Racial, Ethnic, and Gendered Meanings of Indigeneity in the Colonization Zone of Bolivia's Isiboro-Secure National Park and Indigenous Territory

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Racial, Ethnic, and Gendered Meanings of Indigeneity in the Colonization Zone of Bolivia's Isiboro-Secure National Park and Indigenous Territory
Gumucio, Tatiana Carola
University of Florida
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Thesis/Dissertation Information

Doctorate ( Ph.D.)
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University of Florida
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Committee Chair:
Harrison, Faye V
Committee Members:
Babb, Florence E
Kernaghan, Richard B
Schmink, Marianne C
Stanfield-Mazzi, Maya
Graduation Date:


Subjects / Keywords:
Commercial production ( jstor )
Community associations ( jstor )
Discourse ( jstor )
Gender roles ( jstor )
Highlands ( jstor )
Indigenous peoples ( jstor )
Lowlands ( jstor )
Men ( jstor )
Social movements ( jstor )
Women ( jstor )


General Note:
In the wake of growing engagement with the illegal as well as conflicts over land and territory in Bolivia, I examine how interaction with highland colonists affects the manners in which lowland indigenous men and women conceive of and express their indigeneity. In particular, I analyze how being a woman affects the experience of customization of indigeneity.  I furthermore examine how those conceptions of indigeneity affect indigenous men’s and women’s indirect and direct participation in social movements. My research takes place in the indigenous territory and national park of the Isiboro-Sécure (TIPNIS) in the Chaparé, an area of the country where land conflicts among colonos (colonists) and indigenous groups are common. Legislation in 2004 designated a section of the park as a “zone of colonization,” granting colonization and coca production there. The state proposes a controversial road project through the park’s center. My dissertation is based on the perspectives of two Yurakaré communities in the colonization zone, San Lucas and Santa Rita, and follows their participation in the Conisur indigenous movement, supporting the road. The communities’ cases demonstrate that the negotiation of blurry ethnic lines necessary for survival of foreign dominance, like that of the colonos, is a particularly gendered experience. Interethnic couples and their children demonstrate that their indigeneity involves frequent movement as well as unconscious cultural blending, particularly when the mother is Yurakaré; the research suggests furthermore that cases of single Yurakaré mothers are exceedingly mobile. Additionally, engagement with friction and uncertain illegality via coca production allows Yurakaré women a certain degree of autonomy. The Conisur movement strives to portray an indigeneity that conforms to the fixed terms of conventional definitions; in the process it communicates an alternate indigeneity that comprises incorporation of colono socio-cultural and economic practices. Although they do not generally hold visible leadership positions in Yurakaré society, women participate critically in the movement through their contributions to the discourses at the movements’ origins, depicting land as a vital resource for coca production. The research suggests furthermore that women’s direct participation can be important for the purposes of assertion of prominent ethnic boundaries.

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2 2013 Tatiana Gumucio


3 To Abuelita Elsa and Mom


4 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS It is difficult to express rightly in words the thanks due to each of the diverse individuals, groups, and institutions that have made possible the comple tion of this dissertation. Beginning with the academic guidance I have received at the University of Florid a, I consider myself fortunate to have been an advisee of Dr. Faye Harrison; under any other advisor, my research would not have dared to take the personally relevant turns it has assumed, and I would not have endured through the completion of the Ph.D. I have also appreciated the support of my committee members Dr. Marianne Schmink and Dr. Florence Babb whose teaching and mentoring skills have been an object of admiration as well as motivating force for my graduate career. I am additionally grateful to my external member Dr. Maya Stanfield Mazzi for her sympathetic support throughout my fieldwork and its development, and to Dr. Richard Kernaghan for patiently joining my committee during my last stages of the Ph.D and providing critical feedback on disserta tion chapters. My studies and research would not have been possible, furthermore, without the support of various funding institutions. The University of Florida Alumni Graduate nd doctoral research. I am especially grateful to the Office of Graduate Minority Program f or its financial support of my dissertation writing, via the Delores Auzenne Award. My most special thanks go to various individuals and families who most likely will never have the opportunity to actually read the document I have completed, although I ho pe that our experiences shared together, partially represented in this dissertation, will


5 motivate enduring collaborative relationships in the future: the people of the communities of San Lucas and Santa Rita in the Chapar. Several women, men, and childre n showed me compassion and even gave me their friendship, providing me admirable examples of generosity to the stranger. Additionally, I am grateful to the President of CPITCO for her facilitation of my first meetings with the communities and her support d uring my first months of fieldwork in Cochabamba and the Chapar. I extend my sincere gratitude also to Hermana Maria Jesus, Hermana Gloria, and Hermana Teresa of the Misioneros Cristo Jesus who housed me numerous weekends when I would show up, always unex pectedly, on their doorstep in San Gabriel when in between visits to San Lucas and Santa Rita Lastly, but most important of all of these, I am indebted to my family in the United States and in Bolivia for their support of my academic endeavors over the y ears. I believe that few family members ever understood my activities in the Chapar in Bolivia, but many were certain that they must serve some incomprehensibly important and valuable purpose; and if they doubted this, these relatives supported my work an yway because they loved me. In particular, my Ph.D. would not have been possible without my grandmother, my Abuelita Elsa. I suspect that part of the attraction to carry out research in Bolivia every year was to be able to have her and her house as my home and she fulfilled her wish. She passed away some four months after I completed my last period of doctoral fieldwork I cannot put into words my thanks to my immed iate family for their support of my education, and all its twists and turns over the years, since my childhood. Thank you to


6 my sister Celina for her patience as I regularly came and went from her life throughout this time Thank you to my parents, Nelson and Carola who even visited the Chapar and the colonization zone for one day with me upon my bidding. I am forever grateful for their immense love and support.


7 TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ................................ ................................ ................................ .. 4 LIST OF FIGURES ................................ ................................ ................................ .......... 9 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS ................................ ................................ ........................... 10 ABSTRACT ................................ ................................ ................................ ................... 11 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION ................................ ................................ ................................ .... 13 Yurakar People No Longer Have Tails . . ................................ .......................... 13 Research Problem ................................ ................................ ................................ .. 17 Indigeneity ................................ ................................ ................................ ........ 18 Race and Ethnicity ................................ ................................ ........................... 19 The Illegal ................................ ................................ ................................ ......... 23 Gender ................................ ................................ ................................ ............. 24 Theoretical Perspectives ................................ ................................ ......................... 27 Practice Theory ................................ ................................ ................................ 28 A Feminist Approach ................................ ................................ ........................ 29 Discourse Analysis and Social Movements ................................ ...................... 30 Hegemony ................................ ................................ ................................ ........ 32 Friction ................................ ................................ ................................ .............. 33 Bolivia: Historical Analysis ................................ ................................ ...................... 33 Description of Field Site ................................ ................................ .......................... 47 Methods ................................ ................................ ................................ .................. 48 Ethnographic Narrative Writing ................................ ................................ ............... 50 The Ambiguous Relationship of Researcher Informant ................................ .......... 53 Summary of Research ................................ ................................ ............................ 58 2 THE FATHER OF MY SON: THE GENDERED NATURE OF MOVEMENT, SPACE, AND INDIGENEITY IN THE COLONIZATION ZONE ............................... 68 Race/Ethnicity and Gender ................................ ................................ ..................... 75 Overlapping Identity Categories ................................ ................................ .............. 85 Beni Cochabamba ................................ ................................ ............................ 86 History of the Colono Yurakar Boundary ................................ ........................ 88 The Urban Rural ................................ ................................ ............................. 100 Interethnic Unions ................................ ................................ ................................ 107 Land and Territory ................................ ................................ .......................... 117 .............................. 124 Ethnic/Racialized and Gendered Movement and Space ................................ 126 Final Remarks ................................ ................................ ................................ ....... 131


