TOTAL ECLIPSE

TOTAL ECLIPSE

On Thursday November 3rd between 7:30 and 9:30 a.m. we had a total solar eclipse.  Scientists came from all over the world to Bolivia to observe the event because at Huancaya near Potosí, which is at an altitude of over 4.500m, visibility was expected to be excellent.  

During the preceding days there were announcements on the radio informing people that this occurrence would take place, that the sky would grow dark and it would become chilly, that animals might get agitated but that it was a natural phenomenon and nobody should be afraid.  Rigoberta Menchú, the Nobel Peace prizewinner from Mexico, also came, and she said that solar eclipses are related to life not death and people had nothing to fear.

It was a clear sunny morning.  At 7:45a.m. when the sun is already fairly high in the tropics, the shadows began to lengthen a little and the quality of the air began to change.  It gradually became cooler.  However, due to the strength of the tropical sun, the light from the halo still around the sun at the point of total eclipse was so strong that it never really became dark.  In fact, at that point both the temperature and the quality of light closely resembled those of a perfect summer´s day in Scotland!  By 9:30 the event had passed and the sun returned to its usual scorching intensity.

ACCIDENTS

ACCIDENTS


In the middle of October one of the dairy project's drivers had an accident on his way to Santa Cruz to make a delivery.  He had set out about 3:30a.m. and at Entre Ríos, some 70 Kms. away (It was dark, naturally),  a drunk cyclist came out of a "night-club".  A bus and a van were following close behind the lorry so he could not brake or they would have run into him.  He swerved into the ditch but still did not avoid the cyclist who was thrown up on to the bonnet, hit the windscreen which broke, and then fell into the ditch.  The serious part is that the driver did not stop - he drove on to Santa Cruz. When he called from there he was not sure whether the cyclist was dead or not.

When Robert heard this he was furious, and when the fellow came back from Santa Cruz he was dismisssed immediately.  René, the manager of the dairy, and Wilfredo, the production manager, went on a recce to Entre Ríos to find out exactly what the situation was.  They went to the police with the pretext that a person from the place had been contracted to do an inventory at the dairy and had absconded with the key to the cold store, which is why they were trying to track him down.  Did the police know of anyone of that name (an invented one, of course).  No, they did not.  Had there been any accidents recently - maybe that is why he had not come back to work.  Yes, there had been.  Last night.  A fellow on a bicycle had been hit and was in the hospital.  His boss was paying the medical bill.  Lucky that it must have been a small car because if it had been a truck he would be dead!  (Just goes to show how alcohol relaxes the muscles making drunks less prone to breaking bones).

Reprehensible behaviour to run off like that after an accident.  And it is.  However, things are not so clear-cut as they appear in the context of the first world.  If he had stopped, the police would have put him straight in jail and he would have stayed there for an age until (if ever) his case came up for trial.  Meanwhile the police would be trying to extract bribes from him.

The lawyer who came to do some work for the UN (the nephew of the President) told us that standard practice among lorry drivers is to carry a crowbar or some similar implement.  If they have a serious accident, they get out and kill the victim, because it is better to have a dead person than one maimed for life.  If the person is dead the company can go to the family and pay them US$1,000 or so compensation and that keeps them happy.  However, if the person is injured and maimed the problem is not the victim or even the family.  It is the police.  They keep coming back demanding more and more money to keep quiet or else they will concoct evidence and have the person in jail for the rest of his life.  This minimum jail term is likely to be around 10 years for an accident.  


And jail conditions are not like they are in even the worst and most over-crowded jail in Europe.  According to a Human Rights report just out, overcrowding in the Cochabamba jail is of the ratio of 100:1.  There are 100 people in the space designed a hundred years or more ago for one person.  There are only two latrines and no showers for all the inmates and there are no kitchen facilities: the prisoner's family must bring food every day or bring parcels of ingredients which the prisoners cook for themselves in any corner they can find. If he has no family then he must buy food from the other prisoners so long as he has money to do so.  If not, then he dies of hunger and that, according to the report, is not such an uncommon occurrence.  The worst of it all is that 93% of the prisoners in the jail are still waiting for their cases to come up for trial and they have mostly been there for a minimum of 5 years.  

In the case of prisoners detained under Law 1008 (the US-inspired anti-drug law) no bail is admitted.   The director of the jail himself gave the researchers examples of people who were totally innocent – their innocence had been proved on up to two occasions at the local court and at the Cochabamba High Court, - but they had to wait till their case came up before the Supreme Court at Sucre before they were released.  In most cases the evidence was cooked up by the UMOPAR or they had forced people to sign or put their thumbmark on "confessions" when they were under torture - burned with cigarette ends, electric shocks on the genitals, being hung upside down for days, etc.  One man had the powder used in tear gas bombs blown into his eyes with the result that he is now totally blind: he was a carpenter here in Chimoré. The director of the prison allows him to set up a little stand at the door of the prison and sell knick-knacks to people in order to be able to eat.

How´s that for justice?

No wonder the guy just kept going!

DEATH

DEATH

Towards the end of October news came that the daughter of the President of the Villa 14 Association had died.  Ignacio is a nice man and Robert went to see him the day of the funeral.  The girl was 15 years old and pregnant.  The schoolteacher had forced her to stay behind after school. Then he took her out of school and had her at his house (Her cousin who was also beginning to receive the same sort of attention opted to drop out of school).  This goes to show the kind of power individuals with a certain social standing (and that of schoolteachers is not so high) have in the community.  When she died her hands were completely red and green stuff was coming out of her breasts so the suspicion is that she was trying to take something to abort.  

Ignacio was absolutely distraught. He said to Robert.

"I had so many hopes for her.  In our lives you must have hope.  That is the very last thing you can lose.  She had been to school since she was five and she was clever, and now ....... look what we have come to.  She is dead."

Robert went to see the doctor to find out if he had seen the girl and what he thought of the strange symptoms when she died, but he said that he had not treated her and knew nothing about it.  There was no autopsy.

The day before the funeral was a bit of a drama because the family wanted to operate on the girl to extract the foetus.  This is an ancient Aymara practice now imbued with Catholic ideology.  They believe that a pregnant woman should not be buried with the foetus still inside, because the foetus should receive a separate burial.  If not the soul of the baby will go to limbo and will not settle and keep trying to come back.  Cleto Rodríguez, a Quechua, and the manager of the Association's plant which is in the project, managed to convince them that this was an old-fashioned idea and that there was no need for it.  So the girl was buried and life goes on.

