On Friday, while meeting in the
center, we looked out and saw smoke rising from the wooded area
above the highway. We later heard that some person or group had
tried to blow-up the gas plant in the El Alto neighborhood of
Senkata. When that failed, they attacked one of the gas pipelines
that serves the city, leaving the center of town without natural
gas.
Petroleum, gas for cars, is now cut-off. In La Paz, a city of
one million people, transportation has ceased. Yesterday a few
busses and taxis passed through roads filled with people walking.
Today, the streets are empty. Most airlines have canceled their
flights into and out of La Paz. American. Lloyd Aero Boliviano.
The stores are picked-clean. Canned goods. Bread. Rice. Cheese.
Milk. Whole shelves are empty in the few super markets. The open
markets where people usually shop are closed under threat of being
attacked by people trying to keep the siege intact. Part of the
electricity grid was apparently blown-up. We are being told that
we may lose water and electricity.
Saturday, the mood was somber, worried. We spent a lot of time
reflecting on what's happening. At the time we were concerned
about rumors that the government would declare an "estado
de sitio," martial law, on Monday. I asked members of the
UMAVIDA Coordinating Committee what that would entail. They explained
that in addition to suspending rights and imposing curfews, they
feared this would be an "estado de sitio al estilo de las
dictaduras," martial law in the style of past Bolivian dictatorships.
In other words, they’re afraid that the government will
begin to detain and disappear movement leaders. Some people have
apparently already been warned they are on a list, along with
2,000 other names of leaders who would be targeted. After making
threats for days, the government did finally declare martial law
in El Alto on Sunday, earlier than expected.
On Saturday night I listened as Radio Pachamama, a radio station
run by one of the groups we work with, took calls from reporters
and people living in the Alto. They said that that military helicopters
were flying overhead and shooting down into the neighborhoods.
As news of new deaths and injuries came in, people called the
station pleading with neighbors to let ambulances through the
blockades. The DJ said, "If any health center is listening
to this broadcast, please send help to…." But the Red
Cross couldn't get into the Alto. They have no gasoline.
Altenos called the radio station sobbing, terrified by what is
happening, begging the government not to kill more people or begging
the mobs not to attack their neighbors. Others spoke with hushed
voices, expressing their pain and shock.
Another caller identified himself as a "conscripto,"
a young soldier fulfilling his mandatory military service. Probably
a kid just out of high school. He said, "I am here with others
in the ***** Battalion. We are ready to support el pueblo, our
people. We are ready to disobey orders. We call on others to join
us." For a minute I couldn't believe they had just identified
themselves publicly.
In the Alto neighborhood of Villa Adela, where water has been
cut for several days, a man just called the radio station to say
that people there were forming a mob to seek out the families
of police in order to take revenge. The DJ tried to calm him down,
pleading with him and others not to confront the military or attack
police families. The caller responded, "Mr. Journalist, you
have to understand. Our people are dying. We cannot let it continue.
We must take a stand. We are ready to die confronting the military
if necessary." Callers responded, saying this was wrong.
That Altenos had to stop attacking Altenos. The poor couldn't
keep hurting the poor.
While some people in the Alto do have weapons, most are armed
with stones. The roads are blocked with rocks and burning tires.
The government, in the meantime, has continued to fly armed helicopters
and fill the streets with tanks and heavily-armed soldiers. Usually
at protests in Bolivia, military police are armed with canisters
of tear-gas to disperse crowds. Now they are carrying "war
arms." Television and radio stations announce, "El Alto
has been militarized. La Paz has been militarized." And as
the repression grows, more people flood into the streets. Pour
down from the neighborhoods of El Alto into the center of Bolivia's
capital.
Today the radio station continues to take live calls from angry
citizens calling for an uprising, or from despairing mothers begging
neighbors to bring a wheelbarrow to try to take their wounded
children to the nearest clinic.
Massive marches are making their way through El Alto and mobilizing
within La Paz. Just as my colleagues predicted—more repression
has only intensified the protests.
Pastor Luis called me this morning to say that his road has been
blocked—that the mobilizations have radicalized here in
the neighborhoods of La Paz. Mariela Ribera, a student in forestry
and a member of UMAVIDA's coordinating committee, is staying with
me in my apartment. We took her out of the hostel where she was
staying, and it turned out to be a good decision. That road is
now filled with tanks. She had planned to stay a few extra days
between the Committee meeting and Latin American Water Forum.
She's now stuck with me until the roads open and flights resume.
We've stocked-up on water and canned food and will wait it out.
I'm not leaving my neighborhood for now. So we are safe and cloistered.
My neighbors are checking in on us, as is Luis. People are watching
out for each other.
The most recent news reports that Carlos Mesa, Bolivia’s
vice president, is trying to distance himself from the president.
“Goni” (that’s what they call the president)
has just made a statement saying he will not resign and that he
will "destroy all who oppose democracy," an obvious
threat to those who are leading these movements.
As things continue to unfold, I will stay in touch.
Abrazos,
Susan
The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, page
263
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