8 3 AND THE NAVIGATION OF (IL)LEGALITY IN THE COLONIZATION ZONE ................................ .................... 135 Histories and Meanings of Coca in the Andes ................................ ...................... 142 Coca and Drug Tr afficking ................................ ................................ .................... 145 Yurakar Meanings of Coca ................................ ................................ ................. 155 Gendered Meanings of Coca: the Case of Lia ................................ ...................... 174 Final Remarks ................................ ................................ ................................ ....... 179 4 INDIGENOUS MOVEMENT ................................ ................................ ................. 182 Bolivia n History of Indigenous Claims to Land and Territory ................................ 190 TIPNIS and the Proposed Interdepartmental Road ................................ .............. 194 Extractivist State P olicies ................................ ................................ ...................... 198 The Perspective of the Indigenous Residents of the Colonization Zone ............... 204 Gendered Community Leadership: Doa Consuel o ................................ ............. 219 Doa Elsina, Doa Carolina, and Doa Consuelo ................................ ................ 231 Final Remarks ................................ ................................ ................................ ....... 234 5 AND THE STAGING OF THE CONISUR MARCH ................................ ............... 239 Chapar Coca Unions ................................ ................................ ........................... 247 Indigeneity Discourses in the Media ................................ ................................ ..... 252 The Conisur Movement Strategy ................................ ................................ .......... 265 Doa Consuelo in the Conisur Movement ................................ ............................ 282 Final Remarks ................................ ................................ ................................ ....... 290 6 CONCLUSION ................................ ................................ ................................ ...... 297 Methods and the Ethnographer In formant Relationship ................................ ....... 297 Principal Arguments ................................ ................................ .............................. 300 Research Implications: Indigeneity and the Bolivian State ................................ .... 309 LIST OF REFERENCES ................................ ................................ ............................. 317 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ................................ ................................ .......................... 329


9 LIST OF FIGURES Figure page 2 1 Map of areas currently inhabited by Yurakar speakers, and indigenous territories corresponding and adjacent to them.. ................................ ............... 134 4 1 Map of TIPNIS. ................................ ................................ ................................ 238 5 1 San Lucas community members participating in Conisur march in December of 2011 ................................ ................................ ................................ ............. 295 5 2 Doa Consuelo and other Conisur communi ty leaders attending a meeting .................... 296


10 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS B NDES Brazilian National Bank for Social and Economic Development (Banco Nacional de Desarrollo E conmico y Social) C EPY Educational Council of the Yurakar People (Consejo Educativo del Pueblo Yurakar) C IDOB Confederation of Indigenous Peoples of Bolivian (Confederacin de los Pueblos Indgenas de Bolivia) C PITCO Council of the Indigenous People s o f the Tropic of Cochabamba (Coordinadora de Pueblos Indgenas del Tropico de Cochabamba) C SUTCB Unified Syndical Confederation of Peasant Worker s of Bolivia ( Confederacin Sindical nica de Trabajadores Campesinos de Bolivia ) C SUTCC Unified Syndical Conf e deration of Peasants Workers of Cochabamba (Confederacin Sindical Unica de Trabajadores Campesinos de Cochabamba) I NRA Institute of National Agrarian Reform (Instituto Nacional de Reforma Agraria) M AS Movement to Socialism (Movimiento al Socialismo) T CO Native community territory ( Territorio Comunitario de Origen) T IPNIS Indigenous Territory and National Park of the Isiboro Scure (Territorio Indgena y Parque Nacional Isiboro Scure)


11 Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate School of the U niversity of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy RACIAL, ETHNIC, AND GENDERED MEANINGS OF INDIGENEITY IN THE SCURE NATIONAL PARK AND INDIGENOUS T ERRITORY By Tatiana Gumucio August 2013 Chair: Faye V. Harrison Major: Anthropology In the wake of growing engagement with the illegal as well as conflicts over land and territory in Bolivia, I examine how interaction with highland colonists affects the manners in which lowland indigenous men and women conceive of and express their indigeneity. In particular, I analyze how being a woman affects the experience of customization of indigeneity. I furthermore examine how those conceptions of indigeneity social movements. M y research takes place in the indigenous territory and national park of the Isiboro S cure (TIPNIS) in the Chapar, an area of the country where land conflicts amo ng colonos (colonists) and indigenous groups are common. L egislation in 2004 coca production t here The state proposes a controversial road project through the enter. M y dissertation is based on the perspectives of two Yurakar communities in the colonization zone, San Lucas and Santa Rita and follows their participation in the Conisur indigenous movement, supporting the road


12 The case s demonstrate that the negotiat ion of blurry ethnic lines necessary for survival of foreign dominance, like that of the colonos is a particularly gendered experience Interethnic couples and their children demonstrate that their indigeneity involves frequent movement as well as unconscious cultural blending, particularly when the mothe r is Yurakar; the research suggests furthermore that cases of single Yurakar mothers are exceedingly mobile. Additionally, engagement with friction and uncertain illegality via coca pro duction allows Yurakar women a certain degree of autonomy. The Conisur movement strives to portray an indigeneity that conforms to the fixed terms of conventional definitions ; i n the process it communicates an alternate indigeneity that comprises incorpor ation of colono socio cultural and economic practices A lthough they do not generally hold visible leadership positions in Yurakar society, women participate critically in the movement through their contributions to the discourses at origin s depicting land as a vital resource for coca production direct participation can be important for the purposes of assertion of prominent ethnic boundaries.


13 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION Yurakar People No Long er Have Tails . . The first time I traveled to the Yurakar community of Santa Rita in the Indigenous Territory and National Park of the Isiboro Scure (TIPNIS), my host most salient characteristic was its proximit y to a road. It was an early winter morning in the Chapar, a lowland region of Bolivia and I was accompanying Doa Nora Chavez, the indigenous President of the Council of Indigenous Peoples of the Tropic of Cochabamba (CPITCO), and the CPITCO commission to an assembly of TIPNIS communities that weekend. While visits to indigenous communities in other areas of the Chapar necessitated significant river navigation, Doa Nora affirmed to me that we would be able to reach this particular community via almost complete road travel. Doa Nora had advised me that the area m ight be a good place for my research project on indigenous women and identity. The area was furthermore interesting at the time due to its role in a national controversy in development. The Bo livian state was proposing the construction of a consternation among various indigenous and envi ronmentalist groups. Also, the road project credibility: led by Evo Morales, the first indigenous President of Bolivia, the government had highlighted the importance of indigeno natural resources as integral to its political platform; for factions opposed to the Morales government, the


14 The indigenous peoples of TIPNIS th emselves had not yet at the time issued an opinion in favor of or against the road. The assembly convened that weekend involved a portion of those TIPNIS communities, those of the southeastern region, constituting the indigenous organization Conisur; at t heir meeting a point of discussion was to be the road. Conisur was one member of the umbrella organization CPITCO. Although CPITCO was interested in attending the assembly that weekend for various reasons, it wished to know the Conisur regarding the road. I knew that, a lthough she had not yet publicly voiced her opinion as the President of CPITCO, Doa Nora was not in favor of the road project. At the time, I had been unaware of a crucial characteristic of the area we would be visiting, and none of my travel companions brought it to my attention, then, either: the Conisur communities inhabited a special part of TIPNIS, the colonization zone. This meant that people not native to the territory could be come individual property owners and de velop the land, in this area. The implications of their location within the colonization zone only manifested themselves to me through subsequent visits to these communities; however, the thnic contours, in ideological and economic terms. As Doa Nora had promised, we arrived a t Santa Rita that morning largely by road at first paved, then cobble stoned, then dirt, and progressively narrower as we proceeded. Near the end of our travel, we cr ossed a river by canoe, bringing us to the community. Afterwards, another commission arrived ashore but of the departmental government of Cochabamba. This portion of TIPNIS pertained to the department of


