Against all odds

Bolivia | Anno 2008

 

 

The familiar morning sound of roosters crowing and birds chirping comes in through the open window. And of course, the sound of the eternally pouring rain is what we hear too. No, wait, isn’t that the shower next door? My goodness, it isn’t raining anymore. Cautious optimism wells up in me. Due to the rain, the dirt road through the rainforest has become very slippery. Would that have changed overnight? Being stuck in Concepción for over twenty-four hours now, we are desperately looking out for a change.

That means the road is passable. What the public bus can do, so can we

Concepción

Concepción – Courtyard of the monastery

I immediately start looking for Maria, our travel guide. She is already trying to get in touch with San Ignácio. Soon she receives the liberating message – the public bus has indeed managed to reach San Ignácio, last night from Concepción. That means the road is passable. What the public bus can do, so can we.

 

Concepción – Monastery

Retable

Twenty-four hours of lounging is coming to an end, it's all hands on deck now. With 170 km of unpaved road ahead of us, we have no time to lose. Originally, we intended to spend the whole day visiting some reducciones in the San Ignácio area. Due to the long drive this will probably be shortened to a few visits in the late afternoon.

And that's a shame, because the reducciones in the Bolivian rainforest are the only living witnesses of what the Jesuits achieved here in the 17th and 18th centuries. After all, the reducciones we've visited so far, such as San Ignácio Mini in Argentina, La Santísima Trinidad de Paraná and Jesús de Tavarangüé in Paraguay, have all fallen into stone ruins. These imposing red brick monuments, often in the middle of green wilderness, are spectacular and intriguing indeed, but at the same time dead and silent.

 

* * * * *

 

Argentina – San Ignácio Mini

In the mid-17th century, there were about thirty reducciones spread across Argentina, Paraguay and Bolivia. A century later, more than one hundred and forty thousand Indians would find shelter in these remarkable communities. Of course, the Christianization of the indigenous people was high on the agenda of the Jesuits when they grouped the Guaraní, Tupi and Chiquitos into small, independent settlements. But it didn't stop there. "First make people of these animals, then Christians," wrote Josse van Suerck, a Flemish Jesuit priest from Antwerp, about 1640.

 

Paraguay – La Santísima Trinidad de Paraná – Courtyard gallery

Thanks to the diligent work of those Indians, the settlements quickly grew into successful economic entities. In return, they were introduced to Western civilization. After all, nudity, polygamy, drunkenness, superstitious rites, sorcery and cannibalism were facets of native life that the Jesuits were not particularly fond of. So they introduced yerba mate, an infusion of mate plant leaves, as an alternative to alcohol and started growing cotton to conceal all those naked bodies from the human eye.

”First make people of these animals, then Christians”, wrote Josse van Suerck, a Flemish Jesuit priest from Antwerp, about 1640

Bolivia – San Javier – Wooden figures

Bolivia – Concepción – Polychromatic angel

The Jesuits even managed to introduce baroque music, dance and choral singing. At the time, native instrument makers were making violins and cellos that could compete in quality with the finest examples produced in Europe. To this day, choral competitions take place here, where young native artists perform beautiful music from the Renaissance and Baroque.

 

Paraguay – Jesús del Tavaranque – Monastery garden

But there's more. It is in their struggle against the slave traders that the Jesuits had perhaps their greatest success. Hundreds of thousands of Native Americans had previously been driven into forced labour and slavery by ruthless Paulistas. The Jesuits managed to persuade the Spanish king to place the reducciones under his direct authority. This way, they became protected territories, where except for the Jesuits, no westerner was allowed, not even the Spanish soldiers. A chain of settlements emerged in the rainforest, based on a Platonic model, with utopian and even theocratic features.