However, in view of the behaviour of the schoolteacher which can only be classified as gross professional misconduct, Robert had a chat with Cleto and he is going to start a campaign to have him removed from the village before he does any more harm with someone else's daughter.  He also went to the house and removed the girl's things which he had there: 4 photographs, an apron and a pair of shoes.

What a pity.  What unnecessary suffering and all because the social structures are feudal giving excessive power to insignificant individuals against whom the families have no power to act.

November is the month when the dead are commemorated.  The week leading up to November 2nd. there is feverish activity at the cemeteries.  The vegetation is cleared away from around the graves and people decorate the tombs. On November 2nd., All Souls' Day,  the centre of activity is the cemetery:  in the morning everyone goes there to light candles at the graves and lay flowers.  The day before, the children shape babies out of flour dough and these are taken and deposited on the tombs.  The family also prepares the favourite meals of the dead people whose graves they are going to visit and the meals are carried to the cemetery where a plate with their favourite food is laid on the tomb of each dead person.  Then the family sits down around the grave and share the same meal with much celebration.


Rather than a cause for mourning, this is a day to celebrate with the deceased.  After the meal at the cemetery everyone troops off to certain spots where swings have been set up.  Two tall tree trunks are set into the ground with a crossbar to make the swing structure.  Then  a long rope is tied to this to form the swing.  There are two side ropes attached to the swing so that it can be manoevred.  In front and behind two other smaller "doorframes" are erected and decorated with coloured ribbon and flowers.  On one of these frames a number of small woven baskets containing goodies are hung.  The idea is that the girl who gets on the swing is swung up higher and higher by the two women pulling the side ropes.  When the person is high enough (if she ever gets that far) she must stick her legs out and try and grab one of these baskets with her feet. This is for the diversion of women only and they all wear a new pollera (skirt) for the occasion.  There is much merrymaking and music, although the music is special songs and tunes for the dead, not cuecas and other rhythms which are played at weddings.  This festivity involves the women much more than the men who are bystanders.  The idesa is that the young men can have an opportunity to see the young marriageable girls and should he like one he can “robar la cholita” or steal the girl.  They then set up home together. Tankers of chicha are brought in from Cochabamba for the occasion so that there will be no shortage.

I am told that the similar festivities will take place on November 30th, St. Andrew's Day.

Diplomatic Visit

MICHAEL HOWARD

14 Sept. 1994

On August 27th the British Home Secretary and his wife visited this area.  Apparently Britain had financed one of the infrastucture programmes (latrines) being implemented by another branch of the UN under the  command of one of the most undesirable individuals you could hope to clap eyes on.  He was coming to inaugurate the water system - but there was no water because the road building company had broken the pipe and refused to mend it again saying that it would cost too much.  Apart from this minor inconvenience, the inauguration went ahead!

Since Michael Howard is Jewish and therefore required a kosher kitchen, the only decent place for him to eat was at the dairy complex, so Robert was asked if it could be used and he said yes.  They were to bring along all the things they needed (I highly suspect that the people actually in charge of preparing the food (the owners of the hotel in Villa Tunari where all the US DEA personnel stay and therefore agents of repression) knew as much about kashruth as fly in the air (I saw no signs of different sets of milk and meat pots and all that) - but never mind, what the eyes don't see .....  We were sent a Union Jack to hoist on a flagpole!

They were to arrive on Saturday at midday by helicopter.  This meant that on Friday the helicopters had to come in for a trial run and Robert painted the helipad sign which made it easier for them to calculate their landing. Then, on the following day everything went smoothly  We had nothing to do with the event since it was not our show, but they got a tour around the dairy and all that stuff.  Robert was not here because he had left to go to Argentina.

The point is that apparently Michael Howard had wanted to talk to the campesinos and find out their points of view and so on, but the government sent the invitations via DIRECO , the repressive body which is always beating them up, so, naturally, nobody went and his visit to that particular area was a disaster.  This meant that the Minister of the Interior who was in charge of arranging the whole thing lost face, got mad, and, on his way back from here, had one of the most important campesino leaders arrested.  

Well, that caused a great flurry and then rumours started flying around that the helicopters had come into the dairy to do a recce and so on, with the result that Filippo, who was left in charge of the project while Robert was away, did not want me to stay here on my own.  I did not think that there was any danger but, at the same time, I did not want to give him any more worries since this was his first time at the head of the project, so Monica and I (plus the dogs) went to Santa Cruz.  Robert then decided to cut short his trip to Argentina and come back early, so we came back with him.  

Here is another example of how bigwigs do things in a totally stupid way with no consideration for how their actions will affect other people.  In fact, I don't think they even realise that they DO affect other people.  In any case, I think the British ambassador, who is apparently a very nice man, ought to have arranged things in a different way that did not involve the military, particularly in an area like this where people are so suspicious of all these armed bodies.  If I ever get the chance to tell him so  I will.


The irony of the whole thing is that the UNDCP boss, an Italian called Sandro Calvani, took umbrage and complained that the project had not cooperated and a whole tissue of other figments of his imagination, since the only bit of the visit which went smoothly was the time they spent here when strictly speaking we had nothing to do with it at all.

All the La Paz and Vienna people are currently running around like mad things because now is the time for capturing funding, and they are all trying to woo potential funding nations with a whole load of garbage.  If they would only show the realities I am sure people would much prefer it that way.

As far as the US is concerned, there is no point in writing to them  Their intervention in Ireland is based wholely and solely on the importance of the Irish vote there.  Here it is the US which is funding all the repression and training all the forces which implement it.  Why do you think they get involved in Haiti?  Only to look after their own interests.  And as far as Cuba is concerned, they are wooing the vote of all the right-wing Cuban exiles in Miami.  It seems to me that, in this political game, there are no objective, well thought-out decisions and policies,  only reaction to lobby pressures and vote-catching.  