15 Cochabamba. Generally aligned with the national go vernment, t he comission also had an interest ; nevertheless, the group reflected diverse interests. Two darker skinned mestizo men, I soon learned, represented the office of the Governor of Cochabamba. Additi onally, I recognized two Yurakar men. The new Constitution instated in 2009 presidential term had re organized the legislative branch of government such that, for ation. Accordingly, the latter individuals were the Yurakar national legislative representative and the Yurakar departmental representative. I could not place the last member of the group; I later learned that he was a leader of the coca s in the area; these constituted colonization zone Once the assembly commenced, Conisur leadership allowed each of the representatives of the government and of the indigenous organizations to address the attendees. In particular, t he Yurakar legislative representative remarked that the state was undergoing important changes, noting his own position in the national government. referring to the fable created by non Yurakar people, that the indigenous group was more animal than human He emphasized that Bolivian society and state processes had progressed to such an extent that indigenous people like themselves, s ubjugated disparagingly in the past, now had important access to state control. The non Yurakar members of the commission addressed more specifically the highlighted that the road wo uld bring the Conisur communities progress and much needed state


16 onto indigenous community land. Ultimately, despite the attendance of various state representatives that day, the Conisur communities expressed uncertainty regarding the road project. The commission left, and Conisur voiced no promise of support or of rejection at the time. Aware of the distant -despite its current claims in support of indigenous peoples in general those gathered expressed their preference to come to a decision without outsiders present and when they could have more community leaders in attendance, at a later date. The logistics of convening a meeting with all the leaders of the communities were challenging to the extent that such a gathering never in fact transpired, and the controversy surrounding the ro ad project progressed so urgently that action on meeting later; this opening presentation of the Conisur assembly serve s as an introduction to the indigenous peoples of the col onization zone, and it also provides a useful initial perspective into the contested nature of indigeneity, state civil society relations surround ing this, and the racial and ethnic aspects of these contestations. I furthermore note an issue not readily ap parent through the activities of the assembly that day, yet important in indigenous movements These constitut e important issues of analysis in my dissertation.


17 Research Problem In 2005, Bolivia e lected Aymara descended Evo Morales as President, and then re elected him in 2009. He is the first indigenous head of state in Latin America, and internationally his elections tend to symbolize a certain triumph for indigenous peoples across Latin America. A majority portion of the Bolivian population is indigenous, and the country has thirty six different indigenous and black groups; h istorically the state has marginalized these indigenous and black sectors. Despite the Morales empts to incorporate indigenous peoples and indigeneity into the state, indigenous experiences is is doubtful and should not be exaggerated It can be argued that the controversy of the ter exists throughout the whole modern world ( de la Cadena and Starn 2007); however, in Bolivia has a unique multi faceted history of contention that has developed into the present time. In its more recent history, a collection of d iverse social movements developing since the second half of the twentieth century together made possible Evo Movement to Socialism (MAS) (Gustafson 2009; Gustafson 2011 ) I t is important to analyze the d iscursive meanings and significanc es active at the origins of social movement s (Alvarez et al. 1998 ; Rubin 2004) The collusion of several movements electoral victories over the past decade and the subsequent transform atio ns through out the developments of the new MAS state have brought varying meanings of indigeneity into circulation In this way, t he case of Bolivia demonstrates the diversity of indigenous experience and the fluidity of indigeneity ; contemporary developments provide a productive environment for study.


18 Indigeneity Returning to the Conisur assembly represented varying regional and indigenous identities, though each with vested interests in TIPNIS and th e Chapar T and their interests as state actors representing a region of the country from which the highway would originate are obvious They also represented MAS, the majority political party in the departmental and national government s T he Yurakar state representatives though each had significant urban experiences, hailed from areas of the Chapar T he coca unions leader, of highland indigenous origins like most colonists of the area, repr esented a faction ardently supportive of the President and the current government, but additionally, the road promised infrastructural development which colonists generally favored. The presence of this latter visitor is particularly important. That he ar rived with the Cochabamba government Moreover, h is attendance at the meeting at all is indicative of the prevalence of coca in th is region and of the special significance of the colonization zone I knew that coca growing colonists, hailing from the highlands, had come to live in the Chapar over the past decades. In most parts of the Chapar, indigenous habitants viewed these colonists as the enemy; here at the assembly, however, I noted that the i ndigenous attendees allowed entrance to and easily tolerated the coca union leader. I observed other colonist looking persons in attendance at the meeting, as well. The assembly sence hinted at its important reality to the indigenous communities of the colonization zone. I later learned that many communities engaged in coca production, similarly to the


19 colonists, and the area was notorious for providing coca to illegal drug traffi cking circuits. Additional implications of the location in the colonization zone that further influence their relations with colon ist s and their engagements with coca production are their relative proximity to roads, the semi urban, and encroa ching infrastructural development; also, their location provides them the opportunity to leave and re enter the community relatively easily R esearch of Latin American indigenous movements identifies indigeneity as a dynamic concept in process, to which in digenous actors contribute. For example, in the context of Peruvian indigenous rights movements, Greene (2009) presents the concept own concept of indigeneity, appropriati ng various historical, state, and inter ethnic/racial discourses and practi ces. Bolaos furthermore (2008; 2010) provides an intricate analysis of the indigeneity felt by recently self proclaimed indigenous groups in Brazil, and their corresponding mobili zation in indigenous movements. Most interestingly, she illustrates the historical and socio cultural dynamics that have influenced their indigenous identity formation. Recognizing the discursive struggles inherent in indigeneity, and indigenous movements as a certain manifestation of these struggles, I analyze indigeneity as a process in which indigenous actors participate alongside as well as in contest ation with the state and other racial and ethnic groups. Race and Ethnicity Distinctively from other di scussions of indigeneity and indigenous movements in Andean South America however, I study indigeneity as a product of both racial and ethnic hegemonies. I draw on the theoretical perspectives of a body of research that considers race as a critical analyt ical focus in studies of indigenous people in Latin


20 America more broadly ( de la Cadena 2000; Wade 2010; Warren 2001; Weismantel 2001); this differs from other lines of research that maintain that studies of indigenous people must be theoretically based in ethnicity, while racial analyses pertain to studies related to blacks. In answer to such critiques, Wade (2010) differentiates the significances underlying race and ethnicity 1 : in brief, race bases itself on categories of people, the meanings fundamentall y ascribed to these originating from European colonization of the New World; ethnicity functions to recognize minority groups, and has a certain association with place. Looking at the meanings of race and ethnicity as such, areas of overlap become evident; however, Wade emphasizes that in comparison to ethnicity, race signifies conceptually a certain history of oppression that traverses the globe, albeit in distinctive ways. Furthermore, permeable identity boundaries are not exclusive to indigenous peoples but pertain to blacks, as well; additionally, race has undergirded conceptions of indigenous people since colonization (Wade 2010). Those who treat indigenous people depends more so on phenotype; correspondingly, fixed boundaries do not regulate designations of indigenous vs. non indigenous, and individuals can easily traverse such categorical limits through manipulation of dress, speech, customs, etc. In contrast, the argument continues, phenotype determines race and consequently, actors cannot freely move from one racial category to another. These commentaries fail to realize that 1 Wade provides an extensive discussion; here I only highlig ht particularly salient points. For historical 4 23.