A chain of settlements emerged in the rainforest, based on a Platonic model, with utopian and even theocratic features

Paraguay – Jesús del Tavaranque – Papal emblem

Paraguay – Jesús del Tavaranque – Francis of Assisi

It is easy to imagine how much resistance this autonomy faced – mainly from the Portuguese and the slave traders. In 1767, the Portuguese Marquis de Pombal managed to convince the weak Spanish king Charles III to sign the edict that expelled all Jesuits from Spanish territories in Latin America. What happened next is aptly described by Roland Joffé in his 1986 film The Mission.

 

Argentina – San Ignácio Mini

Paraguay – Trinidad de Paraná – Portal

Paraguay – Trinidad de Paraná – Pulpit

Today, a series of impressive ruins of dilapidated monasteries throughout Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay bear witness to these remarkable societies.

 

Paraguay – La Santísima Trinidad de Paraná – Monastic cells

But only here, in the Bolivian rainforest, those historic churches are still in use. They are the beating heart of this society. The Chiquitos go there for their masses, their baptisms, their weddings, their funerals.

 

* * * * *

 

In the meantime, driver Juan has not been sitting still. After hoisting our luggage onto the roof rack of his bus, he starts his daily wrestling match with the blue tarpaulin, trying to cover the suitcases and creating the illusion that they are protected from the tropical rains. Just before eight, the bus waddles through the flooded streets of sleepy Concepción. Hopeful, but with a small heart, we leave town. On the unpaved roads of the Bolivian sierra, transport runs at the rhythm of the rain. Although the rainy season is coming to an end, the rain gods haven't played their last card yet.

 

Concepción – Plaza

End of the paved road

Less than half an hour later we reach the unpaved track. In this lower swampy area it is not uncommon to see an alligator or a capybara, the largest living rodent, Maria says, trying to bring some good news.

 

Little village with crosses on the four corners of the plaza

Picturesque Native American villages appear along the way. Their characteristic layout – a church, a school, a handful of huts around a central plaza with crosses in the centre and on the four corners – is still due to the conversion zeal of the Jesuits. The women work the fields around the villages, the men try to earn a living on the large haciendas.

 

 

But we're not as interested as we should be. We are mesmerized by the road surface – or what passes for it. Due to the continuous rain the road has become very slippery. The red soil is continuously being grinded by the wheels of the vehicles and mixed with water. A thin soapy film forms on the surface. Even a pedestrian can hardly walk on it without slipping.

 

Lemoncito

Lemoncito

Santa Rita

But Juan knows his bus and navigates flawlessly along potholes and ledges. His stocky figure behind the wheel is the only thing that inspires confidence. Calmly and accurately he manages to avoid any slippage. His experience is one of the few elements we can pin our hopes on.

 

On these unpaved roads, transport runs at the rhythm of the rain

Then a strange metallic sound catches our attention. A look under the bus tells us that a rod has come loose at the front. It dangles precariously about ten centimetres above the ground, attached to the frame only on the left side. It is not clear to us what the function of that rod is, but it does not seem essential. High above our heads some vultures assemble to take a look.

Juan is not the man to be discouraged by such things. Energetic, he puts on his overalls and spirally cuts a one meter long and five centimetres wide rubber belt from an old inner tube. With this he attaches the unruly rod against the frame. Barely fifteen minutes later we are on the road again.

 

Heavy trucks, on the other hand, launch themselves into the mud with a mixture of speed and brute force

A two-hour drive takes us barely thirty-five kilometres further. That means we'll be arriving in San Ignácio tonight around six – if no new rods come loose. It seems unlikely that our planned visits to the reducciones can go ahead.

The presence of several loads of red soil in the middle of the road suggests that the local authorities are making efforts to improve the road condition. Bulldozers are ready to level things out, but the ongoing rains have put an end to that. The road has become a moon-scape, no passage is possible for passenger cars.

Heavy trucks, on the other hand, launch themselves into the mud with a mixture of speed and brute force. Roaring and grumbling, they make their way through the mud, dancing on their wheels. In the end, all vehicles end up in the same colour – brownish red as the sticky mud.