As far as democracy goes, the whole thing is a farce.  For the best part of this century the US, that great paragon of democracy, has set up and maintained all the dictatorships in Latin America.  In fact, I understand that the new US ambassador to Bolivia was the person responsible for setting up the Pinochet coup which overthrew Salvador Allende in Chile in 1972.  It makes me want to throw up.  I have written a great screed which I have sent to Friends of the Earth and the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds informing them of the situation here and asking them to exert pressure on European governments to include condition clauses in their aid programmes.  I don't know if anything will come of it, but it is worth a try.  I wrote to Friends of the Earth shortly after we came here telling them that ICI is selling Gramoxone, a papraquat-based weed-killer which is banned, and they have taken the matter up, so maybe something can be done by using large pressure group organizations.  One thing is for sure, you can't sit around and do nothing.

A TRIP TO ARGENTINA

A TRIP TO ARGENTINA

August 25 1994

On Monday August 21st. we set out on what was to be an overland journey to Argentina where Robert was to look at machinery for the  dairy plant and do some other business.  We took our own car because it is more comfortable and because we were travelling with the dogs.  The journey to Santa Cruz was uneventful and Robert went off to do business there on Monday afternoon while I took the dogs to the vet to get their vaccinations up to date and also to get an international travel certificate.

On Tuesday morning we started off fairly early.  We had been told that we had to take the old Cochabamba road for 13 Kms. and then turn left.  Getting about in Bolivia is no mean feat because, apart from the odd fluke now and again, there are no road signs whatsoever.  The turn-off was between two checkpoints (there are plenty of those).  We passed one checkpoint and the only turnoff we could see on the left was a dirt track, so we carried on.  Shortly we came to the next checkpoint where we were informed that the main road to Argentina was indeed the dirt track which we had just passed, so we turned around and made our way back.

The dirt track was dry and sandy and grew more so as we went on, to the extent that on some stretches we were driving over veritable sand dunes where the sand reached up to the car axles.The vegetation was arid and sparse, in sharp contrast to the exuberance of the Chapare.  I think there may once have been exuberant vegetation here too because, from time to time, great dead trunks with lianas entwined about them stood in splendid isolation amid the low scrub, but the trees had no doubt been cut down to make way for cattle farming and this dry panorama is the result.  Dead, dry, and deadly!  

We carried on.  Not only was the countryside arid and sad, but the people and even the animals too. Nothing happened.  Time stood still.  The dogs lay unmoving.  The donkeys hung their heads. This surely is pure misery: ramshackle wattle habitations; desolate poverty; no water; no electricity; no nothing ....... only fruitless striving and barren bleakness.  In comparison to this horror the people in the Chapare are kings and queens.  They may be poor. They may have as little as these other people, but they are surrounded by a natural paradise which, in some measure, counteracts the misery.  

When you think the road can get no worse - it does just that.  If driving on the Chapare roads is like riding in an Irish jaunting car, this is like hanging on for grim life (or death) to a bucking bronco.  I thought I had a bad back, but this trip must surely have fixed it - or finished it.  The "road" which is unsurfaced and full of potholes is a rally track second to none.  You have to weave around to find the spot with the fewest holes and where the car wheels will not sink in and never come out.  When it rains it must be absolutely impassable, because the sand will turn to runny mud and it will be like a skating rink.  We carried on.


We stopped and asked a lorry driver what the road was like further on.  He replied that for another hour and a half it would be the same or worse and then it would improve.  We carried on.  After an hour and a half we came to an asphalted stretch which lasted for about a mile.  We then had to be diverted into a dry river bed about a mile wide where the wheels sank deep into the ruts and the sand mound in the middle rubbed against the undercarriage of the car, which, you must remember, is a high level four-wheel drive. This was Río Seco (Dry River). After the river bed there was another stretch of asphalt along which we sped for some miles thinking that this was the end of the jogging and jumping.

Then , just as suddenly as it had begun, the asphalt came to an end.  The "road" turned into a settlement.  A clutch of goats lay in the shade of a low building on the first corner on the right as we turned in.  After that building there was an embryonic "square".  The left side of the road was lined with ramshackle, tumble-down wooden or wattle houses. In all, the street would be about 100 yards long.  A bus stood at the one end opposite the goats loaded up with bundles on the roof and a group of men were talking to the driver.  Standing in all its incongruity in the middle of the "square" was a satellite dish - bright and shiny and proud and new - amid the dusty, sandy, sleepy panorama.

The street was cut off by a check-point.  The police control, yet another tumble-down edifice painted a sad shade of pale green, stood at the end of the "square".  The man operating the checkpoint languished in a hammock which swung to and fro like something out of a Spaghetti western.  He did not rise.  Robert got out of the car.  He rose and came lurching forward in a state of total inebriation.  To the police post.  Yes, this is the road to Argentina.  But how does it continue?  The road stops here.  Yes, just turn right and then left over the bridge.

An impressive bridge spanned the river bed.  The Río Grande.  We took to the bridge, which at that moment was being crossed by a load of schoolchildren going home for lunch.  The bridge is the railway bridge!  Once we had started to cross it, there was no turning back.  It creaked.  It groaned.  It seemed to sway. The water seemed an awful long way down.  Half the slats were missing and huge nails stuck up in greedy anticipation of perforating a tyre.  

With a sigh of relief we reached the end.  Then to our horror we saw that the road on the other side was a continuation of the first part of the journey - no asphalt, just sand and rocks and stones.  At that point Robert turned the car around and we returned to Santa Cruz.  It had taken four and a half hours to travel 100Kms.  

This was Camiri, the place where Che Guevara was assassinated.  What a waste.  What a wasteland.  And what utter uselessness.  A sadder place to end one's days I have never seen.

If it served any purpose at all, this abortive trip showed me why Che Guevara's revolution did not prosper in Bolivia.  It never could.  Despite the abject poverty, the place he chose could never be the birthplace of a revolution.  Peasants are notoriously conservative everywhere, but peasants living in these conditions, scattered throughout the countryside and scraping a subsistence from the soil, every man for himself, could never agglutinate to form a united front or to struggle for a common good.  Just filling their own bellies is too hard a task.  If he had gone to the mining areas he might have stood a chance, but this was always a non-starter.  He did not do his homework and the effort was doomed to failure even before it got under way.