21 phenotype is part of culture; in fact, both indigenous people and blacks can shift to ot her identity categories through manipulation of cultural practices, to certain extents. was a concept critical to conceptions of indigenous people. For these reasons, r acial and ethnic analyses are critical to studies of both indigenous people and blacks. arguments, adding furthermore that racial analyses are critical to studies of indigenous people because indigenous actors themselves perceive difference in cultural and phenotypical terms (241). In Brazil, significant organizations of self proclaimed indigenous people of mixed Indian and black heritage participat e in indigenous movements, mak ing strong claims against racism. Additionally, it is highly common for indigen -to be phenotypically whiter but also to embody the socio cultural significances associated with this -of their family line through marriage to white people. In contrast, i ndigenous actors who prioritize reclaiming their heritage all chose to marry indigenous people like themselves. As such, race is critical to understanding past and present indigenous experiences, as well as the current indigeno us movements in Latin America. Similarly to the previously mentioned research, Weismantel (2001),observing the certain tendency to disregard considerations of race in studies of indigenous people in Latin America, underscores race as fundamental to the so cial fabric of the Andes. In claimed basis in biology was determined largely nonexistent, much anthropological research on indigenous people in Latin America began to base itself in ethnicity or class, and no longer race.However,


22 although race may have no biological basis, it functions critically as a social construct through which people hierarchically group each other. 2 In Andean countries, Weismantel identifies the categorizations of white vs. Indian as a binary fundamental to everyday life. Furthermore, contrary to racial categories as they function in, for example, the United States, there exist intermediate racial categories in the Andes and in most of Latin America. Noting their existence, it is often argued that Latin America constitutes a racial democracy; however, Weismantel contests that despite its dissimilarities with racism as enacted in North America, in Latin America racism is a lived reality. I critically consider race in my studies of indige neity; however, I contend that in Andean South America it is also necessary to account for important ethnic dimensions of indigeneity. I do this through analysis of indigeneity from the perspective of lowland indigenous peoples focusing on their relations with a type of highland indigenous descended people There exists a body of literature on race and racism as it pertains to indigeneity in Andean South America, basing itself on the experience of highland indigenous peoples and their relations with mestiz o or white society ( de la Cadena 2000; Canessa 2005; Gotkowitz 2011; Paulson 2002; Weismantel 1998; Weismantel 2001 ) These provide critical evidence of the fluidity of racial categories; they furthermore demonstrate indigenous resistance to racial hegemon ies through hybridization. However, th is research does not account for ethnic significances of indigeneity inter related to race that could be understood through recognition of indigenous experiences across the highlands and lowlands. 2 The previously discussed research on the salience of race to indigenous studies duly notes t his, as well, though Weismantel applies it here specifically to studies in the Andes.


23 Other research on l ow land indigenous peoples in Andean South America analyzes the significant participation of lowland groups in indigenous movements 3 (Greene 2009; Gustafson 2009; Postero 2007); however, these do not incorporate racial frameworks into their ethnographic analy ses Greene (2007) elsewhere discusses the discussion of the history of Peruvian racial concepts; however, he applies this in an abbreviated fashion to the experience of Ama zonian peoples (463). I argue that both racial and ethnic significances are integral to indigeneity, well displayed via the complex developments of indigenous movements in Bolivia presently. The Illegal The participants at the a ssembly demonstrate the stat e, multi ethnic and racial influe nces on the indigenous communit i e s of the colonization zone; they also suggest constitutes a certain frontier area (Schmink and Wood 1992 ; Tsing 2005; Turner 1920 ) for the state in the sense that it is at the border of order and disorder, urban and rural, legal and illegal becomes ambiguous, as wel (G oldstein 2012; Goodale 2009). Indigneous peoples like those of the colonization zone are frequenters of these marginal areas. Accordingly, negotiation of uncertain illegality becomes a necessity of ation with illegality can inhibit them from formal engagement with the state (Ramrez 2011). It must be emphasized 3 ce. Also through research with Guarani groups, Postero (2007) demonstrates how multicultural neoliberal reforms influenced the social


24 marginal places often tend to be areas of substantia l state interest for control (Goldstein 2012). People in the peripheries are not excluded from the state and actually play a significant role in its formation (Canessa 2005). My dissertation contributes to indigeneity studies by considering the influence o f illegal engagement on the indigenous experience and, correspondingly, indigenous movements. Gender An additional aspect of indigeneity important to my analysis is related to gender: llenged via indigenous movements at this time. Re calling again the assembly that day, this particular aspect does not evidence itself directly in the meeting proceedings. In general, men participated more than women; women were less noticeable during meeti ng discussions, except for one woman from Santa Rita who spoke up at one point. That morning in Santa Rita gathered behind the meeting house on the ground under a shelter near the community ston e made oven. Interested in learning about their activities in the community, I approached them and saw that they were peeling yuca. After talking with them, I learned that it would be used in the meals they would prepare for th e assembly that day. I asked if I could help them. The women were quiet at first, but then one looked up at me from her work and replied apologetically that they did not have any more knives that I could use. I smiled, comprehending, and stood by a little longer before leaving to take a seat on a bench in the meeting house. There exists substantial literature regarding women indigenous women, in particular -and identity formation, as well as the influence of gender on social movement


25 participation. For instance, Roseman (2002) and Mur atorio (1998) suggest the increasingly intra ethnic/racial. De la Cadena (1991) and Comaroff (1996) note that d native customs more than their male counterparts through their language and dress styles, due in part to male urban migration. Moghadam (1993) and Pappanek (1993) in particular demonstrate that movements, due to the survival. Regarding gendered participation in social movements specifically, in general indigenous women tend not to hold formal leadership positions as Viatori (2008) and others (Canessa 2010 ; Cervone 2002) have noted; however, they do participate and influence decision making processes in indirect ways. Indigenous women substantially influence household politics, which often carries into the decisions th at male relatives make in extr a household affairs (Allen 2002; Greene 2009: 79 80, 210; Isbell 1978). Also, women may be able to take advantage of their image as mothers and community caretakers in order to gain more visible leadership positions (Cervone 2 002) identity is projected outwardly and understood within, men tending to contribute to its stable and unified external representation while women assume responsibility for in corporating complex and often divergent discourses into quotidian life For my research, I consider womens role in the development of socio cultural practices, recognizing that these in turn influence the platform and indigeneity discourses wielded


26 by ind igenous movements; it is this intricate, conflict ridden organization of the everyday most particularly its gendered nature, that is a special site of interest for my dissertation. Indigenous women, like those of Santa Rita that day, a re active in their c ommunity and in its organization, although they might be in a different way than men. While research such as those by Greene (2009) and Bolaos (2008; 2010) provide illuminating discussion s regarding the agency of indigenous actors with respect to their id entity formation, they fail to take into account how indigeneity discourses, and their formation, compare between women and men. The indigenous experience is critically gendered, and men and women play special roles in their contributions to indigenous mov ements. My dissertation project builds upon past studies of indigenous identity formation and its relation to social movements, analyzing the role of gender: how indigenous men and women comparatively customize indigeneity, and furthermore how this may dif ferentially influence their participation in indigenous movements. In the wake of engagement with the illegal and growing conflicts over land and territory in Bolivia, I ask: how does interaction with highland colonists affect how lowland indigenous men a nd women conceive of and express their indigeneity ? In particular, how does being a woman affect her experience of customization of indigeneity ? F urthermore how do those personally relevant conceptions of indigeneity affect ndirect and direct participation in social movements ? I analyze these issues in my dissertation, recognizing that often the main action does not the


27 Theoretical Perspective s A nthropo logy has been critiqued in its past comparisons and categorizations of the subaltern f or fixing strict delineations of indigenous people and effectively essentializing the indigenous in such a way that prevents engagement with broader social trends an d cha nge in general (Barth 1969; Warren 2001: 216 220). In a similar vein, more recently there has been a movement within anthropology to resist the tendency to represent research subjects as static conformists with homogeneous definitions drawn by the research er and instead better recognize indiv (Abu Lughod 1991; 2008). As a consequence, anthropology must increasingly answer the challenge to examine research subjects as dynamic agents; this is perhaps particularly important in the study of indige nous peoples, indigenous movements, and indigeneity. Accordingly, my dissertation is largely an analysis of agency and its problematics; in order to completely and effectively capture its complexity I incorporate various theoretical frameworks. For a criti cal approach to agency as it pertains to significantly on Bourdieuian practice theory (1977). Such a positioning allows for careful attention to the actor and to the influen ce of her practices on the creation of social groups, as well as on relations of domination. Simultaneously, in order to correct the creative capacities, I use feminist f perspective moreover illuminates gender, ethnicity, and other identity attributes as indigeneity concepts. Cognizant of the contestation of meanings at the crux of social


