BBC World Service | Programmes | Outlook | My journey to meet Evo Morales

Outlook listener Nico Mavris and his wife Lejla travelled to the home village of Evo Morales, on the day Evo was elected president of Bolivia.

On December 31, 2005, my wife Lejla and I found ourselves in the Bolivian Highlands. We had been on a four months journey to South America's most remote areas. The date was significant in Bolivia because Bolivia had just elected its first indigenous president, Evo Morales.


	Nico Mavris

Listening to the news that night, we heard that Evo was on his way back to Bolivia after having spent that day in Havana with Fidel Castro.

Evo's next destination was to be the place of his birth (Isallevi, Bolivia) and the small village where grew up (Orinoca).

Immediately we sought transportation. Alas, none was forthcoming. In fact, these villages were not even on our maps and the only mode of transport was on cargo trucks filled with produce or crude building supplies.

The prospect of risking our lives traveling atop lorries trucks and in freezing rain was daunting. Nevertheless, we did what we had to do and on January 1, 2006, we found ourselves dancing around the mud house where EVO was born, mouths full of coca leaves, with his grandmother, childhood friends, and the emotional and teary-eyed first indigenous Aymara President of Bolivia, Evo Morales!

The road to Orinoca

Arrival in isallavi, Evo's birthplace. His family and friends play sicuri music on tarka flutes and drums.

Evo's grandmother (foreground) and family.

Proud girl with flag awaiting el presidente Evo Morales.

Evo and hat - arrival in Isallavi.

Evo arrives at Orinoca.

Evo wreathed in coca leaves and flower garlands.

An emotional Evo morales greets his family and villagers of Orinoca

President elect just prior to the sacrifice of 3 llamas.

The feast prepared for Evo of the llamas and the villagers' offerings.

Lejla in the little house where Evo was born holding the "wipala"- the multi-colored flag representing the indigenous of Bolivia

Nico and Adeila Guevara, the first child of che guevara, on the same journey.

...today began at 4am in oruro, bolivia, the site of bolivias tin mines and famous carnival.
my impression on arriving is that everything is brown, and seemingly desolate, and there is the perpetua smell of sulfur. we came here for 2 reasons:

1. it is not usually on the tourist list of places to see in bolivia
2. it is the province from which evo morales, president elect of bolivia, hails.

evo morales was landing in cuba to meet fidel castro. then, he would
immediately return to bolivia to celebrate new years day in the
village of his birth and youth, (isallabi and orinoca, respectively) some 173 kilometers south of oruro.

no buses to orinoca, only trucks heading in the general direction,
carrying various products, fruits, vegetables, and livestock. we
further learned that the road was bad, dirt, and possibly impassable
during heavy rains, which we have been having in these days. additionally, at at altitude of around 4000 metres (we´re around 3700m in oruro) getting
rained (or hailed) on while riding on the top of a fruit truck, would
certainly entail suffering, or worse.

it was not long before we ran in to MAS (movimiento al socialismo which is evo´s political party´s) headquarters.

entering timidly at first, we were instantly recognized as foreigners and warmly received. we stayed for hours discussing political events in bolivia and the world, and finally, we found the nerve to ask the big questions:

of course they were going to see evo in orinoca, these were his
people, the ones who helped to carry him to victory, and besides that,
bolivian history was being written.

sensing from the response that the crowds of willing and deserving
people would likely have been more than the capacity of available
transportation, the next question i asked was more of a prayer than a
serious inquiry...

"well", came the doubtful response, "not unless you are part of the
international press corps; we have limited special transportation for international press in the caravan of evo morales. you are not press are you?"

"we certainly are", lejla quickly and confidently responded, "for what
other reason do you think we would come to oruro the day before evo
arrives to make his pilgrimage to orinoca?"

"well then, you must talk with mr. miranda, present your
credentials, and hope for the best..."

several hours later miranda arrived. and, not in the mindset to miss
such an historic opportunity, we were also present, "credentials" in
hand.

"fine, very good," says mr. miranda to a very stunned and surprised nico and
lejla, “but I must know…are you imperialistas, or anti-imperialists?”

sensing that everything was on the line, we responded: “anti-imperialistas,” sir.

"good”, miranda responded, “ then you will meet the others at 4am tomorrow in the plaza under "the clock" and will travel to orinoca in the presidential caravan...."

at 8:30 pm and full of anticipation, we went to our diggs to get some sleep.
yes, it was new years eve, but we did not want anything to jeopardize
our journey into the heart of the bolivian altiplano with its future
president---nothing at all.

shortly before 4am we awoke and, truthfully, the homemade
bombs and fireworks from the night before had not stopped during the
night making sleep difficult. nevertheless, everything had been
prepared in advance and we quickly moved to the plaza and "the clock".

to our dismay, no one, save the remaining revelers of new years eve,
were present. no trucks, no buses, no press.