Some days later Robert made the trip to Argentina by plane.  He thought it was a magnificent country with a natural potential greater than any country he has visited so far.  The people are highly educated and he was most impressed.  He spent most time in Rosario that stands on the wet pampa on the banks of the River Paraná which, at that particular point, is 12 Kms. wide.  The city, which grew up because this was a natural stopping off point for people travelling across the pampa, is quite magnificent with beautiful buildings of many different architectural styles, because people from 40 different nationalities helped build the city  The British stamp is also there because they built the railways in Argentina and there is a fairly large Irish contingent too.  The only thing wrong with Argentina is its government which is implementing World Bank neo-liberal economic policies which are bringing the country to its knees.  Rosario also has huge parks which are very beautiful.  Anyway, Robert was most impressed with Argentina.

XABIER AZKARGORTA

XABIER AZKARGORTA

Aug. 20 1994

On August 16th.  Xabier Azkagorta, the Basque doctor who trained the Bolivian national team and got them into the World Cup for the first time in their history, came to the Chapare as a guest of the project.  At the beginning of the year, we had gone to see him at his hotel when the team were in Cochabamba, and he promised then that he would visit the area.  It was not possible before the Cup due to the pressures of work, but he fulfilled his promise and came now.

It was decided that this had to be a holiday for all the Associations taking part in the project and a five-a-side football championship was arranged: every association has its own team and so does the project personnel.  Robert went to Cochabamba to meet him and when they arrived in Chimoré he was greeted by the mayor and other worthies.  The army and UMOPAR were also keen to get a look in but events took place ignoring their presence.  After a rest at MILKA, the dairy plant, they went to Ivirgarzama, the place where the plant is located, where he was also received by the "town" dignitaries.  In the evening there was a dinner at the dairy dining-room which was attended by all.

However, the following day was the BIG DAY.  He kicked off the football championship and then we set off for Villa Unión, one of the more outlying places involved in the project.  There the "cholitas" or Andean women who wear traditional dress were to have a game of five-a-side.  The settlement has two teams.  Much giggling went on as Xabier greeted the members of the team, because the unmarried members could not give him a kiss and went running off giggling behind their hands.  

He coached them for a while and then the game was due to begin, but there was no whistle.  Eventually a whistle was turned out of somewhere and the game began.  Xabier was the referee.  They played barefoot. There was much running and falling and a great deal of fun was had by all. Aidé, the health worker, was affronted and furious because she was replaced by a substitute.  Imagine! She, the promoter of the sport in the first place!  Anyway, later she laughed about it and all was well.

Then there were the inevitable speeches.  The whole affair was apotheosic.  That a man so famous and popular should come and visit them, this was a miracle indeed.  But then, if he could come and see the reality of their lives, why could the government ministers not come and do the same instead of calling them all drug-pedlars and smugglers when they have never seen them or spoken to them?  Much was made of the visit and the TV cameras whirred away all day long recording what everyone had to say.  Azkargorta said he had seen no huge mansions with swimming-pools and people lounging drinking whiskies.  What he had seen were hard-working people trying to make ends meet and educate their children.  

Before we left we visited the house of one of the community leaders.  A series of wooden poles form the structure, which is open on all four sides.  The roof is of corrugated asbestos.  The original house standing nearby is smaller and has a thatched roof.  Between these two stands the kitchen which is closed in with wooden slats and has a thatched roof.  


In the evening in Ivirgarzama he was invited by the town to a civic reception, where he was asked to make a speech.  What he said, simple as it may sound, made a great impact on the people.  Do not defend heroic stands but intelligent ones.  Decide what you are capable of achieving and then go all out to do so, but make no excuses if you fail.  We are all entitled to failures if they are honest ones. And then we must analyze our failures and learn from them.

Proof of the impact he made was forthcoming a few days later when Robert met the President of the Civic Committee.  They had just had a long meeting about the transfer of responsibilities in the field of education.  He said, "We have been putting into practice the advice Dr. Azkargorta gave us and we have been trying to define just how much we can reasonably bite off."

It is amazing how much one person can affect the lives of a multitude of others.  We hope that he will also help to tell the truth about what he saw here.  That would be no mean feat.

AUGUST FIRES

AUGUST FIRES

15.08.1994

Well, it is August (end of September now) - winter in the southern hemisphere.  It has not rained for several weeks and the rivers, now sluggish, carry very little water.  However, it is not cold, although the morning air has an indefinable, unmistakably winter quality about it despite the warmth. It may be the clarity, the stillness, I don't know. Daytime temperatures are in the region of 30-34ºC. falling to around 18ºC. at night.  The difference is in the humidity.  It is much drier now.  You do not normally sweat so much.  The first day I did not sweat since I arrived in the Chapare was May 10th.  No doubt the torrents will begin again soon and along with them the constant rivulets of sweat rolling down every part of the body.

The most outstanding feature of August days are the smoke-filled skies.  The sunlight is blocked out by the ever-present pall. This is the tragedy of the tropics and the whole Amazon system.  In August the settlers "chaquean" or slash and burn the vegetation on their properties in preparation for a new sowing season, or to clear new land.  Trees with a circumference of 2 metres or more are hacked to the ground and burned to ashes, the stumps sticking up into the air like fingers accusing humanity of the devastation that we cause.  Charred and blackened and scorched, the Pachamama surely should demand more respect of her children. Maybe she is too week to fight us any more. The original tribal peoples who populated these areas, the Yukis and the Yuracarés, are traditionally nomadic hunter-gatherers.  The settlers who have come in under the government-sponsored settlement programme are people from the altiplano where no trees are to be found.  They do not understand their environment and, perhaps involuntarily, strive to turn it into something akin to what they left behind, forgetting that the reason they left it was that they could not scrape a living from the soil.  The exuberance of the vegetation in places such as this depends precisely on the abundant foliage falling to the ground and decomposing there to form a fertile surface, because the topsoil is a mere 10-12 cm. deep in most places.  Once the forest cover is removed the soil grows impoverished and soon will support no growth whatsoever.  In La Paz the skies are similarly darkened with all the smoke coming from El Beni and Pando, the Amazon areas, and when planes come in to land at Santa Cruz airport the pilots announce that visibility is reduced due to the smoke from the burning Amazon basin in Brazil.