28 complex manners in which agency involves b oth acceptance and resistance of dominant discourses. I also apply hegemony when considering state discourses and Practice Theory Bourdieuian practice theory is particularly useful in its consideration of both agency and structure, conceiving the two in a constant dialectical tension. In other words, it is both individual free choice and societal structures that determine the actions of a social actor ( Bourdieu 1977 ). The approach relies on three principal constructs, capital, habitus, and field. Regarding capital, Bourdieu distinguishes four types: economic, social, symbolic, and cultural, the latter two being the most critical with regards to the development of class. Symbolic capital entails the capacity to recognize or identify objects, persons, or phenomena through the use of symbols. Through its power of recognition, symbolic capital creates categories and structures. Cultural capital encompasses the qualities, practices, and objects that express our ec onomic class; particularly significant is cultural capital that is expressed through the body, i.e., how a person speaks, gestures, acts. Habitus is associated with this embodied cultural capital. It can be likened to a socio culturally developed computer adopts the practices and qualities of her class. Thus, because of socialization a human me time, however, people have free will and creativity;


29 the representation of their class. Finally, the field is the place where the exercise and exchange of capitals -and the weight of each type of a person or group determine their field positions. Bourdieu recognizes that most power is not outrightly coercive; rather, it is enacted thr ough symbolic power: the bestowal of symbols and the subordination of actors through the use of symbols. For example, symbolic power can construct hierarchical relations of domination. However, he highlights that structures are not permanent and all powerf ul; incremental change in the structures is possible, through Symbolic struggle can create incremental change. A Feminist Approach While useful for its attention to critiqued for its overemphasis on structures and their intransigence (Knauft 1996b). intentions, tending to abstract the individua l into an aggregate of practices. framework, while giving an explanation for relations of domination, fails to consider different types of inequality for instance those d ue to race, gender, and ethnicity. Feminist perspectives, with their attention to relations of power as demonstrated through gender and furthermore their recognition of the multiple facets of identity such as race and ethnicity and the corresponding powe r relations underlying these (Ortner 1996), can correct for the afore described deficiencies of Bourdieuian practice theory. In


30 While recognizing that actors are limited by societal structures, the approach the complexities of agency and the significance of power relations such as race and gender. She views individuals as strategizing such an approach, the focus of analysis is not so much the individual actors but more so the dynamic game. In my research, I look to the game in its totality as well, considering the contributions of actors and th dynamism. It is possible, then also, to consider daily life as a game, as well as those processes originating social movements. I furthermore employ a feminist methodology (Harrison 2007) throughout my diss ertation. I subscribe to a certain project of anthropological research that seeks to diminish the power relationship between researcher and consultant, a particular priority of feminist research methodologies. With an interest in destabilizing power hierar chies, feminist methodologies highlight subaltern voices in their research. Correspondingly, I make extensive use of ethnographic narrative writing in my dissertation for this purpose. After description of my field site and methods later, I provide a detai led discussion of the theoretical and ethical reasoning behind my use of narrative. Discourse Analysis and Social M ovements In my consideration of social movements, I recognize the cultural politics that motivate them (Alvarez et al. 1998) and accordingly the contestation of meanings underlying them (Rubin 2004). To this end, I use discourse analysis to interpret the ideas and significances, and their strength, propagated via the terms in which people speak and think about the world, paying attention to tho se most dominant discourses in


31 circulation. Even though discourse imposes limiting structures on society, individuals can transform a discourse through their everyday practices. These practices can erode proposing alternatives to dominant discourses or appropriating certain aspects of the discourse that are aligned with their interes ts (Ebrahim 2001; Escobar 1995). Indigenous movements have appropriated certain discourses over the course of their development, imbued them with their own meanings, and utilized the adapted discourses for their pur poses (Goodale 2009; Greene 2009 ; Speed 2006 ). For the through their acceptance, resistance, and adaptation of these -is a primary focus of analysis. My dissertation critically considers that social movements are not limite d to formal institutions, but rather originate in alternate publics (Alvarez et al. 1998), everyday public spaces where differing groups of actors challenge social meanings. Accordingly, my dissertation takes the representations of indigeneity that motivat e social movements My theoretical approach to social movements also recognizes that they are not homogeneous within: although a social movement may project a unified discours e and platform outwardly, it comprises a diversity of discourses and interests (Gustafson 2002; Stephen 2001; Warren 1998) For example, highlighting the complexity and multiple facets of social movements, Gustafson (2002) demonstrates that cross ethnic al liances form for varying strategic and political purposes, and consequently provide an intricate


32 structure to the movement. In this way, divergent histories and goals combine under one umbrella. Hegemony oncepts of hegemony and contradictory consciousness in my consideration of the intricate ways in which agency entails both resistance and acceptance of dominant discourses, meanings, and representations. Most power is not ful ly coercive, but rather enforce d through ideological and cultural control (Knauft 1996a). Hegemony explains this more insidious consent to the subjectivities it propagates (Roseberry 1994). Hegemony in this way is envisioned as a dynamic process in which actors accept and reject to varying degrees dominant discourses and ideas, consequently contributing to and detracting from its force, and reforming it as well. According to Gramsci, culture, manifested for example through language use patterns, art, and media representations, is a perceptible arena for hegemonic engagement and contestation. Contradictory consciousness refers to the manner in which actors may accept and internalize conflicting systems of meaning. This explains how individuals may seem to comply with and replicate a dominant discourse in their speech and actions, yet embrace another contradictory discourse in their lived reality, a s well. Research on race ( de la Cadena 2000) and indigene ity (Stephen 2005) in Latin America have applied contradictory consciousness to analyze subaltern acceptance of dominant discourses through compliance with the norms dictated alongside simultaneous adherence to conflicting doctrine. The analyses recognize such developments as partial acceptance and, moreover, a form of resistance.


33 Using hegemony in the study of acceptance and resistance to dominant discourses regarding indigeneity in the context of social movements, I apply it gagement with the state. In doing so, I consider that the state is not confined to an organization or institution; rather, it depends on the processes, activities, and subjectivities of the actors with whom it discursively comes into contact. The state exe rcises power significantly through hegemony, via ideological and cultural control (Joseph and Nugent 1994). Actors varyingly accept and resist these controls. Furthermore, the state and civil society designate two separate entities, often perceived as in c onflict with each other, with social movements pertaining to the latter; simultaneously, however, it is often difficult to determine where one ends and the other begins (Navaro Yashin 2002; Roitman 2004) Friction My dissertation examines significantly mov ement and cultural exchange with respect to certain discursive, conceptual, and ideological boundaries as they pertain to Friction refers to cultural production that occurs across difference. While Tsing applies it in her analysis of global interactions and their implications for forest conservation and responses and decisions taken as they interact in the dynamic frontier area of the colonization zone. Bolivia: Historical Analysis The developments of the Conisur assembly that day suggest that although the state under the direction of the Morales government has made significant instit utional changes for the benefit of indigenous and peasant peoples, its changed policies only go


34 so far in answering the realities of indigenous groups. These failings are due to historical, ideological, and cultural constraints. As will be described in Cha pter 5 instead of treating the Yurakar community leaders as equals, the state representatives adopt the stance of a paternalist state ready to dole out gifts on passive subjects. Their discourse furthermore depicts the indigenous communities as destitute and in need of demonstrate certain complex, racially tinged hierarchies at work in the state and civil discriminatory post colo nial ideologies inception and evolution of the social meanings ascribed to racial and ethnic differences 4 Certain social categories carried important influence prior to colonization; the colonial and post colonial periods brought different interactions and ethnic racial power dynamics that region has tended to play a more dominant political and economic ro le, the eastern region gaining more prominence recently, since the twentieth century. In what follows I discursive labels as highland vs. lowland, indio campesino and indgena These societal categories come into play in my dissertation. Including the Andes in the West and reaching into the Amazon in the East, Bolivia encompasses a diversity of landscapes; this has translated historically into decidedly different ways of life across the country, though not necessarily isolated from one another (Wolf 1997: 64 65). One ideological dichotomy present early on was that 4 Race and ethnicity are much inter related; I will further analyze their sp ecial relationship in Bolivia subsequently.


