A CRASHED UTOPIA

Meeting Peoples, in a world without borders, where the cultural realities can express themselves in the richness and variety of knowledges and ancestral traditions, as the sacred green Coca: an utopia … well worth any price.

It was July 1994 in the rainforest of tropical Bolivian Chapare, where for about a year I was running, as only expatriate, the operation of solidarity Rayos de sol, with the support of the fans of my adventures, even when … lost battles.

In collaboration with the indigenous communities and the leadership of the Federation of the Peasants Workers of the Tropic of Cochabamba (FETCTC), whose executive secretary was the aymara unionist Evo Morales Ayma, a micro-project got on the way, with the main objective of the integral development of the communities in that region, including the defense, enhancement and promotion of Coca, the sacred plant of the Andean-Amazon world.

Nuevo Amanecer, a military operation against drugs trafficking, launched higher than ever the already palpable tension in the area; the action held international relevance, due to participation and logistic and financial contribution of Drugs Enforcement Administration (DEA) of the United States of America.

Hundreds of peasants, men, women and even teenagers and children were stopped – and kept for variable periods of time, even long, into the DEA headquarters in Chimoré – even just for not carrying an identity card, which sometimes was request for control, senselessly, for example to women washing clothes in the river. Pregnant women gave birth in prison, where they had been held, frequently with other small children; about the youngest ones intervened the organization Defensa de los Niños International.

The leaders of the Coca farmers were targeted with specific rage, with the clear order to break the unity of the peasants movement: the executive Germán Felípez of Villa 14 de Septiembre was detained in that month of July for a few days, at the beginning at DEA headquarters in Chimoré;  later on he was taken to the headquarters in Cochabamba, for protesting because a quantity of Coca leaves, belonging to him, had been confiscated for illegal, despite he assured to have stayed within the bounds of legality. During the detention he was subjected to intense pressure and pushed to sign a declaration, ready for this purpose, that he was involved in subversive movements connected with drug traffickers.

Even the executive Felipe Cáceres García was stopped for several hours on 21 July 1994, while foreign representatives of some international institutions active in Bolivia were long questioned by the agents of INTERPOL about their relationship with the leaders of the peasants’ trade unions.

About myself … the same 21 July, at the checkpoint of Castillo, in Villa Tunari, Bolivian special antinarcotics force Leopardos stopped me, requesting very roughly the removal from my Jeep Toyota of the indigenous flag, with squared rainbow colors, called Wiphala.  The communities of Chapare, I collaborated with, had given  me the flag, to make more clear my identification at their side in the struggle for the self-determination of Peoples.

Upon my refusal, a soldier of the roadblock tore violently the Wiphala, causing my reaction and a fight to regain possession of it. I made it, but consequently I was threaten of arrest and detention.

On the following 23 and 24 July, meetings were held by the Human Rights Commission – formed by the opposition lawyer and Deputy, Dr. Ramiro Barrenechea, advocate and representative of the Permanent Assembly for Human Rights, Dr. Edwin Claros, by the representative of the Bolivian Episcopal Conference, Victor Vacaflores and representatives of workers’ trade unions, Cimar Victoria of CSUTCB and Juan de la Cruz Villca of COB – in the communities of Shinaota Eteramazama, Isinuta, Chimoré, Ivirgarzama, Villa 14 de Septiembre, with the presence of Evo Morales Ayma and other executives of the Coca farmers, to whom I constantly offered my collaboration in any possible way, also making available, by driving myself, the jeep donated to Rayos de Sol.

Many public denunciations were collected in the meetings with the population by documenting violence, harassment and damage suffered by individuals and by the few assets of communities and families. My collaboration with the Human Rights Commission was considered, of course, as another provocation by the military forces; in fact, on 25 July 1994, I was stopped again and intimidate at the same checkpoint of Castillo.

On 6th August an additional contingent of about 200 units arrived at Chapare, by so predicting the full militarization of the Tropic of Cochabamba. For the next Monday, 8 August 8 1994 a large mobilization of farmers Coca growers was called against the repressive ongoing actions.

I had decided not to participate for reasons of prudence, conscious to be under gunpoint and feeling the tension, whenever I drove through the checkpoints, especially when the leaders of Coca farmer travelled with me.

By then two Italian friends, a photojournalist and a physical therapist volunteer were temporarily with me at Tourist Village Sumuqué in Villa Tunari; they decided to participate in the mobilization and so at dawn they passed over the gate, avoiding to disturb the staff of the resort, where I had kindly obtained by the owners a fixed room for me and for my guests, as a reference point outside of the jungle.

The two young men were stopped by sentries guarding the headquarters of Leopardos, bordering the resort Sumuqué: the photojournalist was accompanied to the mobilization by the soldiers themselves, thanks to his documented professional qualifications.

