Chau a Bolivia

It has taken a surprisingly long time to start writing this newest chapter of “Lenni’s Adventure.” As you may know, Peace Corps has been evacuated from Bolivia. After a week in Peru taking care of the plentiful and ever-present paperwork inherent to government jobs, we were set free to move on with our lives…to travel, to join Peace Corps in other countries or to face the terrifying prospect of job hunting.

But first, a history lesson:
Bolivia is roughly divided between East and West. In the western area, composed mostly of agriculturally unproductive high lands and mines, live the “kollas.” “Kolla is the original name for the fierce Aymara-speaking tribe that inhabited the land before the Incas came. The Incas, by the way, are the predecessors of the Quechua people who also continue to live in the West of the country. The eastern area is populated by “cambas” who generally appear to be of European or mixed descent. They rely highly on profits from gas, soy and cattle. Although there is a large division between rich and poor people throughout Bolivia, the wealth base is skewed heavily to the provinces in the east. (I’m not even going to get into debt relief programs and foreign aid.) Divisions between the indigenous populations of the western half of the country and the wealthier independence-seeking states in the east have existed for centuries and continue into the 21st.

In 2005, Evo Morales was elected as the country’s first indigenous president and soon began to lead efforts to give more resources and opportunities to the indigenous people. Unfortunately, many of Morales’ programs and policies resulted in alienating and angering the middle and upper classes. He has met huge opposition from the eastern states, who are now demanding economic independence and the control of their own gas revenues. Not necessarily a bad thing (this is how American states work too) it was presented in political propaganda as the refusal of the white elite to help the poorer (and darker) indigenous.

Bolivia survived several large political events lately without violence: elections to create autonomous states, the election of governors, a vote to revoke (or not) those same governors and the president himself, and the somewhat unlawfully drafting of a new constitution. However, the political situation in Bolivia has become increasingly tense over the past few months. Roadblocks have become a constant, restricting travel and causing shortages of food and gas in many communities across the country. In addition, several protests over gas revenue and their distribution have become violent.

As you all know, the United States is heavily invested in the future of Bolivia. It has forgiven their debt, taken an active role in the “War on Drugs” and provided 120 enthusiastic young people to do on-the-ground development work. (Side note: I’m not a fan of war on drugs but it’s a huge and un-ignorable factor in this history lesson.) This intervention has led to heightened suspicion of Americans’ motives, particularly among the higher ranks of Bolivian government, accusations of spying and just general tension. Last week Evo Morales informed US Ambassador Phil Goldberg that he was no longer welcome in Bolivia and asked him to leave immediately. Hugo Chavez, president of Venezuela and ally of Morales, followed suit and sent Venezuela’s ambassador home, too. The US reacted similarly, ejecting both countries ambassadors to the US.

This is when I started to freak out. Every night, my neighbors and I would get together for coffee and the news. Politically liberal and educated, we often spent that hour yelling at the television and getting angry at the one-sided political commentary. We actually had a game to see who could watch the news long enough without changing to a different (news) channel. It seemed that no one knew exactly what they were fighting for as violence increased in the provinces of Tarija, Pando and Santa Cruz. Economic autonomy? Distribution of revenue? Racism? Just plain being paid to protest?

Generally, Bolivians are a “take-to-the-street” type of people. This is there way of being heard and achieving change. Blockades and protests are frequent but generally don’t last too long. This time it just felt different. I should specify that effects were not really felt in my town. There was no chicken and less gas but there was no violence or anti-American sentiment.

September 11th I woke up in my typical anniversary funk. I was trying to avoid televisions for fear of seeing any twin tower images. I had a bad day anyway. When I went to my counterpart agency, to verify that they had paid for my radio and television shows, I overheard a conversation assuring my Peace Corps boss that yes there was a landing strip in a nearby town and no there were no blockades between the main office and me. Instead of dwelling on this obvious reference to a possible evacuation I went to the radio station to schedule my shows…where I learned that the student presenters had never shown up and the manager had accidentally been given the money for the TV shows too. I went back to the agency and from there to the TV station to straighten things out. I was being asked to give a brief interview for the local news when my phone rang. Could I please leave for Cochabamba that night? Peace Corps wanted all volunteers in one place. Reading between the lines I begged for an extra day to prepare and burst into tears. (Never got to do that interview.)

Compared to many other volunteers, my evacuation experience was a piece of cake. Some friends came over for a goodbye fried chicken and tea and I had time to warn several profes of my disappearance and pack my things and requisite underwear; in a rare turn of events it was all clean. I had the luck to travel to Cochabamba with my bestest Peace Corps buddy the incomparable Juice and there were no blockades or violence or anything interesting (besides llamas) between my destination and me.

In Cocha we learned that we would be evacuated to Peru and before boarding the plane we found out that the program in Bolivia was suspended indefinitely. Through this experience I have decided… that when someone is puking that they should be babied like a 5-year old. Their hair should be held, their back should be rubbed, and someone should tell them (as they are airlifted in a military transport to Peru) that the bag that they are puking in has a hole in it and they are actually vomiting all over their last pair of clean pants which will be seen by several Marines, 112 Peace Corps volunteers and the American Chief of Mission in Peru. Yes I vomited all over myself. Apparently crying for days, a bacterial parting gift and air transport in a C130 don’t combine for a positive travel experience.

But good friends, a beautiful country, smiling children, a friendly people, and the opportunity to make a dent in the world did combine for a positive Peace Corps experience, one that I will remember for years…and which will cause me to regale you with uninteresting and oftentimes inappropriate diarrhea, llama, fish head soup, or mistranslation stories.

Thanks for reading.