Dancing in Urkupiña 2008

Readers:

It may come as a surprise to some who don't live here that not every event in Bolivia has to do with politics, and not every breath includes mention of Evo Morales. With Sunday's elections still just a few days old, attention here in the Cochabamba Valley has turned to something else entirely – Urkupiña, the festival of the Virgin (that Virgin) in nearby Quillacollo. Today the streets of that nearby small town are filled with thousands of dancers – a flowing river of detailed costumes and well-practiced movements that takes nearly 12 hours to pass from beginning to end.

And this year The Democracy Center is well-represented. Aldo Orellana and Leny Olivera danced both yesterday in La Entrada Auctoctono (the more traditional dances from the countryside) and today as well in the main event. And along with them today is Yi-Ching Hwang, born in Taiwan, migrated to the U.S. and now bringing her best moves to the streets of Quillacollo. We asked her to share her experiences in preparation for today's event here on the Blog, and here it is.

For those interested in more photos and explanations of what this festival is about, here is a link to our slide show and report a few years back.

Now, some might ask, "Jim, why aren't you on the streets of Quillacollo today, wearing a devil's head or perhaps a Caporales mini-skirt?" To that I reply – Wielding size 13 sneakers and a definitely 'gringo' appearance, I don't need to do anything to make even more a spectacle of myself in public here. Besides, someone had to work today. But stay tuned for Carnival. That nun costume might just be back.

Feliz Urkupiña a tod@s!

Jim Shultz


Dancing in Urkupiña 2008
by Yi-Ching Hwang

We all had to wear black underwear, not thongs, not tights, but black underwear. And one by one they checked us.

“Lift up your skirt and show it to me,” ordered our Sol Chaqueño San Simón fraternity sister, Natalí. I swear, she is not always this mean, it must have been the pressure of convite.

Around two weeks before the official Urkupiña Fiesta here in Quillacollo, a convite is held where all participating groups are invited to demonstrate their excellence. During convite we rehearsed the Urkupiña route, familiarizing ourselves with the bumpy pavement and sometimes windy, snake-like, narrow, cobblestone streets. It is a time especially for less experienced dancers to get their feet wet with street, parade dancing. Though not the official procession, lots of Quillacollo residents set out their chairs, lean over their balcony, and cheer the dancers on.

A couple of years ago, as a Peace Corps volunteer living two hours outside of Cochabamba, I participated in many city parades as a spectator. The last time I was in Urkupiña, I got lost in the wild, drunken crowd, hit on the head by a flying empty water bottle, and vowed never to come back to this crazy festival.

But here I am, chatting with the shoe repairman about the most strategic way to put rubber padding on the bottom of my black high heals to prevent the least damage to my delicate behind-the-computer-all-day feet. Urkupiña is only a day away, I have spent weeks and hours perfecting all those turns, choreography, and the best way to sway and swerve the long skirt to tactically show and hide my black underwear. Despite the lingering doubt about whether I can make it through 6 hours of dancing combating the different terrain and street size (not to mention potentially fending off drunkards), I can’t wait!

Chacarera is a dance from the Chaco region that is composed of bits of Paraguay, northern Argentina, and South Eastern Bolivia. The name is said to originate from the word chacarero, which means he who works in the chacra or farm. In Bolivia, the dance is characterized by mischievousness, vivacity and an air of ‘flirtiness.’ Danced in partners, the chacarera music is a mixture of bass drums, violin, and guitar.

Today in Cochabamba there are two main groups from whom one can learn this lovely dance. I joined the fraternity Sol Chaqueño San Simón out of almost sheer fate. Since May, on my way home from work, I would pass by groups practicing at a nearby plaza. Crisp night air, music and lively moves cutting through the otherwise stillness of the neighborhood, the plaza turned into an open stage sheltered by giant Jacarandá trees. It was too much to resist. Memories of high school and college dancing came floating up, playing with my imagination. Yi-Ching flaring about in the plaza with new Bolivian friends, learning new and cool moves?! The rest is history.

Sol Chaqueño San Simón is an open fraternity, all welcoming and encompassing. Our dancers include 7, 8 year old kids up until forty, fifty year olds. Physical stamina is the only limit. Anyone with a smile, strong dedication, and commitment can join. In July on a sunny Saturday afternoon, a few weeks after I started practicing, I was officially baptized into the fraternity. As a Taiwanese coming from a non-baptizing religious background (nor ever having joined a sorority/fraternity in college), for the first time in my life, I picked a godmother (my dance instructor), was drizzled with the plaza fountain water, and welcomed into the arms of the fraternity.

What followed was not just an afternoon of photos, reggeton music, and lollypops to suck on, but a beginning of a bondage that goes beyond learning the steps of this 8-part dance. Chacarera practice opened a door where we snuck in bits and pieces of cultural exchange, and sometimes even brief conversations of the most recent political topics.

“bichi, piching, iching...what is your name again?”

I must have been called a dozen names. But mixed in with the Y que venga la segunda Chacarera music, they all sounded sweet to me.

What are you doing here? From so far away? How did you decide to dance Chacarera? Can you sing that Taiwanese song again so I record it on my cell phone? It’s so preeetty!

Having spent half of my youth in Taiwan and half in the States, and then two years in rural Bolivia trying to do some development work but mostly perfecting my potato peeling skills and frustrated with my poor Quechua speaking ability, there have been days when I cringed and cried feeling like a black sheep not fitting in anywhere.

But these days, despite the supposedly division in Bolivia and what the news may broadcast as social and racial tension, what I’ve lived is a corner of Bolivia where there is curiosity of differences and going beyond that, a genuine acceptance. My Sol Chaqueño brothers and sisters come from Cochabamba, Santa Cruz, wealthy Cala Cala households, almost rural Vinto and Punata (towns 40 minutes to an hour outside of Cochabamba). For two hours everyday, what we do is work on our dancing but also on building harmonious relationships and keeping an eye out for each other.

When one lives intimately in a place, and daily is engrossed in the everyday lives of Bolivians, one sees beyond the news headlines of violence and racial conflicts. Sometimes amid political upheaval, we forget that Bolivia is more than just the recent referendum recall or the divisions over autonomy. As important as those topics may be, dancing in Sol Chaqueño San Simón provided a balance for me. Not only am I here in Bolivia learning about citizen power and taking democracy to the streets, I am also here building friendships with Bolivians and enriching myself with a dance that’s more than 150 years old.

Photo credit: Lynn Nesselbush