25.10.08 Change is forced through

It’s been a momentous week in La Paz. 100,000 campesinos, miners and unionists marched here (paid by the government) and massed at the Plaza Murillo, home to the Senate. This show of force was to pressurise the opposition into passing the draft constitution so it would come to a referendum.
Previous debates over the constitution have been marked by opposition MPs being denied entrance to the Senate by demonstrators. The partner organisation of a friend was responsible for the blocking and jostling. As she said at the time, “We may need to go over our democracy capacity-building training.”
This time, the debate was held in the plaza—an unreasonably intimidating atmosphere for the opposition. The campesinos were angry, drinking and chewing coca. If the draft constitution’s passage was stopped there would be trouble—there were rumours that San Pedro prison would be stormed to the demise of Fernandez.
Even the date, 20 October, was loaded with historical significance. This day in 1548, the city was founded by Spanish conquistadors; 460 years later, the Bolivians were claiming it back.
After considerable backroom compromises and unbecoming horse-trading, the draft constitution was passed to a referendum. The immediate implications were there would be peace in the city. In the long term, it means Bolivia will be refounded to the benefit of its majority indigenous population rather than their marginalisation and subjugation. Surely a good thing, but fundamental change is painful with winners and losers, and there’s plenty of trouble still to come.

16.10.08 San Pedro prison and the Village People

Spanish classes are interesting at the moment as my teacher lives close to San Pedro. This area is home to the infamous prison, which incarcerates Governor Leopoldo Fernandez. He has been held here since September when he was arrested over the killing of 30 people in his state, Pando. The prison operates semi-autonomously of the guards and day releases can be bought (like everything else in there).

A round-the-clock vigil by Poncho Rojos is taking place to stop him leaving. The Poncho Rojos (red ponchos) are the militarised defenders and guardians of the Aymaran people or self-important drunks, according to who you speak to. Either way, Fernandez is still there and they are making a lot noise. Their custom is to set off dynamite fuses to scare evil spirits, in this case Fernandez, which interrupts my classes.

It would very healthy for Bolivia if Fernandez receives a fair trail, however, the signs are not good. He has been charged with genocide—while the Pando deaths may well be a massacre; genocide, they are not. What words would the prosecutors use to describe Rwanda? I fear the independence of the judiciary will not stand up to a great deal of scrutiny.

In other news, I’ve had to start using another pool. It’s just too much effort to swim around the snoggers and show-offs at the really local and cheap one. Also the sauna is no more relaxing. The last time I was there, the man next to me alternated between twisting the sweat from his sodden headband and running a comb through his thinning hair before returning it to the back of his Speedos. They do have music in there too—surely, a sauna is not the best environment for Village People’s complete works.

So, I’ve left this behind for the swank of the spa at the Hotel Europa. It’s social here too but at least the pool is left for swimming. In the sauna, it’s very chatty with handshakes for new arrivals and man hugs for friends. I’d never seen man hugs exchanged in such sweaty surrounds before and have decided not to make any friends.

28.9.8 Eating flamingo and "drinking alcohol"

Early in the morning, we sailed/rowed to Patiti, an island that was once home to an Inca civilization. All that was left of them was some old pieces of ceramic, which are now housed in a very impressive museum. Whether the local inhabitants would have preferred a reliable water supply or a museum is debatable, but what’s without doubt is that the sponsoring Finns’ cash went to the pots.

The journey back with the wind was swift and peaceful among the birds. Being surrounded by all these animals must be tempting for people looking to supplement their diet. I asked our guide if they hunted the birds. He replied that they didn’t because the birds were protected before adding that flamingo is delicious.

Driving back to La Paz through the dusty Altiplano, we went past a whirlwind. Red sand spiralled up into the clouds, sending up whatever it sucked up into the heavens. As we ploughed along, Susi’s eagle eyes saved us losing our luggage when she spotted a sleeping bag flying off the roof of the car and bouncing down the road.

A little further on we stopped at a check point and got out to buy drinks from a roadside stall. As well as the usual "refrescos", there was beer and every drivers’ favourite, Ceibo. Enticingly described as “drinking alcohol”, it’s 96% booze and comes in a utilitarian plastic container. Very good for the health, the charming cholita told me with a smile.