Walking the Battle Zone
January 11, 2007
Readers:
News reports here say that there are at least two people dead and as many as 70 others injured as a result of the violent confrontations on the streets of Cochabamba this afternoon. For an hour the downtown street below our offices was a back and forth tide of young men with sticks, rocks, and deafening fireworks. We’ll keep you as up to date as we can in the coming hours and days.
Meanwhile, here is what I saw and heard spending the day walking what would turn out to be Cochabamba’s deadly battle zone.
Jim
Manfred Territory
On weekends Plaza Cala Cala is a small traffic circle with a fountain in the middle where families stroll from the surrounding neighborhoods to sit on the grass and eat ice cream. This afternoon, with roads in and out of it blockaded by supporters of embattled state Governor, Manfred Reyes Villa, it was the resting ground for about 250 Manfred supporters equipped with a variety of makeshift arms. These included heavy sticks, baseball bats, metal pipes, a handful of tennis rackets, and one croquet mallet.
This is where I began my walk this afternoon through the streets of Cochabamba, a battle zone waiting to happen and which became one just hours later.
A 21-year-old student at Universidad Privado Boliviano was designated by his friends to speak with me, which involved waking him from a nap on the lawn. “We’re here to march for peace. These sticks we have are just for defense.” He told me that the demand for Governor Reyes Villa’s resignation was, “completely politicized. The cocaleros have come here from the Chapare because they are part of the union that backs Evo Morales and he is against Manfred just because he has different ideas about running the country, like autonomy.”
The Plaza was relatively quiet at 2pm when I walked through it, with the only noise coming from the loud male whistles provoked by the appearance of a young woman in a mini-skirt.
Walking down Calle Libertador toward the city center things remained quiet. The chicken broaster restaurant at Calle Americas was full of people who had laid down their sticks and bats to have a meal. Sixty Manfred backers milled about the empty intersection. One smiling young couple was using their sticks to imitate a battle between Jedi knights. A poster proclaimed, “Evo, Respect Democracy!” A man’s t-shirt offered the suggestion, “Cochabamba United”, on a day when it had never been more divided.
“Eliana Irarte, a 43 year-old business woman in pink sneakers and a turquoise blouse was among those gathered, flat stick in her hand. “We have nothing against the campesinos,” she told me, offering to be interviewed in Spanish or English. “But we can’t permit their destruction of our city. We [the middle class] supported the Morales government. I believed in the change. I just want respect for democracy and to live in peace.”
Continuing south toward the center the streets were mostly empty. A tiny boy rode a bright red bike. A toddler guided by her mother rode a plastic yellow tricycle. Soriada, a young woman in a red blouse was doing a brisk business at her daily street set-up of candy and soda. “The President should tell his people [the coca growers] to leave,” she told me.
A few blocks later I arrived at another group of Manfred supporters just as a heavy man riding a “quad” four-wheeled motorcycle (one of the only vehicles I saw all afternoon) arrived and handed another man with a megaphone an official communication from the Civic Committee of Santa Cruz. The declaration pronounced the committee’s support for Manfred Reyes Villa and those who had taken to the street to defend him.
I took notes on a blue notepad. Suddenly a couple of the men in the crowd circled me, ordered me to leave, and ripped the notebook from my hand. I explained that I was a writer walking the route and listening to the views of their backers, which provoked the men to crush my notes into balls, which they tossed on the ground. Encircled, I asked the crowd if this was what they meant by “democracy,” picked up my papers and left.
Two hours later it was from that same spot that he afternoon’s violence would be launched.
The next two blocks were a sort of Demilitarized Zone. No one had sticks. Five police sat on one corner accompanied by five tired police dogs. The Cochabamba DMZ ended at the far end of the bridge that serves as the entrance to downtown, featuring a huge new billboard put up for the recent summit of South American presidents. “Cochabamba Unica” the sign proclaims, “Land of Encounters”. I don’t think the designers meant the kind of bloody encounters that would soon erupt directly underneath it.
Anti-Manfred Territory
Immediately on the other side of the bridge was a line of 25 erect police officers, a good portion of them young women, with shields and full riot gear facing the crowd before them, a clear barrier against their crossing to the other side. The police looked, understandably, nervous and were reluctant to speak with me.
Beyond them there was no mistaking the differences between the two crowds on either side of the river. On the other side of the bridge at the foot of the city’s Prado (the tree-lined restaurant district) some 600-1000 campesinos were sitting in patches of grass, dressed in the dark woven shirts and brown and black felt hats that are almost a uniform for these women and men. Almost all were chewing coca. I sat down to make notes on my trampled notepad and a group of about 20 surrounded me, watching me write, with great suspicion. I again tried out my, “I am a writer…” explanation, and this time with better results. They were anxious to share their perspective.
“Manfred provoked this,” Teodoro Sanchez told me, a 36-year-old man from the Chapare region of Cochabamba. “The majority of people are tired of being cheated. We are asking for his resignation and we will continue marching until he leaves.”
A clean-cut 15-year-old high school student from Cochabamba, Noel, told me, “If the people put him in, the people can put him out.” The people (el pueblo) was the power always invoked when I asked by what right those assembled felt they could oust an elected official. For the campesinos and workers I spoke with “the people” meant the people who had marched on the city. On the other side of the river “the people” meant the larger electorate.
Both sides were also utterly convinced that the people on the other were paid to be there. But here, as on the other side of the bridge, the motivation was politics not currency. “We want Manfred to leave, autonomy will divide the people.” Sabina Claros said as she squatted next to me. The 45-year-old housewife who came from the rural town of Misque added, “We have no fear, we don’t even fear death.”
