foot. With me were Giovanni Rios and his team.
Giovanni Rios is a paceño architect and amateur fossil enthusiast. You only have to mention fósiles for his entire face to light up as he reaches into the bag of goodies he has brought in preparation. His passion for palaeontology began in his early kindergarten years when he was always to be found drawing dinosaurs. After that, he joined a science club in his primary school. His first science project was at 11 years old, when he managed to get into contact with the then director of paleontology at the Museum of Natural History in La Paz, Federico Anaya. ‘It was hard because in Bolivia there isn’t a lot of information. I just got lucky,’ he says. Through this project, he tells me that this expert took a liking to him and allowed him to stay in the museum to work closely with the collection of fossils, cleaning them. ‘He also told me where to find them,’ he adds. And this is why we are here at Chacaltaya.
Giovanni says, ‘The site of Chacaltaya was once a sea that resembled what is now the Arctic Ocean.’ He is here to understand what the aquatic communities living in this place were like. ‘Books only show diagrams without explaining how the organisms lived and interacted with one another,’ he laments.
Walking together across the mountaintop, despite fighting altitude sickness and slight vertigo, we did find some samples at Chacaltaya, including the fossilised remains of a starfish (in the Asteroidea class). Giovanni explains, ‘Due to the overlapping pattern visible on the surface of the stone, there could be more organisms contained within,’ something that he hopes scientific analysis, such as ‘the use of an x-ray machine, will uncover’.
Giovanni imagines that in the deep ancient ocean, giant squids, of the genus Architeuthis and family Architeuthidae, would have been at the top of the food chain. Together we found a piece of sediment on which were imprinted the suckers which line each tentacle. They were formidable predators because they could use their tentacles to prise open shells and eat the organisms inside, and also due to their huge size. Trilobites, however, found a way to protect themselves from the squids: by hiding in the forests of lirios del mar.
The first to study the fossils at Chacaltaya was Roman Kozłowski, a Polish scientist who had studied at the University of Paris and later received the position of Director of Geological Sciences at the Mining School in Oruro. He stayed in Bolivia from 1913 to 1921 before returning to Europe, and collected the first trilobites; conchas, or seashells; and starfish at the site. Trilobites are a fossil group which show an extinct invertebrate with an exoskeleton, extinct sea arachnomorpha arthropods forming the Trilobita class. It is the pattern of this exoskeleton which we saw in one of our rock samples, and trilobites are known to shed their exoskeleton. It is rarer to find an entire body, but Giovanni had such samples in his collection.
There are many skeptics in Bolivia who doubt the confirmed scientific reason for the appearance of sea organisms at the top of the mountain, believing it to be the result of some great Biblical Flood. Giovanni tells me that it happened when the Nazca tectonic plate (Oceanic) collided with the South American (Continental), forming the Cordillera de los Andes. This is still ongoing, and happens when the collision causes the rocks on the edge of the continental plate to fold, thereby producing fold mountains. In this manner, the fossils at Chacaltaya were raised 5000 metres high, even though before they had been far below sea level.
Chacaltaya Mountain (30km from La Paz) is the site of a 5404-metre-high, 18,000-year-old glacier of the same name, which an international team of scientists observed beginning to disappear due to global warming around 1992. Now, 25 years later, the glacier is completely gone. Chacaltaya was also home to the world’s highest ski resort: what remains of the resort is cared for by Samuel Mendoza, the former ski lift operator. Visitors can no longer ski, but there are tours to the site every day.
I had the chance to hike up Chacaltaya on one of the rare days on which it actually saw snowfall, although on our descent, the snow had already melted. We ascended the mountain along a rickety dirt road, holding on for dear life until the vehicle was overwhelmed by hail and its wheels no longer found grip. Unsurprisingly, I was soon told it would be safer to disembark and go the rest of the way on foot. With me were Giovanni Rios and his team.
Giovanni Rios is a paceño architect and amateur fossil enthusiast. You only have to mention fósiles for his entire face to light up as he reaches into the bag of goodies he has brought in preparation. His passion for palaeontology began in his early kindergarten years when he was always to be found drawing dinosaurs. After that, he joined a science club in his primary school. His first science project was at 11 years old, when he managed to get into contact with the then director of paleontology at the Museum of Natural History in La Paz, Federico Anaya. ‘It was hard because in Bolivia there isn’t a lot of information. I just got lucky,’ he says. Through this project, he tells me that this expert took a liking to him and allowed him to stay in the museum to work closely with the collection of fossils, cleaning them. ‘He also told me where to find them,’ he adds. And this is why we are here at Chacaltaya.
Giovanni says, ‘The site of Chacaltaya was once a sea that resembled what is now the Arctic Ocean.’ He is here to understand what the aquatic communities living in this place were like. ‘Books only show diagrams without explaining how the organisms lived and interacted with one another,’ he laments.
Walking together across the mountaintop, despite fighting altitude sickness and slight vertigo, we did find some samples at Chacaltaya, including the fossilised remains of a starfish (in the Asteroidea class). Giovanni explains, ‘Due to the overlapping pattern visible on the surface of the stone, there could be more organisms contained within,’ something that he hopes scientific analysis, such as ‘the use of an x-ray machine, will uncover’.
Giovanni imagines that in the deep ancient ocean, giant squids, of the genus Architeuthis and family Architeuthidae, would have been at the top of the food chain. Together we found a piece of sediment on which were imprinted the suckers which line each tentacle. They were formidable predators because they could use their tentacles to prise open shells and eat the organisms inside, and also due to their huge size. Trilobites, however, found a way to protect themselves from the squids: by hiding in the forests of lirios del mar.
