2. Crossing At the day to day level, I am used to life in Bolivia, and true to form we had to cajole a uniformed fellow out of his post-lunch lethargy to unlock the gate so we could cross into Chile. Five km down the road, the Chilean customs and migration people were waiting, precise and overbearing. Running through my head were the stories related to me by Chilean political refugees of the 70's and 80's, who told of evading border guards at such outposts. Later, a women friend in Santiago told us how 11 September 1973 she found herself in Arica with nowhere to run: to the north, Peru, and the authorities were sending people back; to the west only sea; and to the east and south the desert. And what a desert! Not even the odd sugauro cactus or paloverde to hide under. Without fine knowledge of the terrain, you can easily die of thirst. The border guards took away our apples (imports to Bolivia, from Chile), mentioning fruit flies, and gave us a paper in return, replete with date, location, materials seized. I held on to the paper, just in case. The descent by land into Arica is amazing. One drops from just over 14,000 feet to sea level in about 200km, much of it hair-raising switchbacks. In places the terrain is ghostly, moonlike. In the northern extremities of the Atacama desert, 0cm rainfall in a year is not uncommon. Just before arriving in Arica, you cut through the lush, green Azapa valley, site of more than seven Tihuanaku (Bolivian highland culture of the pre-Incan period) "outlier settlements". How the valley remains green is a mystery to me still. How they farm it is not: mostly (50%, we were told) absentee landowners, working it "a medias" -- the "half" system. That is, absentee land owners allow you to work the land in exchange for half of the harvest. Harvest time sees the arrival of many Aymaras from Bolivia, who often speak only broken Spanish. Those lovely peaches you see at the supermarket may have come from Azapa. Overlooking Arica, a port town of some 100,000, is the Moro, site of a decisive battle in the War of the Pacific (1879-83), wherein Chile beat Peru and Bolivia, and Bolivia lost access to the sea. In the mid-1980's the fortifications overlooking the sea were turned into a military museum, celebrating the victory over Peru and Bolivia specifically, and Chilean military prowess generally. A plaque left from the inauguration bore the name of Excelentísimo General, Commandante en Jefe de las Fuerzas Armadas de Chile y Presidente de la República [etc. ad nauseum] ... Augosto Pinochet. The slogan "por la razón o la fuerza" was emblazoned over the entrance. "By reason or force" -- it's also engraved in the side of each 100 peso coin, the most common in circulation. Naively, I asked a friend who had spent some time in Pinochet's prisons, "Does that really mean...?". He was patient, answering simply "uh-huh". (Los Prisioneros, a Chilean rock band, just came out with a new album: "Ni por la razón, ni por la fuerza" -- "Neither by reason nor by force".) Arriving Arica this time I had an uneasy feeling -- something was different, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Then it struck me: there are poor white people here! In Bolivia you may see darker people with money, but almost never a light colored person in abject poverty. Up the hillsides from the sea, clapboard or plywood houses, brightly painted, clung in the sweltering heat to sandy soil. One good rain would have warped them completely out of shape. The heat was intense; if not for the strong afternoon breezes coming in off the sea, the barrios of Arica would be uninhabitable. And in and out moved white(er) folks. Arica is a poor town; jobs are hard to come by. There is an explosion of tourism at year end, mostly wealthy Bolivians in fancy cars, and the rest of the year just limps along, we're told. If you don't have a coveted job on the docks, you might get part time in the fish meal plant; run a taxi with a relative; some pick up work in the Azapa valley; etc. Was this the clean poverty Pinochet boasted of? On balance, one doesn't see the kind of poverty in Chile that assaults you in Bolivia. But cleaner? Whiter, certainly. Perhaps that's what Pinochet meant after all. Tom Kruse / Casilla 5812 / Cochabamba, Bolivia Tel/Fax: (591-42) 48242 Email: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