35 between Andean and Amazonian peoples (Greene 2007). For instance, there is evidence from prior to Spanish c olonization that Quechua highlanders referred to some chuncho meaning savage, violent, and backwards (454). This differentiation between Andean and Amazonian indigenous groups became mor e complex with Spanish colonization as a new perspective on ethnic diversity developed. Spanish colonists tended to view Inca es such as that of the Inca, Amazonian groups were thought of as lacking cultural complexity. For example, that Amazonian peoples did not exhibit a government system separated from common society, but rather a more communitarian normative structure, determ status as simple and inferior peoples to Europeans (Lehm 1996: 438). Their widely dispersed living patterns, linguistic diversity and shamanistic religion furthermore made them wild and strange to European colonists (Lehm 1992: 135 1 36). Accordingly, although Spanish colonizers generally viewed all New World indigenous peoples as inferior to European society, the colonial gaze tended to perceive Amazonian groups as The Spanish in this region established colonial centers in the Andean sub region, one for instance being around the Potos mine of present day Bolivia; other regions and peoples played a more peripheral role in colonial projects. Colonizers noted and exploited the hierarchical organization of I nca society, instating Inca nobles as indigenous colonial authorities over native society (Greene 2007); in this way, a dual society developed in which these Inca nobles served as intermediators between the


36 native realm, ma rginal to the colonial one (Alb 2008 ; Greene 2007). The commoner native class provided the labor, coordinated via the indigenous authorities, for the colonial mines. With regards to Amazonia, Spanish explorers had been attracted to the area particularly for the purposes of discovering th e hidden treasures of fabled cities such as El Dorado, Gran Paititi, and Gran Mojos (Lehm 1996). They discarded this project by 1600, and missions became the more prominent European presence in the area subsequently. The missions met with mixed success, co nfronting the challenge of frequent indigenous flight from them. Although Amazonian peoples figured more marginally in the colonial extractivist scheme than those of the highlands, their labor on colonial haciendas and in the missions conformed with the ge neral goal of civilizing the natives through hard labor (136). Simultaneously, the time of Spanish colonization saw the introduction of black slaves to the Andean area. They were brought initially in the 1500s with the purpose of providing labor for the Po tos mines (Busdiecker 2009). Inca nobles held black slaves, and in some instances indigenous commoners played a part in the trading of slaves, as well (Greene 2007:459). Black slaves eventually came to labor on various plantations in the Yungas, a sub tro pical area located in between Andean and Amazonian areas. New identifying labels evolved with the Spanish colonization; those most prevalent pertained to categories of white European and Andean indigenous peoples. There developed a small elite group of European descent administering the colony; indigenous people constituted the laboring group, and these came to be referred to as naturales indios or indgenas (Alb 2008). The term originario also circulated, meaning one who was originally from the area, used particularly in reference to indigenous


37 people who remained in rural places and more separated from Spanish lifestyle. Simultaneously, a category intermediate to the indigenous and the Spanish developed, referred to as mestizo This recognized the fo rmation of a certain group or class of people who were products of miscegenation between the Spanish and indigenous groups. Another intermediate term, but referring to peoples of principally indigenous descent, developed to describe those indigenous people who had come to live in more urban settings, cholo This reference was particularly derogatory. The various labels in circulation existed within a gradient wherein the indigenous was inferior, constituting the hard labor force, while the white European pr esided over positions of power. Notwithstanding the dominant ideology of European superiority to native peoples that prevailed, indigenous groups resisted structures of domination throughout this time via varying types of rebellion ( Alb 2008 ; Gustafson 20 09: 33 38; Santos Granero 1992). For instance, indigenous uprisings like that led by the Kataris in what is now the department of Potos in the late eighteenth century were an inspirational factor in the mestizo pendence in 1825 (Alb 2008: 16 17). In the subsequent period of the republic indigenous peoples actively engaged in political governmental changes for their own interests, for example colluding with those politicians and supporting those uprisings which p romised to cater favorably to indigenous concerns, like land protection. Despite their resistance to European domination and their active participation and inclusion in post colonial mestizo political movements, independence did not eradicate indigenous a nd black marginalization; however, this history of marginalization differed distinctively depending on the categories previously mentioned, Andean,


38 Amazonian, and black 5 For example, highland indigenous groups continued to primarily constitute the labo r f orce in the mines (Alb 2008; Greene 2007). The new republic furthermore did away with communal lands in order to develop haciendas, the indigenous inhabitants becoming peons. In the Eastern lowlands indigenous engagement with European and mestizo groups w as distinct from that of the highlands in that no mining activities took place; furthermore, the long distances and ethnic diversity engendered a more varied inter group interaction, some indigenous groups living more isolated while others worked on hacien das, and others engaged with missions. When the rubber boom developed in the late nineteenth century, lowland indigenous groups came to engage with its protagonists, as well. Dependent on an indigenous labor force yet fearful of their rebellion, nation bui lders in the republican era sought to maintain indigenous peoples separate from mestizo society yet 6 through labor and Spanish language ed ucation, for example (Alb 2008; Gustafson 200 9). The state coordinated such civilizing activities in the highlands, and entrusted these to the missions in the lowlands. As mentioned previously, the state tended to perceive lowland s; consequently, 1996). Moreover, constructing the nation with the Andean region as its economic and political center, lowland groups remained on the periphery of state interest, largely 5 In distinguishing these three broad categories, I do not mean to disregard the differentiation and specificity of the indigenous experience. In the lowland region, for instance, the differing indigenous groups engaged with the colonial and post colonial eras in distinctive ways (Lehm 1992). 6 Social Darwinism influenced racial paradigms at the time, giving credence to the claim that indigenous ogically inherited.


39 disregarded throughout the republican period (Gustafson 2009). Similarly, though even more regarding blacks was largely nonexistent throughout the ninetee nth and twentieth centuries (Greene 2007). Regarding indigenous and black relations, mestizo paradigms mimicked those of the colonial Spanish, fearing black and indigenous collusion for rebellion; consequently, it was preferable to keep the two separated and even pit them against each other in some situations. Indigenous peoples for their part tended to separate themselves ideologically from blacks, viewing themselves as more civilized than the latter; for this reason, as well, indigenous groups maintained themselves disconnected from blacks. In this way, while Amazonians were largely peripheral to throughout this time, blacks were marginal from multiple angles. At mid twentieth century state policy regarding indigenous peoples, pa rticularly those of the highlands, took a significant turn. The MNR (National Revolutionary Movement) political party usurped state control after orchestrating a revolution in 1952; the party wielded a unifying, nationalist discourse that blanketed ethnic differences (Postero 2004). The new state also implemented significant agrarian reform, doing away with large haciendas and accordingly distributing small parcels to the indigenous farm workers (Alb 2008). In contrast, land reform in the East promoted the development of large scale landownership, accompanied with small land titles held by indigenous farmers who migrated from the West, these referred to as colonists or colonos Over the years as Western to Eastern migration became significant, an important distinction evolved colloquially between those from the highlands and


40 residents of the lowlands, not based on indigenous descent per se but on geographic origins: colla refers to people of the highlands, and camba to those of the lowlands. However, given t indigenous labor, colla often implies highland indigenous heritage; contrastingly, camba has no indigenous connotations about it. Notwithstanding the regional distinction, the land reform al peoples of Bolivia through for instance universal suffrage, rural education, and the unionization of indigenous farmers (Alb 2008). The latter pertained to those indigenous commu nities of the highlands. In this way the state promoted a policy of assimilation of Bolivia's indigenous groups, under a paternalistic guise; moreover, the state made no reference to the indigenous origins of the highland peasant farmers but rather descri bed them in terms of class, as peasants or campesino s Accordingly, the 1967 State Constitution does not in many instances allowed campesino s to govern themselves virtual ly autonomously through the union s, and it encouraged state engagement via union s (Alb 2008). Consequently, union s came to provide important organizational space for highland indigenous communities (Yashar 2004). Regarding lowland communities, they were l argely invisible to the state, which tended to recognize only those of the highlands (Postero 2007). These embraced the campesino label, feeling that it signified long sought inclusion as citizens and that it was a significant improvement on the indio refe rence. Furthermore, long after land reform had answered their demands, highland groups continued to organize themselves as union s. Actually, union s provide significant


