The Cabildo in El Alto

Everything is closed today. The city is even more deserted than it was on the 16th of July, La Paz Independence Day, because today is the Cabildo, the meeting held in El Alto to protest the possibly movement of the seat of the government (administrative capital) from La Paz to Sucre. The hospital was eerily quiet - the Claudias and a few nurses were the only people I could find – and there were no mini-buses sputtering up and down the streets. Because it seemed like the whole city was in El Alto, Alison (my roommate) and I decided to head up to the Cabildo to check out the scene. The speeches were scheduled to start at 1:00, but because people from all over the Department of La Paz (which includes La Paz, El Alto, Lake Titicaca, and the neighboring mountains) had come to the meeting, the streets in and around El Alto were completely packed as early as 11:00, making it very hard to get near the action.

We found a trustworthy taxi to take us up the “back way,” which instead of the highway-like Autopista is a set of narrow and mostly cobblestone streets that wind through the heights of Sopocachi Alto. It’s actually the same route that the taxi used to take me from the El Alto airport to the city center when I first arrived, and the trip was just as stunning in the daylight. The taxi took us as close as he could get to the center of the Ceja, the center area of the Cabildo, and we (surprisingly) only had to walk about 5 blocks until we were fully immersed in the horde of people gathered around the platform and cheering on the speakers.

It was a fascinating experience being in the middle of not only a political, but also a cultural rally. Situating the administrative capital in La Paz, with its location in the Andes and with it’s heavily Aymara population, is symbolic of the political and cultural importance of the indigenous people. After the election of Evo Morales, who is the country’s first Aymara president, for the first time in the history of Bolivia the indigenous people (who only received voting and land-owning rights in the 1950s) seem to have representation and recognition in the government. Also, the decision to hold the Cabildo in El Alto is meaningful because La Paz’s sister city is considered the indigenous capital of Bolivia, further emphasizing the importance of the indigenous community. If the administrative capital were moved to Sucre, which is in the south of the country, I think many people in La Paz and El Alto feel that the newfound appreciation of indigenous rights and culture would disappear.









[People cheering as a helicopter, possibly with Evo Morales in it, flew by]

[“In Defense of the Department of La Paz: The Seat of the Government Will Not Be Moved”]




[Flag of the Aymara Nation]



[“The Rich Also Cry: They Can’t Govern Us Anymore”]





Being one of only two white people walking through the streets of a completely indigenous community, I sensed an interesting mixture of curiosity and also hostility. People all around me were looking at me with such scrutiny that it was impossible not to feel subconscious. Some people would shyly smile, while others would snidely call us “gringas” under their breath. When one woman saw me with my camera, she grabbed my arm and started to yell at me in Aymara (I think that some indigenous people believe that cameras and photography can steal their soul). When we were sandwiched in the middle of the crowd, most of the people were paying more attention to us, trying to figure out what we were doing holding Bolivian flags in the middle of the Cabildo, than they were to the political speakers.

I know that these people have an incredibly history of oppression, but it really bothers me that foreigners are consistently treated with such hostility. I guess I just don't understand how there can be such malice when we are clearly there to appreciate the politics and indigenous presence of the country.