No programme contemplates this, the most serious of all the problems, and if nothing is done - and soon - the damage will be irreparable.  I know many people say that the conservationist voices raised in protest exaggerate and that things are not as bad as they say.  Things ARE as bad as they say - if not worse.  Tropical deforestation is increasing and accelerating. Santa Cruz, the neighbouring "boom" area which deforested earlier to make way for cattle grazing, rice, soya, sugar-cane, etc. has had to be declared a "disaster area" due to drought, and the continuing deforestation of the Chapare is aggravating the situation. Robert and Filippo are trying to get an environmental aspect written into the project specifications, but it is hard work indeed getting these goons (officialdom, I mean) to understand anything at all, even when it is staring them in the face.  I have written to a  number of organizations to try and get environmental condition clauses written into all aid programmes, but I don't know how effective that will be.  It is worth a try.


And still, as winter rolls into spring or, perhaps more accurately, the rainy season approaches, the birds are beginning to build their nests.  Crested oropendolas, fairly large black birds with a spectacularly yellow tail, weave their long pendulous nests which hang from the branches of the trees and sway in the breeze.  The male sits close by his edifice in the hope of attracting a female.  He sings his fluty song and with each melody it seems as though he will topple off the branch because he leans over precariously at the start of each melodic phrase.  The lady comes and he leads her on a guided tour to have a look at his handiwork from every angle.  If she is impressed she will stay.  If not, off she flies to examine the fruits of someone else´s industry.

The tiny hummingbird is also making its nest.  In sharp contrast to the conspicuous palace of the oropendola, this is a tiny, discreet affair carefully hidden under the leaves of a small tree.  It is no bigger than half an egg-shell, fairly similar in shape and just as delicate with scraps of feather and soft material woven into the fabric.  The first one he made was found by a cat which destroyed it so we hope that the new one will survive.  The danger they face is that the trees they choose are fairly low and so are accessible to cats and children.  Robert has warned all the children that if he sees anyone touching a nest some dire consequence will fall upon their heads.  I never cease to marvel at the diminutiveness of these tiny creatures hovering in an iridescent whirr

There are lots of other birds returning now after the "winter", but I do not know their names.  Monica´s (Filippo, the agronomist´s girlfriend) mother came from Houston Texas and I asked her to bring me a book on the birds of this area, so I am learning a little more each day.  Monica´s mother is English-born, was married to an English-Pole (if you know what I mean) and they lived in Texas where he is a cardiologist and she used to be a pathologist but 15 years ago changed over to psychiatry.  Now that's some change-over!!  She is a serious bird-watcher so I learned a bit from her too.  My list has increased to include the yellow-rumped cacique, the smooth-billed aní, the great tinamou, called yut´hu in Quechua (I have only heard this one, not seen it),  the vermilion flycatcher, the pale-throated tapaculos ( a kind of wren), the swallow-tanager - the male a brilliant turquoise blue and the female emerald green - the yellow-bellied tyrannulet and a number of others which I am not so sure about yet.  Even if you are not keen on birds, the names are so interesting in themelves that it is nice just to read them.  The one thing I regret is not having the video camera to film all these things - it was stolen en route, as you know.

DIA DE LA PATRIA

DIA DE LA PATRIA

08.08.1994


Well, on Saturday August 6th.  I witnessed something I thought I would never see -  Robert in a parade!  August 6th. is Bolivian Independence Day and there is a parade in every town, no matter how minuscule. The point is that every organization is obliged to take part: anyone who doesn't participate loses a day's pay.  All the schoolchildren parade along with their teachers, and in front of every group one girl is dressed wearing the traditional costume of one of the regions of Bolivia - La Paz, Cochabamba, Santa Cruz, Potosí, Oruro, Beni, Pando, Chuquisaca and Tarija. There is even one girl dressed as "Litoral" or coast, a reminder of the days when Bolivia was not landlocked.  The "theft" of this strip of coastal land is a thorn in Bolivia´s flesh and continues to rock bilateral relations between Bolivia and Chile. There is a group of "waripoleras", the Bolivian equivalent of majorettes (How they could bear to march along wearing tights and thigh-high plastic boots - black or white - is a wonder of the modern world!), the campesino women who sell food in the market, representatives of every organization of any consequence, AND Robert's project members. They were the only representatives of UN organizations who took part. The army and the UMOPAR brought up the rear of the parade. Each section of the parade had a banner declaring its name and function or a flag.  At intervals down the parade there were bands - school bands and military ones.

The parade was supposed to begin at 8.30 but did not get under way until about 10.  The sun was blistering down as they wended their way along the main road (All traffic was stopped) and then turned up into the town.  All the people taking part then had to stand in the sweltering heat on an open patch of ground for nearly two hours while the mayor, the campesino representative, the educational authorites and the settlers' representative all made patriotic speeches interspersed with poems exalting the glories of Bolívar and Field Marshall Sucre who won freedom for  Bolivia at the Battle of Ayacucho, wresting the country from the yoke of Spanish colonialism.  A native poet also recited poems in Quechua.  The campesino representative made a speech which for the people who live here was very significant indeed.  He referred to the oppression and brutality of the military and UMOPAR right to their very faces as they stood in front of the "Altar Patrio" adorned with the flag of Bolivia, and photos of Bolívar, Sucre and the current President, Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada.  

After all the speechmaking, the parade formed again and they all had to march past the "Altar Patrio".  By 1 o'clock the affair was over and we could all go home for lunch.

In the afternoon we had promised to visit one of the project communities - "Villa Unión" - where they were celebrating the anniversary of the foundation of their community.  They had asked Robert and Filippo to donate football strips and a football to the community.  The "road" to Villa Unión is a dirt track 14 Kms. long which goes inland from the main road.  The track crosses 10 streams and 14 rivulets and to get over them you have to drive over tree trunks which span the rivers, but somebody has to get out to direct you across them because you must get the wheels in exactly the right place or else you fall off.


When we arrived the whole community was gathered in what will one day be the main square.  There they have a minute school no bigger than the average western kitchen, a tiny health post made of wood where they have 2 beds for women in labour, a shelf with some medicines, a table, a chair and a small gas fridge which they use to keep vaccines in.  Next to that there is a wooden Pawichi with a palm roof which serves as the communal meeting house.  These traditional dwellings are by far and away the most suitable for these climes.  The air circulates freely so that the interior is fresh and cool.  When it rains the water runs of the palm roof.  There are two improvements I would make.  The first is to put mosquito netting inside the wooden slats and have a screen door.  The other one is to make a floor either of wood or some other solid material so that it can be kept clean.  In front of that there is an open space with grass where they were holding a football competition.  

