Cambas Attack

Santa Cruz does itself proud: Watch white people attack indigenous folk because . . . well, their skin is brown, same color as the president's. Inka Kola News has the video. And while you're there, vote for Otto in the 2008 Weblog Awards.

Grumblings From the Medialuna

The BBC has an article today about the run-up to the constitutional referendum in Bolivia next month. It's short but even-handed. In addition to interviewing Plan 3,000 community leader Portugal Quispe, reporter Daniel Schweimler quotes Jim Shultz of Democracy Center and Blog From Bolivia fame, Branko Marinkovic, and Victor Hugo Rojas:

I asked the UJC vice-president, Victor Hugo Rojas whether he thought more violence was inevitable in the run-up to the January vote on the constitution.

"Change," he said, "is painful. Whether the change will benefit them or us, we'll have to see, but there will be violence. It has to happen and may get worse."

Yikes. Anyhow, it's a recommended read.

Letter From the Pro–Santa Cruz Committee

Just in from Santa Cruz. Translation is pending. Take it with a pinch of salt. (Click document to enlarge.)

Translation (mine) follows. Please feel free to correct.

Autonomous Department of Santa Cruz. Dec. 4, 2008

Gentlemen:

The Pro–Santa Cruz Committee is an institution that for more than 50 years has fought for democracy and progress for the people of Bolivia and Santa Cruz. Thus, today it fights for autonomy, through a democratic media. For example, this past May we backed a popular referendum in which 85% of the citizens voted for the Santa Cruz autonomy statute. Similarly, citizens of Pando, Beni, and Tarija departments also backed their respective autonomy statutes. Autonomy is our proposal to change Bolivia and create a more democratic and prosperous society, with better opportunities for everybody equally.

Today in Bolivia we live with a constitutional referendum campaign backed by the [ruling party] MAS and the government of President Evo Morales. The Pro–Santa Cruz Committee has decided to participate in this campaign, asking the citizens to vote "No" to the proposed constitution. We do not think that this constitution grants liberty, democracy, and equal justice for all, nor does it contribute to the unity of Bolivia, and it especially does not recognize our autonomy. It requires that departmental resources be administered by the central powers in La Paz.
The government of President Morales has answered our peaceful and democratic campaign with political and judicial persecution against our autonomy leaders--the departmental prefects and the civic leaders. This persecution is based on false accusations. For example, the MAS government accuses the president of the Pro–Santa Cruz Committee, Brank Marinkovic, of having allegedly participated in a dynamite attack against a gas pipeline in Tarija department. But this grave attack never happened. This was confirmed by published technical reports from the company that runs the pipeline, Transierra, stated that the damage was from a fire due to poor operation.

The government persecutes; it hides military operatives; it prosecutes its opponents with its own judges and prosecutors, ruling through propaganda and paid television. This demonstrates that the MAS government does not want any contrary opinion in the campaign for its constitution.

The letter is to inform you of this crisis of liberty and democracy that Bolivia is suffering.

[Signed] Luís Núñez Ribera,
First Vice President

[Seal, Pro–Santa Cruz Committee]

Cambas Embrace Poor Neighbors in Unprecedented Solidarity After Evo Win

Well.... no.
Bina translates an article about high-level skulduggery in Santa Cruz, in which the municipal government conspired with a real-estate developer to bulldoze low-income homes in an effort to protect the property value of a planned luxury development.

At 10 a.m on Tuesday, heavy machinery belonging to the Municipality of Santa Cruz arrived at the location to begin the demolition of the homes, which were in the last phase of construction in the community of La Comarca, Warnes, 9 kilometres inside the city limits of Santa Cruz. Mayor Percy Fernández was forced to fire six high-level functionaries, including María Costas, the sister of prefect Rubén Costas.

Reconciliation? Hrmph.

Also: The White House can't access Google News. And, you know, read news about Bolivia.

In Santa Cruz

Contrary to the scuttlebut, there weren't mobs of enraged campesinos on the outskirts of the city, armed to the teeth with dynamite and guns, awaiting Comrade Morales' orders to storm on in. In fact, it was relaxing between the barricades. I saw no mobs at all. (There are several stores in the city center, though, that have boarded-up windows in anticipation of violence--possibly tomorrow, I hear. But then again, most of what I've heard just hasn't come true.)

Natch, I got pictures, but I'm heading out of town again. I don't want to spend the night in this city. They'll possibly be posted tonight, but tomorrow is more likely.

