Bolivia
My return to Bolivia has to be one of the most amazing journeys I have
made in a long time. Nine years ago I made all sorts of journeys to remote
mines in the cordillera that left me with plenty of story-telling material. But
all these trips were in the La Paz region and got to see very little of the
rest of the country. So I have been wanting to go back to Bolivia for some time
to see more of the country and meet my old friends.
The reason for this year’s trip was to collect honey for our project on
the chemistry and botanical origins of honey from different species of
stingless bees. Bolivia is a particularly good field site because there are so
many different habitats, from altiplano at over 4000m to lowland rainforest at
less than 500m.
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Eugenio and Dave in Santa Cruz station |
Dave Roubik, the staff scientist at the Smithsonian I am working with,
and I flew to Santa Cruz de la Sierra in the second week in September where we
met up with our counterpart, Eugenio. After one day in Santa Cruz, during which
Dave bought up a local handicraft store, we set off by train to the Isozog.
Being an evening train we only had light for the first hour or so as we clunked
our way through the backyard of Santa Cruz. Thereafter, we monopolized a table
in the dining car and ordered food and beer. The train journey was five hours
and we arrived at 11pm and were met by a pickup owned by a WWF funded project
in the Isozog and driven a further four hours.
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Dave and a bombac |
The following morning, which was pleasantly cool, we made our
acquaintances with the Chaco’s most characteristic tree, South America’s
Baobab. These have enormously distended trucks, which have green bark and are
covered in big spines. The trucks store water in the dry season, which is why
they are protected with spines, and the green bark enables them to photosynthesise
even when they lose their leaves, but if they got up and waddled around they be
right out of a children’s comic. The Chaco, which is the vegetation of the
Isozog region, is a stunted, dry forest growing on sand. It seems amazing that
there are trees at all. But for a month of the year it rains and fills a large
swamp and a river, and that apparently keeps everything going for the other
eleven months. Although while we were there wasn’t a drop of water anywhere.
During the five days we spent in the Isozog we drove, usually sitting in the
back of the pickup which afforded the best view, to different villages
inspecting a development project that was trying to start cultivation of
stingless bees. We also spent a day opening the nests of an unusual bee that
keeps scale insects in its nest, and another digging up the nests of a bee
which nests in the ground. We found the people, who were nomadic until 30 years
ago, to be very pleasant. They were friendly but didn’t gather round and gawp,
as often happens when strangers with funny gadgets wander into remote villages.
Wildlife was not conspicuous but we got some glimpses including one of a puma
just before it bounded off the track.
Our journey back from the Isozog was something of a Bolivian classic.
It started in the morning with the four hour drive to the town, and it was very
hot and very dry in the back of the pickup. Upon our arrival we were told that
there was no train that day because the contrabandistas (we were near the
Argentinian boarder) were blockading the train in protest of attempts to
enforce laws preventing contraband. So after lunch we made our way to the
office of the bus company in the neighbouring village and procured tickets for
the 7pm bus. Then we found a small museum and whiled away some time there. Then
we took some beers into the plaza and whiled away more time there. Then we saw
some kids eating ice creams with lurid names, so we had some. And eventually
7pm arrived. But the bus didn’t. The bus would now be leaving at 9:30pm. So we
went for something to eat and had some more beers in the plaza, and we were
just walking back to the bus office at 9pm when we saw our bus pulling out. So
we ran and the bus disappeared in a cloud of dust. Upon enquiry, we were told
that it was going to another village first and then coming back and bye-the-way
it would now be leaving at 10pm. At about 10:15pm the bus finally arrived and
we heaved our bags on to the roof. So, having ejected those sitting in our
seats, we ensconced ourselves and prepared to get some sleep. The bus was full
with a party of Mennonites so that the aisles were packed. When the bus finally
departed, this mass of sweaty humanity reeled and swayed on top of those with
seats as the bus lurched from boulder to pothole. At the one stop we argued as
to who had the worst seat: Dave who had a window seat and benefited from the
FRESH AIR, stones, twigs and leaves that came in the window and a Mennonite who
periodically projected himself horizontally across Dave’s lap to be sick out the
window; or me who was pinned under those standing in the aisle. Fortunately,
the journey was only five hours and we did actually make it back to Santa Cruz,
which at more than one point during the day had seemed like wishful thinking.