We were offered something to eat and drink and then the highlight of the afternoon was a five-a-side footbal match between the girls of the community and a girls' team from another place.  It was a sight to behold these girls wearing their voluminous polleras playing football barefoot.  They tied 2-2 and had to have a penalty shoot-out.  The girls from the Andino community won.  By that time the sun was beginning to set and we had to start out in order to reach the road before night fell.

The fun and games over, today  (Aug. 7) the panorama is quite different.  The military are swarming all over the place with riot helmets and sub-machine guns.  The campesinos are trying to hold a meeting at their headquarters next door to Robert's office and there are thousands of people in Chimoré from all over the territory, but the military and UMOPAR  have broken it up. .  Depending on the outcome of this meeting there may be another blockade starting from next Monday.  We have to take Ana, Nini and Hugo who are here on holidays to Santa Cruz on Saturday so that they can catch their plane on Sunday.  With a bit of luck we will get back here before any blockade comes into force.  (As it happens, no events of any consequence occurred then, but the Government-cum-US "New Dawn" Operation has continued and many people have been detained and thrown into jail.)

Dull life here is not!

HISTORIA DE MI FAMIL

HISTORIA DE MI FAMILIA

Aidé
8 de agosto de 1994



Antes mi familia era muy pobre. Cuando yo tenía 5 años estuvimos en Argentina.  Mi mamá tenía trabajo y mi papá no tenía trabajo.  Así pasaron los años.  Después dos hermanas.  Seguíamos sufriendo.  Hemos regresado otra vuelta a Bolivia.  Hasta ahorita somos 8 hermanos: 4 hombres y 4 mujeres. Me llamo Aidé y Juan Carlos, Hugo, Angel, Ramiro, Albelo, Jimena, Sumilda y Rocío.  

En Bolivia hemos mejorado lo que hemos vivido todos los años.  Mi papá comenzó a construir una casa en Cochabamba camino a Tarata Km. 22.  Ahí tenemos una casa más o menos bien.  Tenía luz y agua.  Seguíamos en la pobreza.  Mi papá era albañil.  Trabajaba en todas partes.  No tenía a sus padres.  Mi mamá igual.  Mi papá tenía que regresar a Argentina a buscar trabajo.  Otra vuelta se fue mi papá y ha mandado plata para que nos vayamos.  Yo tenía que quedarme porque tenía a mi esposo y mi hijo de dos meses.  Tenía a mi esposo con 15 años.  Por eso tenía que quedarme de mi mamá y mis hermanos.  Soy la única boliviana.  Todos son argentinos.  

En allá se sienten mejor.  Tienen casa y coche, también trabajo y mis hermanos están estudiando y están trabajando. Mi madre me dice:  "Tus hermanos ya son jóvenes".  Los 4 me mandan carta y muchos saludos y abrazos y besos.  Me dicen mis hermanos: "Pronto estaremos visitándote, hermana",  me dicen mis hermanos.  

Yo no tengo a nadie aquí en Bolivia y vivo sola con mis hijos.  Tenemos chaco y ganados y cultivos.  Yo trabajo sola.  Tengo 2 hijos: uno se llama Darwin y la otra Lineli.  Mi esposo está estudiando en Cochabamba medicina. Antes era promotor 5 años.  Ahora me toca a mí.  Yo también soy promotora de salud 1 año y más.  A mí me gusta ir a los cursos.  Siempre voy.

Mi esposo es buena gente.  No sabemos pelear.  Es de Punata, Villa San José.  Se llama John Natalio Zapata y tiene 26 años.  Es mayor de mí con 4 años.  Vivimos 8 años y tenemos 2 hijos.  Ya no pensamos tener hijos.

Yo no podía hacer esta historia.  Para mí ha sido muy triste y muchos recuerdos.  Lo siento mucho.  Así es la vida.  Me siento sola y estoy acostumbrada a vivir sola en Bolivia.

Aidé
8 de agosto de 1994


Esta historia fue escrita a petición de Mary J. Rodríguez

NUEVO AMANECER

NUEVO AMANECER

July 19, 1994

For the past few weeks there have been more incidents at the security blocks on the road and more military movements everywhere.  Last week the UMOPAR started doing checks on the road to see who didn't have their ID card on them.  Anyone who didn't was detained immediately, and if they happened to be peasant leaders they were badly mistreated. Several people had their faces smashed in when they were beaten with rifle butts.  They also broke into people's homes at night forcing the whole family to leave - men, women and children.  One pregnant women was knocked over on her stomach and miscarried afterwards.  Edgar tried to be of help while maintaining a low profile, by distributing medicine from our First Aid kit and giving people some money so they could see a doctor.

One of the officials in charge of this round-up said that the aim of the exercise was being achieved and that was to make all the people who grow coca come out.  Then, according to the government under-secretary, over the course of the next two months "we will hit them with all we've got".  All they've got would seem to involve 2 US AWACS and a refueling plane which Robert saw on the tarmac at Sta. Cruz airport.  These AWACS are the most sophisticated weapons of war around equipped with all the latest surveillance gadgetry which allows them to control absolutely everything which goes on on and under the ground as well as in the air.

The campesino leaders were to have met yesterday at the HQ next door to Robert's office in Chimoré but the UMOPAR prevented them from doing so.  The idea behind this is to provoke the campesinos into reacting violently but some behind-the-scenes persuading has been going on to convince them that the very last thing they should do is play into their hands, so it has now been decided that they will have a meeting in Cochabamba with the press and representatives of the Church present.   This is supposed to take place tomorrow (July 20th).

The last week of July they have continued to harass people, breaking into their homes at night and rounding them up and taking them to jail.  The other day Robert and Edgar went to the UMOPAR jail to try and get an association member freed.  He had been taken into custody because he did not have his ID card and had been in jail for three days.  They got him out.  He told us that they are given 2 plates of soup per day and are taken to the bathroom once a day.  If you need to go again at any other time, that is too bad because they will not allow it.  They are not allowed out for any exercise but must alternate between lying and sitting.  That day there were 260 men and boys in the cell.  Women are kept in a separate place and he did not know what happened to them.  People can be held for any length of time without charges until the Prosecutor gets around to dealing with their case.  