Roadblocks to the Left of Me, Roadblocks to the Right, Here I am

It's official: I'm stuck! Through the grapevine I hear that the opposition has removed their roadblocks surrounding Santa Cruz, yet now we have pro-government forces erecting their own. So, while the country is slowly gaining stability, there's still a whole bunch of pissed-off people. In fact, there's supposed to be a whole bunch of angry MASistas on their way to Santa Cruz "to take back what is theirs." (I quote a anti-MAS shopkeeper just outside of Santa Cruz who calls MAS "a bunch of regressives," so interpret that according to your own political philosophy/party sympathy--I've got no insight at the present moment.)

What this means at Down South headquarters is that our staff of one is on a forced vacation! Could be worse--we could be stuck in Santa Cruz. Instead, we are still in a little town just a couple of hours out (no, we ain't saying where, as it's a pro-autonomy town and we don't want the locals to know they have an Evo sympathizer in their midst; they are nice folks here, and we don't feel like rocking the boat). We can't get to Cochabamba, and we don't feel like negotiating roadblocks just to end up in Santa Cruz (yuck!). So here we sit, watching our dwindling money supply (no banks in town, natch), and reading bad science fiction and mystery novel (thank god for the local book exchange).

Meanwhile, El Dude has published a letter from Latin Americanists asking the U.S. to disclose who the recipients are of your tax dollars (that is, besides the banking industry). Here's an excerpt, but go over to Abiding in Bolivia for the whle thing.

We call on the U.S. government to turn a new page in its relations with Latin America by clearly and unequivocally condemning the violent, destructive and anti-democratic means employed by members of Bolivia's pro-"autonomy" opposition. Most importantly, Washington must also disclose its funding for groups inside Bolivia - through USAID and other agencies - and reveal the names of the recipients of these funds. The U.S. government must cease any and all support - financial or otherwise - to any group or person in Bolivia and other Latin American countries that engages in violent, destructive, terrorist, or anti-democratic activities such as we have witnessed with great shock and sadness in the past weeks in Bolivia.

The Long Way to Santa Cruz

I'm back in Santa Cruz, after an exhausting 15-hour adventure from Cochabamba. If you've been following the news, you know that the anti-Morales opposition has blockaded the roads surrounding Santa Cruz, in protest of hydrocarbon revenues being used to support the elderly and infirm ($26 a month--pretty decadent!).

I wasn't too worried about the blockades, as the cruceños who started them are apparently in cahoots with the U.S. government. Since I'm quasi-credentialed from a U.S. paper, I figured that they'd be sure to let me through (I also have a contact number from the Pro–Santa Cruz Committee on speed-dial, which I was ready to use if anyone messed with me.) Note: The U.S. ambassador has once again been expelled.

I needn't have worried: The blockades, starting about six hours outside of Cochabamba, are relaxed and peaceful (at least the ones I've seen). I planned on arriving at the first of the blockades around sun-up, but my timing was off and it was pitch-dark when the bus pulled over and everyone got off. There was no moon last night, and street lamps don't exist in isolated parts of this country. So I just followed a group of people closely, occasionally stepping on a sleeping figure on the highway, weaving in and out of lumber trucks, buses, private cars. I slipped down an embankment once and couldn't find my footing to get back up on the blacktop, but suddenly I heard "Manos, manos" and saw an outstretched arm coming from the blackness above. I grabbed on and an anonymous Bolivian helped me up. It was quite pleasant in the tropical nighttime air with the wind blowing down the empty highway, the palm-tree fronds clattering off to the side, and strange bird sounds emanating from the brush. The stars were magnificent. I could only recognize the Belt of Orion; all the other stars were unfamiliar to me, a man from the northern hemisphere. The only thing that spoiled the experience was a young girl who kept screaming at me "Monkey, monkey, monkey!" I guess I look like a white monkey.

After our group passed the roadblock--a heap of brush piled high on the road--we sat in the darkness and waited for a vehicle to pick us up. Shortly thereafter, an empty luxury bus charged us a little more than a dollar each to drive us another hour down the road to the next roadblock. I settled into my seat and dozed.

When we stopped, it was light out. All the passengers filed out and we grabbed our luggage, and we started hoofing it to the roadblock, which this time consisted of three-foot-high heaps of dirt. On the other side, motorcycle cabbies waited for customers, but I just followed the other people, and after about two kilometers of huffing and puffing, we came across another roadblock. We pushed on. Two roadblocks later, I finally caved in and hired a motorcycle. Balancing precariously on back, loaded with my duffle bag and backpack, we zipped down the highway, empty except for the occasional other motorcycle cab with a mamita perched sidesaddle on back, voluminous skirt billowing in the wind, until we hit the final roadblock. There, a dump truck was parked, selling space in back for the final push into Santa Cruz. I threw my bags in back and climbed aboard, grateful that I was almost at my destination. I was wrong.