The volunteer Angelo had just arrived to Chapare from Italy, for a period of volunteering in Rayos de sol, he had known about during a brief campaign of solidarity I had promoted in Italy with Evo Morales in May 1994; one of the meeting was held in Treviglio, where Angelo resided, thanks to contact with Father Aldo, by then serving in that town, as a missionary of the White Fathers Missionaries of Africa, .

At the headquarters of Leopardos the volunteer obviously, as a due reference, mentioned my name, since I was in charge of the operation of solidarity, while he was a new entry, still adapting himself to the unfortunately complicated reality he found there. At 8.15 that morning a military judge, with some officers and soldiers, showed up at my door and, after checking my identity, ordered me to go and identify the young man, so that he could be released.

At the headquarters of Leopardos I had been addressed many questions by the military judge and the representative of the Government, Victor Hugo Canelas; I answered all the questions, handing them a copy of my Curriculum Vitae, with photos and legal and logistical references of Rayos de sol, in the town of Cochabamba.

I went back to the resort with the volunteer, finally released, despite the very intense tension, because of the massive peasant mobilization, scheduled that morning in Chimoré.

I sat down to write on the porch, when at 10.30 am the military judge came back, accompanied by a large military escort and plainclothes: I was notified by him to have been reported for illegal activities related to drugs trafficking, disguised as philanthropic actions; whereby they had to search my room. I reacted verbally to unjust charges and search, because they didn’t have a search-warrant and even the military judge had no right to jurisdiction.

Not being successful despite my tough opposition, therefore I managed to get to the reception room, to tray a call to my lawyer in Cochabamba, Moisés Kestenbaum, after struggling to get back my notes book, roughly taken away by a soldier; they intent to impede the phone calls by directing their guns against me … but I phoned anyway.

The lawyer told me that a search without a search-warrant was against the new law Bolivian, but that I had no choice, being them armed and being him at least four hours driving far from Villa Tunari; therefore he recommended that I comply with the request to search my room …

I leaded the soldiers to my room, which was searched, while I stood at the door, commenting loudly the injustice they were committing against me, as well as against the peasants and the sacred Coca.

Although the military incharge left my room, telling the judge in front of me that he hadn’t found anything … – and of course the search was about illegal drugs … – the judge decided to take me with the voluntee to the DEA headquarters in Chimoré for an official statement …

I asked to be left alone to get dressed and ready to travel, because deeply inside I felt it could really become … a journey … and maybe … with no return;  I was refused and I had to proceed to the operation with the door open and a gun directed to me by a soldier standing at the door … which didn’t make any sense, because the room had only one window at the side of the door, with no way for me to escape them…

I put on my black jeans and shoes, a red shirt, an Andean vest and took my Passport with me … nothing else …; I managed to get to the phone again and rekorded a message on the answering machine of my lawyer, telling that we were been caught and ready to be taken away by car; I tried to reassure Angelo, who worried about the situation, not finding any justifications to what was going on and whose room had also been searched.

Guessing that some authorities would return for a more detailed search, if we had not been released, I managed to give the keys of the white jeep Toyota to one of the girls employees of the resort, who had approached to see what was going on. The owners were away travelling; they had been since the beginning  a very kind people, supporting me, as well as warning me against the dangers I could have ran in, by lining so openly in Chapare in favor of Coca, Coca farmers and, above all, of Evo Morales Ayma, who that Monday morning was leading the mobilization.

We were taken into a white armored jeep, with armed escort, followed by another similar vehicle, on the direction of Chimoré; after about two kilometers, the mobilization of the Coca farmers blocked the road and the two vehicles attempted to pass through the human mass, causing the reaction of the demonstrators, armed with sticks, stones and machetes.

Two executives of Villa 14 de Septiembre – I guess one was named Abelino – recognized Angelo and me, so they approached the jeep; I quickly slid the glass, despite the guns always directed to me and Angelo, and to their question: ¿Pasa algo? meaning: ?What’sgoing on?, I answered: !Yes! by fixing them intently, like  sending an unverbal message. Of course they understood and took action immediately, notifying the executives and leaders of Coca farmers, together with Evo Morales Ayma, that a repressive military action had involved the Rayos de sol representative.

The soldiers got very nervous and quickly both vehicles reversed the march, driving to Cochabamba, to the INTERPOL headquarters, after a brief stop at the resort Sumuqué to get a heavy jacket for i and me, foreseeing the cold climate of Cochabamba and … maybe … La Paz.

From 4.45 in the afternoon, on 8 August 1994 till 4.30 in the following morning, at the headquarters of INTERPOL, both Angelo and I were subjected, in separate locations and not communicating at all, to such an interrogation … pressing, intimidating and obsessive; the officiers incharge did everything to make me declare to be linked to the terrorist movement Sendero Luminoso and to the groups of Armed Guerrilla Tupac Katari (EGTK) …; they showed me several photos, I was supposed to recognize myself meeting with those groups, but I wasn’t just there … I was accused to encourage a guerrilla cocalera in Chapare, to promote actions to destabilize the Bolivian Government, to  bridge with Europe to get funds to finance subversive operations.

