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An Andean journey through Bolivia, Venezuela, Colombia and Ecuador highlights social discrimination and the difficult relationship between indigenous groups and national societies.
Text and Fhotos: Alvaro Rocha Revilla
 Driving to the airport one does not notice, or one does not want to see, what for foreigners is so obvious: that the porters and cleaners are of Andean origin, that the security personnel and taxi drivers are of mixed blood and that, finally, those who stand behind the counters or emerge from shiny vehicles to begin a long journey are, in the majority, white. But not as white, it is true, as the bright snow-capped peaks of the Bolivian Cordillera Real which we passed just before landing at La Paz's El Alto airport.
We are not all Indians
I checked the statistics and an interesting correlation emerged: Bolivia has the highest concentration of indigenous inhabitants in South America (64 percent) and also the highest infant mortality rate. We queued to board the flight to Santa Cruz. Airports, instead of becoming more human, seem to be more distant and cold even as they try to convert them into hotels.
 We instantly left the Andes and flew over an enormous plain which had once been forest and is now a savannah covered in fields of soya and the large-scale cattle ranches that have made Santa Cruz an economic emporium which is proving to be Evo Morales's worst headache: he recently labelled the business community of Santa Cruz as "racist" for encouraging strike action.
The departments of Beni, Tarija, Pando and Santa Cruz form what is known as the "Crescent Moon" - initially a geographical distinction and now a political division. Eastern Bolivia, in contrast with the western Andean region with its dominant Aymara traditions, is more open to foreign influence. This is evident in the wide avenues and luxurious storefronts of Santa Cruz, a city which in fifty years has grown from a population of 50,000 to 1.5 million. Everyone has forgotten her name but not what the Santa Cruz born Miss Bolivia once said: "Don't assume that we are all Indians in Bolivia".
Genetic musicians
Three hours east of Santa Cruz is Gran Chiquitania, the historical atmosphere of which reminds one of the film "The Mission". Its charm resides in the perfect combination of beautiful churches and an active culture comprised of the local carvers and musicians who give life to the churches. All of the missions (San Xavier, Concepción, San Ignacio, San Rafael, San Miguel, Santa Ana and San José de Chiquitos) have both a choir and orchestra.
 In the mid-18th century the Jesuits, led by the Swiss priest Martin Schmidt, integrated the Chiquitanos through music. In 1767 the Jesuits were expelled from the Americas and the Franciscan order took over Gran Chiquitania. The result was a cultural backlash: masses spoken in the dying Chiquitano language were banned and the new priests shunned the missions and lived instead in Santa Cruz. The churches literally crumbled away until 1975, when another Swiss Jesuit, the architect Hans Roth, began a restoration process that was finally completed in 2002 and which went hand-in-hand with the recovery of the natural musical and wood carving talents of the Chiquitanos.
Less well-known than its Brazilian namesake, the Bolivian Landless Movement is closely following the agrarian reforms proposed by Evo Morales, particularly in Santa Cruz, where the country's largest ranches are located. The mining recession of the 1980s led to mass migration from the Andes to this department which occupies 33 percent of Bolivia's land area. Change is expected.
 Chávez and the Wayuu
In Maracaibo, Venezuela, an air conditioned van picked us up at the airport. In the streets old, peeling cars and fenced and walled-in buildings dominated the scene.
We drove to the community of Alitasia, which Rómulo Gallegos visited before he wrote "Sobre la misma tierra", a novel about the Wayuu indigenous group - the largest in Venezuela and Colombia, with 300,000 people divided between the two countries. They are also known as Guajiros, a Spanish term imposed on them during the colonial period.
The Wayuu tend to produce an enormous number of children. In Alitasia we spoke with the anthropologist Domecio Montier, and he told us that the Wayuu are polygamous and polytheistic. His father had 39 children and his grandfather 67.
The Wayuu are organised on a matrilineal clan basis and are highly group conscious. They maintain their mother tongue and this forms the basis of their culture in all its manifestations. Legislation has helped them conserve their cultural vigour and to be a mayor, councillor or governor a candidate must be able to speak Wayuu. They are very wary of growing tourism: "We do not want our brothers to become waiters for international companies", Domecio told us.
On March 29th this year, a delegation of Wayuus and environmentalists marched through the streets of Caracas to protest against the coal mining concession granted on their land (Sierra de Perijá). They reached the government palace but were not received by President Chávez, who was having lunch at the time with Diego Armando Maradona.
The Wayuu leader Ángela González asked us: "Where are we going to go, to the city to beg from the people and be despised? Chávez says: let the soldier who fires on the people be damned, but blood is going to be spilled here, for the Wayuu are ready to die for their land".
Caribbean Muslims
 Travelling overland, we left the Venezuelan state of Zulia and entered the Colombian department of Guajira. We soon arrived in Maicao and were immediately aware of the great Arab influence in the Caribbean region of Colombia, where South America's second-largest mosque was built in 1997 by an Iraqi architect at a cost of 10 million dollars.
Arabs - known as Turks in Colombia - have a good relationship with the rest of the local population. Their food is popular and the "kipe" - a fried empanada filled with wheat, meat and fresh mint - is sold by street vendors.
 Leaving Maicao, we passed the Cerrejón opencast coal mine, a great monster that exports a billion dollars worth of coal annually and represents 45 percent of Guajira's GDP. This land once inhabited by the Wayuus is now an enormous hole crisscrossed by great trucks worth two million dollars each.
After spending the night in Riohacha, the capital of Guajira, we visited Uribia, where the Wayuus do not like to be photographed and there is great poverty visible in the streets. Nearby, at Manaure, are the largest salt mines in South America. But despite the coal mines and the salt deposits, the Wayuus of Colombia seem less well-organised than their Venezuelan counterparts and are certainly much less well-off.
Colorados and Otavalos
Although the misinformed call them a tribe, the Colorados (real name: Tsáchila) are an ethnic group in the process of assimilation, with all the adaptations and resistance that such a process inevitably implies. They live to the west, and not the east, of Quito, in a subtropical region of Ecuador.
 The Colorados sport an unusual haircut, combed forward to a sharp point, which appears more avant-garde than traditional. They also grease their hair with annatto (a custom which has given them the name "Colorados", or "reds"). The young Tsáchilas, under pressure at school, maintain the traditional cut but no longer dye their hair red.
Practically everyone who visits Ecuador goes to Otavalo, north of Quito, to visit its famous market. The indigenous people of Otavalo dress exquisitely and their textiles are beautifully made and they are, above all, excellent business people. On Saturdays - market day - seven thousand stalls offer handcrafts, food and textiles in the town's main square and surrounding streets. The market (30 percent of the economically active population work as artisans) enables Quechua-speaking Otavalo - so proud of its past - to conserve its traditions.
 Back to the Viceroyalty
When the Peruvian researcher Javier Lajo was asked to identify the Peruvian indigenous movement he said: "The Peruvian indigenous movement is still in Bolivia and Ecuador". According to Lajo, "The indigenous movement should be analysed as a regional Andean phenomenon and not by segments".
In other words, the indigenous movement goes beyond national borders. And it is an important movement which has already produced presidents in Ecuador and Bolivia. In Peru we seem unable to free ourselves of our weighty legacy as the historical centre of the viceroyalty, and although Quechua is an official language it is not taught in schools (nor is it respected in Congress). Lima turns its back on the Andes, and this is noticeable even as one enters the city's airport.
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