On Death and Graveyards

First rainy day so far, so today's theme is dark as well: death and graveyards.

Not to be flippant, death is very present here in Bolivia because this, the poorest country in South America, has its share of people who live on the edge of survival. Street beggars abound as do wrinkled old men, who sit on the pavement all day with 3 combs and 5 little mirrors displayed on a dirty napkin for sale at 1,5 Bolivianos (20 cents) each.

And yet here's me tucking into my hefty slice of cheese cake and double espresso at the Küchen Stube (with WIFI) in the trendy centro of town. I do feel twinges of guilt daily as I pass these people, yet one has to be aware that there is very little one can do for them, though I do now have a new mirror. But one would be a fool indeed if after these kind of experiences one didn't understand how priviliged we "Westerners" are, how much any one of us has and how unproductive it is to try to gain ever more and more possessions, when we are already swamped by them.

This is one side of death, but political death has also been very present historically. Since its independence in 1885, Bolivia has had a rather impressive 190 changes of leadership and over 100 revolutions. Therefore the life expectancy of presidents and high government officials has been low. Indeed the Presidential Palace is locally known as Palacio Quemado (Burnt Palace, picture below) in honour of the number of times mobs have attempted to or succeeded in burning it.

A third wide road to the other side leads through trafic. I have been in countries with much more traffic than here, but I don't think I have found a place to beat Peru/Bolivia for the sheer disregard of other trafic, let alone pedestrians, that the drivers display. The drivers will overtake heavy trucks in blind corners and be momentarily surprised and thereafter dead when another vehicle suddenly appears in front of them. The gruesome proof of this is the abundance of roadside memorials to those killed in traffic on that spot. One memoreable bend in a mountain road outside Arequipa had 18 memorials. 

 

So with all this going on as well as natural death at a ripe old age, it's about time to visit La Paz's cemetery. This is done in style using the ultra modern, clean and comfortable cable car system of La Paz. For 3 bolivians (about 40 cents) you get to ride up to some rather impressive views. And as the station approaches you get a bird's eye view of this vast cemetery. The plan of the cemetery shows that it is like a little village with numerous streets and high rise buildings.

The custom here is to first bury or place the body of the deceased in a crypt for up to 10 years. After this the body is disinterred and cremated. After cremation families rent of buy glass fronted spaces in the cemetery, where the ashes are places. And as the population of La Paz and  its deceased increases, new layers of graves are built on top of existing ones. Some are now as high as 4-story buildings.

Families and friends place flowers and gifts to the deceased behind the glass front. Some of the gifts such as miniature crates of beer, loaves of bread and coca leaves reminded one strongly of the Incas' (or why not Egyptians') custom of placing items in the grave for the use of the deceased in the afterlife.

The cemetery is always full of flower-bearing visitors and though some graves are unkept and the flowers withered, mostly the graves are in good shape. All in all, even for a graveyard buff like me, this was one of the most interesting and lively graveyards I have seen.

Tomorrow I leave La Paz and such morbid thoughts behind and head on towards the Uyuni Salt Flats via Oruro, home town of president Evo Morales, who seems to be holding on to life better than most of his predecessors. Let's see where the next internet connection may be. 

Hasta luego!