I got stuck in Miami. I seem to be the representative barometer for political tensions in Bolivia. When I travel, somebody will take over an airport. (or forget to buy jet fuel, but that's another story).
So I wasn't that surprised my flight to Bolivia was canceled due to civil unrest - we'll use the neutral term rather than say because "armed protesters took over the Bolivian airport." But I was a little surprised that the airline took an overtly political position on it.
Three separate employees told me (and I heard another tell another customer) that it was the fault of the Bolivian government. Now four people in three separate locations on two different shifts did not make that up on their own. Somebody told them to say "It's the government's fault."
Now, I wish I could remember what they said when the cruceños took over the airport, installed their own manager and the manager promptly tried to charge American Airlines an extra $2,000 airport fee in cash that morning (American, properly, pays through bank transfers), but they can't possibly prefer that kind of treatment to Evo's treatment.
And I was pretty damned annoyed that they would insult my political perspectives out of the gate as a company policy.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Why it's shocking
I think I've put together a piece of the puzzle about why I find my (re)introduction to the US so jarring every time I come back here. Airports are one of the places where most of us (at least most educated white people from rich backgrounds) are most exposed to the repressive aspects of state apparatuses (uniformed guards who look at our bags and our shoes and our medicines). Take out your computer) and constantly reminded to be afraid of the "terrorists" - through announcements about your bags, and parking and all of that stuff.
Where else would it be okay for uniformed government employees to strip off our shoes and jackets. It's not. It's precisely the kind of government oppression that we cite in other countries as evidence that they are repressive dictatorships. Leaving aside the questions of why "they" need to keep us fearful and what that does to us, why smart people who I respect seem to have drunk the cool aid, how long the history of using some imagined threat to keep us scared, how deeply the what other groups have been used to represent that threat (communists, blacks, drug-dealers, etc), I realized that this is always my first and last impression of the US whenever I travel here.
Sure, I managed to watch the television nightly news and catch a short allergy season report - complete with labcoated experts and biologists pointing at plants - about someone who was scared because she was walking down the street and started sneezing heavily - sandwiched between pharmaceutical company adds - and get my daily dose of fear.
But I can turn that off any time I want to. I can't leave the country - or come back should I want to ever - without the heavy message that I am at risk and that the government is hear to protect me. "They" pepper me with this message of fear every time I walk in or out the door, lest I forget to be afraid while I'm in Bolivia. It's literally the first and last thing I see when I travel to the states and that's' part of the reason it's so jarring.
Where else would it be okay for uniformed government employees to strip off our shoes and jackets. It's not. It's precisely the kind of government oppression that we cite in other countries as evidence that they are repressive dictatorships. Leaving aside the questions of why "they" need to keep us fearful and what that does to us, why smart people who I respect seem to have drunk the cool aid, how long the history of using some imagined threat to keep us scared, how deeply the what other groups have been used to represent that threat (communists, blacks, drug-dealers, etc), I realized that this is always my first and last impression of the US whenever I travel here.
Sure, I managed to watch the television nightly news and catch a short allergy season report - complete with labcoated experts and biologists pointing at plants - about someone who was scared because she was walking down the street and started sneezing heavily - sandwiched between pharmaceutical company adds - and get my daily dose of fear.
But I can turn that off any time I want to. I can't leave the country - or come back should I want to ever - without the heavy message that I am at risk and that the government is hear to protect me. "They" pepper me with this message of fear every time I walk in or out the door, lest I forget to be afraid while I'm in Bolivia. It's literally the first and last thing I see when I travel to the states and that's' part of the reason it's so jarring.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Perspectives
Went to see a movie with a great friend from high school. We saw a documentary about the french guy who tight-rope walked between the twin towers in 1974, when they were finishing up the construction of them. Wild story. Beautiful documentary.
What struck me though, is that my friend, who lives a yuppy life in DC and is working for the government, etc. and I had such different reactions to it. I think it says a lot about where each of us is, not just in our personal lives, but also where each of us lives and what we see on a daily basis ... what advertisements we see, what news filters into our heads, how the people act around us and all of those intangibles that are around us all the time.
I saw the film and I saw a story about aging, about moments in our lives that we can never go back to, about changing, and, to a certain extent, about healing. I saw a blueprint for dealing with our national sorrow and reaction to the attacks on the twin towers and a path for healing.
He saw a blueprint for planning a terrorist attack.
It may not be a conspiracy, but it's no coincidence.
What struck me though, is that my friend, who lives a yuppy life in DC and is working for the government, etc. and I had such different reactions to it. I think it says a lot about where each of us is, not just in our personal lives, but also where each of us lives and what we see on a daily basis ... what advertisements we see, what news filters into our heads, how the people act around us and all of those intangibles that are around us all the time.
I saw the film and I saw a story about aging, about moments in our lives that we can never go back to, about changing, and, to a certain extent, about healing. I saw a blueprint for dealing with our national sorrow and reaction to the attacks on the twin towers and a path for healing.
He saw a blueprint for planning a terrorist attack.
It may not be a conspiracy, but it's no coincidence.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
One of Life's Mysteries
So, I may not have realized when I worked so hard to achieve this privelege, but ....
Having spent weeks of my time, having visited offices all over la paz, and finally having achieved the privelege of bolivian residency, I arrived at the airport only to discover that the privelege of Bolivian residency afforded me the opportunity to pay fifty dollars more leaving the country than I used to as an illegal.