15 minutes after 5am, we were rewarded. the press arrived and so did
the trucks. there was no sign of evo, and no one had any further
information. So, we climbed aboard a red toyota 4x4 with some indigenous aymara Indians and (bolivian) press and began our journey, but not before stopping by an old woman on the roadside to replenish everyone’s store of the sacred coca leaf.

soon, the mountains gave way to flat, desert brush lands and in the
distance we could see the famed vicuna (like a small llama-type animal of the
altiplano). the sunrise was spectacular and made even more so
in view of the days prospects.

after 4 hours, we arrived in (estancia) isallabi, in the (communidad)
of kallavillka, a village of about 8-10 adobe-type houses just
outside of orinoca.

from here on, what we witnessed, beside being historically significant
for bolivia, was what lejla and i agree was something we could have
never imagined, so powerful as to be almost unspeakable.

...tarks flutes, drums, children waving flags, indigenous aymara, evo´s
people, circle dancing, bright colors, huge cumulous clouds above...

as soon as our feet came down to the brown earth, the aymara came and
took us by the arms. we danced and danced and danced...all the way to
the little adobe house... where evo was born!

these people were all evo`s brothers and sisters, and cousins, and
neighbors and they were filled with such pride and emotion at the dawning
of the new year, the coming of evo, and our presence, that it was
difficult to find eyes that weren´t filled with tears of joy.

there, in the house of evo´s birth, with his family and the people he
grew up with, it was difficult not to succumb to the power of the
human spirit as it merges seamlessly with the timeless universal—
and the realization that so much more than different,
we are all of us so much the same.

we continued dancing, many with cheeks full of the aymara´s revered
leaf (coca), as campesinos arrived from every hill and hamlet.

then, and quite without warning, dust appeared on the road in the direction
from which we had arrived and a white truck with black windows pulled up slowly...

yes….without a question, it is evo morales who now steps out to the
cheers and hugs of his family and friends.

how can i describe this? we seemed to be the only foreigners present
in a crowd of maybe only 50-100 people! all around was a desert
landscape, small hills, the distant lake popo, a small group of houses,
and the PRESIDENT ELECT OF BOLIVIA !

lejla then goes to meet evo and afterwards we try to make some
images to capture the power of the moment.

from isallabi, we continued with evo and the others for an additional 8
kilometers to orinoca where evo grew up. there, thousands awaited his arrival.
so impressive indeed was the extent to which they had adorned the tiny village with every beautiful thing they had ever possessed, from shiny silver spoons, to items of colorful clothing, to green leaves and flowers…

as we approached ever closer we were awed by the continuing music and singing, hugs and tears, wreaths of flowers and coca leaves, dancing…and all of evo’s friends and family, and teachers…a truly ineffable experience.

from there we all walked, danced, sang, our way to the village square
to witness the ceremonial sacrifice of a family of llama.

then, evo, and his vice president (alvaro marcelo garcía linera) made tremendous and emotional speeches. especially evo, as he continually noticed friends and family in the crowd and told personal stories about his experiences with them...

"...do you remember [pointing out a male friend in the crowd] that night of the dance in this very square, when neither of us could get a girl to dance with and then dancing
together all night long, arm in arm?..."

the village then prepared a meal which we all enjoyed with evo,
accompanied by shots of what seemed to be pure alcohol.
after that, there was more dancing and singing by many different indigenous groups from the surrounding area.

also amazing was the [apparent] lack of security for evo, especially
given bolivia´s heated political climate.

he walked around comfortably in his village, and danced, and ate, and
sang, and enjoyed his time with all of us, as if he had not a care in
the world. how can this sincere and simple man be the cause of such an
international fuss, I wondered, as i looked down at his tattered tennis shoes?

sometime later, we made our way back to oruro, our hearts
filled, only this time with an additional passenger who was looking
for a ride to oruro. his name was roman morales, evo´s first cousin
(their fathers are brothers) and his closest neighbor growing up.

all the way to oruro roman played the charango (traditional andian instrument, like a tiny
guitar) and told us stories of growing up with evo and planning their
lives together:

"we always thought we would make a band together, since i played
charango and evo played trumpet. the problem was that neither of us
could sing!"

he then recounted the history of his family and how they were the
original descendants of the inca tribe of yupanqui.

"this is not by chance that evo is president...this is the fulfillment
of an historical prophesy laid down by our ancestors...this is the way
it has to be..."

he followed by making very thoughtful and convincing arguments to prove his point:
charismatic oration, it appears, runs in the family.

somewhere along the way, evo passed us in his white truck and for some
reason stopped and momentarily blocked the road in front of us.

"i do not think we will ever lose the instinct to block the roads!"
(referring to the road blocks which have paralyzed bolivia in years
past.)