The saddest and most worrying aspect of all this is that the Government people believe their own propaganda.  Last Sunday the lawyer who is supposed to be dealing with the matter of preparing to privatise these plants came from La Paz.  He is a nephew of the President.  When he arrived in Cochabamba he did not report at the office but just phoned after 4p.m. which is the time when the drivers are supposed to leave on Sundays in order to get to the Chapare not too long after dark.  When he was told that he had to hurry because these were the rules, he nearly had a fit, called Robert insulting him like mad and saying that nobody would tell him when to come or go when "he was putting his life at risk by coming to the Chapare".  They firmly believe, because they have convinced themselves of it, that these people are all bigtime traffickers and that they are the saviours of the country and the world by beating them all up.  Robert told him that if he thought he was putting his life at risk he should turn around and go straight back to La Paz.  Of course he came, and the next day, when Robert tried to investigate the issue, he told him a string of lies about how he never said this or did that, but the reports that Robert got the other people who were there to write all agree and conflict with his version of events.  

This kind of behaviour is another indicator that Bolivia has a long way to go, because these people think that they have feudal rights and can behave any way they wish.  They are above the ordinary population who must kowtow to them and be grateful for the crumbs falling from their table.  Totally reprehensible.

SOME ANIMAL TALES

SOME ANIMAL TALES

Here everyone comes bringing wild animals to see if we will buy them - monkeys, tortoises, the other day they even wanted to sell us a baby deer for US$50 .....  Apparently the Swedish missionaries who ran the dairy before used to buy animals and they sent them to Sweden or something, I don´t know.  Some missionaries!  Anyway, we have made a point of refusing to buy any animals pointing out to the people that the animals should be left where they were and that they are not a piece of merchandise.

One of our first experiences was on a Saturday morning when a man arrived on a bicycle with a bag tied to the crossbar.  We were going out for a walk with the dogs at the time and he stopped us saying that he had something that might interest us.  That was when we found out about the trading activities of the Swedes.  When he opened up the bag, out came a a baby ant-eater.  Beautiful.  Brown with a long pointed snout and paws with long curved nails.  It was sleepy and just lay curled up in your arms sleeping away.  Then it woke up and decided to have an explore.  It put its front paws on my shoulders and began to explore my face.  When it found my ears, out lashed its long thin rounded tongue right inside my ear - presumably hoping to find some ants in there!  Ticklish!  It tried a few times in one ear and then went around to the other one, but in vain, not much in the way of sustenance in there.  Giving up, it curled up again and went back to sleep.

It was raining, so we invited the fellow who had brought it into the house and offered him a cup of coffee (We are regarded as highly eccentric allowing peasants into our house!).  These chats are always interesting because you find out a lot about the people.  This young man had been abandoned by his parents when he was a baby, and he was brought up by one set of grandparents who made a great effort and sent him to school where he did well.  At the age of eleven he left his grandparents'  house to try and make his way in the world. He went to Cochabamba where he worked in a bus company, presumably carrying bags or some such task, and he lived on the street. He worked there for two years and the money he had earned he used to go to a radio mending course.  However, before he could complete the course his money ran out, so at the age of 14 he came to the Chapare where he has been working as a day labourer ever since (He must be about 24 now.).  He is now married with three children and he lives in his father-in-law´s house, but he had just managed to buy a small plot of land.  The problem with it is that, because he did not have much money, the only  land he could afford is on a slope and there is no area flat enough to build a cabin.  

Another animal experience came after an owl crashed into the side window of Robert's car as he was driving home from Santa Cruz one night.  He stopped and picked the bird up and brought it back.  It had a cut on its shoulder which I cleaned with hydrogen peroxide and put some antibiotic powder on it and we put it in a box till morning.


When morning came we got the vet who works at the dairy to have a look at it.  It was clear that it had a broken wing, so we set up an operating table out on the grass and the vet set to work to see what could be done. He had never operated on a bird before, but I must say he was remarkably competent.  When he made the incision, we could see that two bones were broken just below the shoulder.  The worst part was that they were not just broken but slightly shattered so that the break was not clean and the two sections of bone would not fit back together again properly. In view of this we decided to try and insert a metal pin inside the bones.  The only stainless metal available was electrolytic wire from the maintenance department, so we used some fine gauge stuff which just fitted in nicely. After that we glued the parts together using that instant glue which they also use in human surgery, cleaned the whole area, sewed it up and that was it.  All this was done without anaesthetic because there was no adequate anaesthetic available.  Can you imagine the pain?  At one stage the poor animal fainted and I thought it was dead but its heart was still beating.  From time to time I gave it a syringe-full of water and sugar which it seemed to appreciate.

I kept giving it this mixture every half hour or so and by the afternoon it seemed to be coming round.  The vet suggested that I should go to the chemist and buy some drip solution but instead of intravenous I should get the oral type for children and give it that.  I did - but it was fatal.  I am sure it was too strong because shortly aferwards the poor animal died.  

At first I was truly sorry, but when I thought about it I came to the conclusion that it was probably for the best.  Since the broken bones were so near to the shoulder, it would probably never be able to fly again and would have had to be kept in captivity. That would be fine as long as we were here because we could supply it with food of one type and another, but when we went away I am sure nobody would bother about the poor bird and it would end up dying of starvation.

Another incident occurred shortly afterwards.  One morning as I took the dogs on their early morning round, they seemed very interested in sniffing under a tree.  I saw what looked like a piece of fur (all wet because it was raining), so I didn´t allow them to go in.  That evening as we came back from a dip in the river, Simon jumped down into the drainage ditch and then I saw a little animal lying on its side down there.  It had mottled beige-coloured fur, a long narrow snout, little hands and a long bare tail which was black at the base and turned white about half way up.  It was totally still and I thought it was dead.  Then I saw a little black thing with a pink snout lying some distance away and others squirming to come out of it - babies.  So I thought it was having its babies.  I took the dogs back to the house and came back down to investigate.  I jumpled down into the ditch and with a stick prodded the baby lying some distance away to see if it was alive or not.  It was, so I pushed it up to the mother.  At that, her little snout twitched from side to side and then it was clear that she was not dead.  More babies were emerging.  From time to time the mother joined her front paws together just as if she were praying and then lay still again.  I had a closer look and could see that she had a wound on her back.