There were still roadblocks ahead on the highway, and to avoid these the driver took to the back roads. A dirt track was now our road, with the truck bouncing over potholes and nearly throwing the passengers off. Tree limbs overhung the route and clawed at my face as we passed underneath. Occasionally the road disappeared entirely and we traveled along vast riverbeds. It's the dry season right now, and the streams are dwarfed by the floodplains. I'd love to see this land when the rivers are swollen and full. Finally, four hours later we arrived in the outskirts of Santa Cruz. I ran to the side of the road and took a long, needed pee. Then I went and flagged a cab down and found my hotel.

My mission is to check out the town where Che Guevara died over forty years ago. I'm trying to put together an article to coincide with Soderbergh's new Che biopic that will be screened at the New York Film Festival next month. That's the plan, anyway. But now I've been told that it's impossible to leave town due to the roadblocks. It was supposed to be impossible to even get to Santa Cruz, though, so I hope tomorrow I can negotiate my way out of here. I don't really like this city--the people are not very friendly, and it's too expensive. But I am tired and worn out, and you never know, there might be riots here again tomorrow, which I should really experience. Last time I was here I pulled out a day before everything really went to hell.

I have to say, though, that the roadblocks and the riots seem to be an immature reaction to the central government's plan to rewrite the constitution and redistribute wealth. I'm too tired to go into it now, but I suggest you read the latest Democracy Center blog entry to gain a view on this volatile situation.

Missed It

Timing is everything, and my timing is off. A day after I left the city of Santa Cruz, a mass confrontation between Morales supporters and the opposition occurred in the plaza where I had spent the previous day, waiting for an email from the Pro–Santa Cruz Committee. The email never came, I suspect for good reason: The leaders were probably busy planning the action that resulted in several bloodied Morales supporters. According to La Razón, when a group of pro-government demonstrators approached the Plaza 24 de Septiembre, a group of autonomy supporters viciously attacked them, shouting, "Shitty highlanders," "Indians, return to your own land," and "We don't want your bad race in our land." The paper even reports that women who were dressed in traditional attire--who weren't even participating in the demonstration--were also attacked.

But don't call it racism!

In other news, I left my camera in Cochabamba, so don't expect too many pictures.

Waiting in Santa Cruz

I've been kicking around Santa Cruz, the center of the opposition movement against Evo Morales, for the past few days. It's a nice enough city--tropical and sunny, a nice change from frigid La Paz. Yesterday I stopped by the offices of the Pro–Santa Cruz Committee, the main opposition group composed of wealthy landowners (and, some would say, crypto-fascists). I was treated politely, but wasn't able to score an interview. Today, though, I received an email from a representative from the committee that hinted at the possibility of an interview with Branko Marinkovic, the leader of the group. If it happens, it would be a good story.

But I'm also itching to get out into the countryside. There's all sorts of interesting things going on: roadblocks have been set up around Sucre by pro-Morales campesinos; other roadblocks have been set up blocking access to the border of Argentina by the Morales opposition. And here I am, sitting in a café with an eye on my inbox, at the mercy of others in planning my day.

If the interview with Marinkovic falls through, I might visit Plan 3,000, an impoverished neighborhood here in Santa Cruz that is one of the few Morales strongholds in this city. I strolled through it yesterday, before meeting with the Pro-Santa Cruz Committee people, but time was tight and I couldn't do much more than take a few pictures before I had to turn back.

Unlike other areas in Santa Cruz, which is a particularly wealthy city, Plan 3,000 has few paved roads, and it has a semi-open sewer. There's trash everywhere, and the wind whips up the dry, sandy soil. While Santa Cruz's city center is chock-full of new S.U.V.s and late-model sedans, on Plan 3,000's streets are rusted taxicabs and horse-drawn carts. In Plaza 24 de Septiembre--the main tree-lined park where families stroll and lovers spoon on benches--there is a large poster of Christian Urresti, a young man who was killed during the 2007 Cochabamba riots (the poster reads: Youth martyr for democracy. Assassinated on Jan. 11, 2007, in Cochabamba while crying out for democracy and liberty by a group of coca farmers who killed him with a machete and by choking him to death. For this we ask for justice for him and the other victims of the authoritarianism headed by Evo Morales). In Plan 3,000, there's graffiti calling department prefect Ruben Costas a son of a bitch (hijo de puta) and a cock. (First picture at the top.)

It's a city divided in a country divided.

Now, back to the email.