At that point I understood that investigators had come, just on their own, to understand how absurd were the charges of drugs trafficking against me, as there were no proved evidences of any kind,  being also so passionate and clear my defense of the sacred green Coca.

The only policewoman who came over to interrogate me was aggressive, sour, irritating, trying to get me to capitulate in every way and blatantly violating my privacy, to obtain false statements against the top executives of the Coca farmers, with blackmail and insults, ironies and falsehood; persisted for information of all kinds on Coca farmers’ executives, with whom I never denied to cooperate in their just rights social claims and cultural rights.

Of course she didn’tt achieve anything with me, but the very truth, though his morbid interest returned continously, insistent and wicked, mainly with a voracious thirst of any detail about Evo Morales Ayma; it has really been difficult to withstand such a pressure, but I handled it at most, manifesting always my total and radical coherence and loyalty.

That night, as I expected, a military judge was sent to the resort in Villa Tunari, where he confiscated all my personal belongings left in my room: files, mail, documents, money that was meant for planned expenditures for those days, for the building work in progress of the Centro de Salud de Namatamojo, amounting, between US dollars and Bolivian change, to an equivalent of about 3,200 us dollars … and the brand new jeep Toyota Hilux CEP 024, only three weeks old, with not even two thousand kilometers, donated by Italian supporters.

At about 4 a.m. I acepted a cup of mate de Coca, when they finally let me alone after a few policewomen had alternate pulling me against the wall, to the ground and insulting me, to obtain false statements and complaints, they would never get from me, always with a morbid interest on Evo Morales Ayma.

At 7 a.m. on 9 August 1994 I joined Angel, who had also been put under pressure, with intimidating unwarranted methods, considering he had just arrived in Bolivia and hadn’t even got time to take vision and knowledge of the socio-political reality of Chapare and its conflicts.

The head of the Investigative Police and a high degree official of INTERPOL went with Angelo and me by land to La Paz, where we remained at the headquarters of Investigation Political Police (CEIP) from 2.30 pm on the afternoon of 9 August till 5.30 am on the morning of 11 August 1994.

During the trip always fascinating through the valleys up to the altitudes of the Andes, there were a few stops, mainly for breakfast and lunch; I refused to eat all the time, suspecting that they could poison me, given that I had shown to be tougher and harder than they had expected and I maintained myself with the traditional use of the Coca with the leaves they had agreed to give me.

At the time of lunch break, a bit longer than for breakfast, already at high altitudes, under a brilliant sun and the clear blue skies of the Andes, one of the two officials escorting us, very confident and outrageously polite, took me aside and told me that it would be the best for me to find an agreement with him: if I had revealed the secrets of the leaders of Coca farmers – of course the interest was about the most prominent names – helping with the investigation, I’d have been out clean and back straight to Chapare with no mention of the incident.

In the final attempt to make me fall into his trap, he said he would just be satisfied with a denounce against Evo Morales Ayma; if I had declared that he was linked to international drugs trafficking, my words would have been enough to extradite him to USA, justifying the full operation undertaken in Chapare; the misery of his request strengthen even more my position in defense of Evo Morales and the Coca farmers at any price…

I told him kindly, but firmly, that he would get from me nothing but the truth, that I had accepted voluntarily to join and support the claims of the Coca farmers, who were acting under full legally, in broad daylight, that all the union leaders I knew had nothing to share with illegal situations, namely the drugs trafficking … and that they could do on me whatever they wanted, since I didn’t I fear anything.

I tried also to explain to him, however with a very poor result, that I didn’t go to Bolivia on personal and materials interests, but to share the Causes of Peoples, which are serious issues along with the Respect for Life and must be taken firmly to their ultimate consequences, as I had seen out in practice by the Coca farmers …

On arrival at CEIP I had been accompanied underground, where one of the heavy metal doors opened, discovering a prison cell, large and crowded especially by women and children; at a nod of a prison officer, a woman appeared whom I could possibly recognize, betraying myself and betraying her or at reverse she could fall in the trap as well, being for both the meeting unexpected.

I had met in Chapare that peasant woman, one of the most active in social work and defense of Coca: just a few days before she had been arrested for alleged, but unproven, ties with drugs trafficking; she stared at me with a look totally cold and indifferent, like telling me that depended on me to declare that I knew her or not, because she would not take any initiative; I had no doubt in affirming that I knew her … and I knew her as one of the most committed companions in the rural movement.

Going back to those moments, I realized how honest and coherent that woman has proved, because she could confirm to know me and invent some suspicious deals and connections regarding me, which might have saved herself, so to return to her family in Chapare.

