Respite in Bolivia

On the surface, La Paz feels awkwardly normal. On this sunny Friday afternoon, the Plaza San Francisco holds its usual mix of Kollas (people from La Paz) making their way to and from work and tourists shopping for jewelry and crafts.  There is no lingering tear gas in the air, no smoke from business suits being burned in effigy.  Car horns and shouts from the men operating mini-buses do not compete with dynamite explosions blocks away. In the Plaza Murillo, people sit eating and conversing under the warm sun, as no more than a handful of police meander around the square.  Street vendors once again sell scarves and hats, saltenas and fresh squeezed orange juice on the blocks that connect the two main Plazas. President Mesa is somewhere in La Paz, perhaps celebrating Dia de la Madre with his family. And most likely, Janet, the 16 year old cocalero who marched for 8 days with thousands of her companeros from Carocollo to La Paz has returned to her home in the Chapare, as most of her fellow marchers have done already. Today is the second day of such surreal calm in the capital of Bolivia.  On Wednesday, there were marches but they evidenced, more than anything, the fractionalization between - and cloudy strategic plans of - the major movement groups. Yesterday was the national religious holiday of Corpus Christi during which all observed a total break. There were some actions this morning in El Alto, a few road blocks remain, and there were a few smaller marches here in La Paz early in the day but the cuarto intermedio (break/truce) called by Evo Morales on Wednesday evening seems to have become the de facto reality. (For a full report of Wednesday and today's actions, see Luis Gomez's postings)

The question that has been therefore hovering in the air is: what next week will bring?  Some groups are calling for actions starting on Monday. MAS and allies are to resume on Tuesday when, the Parliamentarians, after their unscheduled recess last week (an emergency decision to blatantly flee from the public uproar the passage of the gas law was sure to bring), will return to La Paz.

As I walked today in the streets that three days ago felt like a battle zone, I couldn't help but feel fraudulent. Aren't we in the middle of a "war?" In the past week I have witnessed the most beautiful of acts: whole communities rising up - in the face of difficulty and physical repression - for what they feel is just.  And now, everyone is shopping. It is hard to get used to the wave-like feeling to the current crisis. In such an unfamiliar space, I don't know whether this ebb and flow is normal or a sign that the energy is waning. I am encouraged by the planning meetings of dirgentes (leaders) that are taking place, by the rumored preparations for massive blockades and by the new phase that will accompany the return of the politicians. But I can't help but feel slightly deflated by the exodus of the cocaleros and the miners, by the continued distance between the most powerful players, and by the dissolution of the paro civico (strike) in El Alto.

Yet, something inside me, tells me it's not over: there is too much force for it to fizzle, too much energy for it to end. And so, the weekend commences.  La Paz supermarkets and gas stations have fresh supplies that anxious consumers will surely drain in anticipation of next week's blockades.  Parliamentarians spend their last days enjoying the shameless immunity they granted themselves from direct public backlash.  Altiplano campesinos leaders return to their communities to rally the support that could mean the difference between defeat and victory.  And I ready myself to once again venture to the front lines (under the watchful eye of the Bolivian indy-media crowd) to learn and report the next chapter in this fascinating story.