Completely helpless, a passenger car ends up in the gunk. A cable is thrown from one of the large trucks and attached to the bumper. Moments later, the vehicle bounces and swings like a toy car behind the truck towards freedom.

In the meantime, we experience first-hand how slippery the soapy layer is. Even as a pedestrian you have trouble not falling over and over again

Hopelessly stranded

Santa Rosa de la Roca – Mennonites with horses and cart

That's not Juan's way of working. An improvised track through the muddy roadside seems to offer him a way out. He has a better chance with an empty bus. We get out for a while. That saves more than a thousand kilos. Thoughtful, not on speed, but on precision and power, Juan works his bus through the mud. In the meantime, we experience first-hand how slippery the soapy film is. Even as a pedestrian you have trouble not falling over and over again.

We breathe a sigh of relief when we're back on the bus, only to hold our breath a little further as Juan's bus irresistibly slides to the side of the road on a seemingly unsuspicious stretch. Once again we leave the bus, while Juan laboriously works his way back to the axis of the road. Our average speed has dropped to a mere sixteen per hour.

 

With united forces

A better way of transport

It's just a hamlet, but Santa Rosa de la Roca is the only place along this route where we can get something to eat. The innkeeper of restaurant Don Guillermo is delighted with the unexpected visit. He wants to do his very best for us and promises an extensive menu. But we don't have time for that right now, we still have ninety kilometres to go and would like to catch a glimpse of the reducciones in the early evening. So a quick bite is enough. No problem, he will hurry, he says. A South American who promises to hurry? That is just as credible as a Belgian who promises to pay his taxes correctly.

Six cats and two ducks appear to have their permanent residence in the kitchen

I can convince Maria to take a quick look in the kitchen – behind the restaurant, in the open air. Just to apply some subtle pressure with our presence. Six cats and two ducks appear to have their permanent residence in the kitchen. Plates are sometimes reused without washing them first, Maria knows. So the two of us start doing the dishes together.

Two hours and a very fine meal later we continue our journey through hell. A cart with two horses leaves all motorized vehicles behind. Without a doubt, this is the most suitable vehicle in this mud jungle. They are Mennonites, as can be seen from the clothing of the two men and their sons – cap, checked shirt, trousers with suspenders. Bolivia has a fairly large colony of these Russian-German Baptists. In this far corner they can observe their extremely strict rules of faith without prying eyes. Many of these people can also be found in the remote Chaco of Paraguay.

A rainbow appears low on the horizon. At half past four the sun actually breaks through the clouds. Maria takes out her notebook and flips through her notes about San Miguel de Velasco. Does she really have any hope?

 

It's the hallucinatory view of four trucks that are blocked in the deepest point that makes us lose heart

An insignificant little valley crossing our path ruthlessly shatters every spark of hope. Not that this little valley would be very deep or that the slopes would be very steep. No, it's the hallucinatory view of four trucks blocked at the deepest point that makes us lose heart. They've been standing there since yesterday and can't move forward or back. The drivers have spent the previous night here, undoubtedly they will spend the next night here too.

 

Drivers of stranded trucks having lunch

Without hesitating, Juan starts the descent. That seems to go pretty well, but in the end things go definitely wrong. Over and again, the bus slides precariously to the side of the road towards one of the blocked trucks. There is no way of bypassing it. Yet Juan comes up with a rather unusual solution. As a living buffer, with our backs against the truck, we place ourselves between the moving bus and the stationary truck. While Juan carefully navigates past the truck, we keep the bus at a safe distance from the truck with outstretched arms.

 

As a living buffer, with our backs against the truck, we place ourselves between the moving bus and the stationary truck

That works wonderfully, but a little further Juan gets stuck again in mud tracks of up to thirty centimetres deep. There is no other option than to push the bus, but in this mud slush that is no mean feat. We line up in two rows in the deep mud tracks, pushing together with united forces against each other's shoulders like a kind of voluntary chain gang. Even the drivers of the stranded trucks lend a hand – they have nothing else to do anyhow. Miraculously, we manage to get the bus moving. In one go Juan drives out of the small valley. Our shoes end up in the same colour as the cars and the trucks – brownish red like the sticky mud.

