Reflections on Cochabamba, Part III, The Inauguration

I had chosen a hostel to stay in Cochabamba, one that fit easily into my budget.  It was kind of a boarding house; as was common in South America, breakfast was included in the cost of the room.  Daily, we were served processed orange juice, coffee or tea, including the option of Maté de Coca, and a white roll, with butter and jam if we wished.   The morning of the inauguration of the conference I decided to sit down to breakfast, to be able to share that time with those whose rooms adjoined the same sitting room as mine did, or were staying just a few steps up or down the main staircase.  Being bilingual English/ Spanish, I was able to talk with just about anyone I wanted to at and around the conference. At the hostel breakfast table, I met indigenous people and campesinos from Bolivia and Peru, as well as an Italian woman who had lived in Guatemala for almost eighteen years, who was an anthropologist.  Someone asked me about life in the US; was it true that everyone there had big gas guzzling cars, bought whatever they wanted, and didn’t care about the fate of people in the rest of the world.  I assured them that there were many folks in the States who were conscious and concerned, but that sometimes their choices were limited by archaic regulations and codes, which took time and energy to change.  As an example, I mentioned that hanging one’s laundry on a clothesline was prohibited by various homeowners’ associations and in some towns.  Most of my compañeros were shocked by this revelation.  “Forced to use dryers”, murmured a man sitting right next to me.  I wondered if I had helped or hurt the animosity toward the US by sharing this tidbit.  Actually, the prohibition on using clotheslines is pretty shocking to me too; glad I don’t live in one of those communities, because I love to see clothes hung out to dry in the open air, being blown about by the wind.  Seeing white cloth diapers flapping in the breeze, mostly an anomaly these days, can put a big smile on my face.  But back to Cochabamba…

We set out to catch the free bus that ran between Cochabamba and the conference site in Tiquipaya, about 30 minutes out of town.  In a city of 2 million people, the free buses happened to leave a block and a half from the hostel, something I hadn’t known when I booked my room.  The ride to the conference was always a good way for me to talk to new people; this morning I struck up a conversation with two other women who were also attending the conference alone.  One was a student and the other was an activist, both from Bolivia.  When we got to the stadium in Tiquipaya where the inauguration was to be held, my new friends wanted us to all sit together.  I was glad to feel like a part of a group but I also didn’t want to sit in one place, and a straight back chair at that, while so much was going on in all corners of the venue.  I excused myself and wandered off to explore the scene from various perspectives and to see who was out and about.  The air was filled with high energy and anticipation.

There were groups of indigenous gathered in different spots, each in their distinct native dress, practicing or preparing for a variety of rituals, doing interviews and getting their photos taken.  Other people were waving humungous flags, banners, or parasols—the sun at 9000 ft. was already beating down and it wasn’t even 10AM.  The Bolivian National Guard was lined up in their red berets and jackets; Evo would inspect the troops before speaking to the crowd.

After a while the inauguration began, with an indigenous ceremony, followed by speeches and blessings from indigenous and other representatives of five continents.  I loved how the ceremonious activities were deemed as or more important than the ‘business’ that took place that day. Nobody rushed through them to get onto the other parts of the program.  Participants appeared to be very present and deliberate. After all, we were here on behalf of Mother Earth and her rights.  Everyone was in a joyous, anticipatory state of mind.

The date was April 20, 2010, and in another part of the world, unbeknownst to conference participants as yet, an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico had exploded, causing what would be called the biggest environmental disaster in US history, which would still not be stopped at the time of this writing, over two months later.  But there in Cochabamba that fair morning, people were gathering with conviction and hope, called together by one of the first indigenous Presidents of a nation state, to raise their voices, get to know each other, share their struggles and intentions, and come to consensus on many issues surrounding Climate Change and Mother Earth Rights.  We believed that we could meet this challenge, listen to and respect each other, give Mother Earth the honor she deserves, and work together to conceive documents that would be presented to the United Nations and other gatherings of nations, organizations, and peoples, documents created to represent the voice of many to whom voice had not yet been given in the international political arena.  We the People.  We were gathering.  This inauguration was the symbolic and official beginning of the conference, a ceremony, a place to survey those we were among, to come together, to get inspired and then go forth and do our work.

The highlight of the inauguration, for me, and for many others I believe, was the speech by Evo Morales.  Indeed, even the President’s entrance was a highlight, judging by the reception he got. I for one was thrilled to be in his presence.  Then, when he got onstage and started talking, I was impressed with the way he spoke to his audience, very informally and warmly.  He was humorous and engaging. Afterwards, when I read other accounts of what he had said that day, I was surprised.  The things that had impressed me the most got little or no comments from other reporters.  Evo may have talked about the need to get rid of the capitalistic system, but not with a vengeful tone, and he did not dwell on it, at least not that morning.  He taught by telling stories, sharing about his life, and relating to the life of the common people in Bolivia and elsewhere.  He focused on individual actions that can make a difference in the world, ways we could each Live Well.  Evo encouraged us to use handmade clay dishes instead of plastic (although he erroneously, I believe, said that the lead in the clay was not as dangerous to humans as plastic is for Mother Earth; I’m sure that there are glazes that could be used that do not contain lead, so that we could choose personal health as well as protecting the environment).  He talked about wearing ponchos made of wool and hand woven by local women, as his poncho had been woven by his mother, instead of using plastic ponchos from the US.  They keep one drier and also last much longer. He also mentioned the importance of not eating meat and poultry to which hormones were added, and avoiding crops grown with GMOs.  He lamented the consumption of Coca Cola and told a story about a time he had gotten sick from drinking Coke

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It was a speech that empowered people to make a difference, to feel camaraderie with others with similar convictions, and to move forward with the agenda set up for the next three days of working and planning together.  In another part of the world, unbeknownst to conference  participants as yet, an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico had exploded, causing what would be called the biggest environmental disaster in US history, which would still not be stopped at the time of this writing, over two months later.  It would be a direct result of our dependence on oil extraction to keep our systems functioning, especially in the Global North. But we didn’t know this yet, and Evo had been sowing the seeds for this conference since he took office as President in 2006, and even before, in speeches he had given to the UN and other political bodies, in his actions and proclamations as leader of Bolivia, and in the way he included union leaders, indigenous elders, and other citizens in decision making about issues that affected their daily lives.  By the end of the conference, there would be 35, 000 of us attendees, sharing the experience in one way or another.  The inauguration ceremony ended at midday, and the next thing on the agenda were working group meetings, which had been started online a couple of months before our gathering.  With the blessings of the holy men and women in our hearts, and the words of Evo Morales in our minds, we went on to our collective work.

A Permaculture designer, water harvesting advocate, and longtime environmental steward, Barbara Wishingrad, attended the Peoples’ World Conference on Climate Change in Cochabamba, Bolivia, April 19-22, 2010, along with 35, 000 other people. She also traveled with a delegation from SOA Watch to Venezuela to visit clinics, schools, cooperatives,and other social programs under the Hugo Chavez government. Barbara has worked as an herbalist, homebirth midwife, street artist, interpreter, and with special needs babies, among other things; she is currently organizing a Water Harvesting Co-op in the Santa Barbara area.   Barbara has lived and worked among indigenous artisans and midwives and has made sharing indigenous wisdom an important part of her life work.  She is founder and President of Nurturing Across Cultures, formerly The Rebozo Way Project: http://www.nurturingacrosscultures.org .

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