41 of land and of private property rights among its associates, for example. The campesino label, as well as their union organization, has prevailed as an indicator of peoples of highland rural origins through the present. The state of the 1952 revolution had made efforts to incorporate indigenous peoples into the nation, yet it retained the same ideological structures of domination from the colonial and neocolonial eras; indigenous awareness of their persistent subaltern position in national society gradually manifested itself in forms of broader, regional indigenous collusion and organization. The post 1952 state had promoted equality via cultural homogenization, particularly uniformity with a national mestizo culture (Alb 2008). State and national discourse s demonstrated that to become mestizo was to become more civilized, and this could be accomplished through education, peasant unions, and military service (21). Despite the hegemonic homogenizing discourse, social factions began to form in the 1970s and 80 s, uniting under the common trait of their indigenous heritage and proudly claiming an indigenous identity. For instance, Katarismo, a movement drawing inspiration from the indigenous rebellion led by Tupac Katari in the late 18 th century, consisted primar ily of young Aymara people, born after the agrarian reform, and who lived both in the cities and in their native rural home communities. Their platform originated from recognition of historical indigenous oppression, further complicated by class oppression Additionally, the advent of NGO activity and international development projects in the 1980s transmitted environmentalist and human rights discourse to poor and rural communities (Goodale 2007). In particular, such projects taught valorization and respe ct


42 of cultural differences, influencing indigenous reconsideration of original customs and practices. 7 With regard to lowland groups particularly, international environmentalist discourse concerned with tropical rainforest conservation evolved at this time that in the process depicted Amazonian peoples as natural guardians of the forest (Greene 2007). It has been argued that such discourses made lowland peoples more visible in nations like Bolivia and Peru, who had more characteristically self identified wi th their Andean regions, but with a recognition limited to that of nature preservationists and forest dwellers. Such discursive representations aligned with and affirmed national ffered Amazonian groups a visible, legitimate label with which to identify and under which to organize in national politics. The term indgena constructed internationally through organizations like the United Nations (Greene 2009) as representative of ind igenous peoples in general, cleaned of its historically negative connotations, came to be associated with and comfortably claimed by lowland peoples in Bolivia, who had been un identified in the eyes of the state until this period of time. Aligning myself with the Bolivian discursive regime, I generally use indgena in my dissertation in reference to lowland peoples. Correspondingly in 1982 with the help of NGOs, lowland groups formed their own federation, the Confederation of Indigenous Peoples of Eastern Bolivian (CIDOB) 8 ; one of its principal purposes was the defense of indigenous lands (Alb 2008 ; Postero 7 For example, Gustafson notes (2009) that through a UNICEF supported bilingual education program started in the late 1980s, indigenous groups in Bolivia were allowed organizational space to reflect on their indigenous identity and dev society. 8 The name was later changed to its current one, though maintaining the same acronoym, the Confederation of Indigenous Peoples of Bolivia (Fundacin Tierra 2011).


43 2005 nationally and internationally. Furthermore, in 1983 the Unified Syndic al Confederation of Peasant Workers of Bolivia (CSUTCB), largely representative of campesino s issued I n earlier decades the state had viewed assertions of incompatible with modernity and with its goals of national unity ; however indigenous identification in national politics and international indigenous rights movements influenced the development of new neoliberal multiculturalist legislation in Bolivia in the 1980s and 90s. The policies engendered further new indigenous and subaltern organization at the turn of the century, as well. Beginning in the 1980s the state promoted privatization and monetary st abilization schemes combined with a downsizing of state run social welfare programs. While the programs affected various job sectors, in particular they detrimentally affected miners, protagonists in pro state popular movements up until that time (Alb 200 8). Correspondingly, peasant campesino organizations began playing a larger role in mass movements. Accompanying continued neoliberal policies at this time, constitutional reforms in the 90s declared Bolivia a multiethnic state and recognized the rights of indigenous peoples, especially in regards to land and natural resources. Bilingual education became a state policy, and new legislation allowing the granting of native communal territories came into effect. Additional legislation, the Popular Participati on Law, established a system for local participation in governance through municipal level associations; while the ultimate effects of the law have been much debated, it along with other legislation enabled


44 significant participation of indigenous and other traditional political organizations in electoral politics in the long run ( Albro 2010: 37; Postero 2007). For instance, in the municipal elections of 1995, some 500 indigenous people were elected as mayors; in 2000, over 1000 indigenous people won mayor al positions, representing 65% of the total (Alb 2008: 27). Significantly, peasant union s in Cochabamba took advantage of the laws to ultimately help create the Movement to Socialism party (MAS). The party emerged with a platform critical of neoliberalism and of Bolivian subjugation to Northern states and multilateral institutions (Alb 2008). Evo Morales, a colonist from the highlands and MAS gradually grew in support, drawin g from the indigenous sector but also from others, including coca growers, trade unions, and neighborhood associations (28). In these ways, subaltern groups learned new means of engaging with the state and used them to challenge racial and ethnic hegemoni es as well as neoliberal policies (Postero 2007). Amid growing discontent, indigenous groups staged a march for a Constituent Assembly in 2002, calling for the Constitution to be reformed through an assembly of elected representatives that included indigen ous peoples (Postero 2005). This restlessness eventually culminated in the Black October uprising of 2003, wherein indigenous and working classes revolted against a government plan to export natural gas to the United States and Mexico via a Chilean gas duc t. Neighborhood organizations that had formed through the Law of Popular Participation were major players in the October 2003 gas uprising. The public manifestation led to the resignation of the then president Sanchez de Lozada. Political organizing for th e municipal elections


45 of 2004, also possible through the Law, enabled MAS victories in 2005 as well as the election of Evo Morales as President. Since then, the MAS state has taken significant steps to move indigenous peoples from the periphery to the cen ter of state institutions. A new Constitution was instated in 2009 wherein Bolivia calls itself a "plurinational state" (Repblica de Bolivia 2009) As previously noted, indigenous movements had voiced a demand for such a state since the 1980s. Bolivian ne oliberalist state policies advocating multiculturalism and interculturalism had emphasized tolerance of difference and intercultural dialogue, respectively; in comparison, plurinationalism seeks to more directly deconstruct epistemic hierarchies (Gustafson new Constitution puts an emphasis on cultural rights (Albro 2010a). Additionally, it explicitly recognizes indigenous groups in all the form s they identify, specifically: orignario campesino and indgena The state has also renam ed its ministries in recogni and installed indigenous representatives in high government posts. Evo Morales was re elect ed in 2009, and MAS currently holds a slight majority in the legislature. experiences in order to subvert white hegemony; nonetheless, there exist racial and ethnic ideologi es within the state and civil society that hierarchically distinguish certain indigenous peoples from others Bolivia encompasses various indigenous histories, each with differing inceptions, influential factors, and transformations. Accordingly, race and ethnic conflicts in Bolivia do not simplify to a contest of mestizo vs. indigenous; they


46 are intricately multi faceted, consisting in conceptual conflicts such as mestizo vs. campesino vs. indgena vs. black. These racial and ethnic hierarchies may pose ch allenges to plurinationalism and to the MAS government uphold indigenous rights. For instance, state discourses and practices suggest the favoring of certain indigenous experiences over others. R centrality in colonial and post colonial times the state tends to base its national identity on Andean qualities. For example, f Aymara inspired taking of office ceremony in the pre Columbian arc haeological ruins of Tiahuanaco in the Western highlands, parallel to the ceremony that took place in the state legislature. they continue to be peripheral to state national projects ( Busdiecker 2009). In general, blackness tends to be limited conceptually and geographically to the Yungas region, as if a realm separate from Bolivia itself. Furthermore the state demonstrates a failure to capture the intricate dynamism that constitute s indigeneity. It resort s to conventionally defined concepts of indigeneity, based in the rural, the communal, and the non capitalist (Albro 2010b) Ascribing to suc h foundations discursively, it become s difficult for the state to accept that indigenous peop les might capital ize on clientelist relations, invest in multiple agricultural and urban business ventures or participate in transnational, illegal drug circuits. Additionally, the MAS led state pursues national economic policies that favor certain types tend to be extractivist (Gustafson and Fabricant 2011; Fabricant 2011) ; these support