At that point the vet arrived and he told me that it was a Q'arachupa (in Quechua) or sarigüeña in Spanish.  This is a kind of possum, belonging to the same family as Australian possums. They are small marsupials like kangaroos, which explained that the babies were not being born at that moment.  They had been born some time ago and the mother carries them around in a little pouch where they feed until they are able to come out.  Then she carries them around on her tail which they cling to as she moves.  They are arboreal in habit and eat small birds, eggs and other things they find.  In the trees they are swift but on the ground they are slow, which probably explains why she got injured.  I strongly suspect the night watchman's dogs: he is not supposed to bring them to work but he does and they rampage around all over the place.  Further inspection showed that she had deep teeth mark wounds on either side of her neck and a wound on her back.  The babies were crawling out of the pouch because she was moribund and they could sense that.  

Poor thing.  There was nothing to be done for her, so I got the vet to put her to sleep. I asked him whether the babies could survive on their own at that stage of development and he said they could not, so I told him to put them down too.  However, the following morning as I went out with the dogs I could hear the blowing sound which the babies make, and when I went to investigate I discovered that he had not done as I asked.  In a fury of righteous indignation fit to behold I grabbed hold of him as he came to work and gave him a lecture on the implications of the professional responsibility of vets which applies even when the task to be performed is not a pleasant one.  He won't forget that tirade in a hurry and now looks at me sheepishly every time I see him.


Then some people brought along a tortoise - quite large, about a foot across, although that is nothing in comparison to the huge tortoises that used to be found in this area.  They have virtually been hunted to extinction. I was not here when they came and the dairy workers wanted to kill it and make a soup.  Fortunately René, the manager, put a stop to that and took the animal back to his house to prevent it being sacrificed.

The last in this series of animal encounters occurred the other day down by the river.  It had just rained a lot and the river was in spate.  Lying by the water´s edge was an armadillo.  It´s body is about the length of an adult´s arm from the wrist to the elbow and its tail is of similar length.  Its head is small, about the size of the palm of a lady´s hand.  The body is beigey in colour and all along it are rings of scaley armour which protect it from attack. Armadillos are called tatús in the language of the Amazon tribes and this word has also been taken into Quechua.

23 Jan. 1995

This morning one of the drivers saw that a boa had been run over by a vehicle and he picked it up from the road.  It is 12 feet long with a body about 8 inches in diameter tapering towards the tail.  The head is small with two rather prominent eyes and the mouth with tiny teeth looks rather small but the head is virtually all mouth and when it wants to swallow something the mouth can articulate  to open wider and allow it swallow its prey.  Apparently the saliva "corrodes" the victim.  But in any case the boa would have broken your ribs by the time it wound itself around  your body.  This was a fairly small specimen: they can be up to 15m. long.  The skin is beautiful: yellowish with black circles.  They skinned it with a knife and razor blade and put the skin up to dry.  Then the snake was gutted just like a fish and they will eat it tonight. They say that it tastes just like surubí, one of the large river fishes here, and better than pacú, another of the fishes.  It is regarded as a great delicacy.  I could only think what a pity it was that such a beautiful creature had to be destroyed by a truck.

ROXANA

ROXANA


31.05.1994

I had been saying for months that Roxana was pregnant but nobody agreed. Roxana started off as the office cleaner, but she soon showed an aptitude for operating the radio so first she combined both functions and now is the full-time radio operator.  However, on Monday May 23 she asked to speak to Robert and told him that she was indeed pregnant - and was due to give birth in the first week of June.  She asked if he would hold her job for her for one month if she sent someone in to do the work for her.  He agreed.  She also asked to speak to me and I went to see her in the afternoon.

Roxana is from Riberalta in El Beni, the northern plains of the Amazon bordering with Brazil.  Her parents got divorced some years ago and about a year ago she left her home and came to Ivirgarzama where her father was living with his new partner who is from Pando.  When she arrived, her younger sister, who is now 15 and already living with her father, told her that things were awful in the house and that her step-mother made her do all the heavy work and the washing.  The younger sister decided to leave and return to her mother.  She is now back at school.  

Roxana did not stay long either.  She soon left and went to Chimoré where she has an uncle.  This uncle who works on one of the river boats plying the route to El Beni and back, is married to "una de pollera" i.e. an Andean indigenous woman and lives in his mother-in-law's house.  "They always told me that "las de pollera" were "malvadas" (bad) but I never believed it. Now I know it is true."  This little remark reveals the ever present conflict between the "collas" or people from the altiplano and the valley of Cochabamba and the "cambas" or people from the tropical region of Bolivia.  

Roxana offered to look after her two little nieces, but the treatment meted by the mother-in-law was such (she said she had no need to feed someone else's mouth and was even mean with the food given to her own family) that she decided she would not stay.  When her uncle came back from one of his trips, she told him what she had decided and he did not object, although he knew that she had no place to go.

She had a boyfrined, called David, who worked for the electricity company ELFEC, and he offered to let her stay in his room.  So, she took the bed which her father had given her and moved in there.  Nothing happened for some time but eventually it did and the baby is the result.  


The boyfriend, who is now out of work, has agreed to recognize paternity and give the child his name, but he says he is now going away to find work, and basically doesn't want to know any more about it.  Roxana does not want to beg him to stay or any such thing so she was in a quandary about what to do.  David's mother had offered to look after the baby after the first month, but I pointed out to Roxana that this lady lived a good hour's journey away, which meant that she would never see the child except at week-ends maybe, and if the relationship with David finally came to a close, there could be a problem over jurisdiction of the child if she left it to his mother.  Another point is that what she would really be doing would be handing over a slave for life, because that is what the child would become once it grew up, being obliged to work and do everything in return for its keep.

She rents a little room for 45Bs. (US$6)a month, so what she has now decided to do is take a girl to look after the baby while she is at work. That will cost her 100Bs. a month.  Since her room is close to the office she will be able to see the baby at lunch-time as well as in the morning and at night.

Robert gave her a month's salary in advance (600Bs.) so that she would have enough to pay the clinic in Cochabamba.  She did not want to have the baby in the local clinic at Ibuelo because of every 10 children born there 8 die.  However, the baby came a few days earlier than expected and the clinic she went to charged 900Bs. so we have had to send her more money to be able to pay.  We had found out about a clinic run by nuns who charge 200Bs. for the birth and 13Bs. per day for board.  This would have been better but the harm is done now and she will be short of money.  

A little baby girl , named Dayana, was born on Friday May 27.