The week before Easter is known as Semana Santa (Holy Week) and was certainly a different experience for me here in Cochabamba than I’d experienced before, in a good way. Thursday night is the night that a lot of people in Cochabamba go out to visit 12 different churches (at least traditionally), started in the early evening and going late into the night. Many of the streets are closed to accommodate the herds of foot traffic and other commercially-minded people take advantage of this to sell lots of goodies, mostly food, but also artwork, trinkets, movies etc. The typical thing to eat in Cochabamba especially during Holy Week is a “pastel” and “api”. This pastel is a giant half-circle, very airy fried dough with cheese in the middle. Api is a sweet, hot, cinnamon-flavored purple corn drink. Another thing people in my group tried and claimed was tasty were little chunks of cow heart grilled with a delicious smelling marinade. While cow hearts were in full supply, alcohol was not, because it is forbidden between Thursday and Sunday of Holy Week, which also surprised me.
A group of us went around together and it was a great experience. It was quite striking how incredibly crowded the churches were with all these people of all walks of life gathering very reverently to pray and walk this pilgrimage together. Then, you squeeze your way out into the street and it’s kind of like a big street party. As we were walking, I saw a stand of posters for sale. Sandwiched between a poster of Michael Jackson, a poster of the teenage movie stars of the Twilight movies, was a poster of Jesus Christ, in all his European-looking glory. I had to laugh at how Western influence pops up in sometimes unexpected ways, melding with local customs to paint a very eclectic scene.
Even though I was super tired by the end of our visits, I really enjoyed it because there was this sense in the air of community, of togetherness. That feeling of being a part of a large group of people gathered together in a very positive energy—kind of like being at a marathon amidst all the cheering, or the Olympics. It’s like a glimpse of what we could be.
The next morning I went with two other US friends about an hour outside of the city to a small “campo” (country) town, called Tarata. We spent the day walking and relaxing, enjoying the beauty of being in the quiet country. Typically, Holy Friday for Catholics in the US is a day of fasting, but that’s not really the case here in Cochabamba. We were told that generally there’s a 12-course meal you eat on Friday…not sure why yet, maybe I’ll learn more next year. After exploring the countryside for several hours we participated with the rest of the town in the Stations of the Cross, which is a form of prayer that takes you through the story leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion. There were a couple hundred people, all with candles, walking for 3 hours throughout the town of Tarata, stopping every few blocks at a station (usually a little display a family had set up with flowers, candles, statues) where everyone listened to that part of the story, sang and prayed. The men and women were separated but we divided our time between the two groups.
Sunday, April 4, is when Easter is celebrated in the US, but here it’s either celebrated at a late night mass on Saturday night or on Sunday, but it wasn’t like how I’ve experienced the Easter culture in the US. Sunday also happened to be elections day, when each of the 9 departments (like the states in the US) elected governors, mayors for the cities, and local representatives. This was the first time ever that some indigenous communities have had anyone representing them in the government—the first time they’ve been included, which I personally think is a wonderful step. As with all political structures, the way things play out is the true test, so we’ll have to see what happens.
You all in the US wouldn’t expect the day of elections to mean anything different for traffic except maybe a little more at rush hour with people trying to get to the polls before they close. However, here in Bolivia NO ONE can drive at all. There are exceptions for emergency vehicles and a couple other rare circumstances but otherwise the streets of Bolivia are empty—no traveling, no public transportation, no transporting of goods, which meant I could enjoy roaming the car-free streets. After walking to the orphanage to spend a few hours there, I walked to the center to eat a wonderful feast cooked by a fellow American (and we drank wine, but don’t tell anyone!).
Two weeks after Easter, I attended an event here at the institute, in which a text book written by three of our teachers to teach Quechua, was presented for the first time. There was a group of musicians playing typical instruments and wearing traditional clothing of Quechua people. It was really interesting to watch how proud my teachers were because publishing this book is an act of giving more dignity to this traditional culture/people/language, important parts of Bolivia’s identity. As is happening in many parts of the world, languages and cultures are being lost in the movement of urbanization and globalization. However, this book is part of the effort to not let that happen to the language of Quechua.
This past week I got to go the People’s World Conference on Climate Change and Mother Earth’s Rights, which was really something. I will write about it more in my next entry, in which I will also revisit the issue of trash here in Cochabamba. That's all for now! If you'd like to see more pictures, please visit http://picasaweb.google.com/nora.pfeiffer/HolyWeekBlog#
5 things I’m thankful for: new Bolivian friends; surprise peanut butter Easter egg candies from my great- aunt and uncle; I got to participate in the climate conference; the ability to live here; today I am healthy.
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