The first to study the fossils at Chacaltaya was Roman Kozłowski, a Polish scientist who had studied at the University of Paris and later received the position of Director of Geological Sciences at the Mining School in Oruro. He stayed in Bolivia from 1913 to 1921 before returning to Europe, and collected the first trilobites; conchas, or seashells; and starfish at the site. Trilobites are a fossil group which show an extinct invertebrate with an exoskeleton, extinct sea arachnomorpha arthropods forming the Trilobita class. It is the pattern of this exoskeleton which we saw in one of our rock samples, and trilobites are known to shed their exoskeleton. It is rarer to find an entire body, but Giovanni had such samples in his collection.
There are many skeptics in Bolivia who doubt the confirmed scientific reason for the appearance of sea organisms at the top of the mountain, believing it to be the result of some great Biblical Flood. Giovanni tells me that it happened when the Nazca tectonic plate (Oceanic) collided with the South American (Continental), forming the Cordillera de los Andes. This is still ongoing, and happens when the collision causes the rocks on the edge of the continental plate to fold, thereby producing fold mountains. In this manner, the fossils at Chacaltaya were raised 5000 metres high, even though before they had been far below sea level.
In his collection, Giovanni has over 7000 fossils, collected from all over Bolivia. He privately catalogs and organizes them, hoping to contribute to some future scientific studies. ‘I hope that someone will come along to continue my work, my dream: to display each discovery, and to open museums on the most important palaeontological sites in Bolivia,’ he sighs wistfully.
In his collection, Giovanni has over 7000 fossils, collected from all over Bolivia. He privately catalogs and organizes them, hoping to contribute to some future scientific studies. ‘I hope that someone will come along to continue my work, my dream: to display each discovery, and to open museums on the most important palaeontological sites in Bolivia,’ he sighs wistfully.
Photos: Marianthi Baklava
Women meet to create theatrical art – and to empower themselves
‘Get ready, you’re going to be backed against that wall once everyone gets here,’ Erika Andia warns me. Upon arriving at Calle Genaro Sanjines 986, it seems that I have completely lost my way. I find myself having trekked up what appears to be a purely residential road in the very center of La Paz. I press my ear against the door and hear a soft purr and scratches: there is life inside. And this is when Andia arrives, running up the street to greet me. She swings the rusty door open, and, as if through a portal, colour erupts outward.
She leads me into a small but cheerfully bright room, with playful orange-tiled recessions dotting the white walls. It is this confined space in which we are all to rehearse, although now it feels empty, expectant. I grab a tiny cobalt-blue playstool and sit down, waiting to meet everyone. Arriving in pairs, I get hugs and kisses from each woman who enters while being distracted from my mission by two resident kittens. The first women to arrive are Maria Paz and Jhovana Milenka Gutiérrez Hilari. We aren’t only expecting women, however. Two-year-old Gabriel, Jhovana’s son, runs up to hug me. He is the youngest Kory Warmi.
A theatre troupe which formed in February 2015, the Kory Warmis took their name from the Aymara phrase for mujeres de oro – ‘golden women’. It is a fitting name, as each member is a victim and survivor of violence and abuse, typically at the hands of a male.
To most of these women, rehearsing with the Kory Warmis serves as motivation to help themselves through their work week. ‘They are alteñas,’ says Andia, the Kory Warmis director and an accomplished actress herself, ‘comerciantes’. Many of the women in the group were initially members of an initiative of Pro Mujer, an international NGO dedicated to providing services to women, and joined the theatre group with Pro Mujer’s support, to pursue their acting dreams. ‘Now we are best friends and we are sisters,’ says Maria.
The Kory Warmis have embarked on a new play, Déjà Vu, which looks at the effect that tensions between a married couple have on their young daughter. I watch as 21-year-old Brayam Machaca Aranibar contorts his face in pain and agony during an argument with 30-year-old Ana Chambi Mayta, who plays his young wife.
This month, the theatre troupe will be performing Déjà Vu and another production, Kusisita, across several different barrios of La Paz, as well as opening Casa Mágica, their rehearsal space in La Paz, to the public.
During the rehearsal, Andia announces that the Kory Warmis will tour Peru in May. Smiles and laughter reverberate as the group is unable to contain their excitement. They are dreaming of travel and adventure.
The Kory Warmis’ children line up and begin to dance, whipping themselves in the progression of what is actually quite a cheery song. I sit next to Andia, confused and uncertain how to feel. It starts to dawn on me that perhaps this is their desired effect on the audience: to make us uncomfortable, unsure, and weary.
Here, our rehearsal is suddenly cut short at the realisation that over four hours of hard work have passed. The Kory Warmis begin to make their way home, small giggles of relief but an aura of dejection hanging low in the now darkening Casa Mágica.
The Kory Warmis are on Facebook under their name, where more information on current and future performances can be found.
Sometimes you need to look no further than the smiling faces of the people on the city’s streets to find the beauty of La Paz. And one of the great things about this place is that it has anything but a shortage of personalities. Every corner, every market, and every place offers an opportunity to meet a new face and to hear a new story.
‘My brother likes big dogs, but I’m happy I can carry and hug our dog.’ - Alto Tacagua”
‘Every day after school I come here to play football with my friends until it’s dark. I hope one day I can play for Bolívar.’ - Sopocachi
‘I have been a saleswoman for thirty years, but I also knit to make more money. I make sweaters, scarves, things that people ask me to make.’ - Mercado Uyustus
‘I'm from La Paz and I like my work because all flowers are beautiful. And, please make me look good in the picture.’ - Mercado Lanza
‘Sales are good in Uyustus. I have cheese rolls, empanadas and apple pies.’ - Mercado Uyustus
‘I have a television underneath my stall so I never have to miss the football games.’ - Mercado Sopocachi