The rest of the Prado was clear of protesters and sticks. A handful of restaurants remained opened. In front of one I ran into Carlos, an 11-year-old shoeshine boy who hassles me all the time to buy him ice cream. He had no opinion on the standoff but complained that no one all day had agreed to a shoeshine. I slipped him money for lunch and told him to be careful.
A few blocks later Cochabamba’s Plaza Principal was jammed, as full and as tense as I have seen it at any time since the water revolt seven years ago. A crowd of 2,000 – 3,000 people – most all coca growers from outside the city and members of the regional labor union – filed every available patch of grass and across from the plaza were lined up seventy wide sitting along side the walls of the old Colonial Cathedral.
In front of the charred entrance to the Governor’s office, burned during a confrontation earlier in the week, 70 makeshift cocalero sentries stood in a line almost a block long, armed with heavy sticks and guarding the entrance of the building. Behind them a dozen green-clad police stood guard as well. A young woman dressed in the indigenous clothing of Potosi handed out small bananas to a group of young men.
I approached the sentries, none of whom wanted to give his name. “Almost 70% of the people voted against autonomy. Manfred has violated the constitution by pushing autonomy.” When asked if he really thought Cochabamba’s governor would resign another told me, “If we could get rid of Goni we can get rid of Manfred.”
A few minutes later I went looking for one of the main leaders of the anti-Manfred protests, Omar Fernandez, leader of the irrigators association (one of the more powerful rural unions) and a MAS Senator from Cochabamba. I asked him how the standoff would end. “Manfred just has to go,” he told me.
I then asked him the question I asked of almost everyone I spoke to who is part of the demand for Manfred’s resignation, “What do you say to those who say that it is anti-democratic to oust someone democratically elected?” He replied, “An elected official can lose legitimacy,” and pointing to the huge crowd demanding resignation he added, “Manfred has lost legitimacy. He violated the will of the people [Cochabamba’s strong vote in July against regional autonomy].
The Explosion
It was while I was speaking with Fernandez in one corner of the main plaza that frenzied reports began circulating through the crowd that the cocaleros by the bridge were being attacked. “They are kicking the shit out of them!” yelled one young man who ran up to Fernandez. “You have to mobilize the people in the plaza!” It was clear that protest leaders didn’t expect such an attack today and were unprepared for how to respond.
Boris Rios, who has contributed several articles to this Blog the past year, was in the crowd of cocaleros when the attack by Manfred backers began. This is how he described it to me afterwards. At about 4:15 pm a group of what he said was between 1,000 to 2,000 Manfred supporters, wielding sticks (some with knives fastened to the end like bayonettes) and at least one firearm, broke past the small police lines and launched an attack. In those same moments the overrun police launched tear gas, creating what Boris described as “utter confusion.”
All day it was clear that Cochabamba’s Center was a tank of gasoline and the question was which side would actually toss in a match. The fact that the first confrontation took place on the downtown side of the bridge is clear evidence that it was the Manfred supporters who ignited the fatal melee that followed. Racial epithets (“Stupid fucking Indian!”) were thrown along with the beatings that sent the outnumbered cocaleros running toward the city’s main plaza. This was the attack that people were first hearing about when I was there.
Within minutes, the men in the main plaza began filling the streets that lead back to the Prado and the attack. For an hour the street where we have our offices was a back and forth surge of two screaming groups of stick and rock wielding young men. Once the violence began each side took turns taking vengeance on the other. And, according to Bolivian news reports, each side now has a martyr. The cocaleros prepare to bury one of their own, 42-year-old Nicómedes Gutiérrez, reportedly killed by a bullet that pierced his heart. Manfred supporters will bury a 20-year-old youth, Cristian Urrestia, who was reportedly attacked with a machete and strangled.
What Next?
Reportedly miners from the highlands are en route to the city by truck to join the coca growers and others demanding Manfred’s resignation. There are similar reports of people arriving from Santa Cruz. Cochabamba could be hit by violence on Friday even more widespread than today, as each side in the conflict takes its anger over the killings back into the streets. A force of 1,500 military sent in by the national government, may not be able to prevent more battles like today’s.
Reyes Villa, speaking to reporters from La Paz, proclaimed that he was defending democracy and would not resign. Vice President Alvaro Garcia Linera, also speaking from La Paz, blamed Reyes-Villa for the crisis, charging that he had chosen the patch of conflict over the autonomy issue instead of negotiation.
The violence here in Cochabamba is really two stories. One is about events on the street, which after today may take on a life if their own independent of any wishes by those supposedly leading each side. The other is about a dangerous game of political chess being played out by the two men that have come in the last few weeks to represent the two sides of Bolivia’s political debate – Cochabamba Governor Manfred Reyes Villa and President Evo Morales.
Did Reyes-Villa deliberately provoke this crisis to establish himself, as he now clearly has, as the leading opposition voice to Morales? Or did he set Cochabamba down a path toward political chaos by miscalculation? Did Morales send the core of his political base – the cocaleros – into Manfred’s political backyard to pressure his rival to back off, also setting the violence in motion? Or, did the cocaleros act independently, or even against Morales’ wishes? I have strong sources claiming it both ways.
There is enough blame to go around for everyone and tonight there are at least two people dead as a result. Cochabamba, and Bolivia, needs one of its leaders to rise above the divide and demonstrate some kind of path toward unity. So far, none has.
This report originally appeared on Jim Shultz’s Democracy Center Blog from Bolivia.