The agents escorting me looked at each other for a moment, perplexed, then I heard them say it was not the case to leave me down there; therefore the guards and I, we all went to the upper floors, where I joined Angelo again; since then we were always together, except during interrogations, accommodated in a very elegant sitting room, in that building of evident colonial legacy.

We were allowed to get to the small balconies to enjoy the sun warmth in the cold Andean winter, always under armed control of the soldiers; at night we were delivered two mattresses, with some blankets, hung out in the corner of the same large room; to access the toilet we had to ask permission and be accompanied by an armed escort.

The hours were occupied by further interrogations even more detailed and technically more sophisticated, more investigative, less provocative and pressing … I mean … like to be in a movie, except that the show was really, a tough reality to us …

Several photographs by every perspective were taken, them questionnaires were filled up, consisting of dozens of pages of questions, as in a psychologic and social analytic survey, as: daily habits, attitudes, preferences in sports, clothing, food, weapons, animals, cultural, artistic, geographical interests, level of studies and family history and … alias name … and so on.

Of course I answered them all, having no language limitation and believing to have pretty clear the scenery of the facts; I reported that in Chapare I was doctorita for all people, in case they wanted to register it as my alias name and that I owned a machete, with my name engraved on the handle, which had remained in the pahuichi of Namatamojo.

A strange feeling was slowly making its way inside me, about the possibility that I would have been expelled, given the flood of memories gathering in my mind, together with all the previous experiences and also on what was later told me by a captain escorting us, who was always very kind, along with a young soldier who guarded us the sitting room; however I thought that the volunteer Angelo would be invited to go back home spontaneously, with its return ticket, or to continue his stay in Bolivia, outside Chapare.

In that place the days were eternal and the only link with the world were the many newspapers scattered on the immense table: multiple and blatant were in those days the news about our affair and the statements of Evo Morales Ayma, the executives of Coca farmers and politicians leaders of opposition about the absurdity of what was going on.

Late afternoon of 10 August 1994, the captain sat next to me and invited me to eat a soup with him; I felt a kind of trust towards him, so I didn’t refuse; meanwhile he spoke, explaining that he was an indigenous quechua by origin, very fond of his homeland and culture, but compelled by life’s circumstances to accept the job in the military forces, lined up against drugs trafficking, because it was a better paid job, thanks to international funding of the war on Coca.

He told me that the real tragedy of my situation was that I was right and it was wonderful what I had started up in Chapare, but at that moment, if I hadn’t been there, someone like me would have been invented, because a scapegoat was needed, like a spark between farmers Coca growers and the military forces of repression.

He allowed me to call my lawyer, to whom I left a message on the answering machine and then he told me that the next day everything would have been resolved with my return back to Chapare  he announced as well a meeting with a representative of the Bolivian Government and a staff member of the Italian Embassy.

The representative of the Government launched into an accusatory pleading, without even catch a breath; I listened, imperturbable and fearless, then asked to express myself, which I was granted; therefore I illustrated my previous humanitarian experiences, the activities work in progress in the tropical Chapare and my point of view on green Coca, placing definitively my commitment against drugs abuse and trafficking; he remained thoughtful for a while, then he admitted he didn’t get previously all those information; he promised to talk about the issue with Bolivian Interior Minister that very night.

The young man from the Italian Embassy had been in La Paz for just a month about and seemed rather confused; he told me that despite all I looked in good condition, that the Ambassador would have talked about the case with Bolivian Interior Minister and that I could go over to Italian Embassy the next day, when released. I strongly wished that he knew what he was talking about, but everything around was telling me that … the fate was sealed ...

I asked … unsuccessfully … a direct and personal interview with Bolivian Interior Minister …

Another freezing night in La Paz and at 5.30 in the morning of 11 August 1994 the captain came to us to take us to Cochabamba … which seemed strange to me; we had been taken to La Paz by car and now the way back was by plane; in fact, along the route, the captain told to the driver American Airlines … so I got the confirmation that our expulsion had been decreed.

I had the only breakdown and cried with rage, cursing the Bolivian Interior Minister, who only a few months later would have been turned away by the Government, charged with links with drugs trafficking, and declaring that the farmers and communities of Chapare would continue their claims and would also be mobilized in my defense.

The captain, always friendly to me despite his difficult position, while calming me, stated that from Europe I could communicate with whom I felt as my people, supporting the Andean Cause and also doing everything possible to return; he added to be sure that one day we would meet again in the pacified Chapare, to enjoy eating the good fish of his homeland…

No authority, not even from the Italian Embassy, showed up at the airport; the captain made boarding practices, he withdrew my little bag with Coca leaves and in front of the tunnel entrance to the plane he gave us ticket and passport with a red stamp large whole page Expulsado de Bolivia por injerencia política, meaning Expelled from Bolivia for political interference …