With an hour and a half to go, we definitely cancel our trip along the three missions. All that matters now is what tomorrow will bring, as it is important to arrive in Santa Cruz de la Sierra safely and on time. That means we have to deal with exactly the same mud track in the other direction and then drive another three hundred kilometres on tarmac roads to Santa Cruz. After all, the day after tomorrow our flight to Brazilian São Paolo takes off there early in the morning.

Still, about ten kilometers from San Ignácio, Maria comes up with a surprising proposal. Let's not check in at the hotel, she says, let's drive straight to San Miguel and visit the mission there. In complete darkness of course. We'll be there in fifty minutes, she adds, and we'll be back at our hotel by nine. Actually it will turn out to be eleven o'clock before we will be back. Ah, those South Americans and their special sense of time.

 

San Miguel de Velasco in the evening sun

Is the mission still open when we arrive? That doesn't matter, for Maria knows where to go for the key. And what about the hotel? Will they be willing to serve us on our late return? After all, we should have turned up yesterday. That's no problem, it turns out. The hotel manager is not even surprised by our question. Until well into the night the chambermaids, the waiters, the kitchen staff will be at our service with a big smile. They will carry our bags, prepare our meals, serve our drinks. And politely they will ask us if everything is to our liking. Ah, those South Americans and their warm hospitality.

Until well into the night the chambermaids, the waiters, the kitchen staff will be at our service with a big smile. And politely they will ask us if everything is to our liking

Leaving in the semi-darkness to visit a mission, that's next to madness. But after all our efforts to get here, the desire to see something takes over. A short consultation moment in the group quickly brings clarity – let's go for it. Under an open starry sky we drive south. The atmosphere is less tense now. Fortunately, we can fall back on such an experienced driver as Juan. Well no, Maria laughs off my compliment, this is the very first time Juan has ridden this route.

Rain and traffic have significantly less affected this road. So we are making considerable progress, but it still takes more than an hour and a half to arrive in San Miguel de Velasco. In complete darkness we can just make out the white bell tower – one of a kind, because it is built entirely of clay.

 

San Miguel de Velasco

Retable

Fortunately, the church is still open, because some twenty catechists are in training. It is downright impressive, this baroque church interior. The retable immediately draws all the attention to itself. It's completely covered in gold leaf. The wooden pulpit also still bears the original gold leaf. Maria draws attention to the mermaids carved into the pedestal. No doubt the Native Americans who were carving these creatures never saw the sea – let alone a mermaid. The sacristy still shows the antique wooden chests of drawers for chasubles.

No doubt the Native Americans who were carving these creatures never saw the sea – let alone a mermaid

Rostrum

Confessional

Pulpit

Too bad, similar treasures can be admired in the other missions, but they are out of reach for us. We briefly enter the courtyard, but in the dark we can hardly make out the architecture. Then the sound of tender singing voices suddenly reaches us. Baroque music reverberates softly through the darkness of the night. Where does that heavenly sound come from?

There is still some light in a far corner of the courtyard. Being curious, we start looking. A choir is practicing in a room that is far too small for this group. About twenty teenagers, a few very young violinists and cellists make music as if their lives depend on it. They want to take a good turn at the coming festival. The conductor's facial expression and body language suggest that there is still a lot of work to be done. The padre also apologizes: “These are only freshmen, they are not really good yet”, he whispers in my ear, apologetically.

 

Deep in the rainforest, an age-old tradition spontaneously comes to life before our eyes

And why would that be a problem? Heavenly sounds, these are for us. Deep in the rainforest, an age-old tradition spontaneously comes to life before our eyes, with an unparalleled authenticity. This is an unsurpassed culmination of a day of misery. We consider ourselves lucky that it rained all day yesterday. Because otherwise we would have missed this. Just imagine!

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Jaak Palmans

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