Thursday, July 19, 2012

THE MAS AND THE MAYAS

Bolivia is undergoing a “process of change”, initiated by the current government formed by the Movimiento Al Socialismo (Movement Towards Socialism) and its leading figure Evo Morales. Although the government has been in power since 2005, no profound change can be noticed: Bolivian society is as divided as ever between indigenous and non-indigenous populations, and the political-economic situation remains volatile (see for instance Pablo Stefanoni’s recent analysis of the “process of change”, Stefanoni 2012).

There is, however, change at the symbolic level: The country has been renamed, Bolivia is now the “Plurinational State of Bolivia”, expressing the country’s ethnic diversity. The Bolivian flag is now accompanied by the Wiphala, the colourful flag representing the indigenous peoples of the Andes. And the president enjoys the attention he receives in the international arena for his anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist speeches - while considerable parts of his own country are being destroyed by mining industries (Gudynas, 5 March 2012).

Recently, the MAS has discovered another powerful symbolism: The end date of the Mayan calendar in 2012 and the fears and hopes surrounding the “end of the world” in 2012 (Salazar,2012). For the Bolivian government, the magic date of the 21st of December 2012 will bring about the Cambio / change so desired by them.

When the Organisation of American States (OAS / OEA) met in Cochabamba in the last days of May 2012, the opening speeches of the Bolivian hosts made abundant references to the “Mayan prophecies” (Salazar, 2012): For them, the year 2012 marks the beginning of a “time of balance”, a new time, a new system that would, for instance, make a restructuring of the OAS / OEA necessary.

Along similar lines, Chancellor of State David Choquehuanca declared a few days ago that the 21st of December 2012 would mark “the end of capitalism, the end of Coca Cola, and the beginning of the Mocochinchi” (Gonzales Yaksic, July 2012). For the uninitiated amongst you, Mocochinchi is a traditional drink in Bolivia, prepared by boiling dried peaches. It seems to be the wish of the government that this traditional refreshment should replace the “Black Waters of Imperialism”, Coca Cola.
Mocochini, offered in Cochabamba, source http://www.flickr.com/photos/imenezes/

But does the alliance between the Bolivian government and the Mayan prophecies take a more concrete shape? What is, for instance, the contribution of the Bolivian government to restructuring the OEA? At the meeting this year, the government representatives were focused on gaining support for their demand against Chile – a demand to receive back the Bolivian access to the sea that was lost  to Chile in the Pacific War more than 100 years ago (Salazar, 2012).
And will the government really make Coca Cola leave the country? At their most courageous, they will apply the same technique as with the mines, oil fields and utility companies that have been “nationalised”: Local MAS supporters or soldiers will occupy the production sites until a new treaty is set up, one under which Coca Cola still owns the plants but makes a few concessions to the Bolivian government. At least this is the experience from previous “victories against imperialism” through “nationalisations” (Gonzales Yaksic, July 2012).

In fact, we don´t know if Bolivians will really only drink Mocochinchi from 2013 on. But what we do know is that the Bolivian government entertains a range of symbolisms – more often ridiculous than powerful – to fuel its “process of change”, while at the same time being rather helpless in the real implementation of changes for Bolivia.

SOURCES
Gonzales Yaksic, M. (July 2012). Mocochinchi y Coca Cola. Los Tiempos, 15 July 2012. Retrieved from http://www.lostiempos.com/diario/opiniones/columnistas/20120715/mocochinchi-y-coca-cola_178520_377029.html
Salazar, J. C. (2012). El mar, la OEA y las profecías Mayas. Nueva Crónica y Buen Gobierno. PRISMA / PLURAL editores, No. 106, primera quincena de Junio 2012.

Stefanoni, P. (2012). ¿Y quién no querría “vivir bien”? Encrucijadas del proceso de cambio boliviano. Cuadernos de pensamiento crítico Latinoamericano, Numero 48, Junio 2012

Gudynas, E. (5 March 2012). La izquierda marrón (The Brown Left). La línea de fuego. Retrieved from http://lalineadefuego.info/2012/03/05/la-izquierda-marron-por-eduardo-gudynas/


Thursday, July 5, 2012

WELCOME TO BOLIVIA

It is a chilly winter evening in the first days of June when I finally arrive at the airport of Cochabamba. The place is busy, bustling with delegates to the meeting of the Organisation of American States (OAS / OEA) that has just come to its end here in Cochabamba.

I am, however, too exhausted to pay attention to all this. I have been on the road for two days and had to do some extra exercise at my point of entry to Bolivia, El Alto airport just outside (or rather: just above) La Paz, at an altitude of 4,000 m. Although I was going to continue to Cochabamba in the very same airplane, I was asked to leave the plane with all my luggage, run across the airfield, find the officer that would put the migration stamp in my passport, fill in a customs declaration, and sprint to the other end of the airport building in order to be able to enter the airfield and the very same airplane again. I did all this in about 20 minutes and arrived just in time for the take-off to Cochabamba. Welcome to Bolivia! In front of the majestic Illimani, a Samsung ad greets me.
Arriving in La Paz

In Cochabamba, my boyfriend and his niece are waiting for me. What a welcome, after a year!
As we leave the airport, the 15-year old niece goes on about the “folkloric nonsense” organised as the farewell ceremony for the OEA delegates. “A shame for Bolivia”, she thinks. With her white complexion, they call her “gringa” in the family. Welcome to Bolivia, a country that is not one, but many.
After the obligatory welcome tea, hugs and kisses with the family, my boyfriend and me take a taxi back to our house. He has found a house in a “safe place”, and that means: In a place with security guards. Our house is in a closed urbanisation that can only be entered passing a safety checkpoint. The taxi driver has to leave his ID card before he drives us up to our house, a lovely house with a garden for our dog, but also with a high fence with sharp ends.
Needless to say, I hate closed urbanisations. But my boyfriend says that only here we can be safe – safe from people who don’t have as much as we do, who live in the Southern part of the city or in the nearby villages and come here at night to steal our things.



Welcome to Bolivia, the place where everybody is afraid of everyone. The richest are so afraid that they live up the hill, with double the amount of safety guards and electric fences. We live in an upper-middle class ghetto in the city. Then there are those who can afford a house and have money but do not identify with the established middle class. They organise their own protection, usually by warning thieves that they will be lynched if they enter the area. And then there are the ones who don’t have a lot and live in the Southern part of the city, some of them also up the hill, but without any protection. These people might get killed in a fight over a few Bolivianos, but there is nobody to protect them. So you see: Everybody is afraid, because there is always somebody who has less.

As the whole country, Cochabamba is a highly segregated city. I do not doubt that I need to be concerned about my safety here. But every day, in so many details, it strikes me: When will these people see that they are part of the same Bolivia?