Ciao!

Freelancing

11.02.2003

This is now officially my first freelance column. Here's the unedited, original version:

It's amazing how quickly things go back to normal. After weeks of increasingly violent protests, an elected government was overthrown, replaced by an interim government. This should be a big deal. And yet people go about their business, rarely stopping to comment on the political situation.

Paceños (residents of La Paz) are now so familiar with protests, that the recent marches passed almost unnoticed. Life continued, for the most part, unmolested during the weeks of protests that started mid-September. The daily protests against the then-president, Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada, only interrupted the noon commute. A minor inconvenience for most. By early afternoon, traffic was back to the familiar frantic pace.

As an American, living in downtown La Paz, the protests were only vaguely present. This even though I lived on the Prado, the popular business and commercial avenue (something like Paris' Champs Elysée), which is the backdrop for every social protest.

I still went out freely through the Prado during the noon hours. In the evening, the city was open for business as usual. I'd meet friends for coffee or beers at posh urban cafés and nightclubs. It's fair to say that, for the most part, the Bolivia middle class was naively oblivious to the growing social upheavals.

Never mind that the death toll was climbing (and would reach at least 70 before it was over). Never mind that leaders of various social movements threatened to increase their pressure against the government – and to bring the protests to the middle class residential neighborhoods of the Zona Sur.

This is not to say that middle class Bolivians are completely ignorant or even unsympathetic to the root problems that fed these social upheavals. On the contrary. The social and economic problems that plague the urban and rural lower classes are well known.

Rather, the problems is a political disconect between the two classes. The middle class is closely tied to traditional political parties and a system of representative democracy. Over time, however, the lower classes have lost faith in that same political system. They no longer see it as capable of articulating or defending their needs. The source of the middle classes' naivete was its very trust in traditional parties to somehow solve the growing social problem.

All that changed on October 13. The protests stopped being noonday affairs, and turned into pitched street battles against the police and army. And they spilled out past El Alto (the slum city next to La Paz) and even reached the Zona Sur.

I watched the developments from a sixteenth story apartment with two American friends. We'd met up on our way to the US embassy, which, ironically, was closed for Columbus Day. So we went up to Stephen's apartment for a window view to the social revolution. From there, we saw the smoke rising from the front lines between protesters and soldiers. I'd later find out (from a Colonel friend of an uncle), that the fighting was so intense, that in one sector soldiers ran out of ammunition and used their rifles as clubs in hand-to-hand street fighting.

At night, I collected some clothes and valuables from my apartment, and headed down to stay with relatives. The streets were lined with rocks, burned tires, and other debris used as barricades. There was no traffic (the city had been without gasoline for days) and so I walked several miles, downhill, to the residential neighborhood of San Miguel.

From there, I sat glued to the television for days. The views from reporters were chaotic and frightening. When we couldn't stand it anymore, we went out into the streets for walks, or bike rides. Many people, especially the school children, treated the event as a type of vacation. It's amazing what people will do to retain some semblance of normality. You ignored the tank on the street corner and the dozens of green berets lining the streets to walk casually to the ice cream parlors, pretty much the only open businesses. This lasted a week.

By Friday afternoon, the president resigned and handed power over to his vice president. Everyone cautiously waited to see if this would end the brutal stalemate between angry protesters and tired soldiers. As normal life returned, neighbors holed up with cabin fever spilled out into the streets. Businesses opened again, and were packed.

A week after escaping downtown, I returned to my apartment. The Prado and the rest of downtown slowly went back to normal. Boutiques and cafés and discotheques opened again. Within a few days, people went about their day as if nothing had happened.

It's now Sunday, and the Prado's closed down again. This time, however, for a city-sponsored series of outdoor concerts, puppet shows, and other festivities. This is what a normal Sunday is like on the Prado. Instead of protesters filling the streets, chanting anti-government slogans, the Prado's now filled with face-painted children, cotton candy venders, and street musicians. It's comforting to see the city's joyful spirit uncrushed.

Posted by Miguel at 10:21 AM

Comments

Posted by: sam at November 2, 2003 09:13 PM

Posted by: Andres at November 4, 2003 01:54 PM

Posted by: miguel at November 5, 2003 07:06 PM

Posted by: steph at November 7, 2003 11:59 AM

Posted by: karuli at June 21, 2004 10:51 AM