A Last Word on the Goni Case -- From a Young Bolivian

Readers:

The front page of today's Cochabamba daily, Los Tiempos, features square in its center a large full color picture of a line up of San Franciscans standing in front of City Hall. Dressed in mourning black and holding up makeshift headstones to remember the sixty people who died here three years ago. These people by the Bay were just a few of hundreds upon hundreds that participated in similar events across the US, Australia, Europe and here in La Paz where a march of families of the fallen, and foreigners in solidarity with them, lay 60 white crosses at the gates of the US Embassy.

Yesterday across the world people remembered Bolivia's Black October and renewed with greater voice than ever the demand that its architect, former President Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada, be brought to justice. One of yesterday's vigils took place at "Goni's" home in suburban Maryland. Laywers for the ex-president announced this week that Sánchez de Lozada will no longer leave the US, fearing that Interpol will intercept him to implement the detention order issued by the Bolivian government (pre-Evo). This week makes it clear that he will not likely find much peace in the US from now on either.

To cap our writing about this issue I think it is important to give the last word to a Bolivian. I asked Aldo Orellana, a university student who works with us here in Cochabamba, to share with our readers his thoughts on why this anniversary and why bringing Sánchez de Lozada to justice is so important to so many Bolivians.

Jim Shultz

To the Real Heroes
by Aldo Orellana

Yesterday Bolivia’s newspapers, radio and television news all made reference in some way to the three year anniversary of the massacre of October 2003, speaking of the impunity that Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada enjoys in the United States, protected by its government despite intense efforts for justice in the months past.

We remember that three years ago, 67 lives were lost because of Sánchez de Lozada’s government in the so-called gas war, which caused much suffering and pain in the for the Bolivian people—more than anything to the families of victims both dead and wounded in this bloody occurrence. Today we could try to say that despite the passing of three years, in some ways the families no longer cry. But this is not so. The bullets of Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada continue taking lives.

Just this past Saturday, October 14, in the marginalized neighborhood of El Alto, the 27 year-old Raul Marca Ruiz died. This young man was wounded in the gas war by a projectile that entered his abdomen, severely injuring his spinal column. Raul could not walk, work, study or live a normal life. After three years of suffering, with his life falling through his hands he became depressed and finally died with a bitter taste in his mouth.

This young man may be nothing more than a number for people outside of Bolivia. But he has a family, he was someone’s brother, someone’s son, someone’s father. He was the nephew of someone and the husband of someone. In the end, he was someone who simply believed in a life with hope.

He was only 24 when wounded. He wasn’t looking for riches, fame or prestige, but like all youth, especially in El Alto of La Paz, he felt the obligation to defend the natural resources that were in capitalist hands. He felt it was his turn to hit the streets just like his parents and grandparents had, who had fought against past dictatorships and for democracy.

Surely to the rest of the world—including Bolivia—this death did not affect lots of people. But at 24 years old—the age of dreaming for the future—this man dreamt of historical re-vindication for a better Bolivia, to end the very injustice lived by his parents and grandparents, an end to this injustice in his generation, and for generations to come.

In some way this dead person continues dreaming, he dreams that the impunity does not persist and mostly that there will be justice so that his death is not in vein. Then he will finally rest in peace.

Written by Aldo Orellana, translated to English by Christina Haglund.