There are two things I can't figure out. One is why Bolivians pay more than tourists to use the airport. The other, and I am still working away on the book about anthropology of the state, hoping it offers some kind of insight, is why the fees associated with operating legally are higher than the penalties for operating legally.
I am not even saying that it's cheaper to bribe officials, I am saying that the full penalties, completely transparent, are higher. One of life's little mysteries.
Having spent weeks of my time, having visited offices all over la paz, and finally having achieved the privelege of bolivian residency, I arrived at the airport only to discover that the privelege of Bolivian residency afforded me the opportunity to pay fifty dollars more leaving the country than I used to as an illegal.
There are two things I can't figure out. One is why Bolivians pay more than tourists to use the airport. The other, and I am still working away on the book about anthropology of the state, hoping it offers some kind of insight, is why the fees associated with operating legally are higher than the penalties for operating legally.
I am not even saying that it's cheaper to bribe officials, I am saying that the full penalties, completely transparent, are higher. One of life's little mysteries.
Monday, August 11, 2008
No News is No News
The much anticipated referendum to revoke the mandates of Bolivian President and the departmental prefects went off yesterday with many fewer hitches than Florida or Ohio has been able to manage for the last 8 years. And nothing has changed in any way. Okay, a handful of the most corrupt prefects lost their jobs, but aside from that, the basic division of power is the same today that it was Saturday.
The highlands back Evo, and the East is against (to oversimplify drastically). There are a lot of reasons for that, but the most important may be that the government is presented, and in fact presents itself, as a government of the indigenous poor, which feeds right into the right's strategy of amplifying Santa Cruz's non-indigenous self-perception and feeding racism.
So the referendum confirms exactly what we already knew, that the country is in a stalemate, with two regional poles of power that still haven't figured out how to compromise on anything.
The highlands back Evo, and the East is against (to oversimplify drastically). There are a lot of reasons for that, but the most important may be that the government is presented, and in fact presents itself, as a government of the indigenous poor, which feeds right into the right's strategy of amplifying Santa Cruz's non-indigenous self-perception and feeding racism.
So the referendum confirms exactly what we already knew, that the country is in a stalemate, with two regional poles of power that still haven't figured out how to compromise on anything.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
One other tidbit
I am, after how many years as a wetback in Bolivia, finally a legal resident. The tramite for my residency visa was, as I have noted earlier, a pain in the neck and a little absurd.
Nevertheless, having vanquished the beast, I have to admit that there is something of a sick pleasure in tramites. It's like a game. It rewards persistence, patience and, especially, good humor. It helps to remember that nobody on the other side of the desk is in any way obliged to help you, but they might if they like you. That joke you tell them in the first thirty seconds might make all the difference.
Still, though, You never know when you're going to get stuck with starting over ten spaces back, or jump five spaces ahead. You step into an office, and you never know what office they will send you to next, or whether that will be the right office. What it is, really, is a twisted, real life game of shoots and ladders.
Nevertheless, having vanquished the beast, I have to admit that there is something of a sick pleasure in tramites. It's like a game. It rewards persistence, patience and, especially, good humor. It helps to remember that nobody on the other side of the desk is in any way obliged to help you, but they might if they like you. That joke you tell them in the first thirty seconds might make all the difference.
Still, though, You never know when you're going to get stuck with starting over ten spaces back, or jump five spaces ahead. You step into an office, and you never know what office they will send you to next, or whether that will be the right office. What it is, really, is a twisted, real life game of shoots and ladders.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Where I've been the past two months
I've been out of touch for a while. I just got back to La Paz after a trip to the Alto Beni, where we were working on a doc about the indigenous group the Mosetenes. The Mosetenes are the owners of the a large communal territory, which is one of the largest and most accessible forest reserves in Bolivia. This should put them in a position to be able to manage their forest resources for the benefit of the whole community, providing a source of income and work opportunities.
But, as you know by now, Bolivia is more complicated than that. For a range of cultural, economic and historical reasons, the Mosetenes find themselves trapped in a cycle of debts owed to the merchants that buy wood from them. The system works like this:
The merchant and the Mosetén agree in advance on the price for a certain amount of wood. The Mosetén almost certainly doesn't have the capital available to extract that wood, so the merchant delivers goods from his (or her) store at inflated prices. These goods include chainsaws, food, gasoline, transport by boat and anything else that the Mosetén might need to extract the wood.
When the Mosetén delivers his wood to the merchant, he usually finds that he owes more than he earns. The merchants are obviously well aware of this.
So the project aims to explain this system of debt enslavement.
But, as you know by now, Bolivia is more complicated than that. For a range of cultural, economic and historical reasons, the Mosetenes find themselves trapped in a cycle of debts owed to the merchants that buy wood from them. The system works like this:
The merchant and the Mosetén agree in advance on the price for a certain amount of wood. The Mosetén almost certainly doesn't have the capital available to extract that wood, so the merchant delivers goods from his (or her) store at inflated prices. These goods include chainsaws, food, gasoline, transport by boat and anything else that the Mosetén might need to extract the wood.
When the Mosetén delivers his wood to the merchant, he usually finds that he owes more than he earns. The merchants are obviously well aware of this.
So the project aims to explain this system of debt enslavement.
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