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La Paz and Illumani |
Dave left the following morning for work in French Guiana and Brazil,
while Eugenio and I planned the rest of my stay. It was decided that we would
go to the Beni together the following weekend, so during the intervening days I
made a trip to La Paz. The overnight bus was luxury after our previous night’s
antics and I arrived at midday. First views of La Paz were almost
disappointing. Nothing seems to have got any better. But it grew on me again
over the few days I was there. The best thing though was meeting friends again.
The weekend came all too soon.
I flew to Trinidad meeting Eugenio and his wife Henriette and baby in
the plaza. After feeding up on the encouraging news that it would be our last
good meal for four days we set off to Ibiato, a village of Serano Indians where
Eugenio had worked as a community development officer some years previously.
The journey out to the village by taxi afforded me my first views of the Beni,
which is a flat, flat, savannah and patches of forest. Ibiato was a village of
palm-thatched houses and a couple of crumbling brick buildings built by
long-departed missionaries. As in the Isozog, we spent our time inspecting
hives of native bees and collecting honey. Henriette was interviewing people on
the traditions of bees and honey for a book she is writing on the topic. And
Mattias, Eugenio’s one year old son, was a hit with everyone ensuring we were
never short of a crowd.
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Collecting honey from in the Beni |
Back in Trinidad Eugenio and family left me to continue my honey
collecting with Nicolas, a rancher friend of theirs. Together we made a day
trip to one ranch where I walked four hours in the midday sun to reach one hive
which was “Not very far away”. Meanwhile, the farmhands in their enthusiasm had
tried to raid a hive of Aficanized bees, the so-called killer bees. So I arrived
back to pickup load of angry bees. The following day we set off for another
farm, which involved a whole days drive through the savannah, including stops
at friends and relatives along the way. At lunch, before crossing the Momuray
river, we ate the biggest piranha I have ever seen. It was the size of a dinner
plate. Nicolas’ farm was in a lonely but beautiful location. The flowing
morning he gave me a horse and a farmhand to guide me and we set off in search
of honey. And we found a lot. In fact, it was one of the best days collecting I
had.
From Trinidad I flew back to La Paz where I organised a brief trip to
Corioco in the Yungas, or montane forest on the Amazon slope. Waiting for
things to happen I made a quick trip to Tiahuanco, a pre-Inca site by Lake
Titicaca. It was beautiful.
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Tiahuanaco |
Corioco was a trip destined to try me to the last. After the terrifying
ride down from La Paz on the aptly named death-highway, with a Cholita (one of
the Andean ladies with the huge skirts) sweating nervously and falling on top
of me at each hairpin, we had to wait four hours 10 km from Corioco for road
repairs. Having arrived I found the person I was supposed to meet had departed
for la Paz. The following day I hired a guide who proved to be useless,
although he did try. So in a final attempt to get some results out of the trip
I set off with a taxi driver. We found the bees quite quickly, as several
species could be found nesting in the adobe walls of the same house, but the
owners were missing being out in the fields. However, once word got down to the
fields that someone was willing to pay good money for the pest in their adobe
walls we had more offers than we could take. On the trip back to La Paz the
Cholita in the corner poured an entertaining stream of invective on the people
not working on the road and then the girl sitting next to me sobered things up
by pointed out the corner her sister had gone over.
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Collecting in Corioco |
In La Paz I said good-bye to my friends and took the over-night bus to
Santa Cruz. Collected a few things from Eugenio and Henriette’s house and flew
out in the evening.
I am sorry the last part of this has been garbled out, but I am rushing
to get it finished.