47 colla mestizo and campesino economic models (Paz 2011) b ut threaten the communally managed economie s of minority indigenous groups. While not a focus of my dissertation, the current position of the Bolivian state with respect to indigeneity is I continue this discussion regarding the challenges MAS confronts co n cerning indigenous advocacy in C hapter 6 Description of Field Site Amid this broader geographic and conceptual landscape, my research originated in lowland Bolivia, in TIPNIS in the Chapar, an area of the country where land conflicts among colonos (col onists) and lowland indigenous groups are common (Gironas Sotez 2006). Since the 1970s highland indigenous groups have migrated to the Chapar to produce coca. These colonos have developed strong organizational power and played a significant role in the so cial movement that brought Evo Morales to the presidency The coca growing colonos and indigenous groups of the Chapar, as they vie over control of land and natural resources, tend to view each other antagonistically and define their identity in relation to the other (Cos tas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011; Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006). Despite these antagonisms, in some areas of the park colonists and indigenous groups live in somewhat tranquil symbiosis. For example, as mentioned previously, 2004 legislation granting colonization and coca production in the zone. Yurakar and Trinitario indigenous communities that live in and near the zone have developed significant coca production activities, and th ere have occurred inter ethnic unions with highland descendants (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 108). In some indigenous communities, highland descendants even hold formal leadership positions. The dynamism of the colonization zone challenges ideological boun daries regarding indigeneity in varying


48 ways; the perspectives of two Yurakar communities in the colonization zone, San Lucas and S anta Rita inform the analysis of my dissertation The two communities neighbor each other on the Isiboro River, and they a re similar, yet different from each other in significant ways. San Lucas and Santa Rita each consist of approximately twenty to thirty families. A Bolivian NGO that prioritizes the revalorization of Yurakar knowledge and culture (CEPY) recognizes Santa Ri ta as a community that especially values and maintains its Yurakar customs and practices over other Yurakar communities. Perhaps demonstrative of this distinction, the inhabitants of Santa Rita speak Yurakar more openly than those of San Lucas The comm unities dynamics in the colonization zone. Methods C ontestations often include both acceptance and resistance, a prevalent consideration throughout the analyses of my research To eng age in an effective analysis of the intricacies of contestation and resistance, I have elected research methods and writing techniques that best allow for illustration of the complexity of carried out over 2011 2012 among the community members of San Lucas and Santa Rita I relied on ethnographic field methods, ma in ly participant observation (DeWalt and DeWalt 2011). In each community, I lived with primarily one family, designated by the co mmunity, and incorporated myself into community activities as much as possible. This helped me to learn first ts: for example, I accompanied community members in their travels to and activities in the semi urban


49 and urban areas outside of their community. Furthermore, there was a period of six weeks when both communities participated in an indigenous march to the state capital; I visited community members on three occasions during their time in the capital, recognizing their participation in the mobilization as a particular site of contestation of cultural meanings. In addition to participant observation, I used u nstructured interviews, oral histories, and focus groups for data collection. Due to the particular political moment in Bolivia and general indigenous mistrust of foreign researchers, I used convenience sampling (Bernard 2002). Regarding the focus groups, I facilitated monthly meetings in each community that included men and women, wherein participants reflected upon collective identity and history, as well as goals for their community. The culminating tography of their community and subsequent incorporation of meeting discussions and photos into a communal Accompanying my fiel dwork with the communities, I also conducted unstructured interviews and participant observation of the regional indigenous council, the Council of office in the city on several time with CPITCO representatives in the indigenous territory of interest at the beginning of my fieldwork period. Experiences with CPITCO contributed to a more complex picture of indigenous politi cs at regional and national levels.


50 I have used a combination of grounded theory and the extended case method in my data analysis. The latter differs significantly from grounded theory in that it bases itself in existing theory (Burawoy 2002). Following gr ounded theory, I have developed a coding scheme that helps me recognize patterns of importance in my data; however, I measure the relevance of these patterns in the context of my research questions. I continuously alternated from my data to my theoretical framework, seeking to contribute to the existing knowledge base and simultaneously challenge the parameters of that foundation. Ethnographic Narrative Writing While I rely on theoretical discussion and data analysis, I employ ethnographic writing technique s, particularly the narrative, in order to express the intricate, gendered realities of indigenous identity politics and social movements. The purpose of my choice of narrative writing demonstrates furthermore my feminist research approach: I seek to erode certain power hierarchies, and I stive to elucidate complex lived realities in an easily comprehensible way (Harrison 2007). My dissertation is very much a research project on agency; consequently, the clarity and strength of my arguments depend profoundl y on my capability to represent as truthfully (what I mean by truth I will detail subsequently) as possible the people of San Lucas and Santa Rita as not objects but basi completely as possible. In this way, my dissertation answers to a ce rtain extent Abu I tendency to present people as bounded, homogenous groups who voicelessly follow


51 normative structures. Such writing can further cement the boundary between writer and subject, and just as critically between the readers and the rea d about, further colonization of subaltern peoples as a foreign, silent and objectifiable Other 9 Consequently, I strive instead to represent people through my writing as the complex individuals they are: at times adhering to norms, at others undermining them, at many times a little of both, but always doing so in diversely intricate ways. In this manner, I draw out the similarities among the read about, the readers, and human agents in general. T o communicate mutual humanity in such a way that helps erode the self other dichotomy it is necessary to employ particularly evocative, poignant, yet broadly understandable writing, again making important the use of narrative (Babcock 1995 ; Lutkehaus 1995) Although I acknowledge the challenge of diminishing to any significant extent the corresponding unequal power relation between the writer and the written about, I Lughod 2008: 27) the anthropological project through recognition of my position of authorial authority contributions knowledge creation; narrative writing techniques are useful for this purpose, as well. I acknowledge that regardless of the writing methods I use, my role as the write their lives about which I write. In this way they lose ownership, in an important sense, of their activities and lived reality as I take authorial possession of its representation. A t the same time, I also recognize that I am another instrument or actor within a larger process 9 This pos ough its investigative representations of indigenous material culture (Gumucio 2011).


52 of knowledge creation (Clifford 1986). While I document a certain history, ages of negotiation over cultural meanings influence the knowledge communicated to an d interpreted by me. For instance, informants learn cultural knowledge via elders, oral or performative history, as well as texts introduced via extra communal organizations (116). More importantly, the knowledge creation continues after my written account as others interpret and transmit different pieces in varying forms to additional actors across condemned to tell stories we cannot control, may we not, at least, tell sto ries we believe representation, but one that Yurakar community members and other Bolivian actors have communicated to me most strongly and that I have understood to be most valid. For these reasons, I find it helpful to consider myself as an artist artisan who weaves together several brightly colored threads, d y ed by others previously, the pattern suggested to me by them as well (Harrison 2007: 27) My intent is not to steal the artwork from them in this way and take full credit for it; rather, the purpose in my role is to share the piece with a larger public because the originators do not have the means or capacities to circulate it on their own (and might not immediately per ceive its broader reaching value). It is important that I identify their ownership of the piece at all times or at least as often as possible while carrying out my function; I make efforts to do this through the use of narrative. Distinguishing my place in relation to theirs in the creation of the art, yet without soaking up the spotlight of analysis excessively either, I insert myself into the narratives throughout my dissertation, describing my position: listening, asking a question, and becoming part of the conversation as they recount to me their


53 story, or simply accompanying them as I learn from them their daily activities. I use narrative furthermore in this way to question my authorial authority, often demonstrating the manners in which Yurakar commu nity members transmit a certain discourse to me or impress a particular conclusion upon me. In this manner, through my positioning within the narratives, informants often appear more active and dynamic than I, and justifiably so. Recognizing that the infor mation detailed here tends to be personal and changed community names. Although I had been adopting this position regarding anthropology and anthropology as writing be fore my fieldwork, certain engagements and more particularly arguments with Yurakar informants have reinforced the motivation to highlight their role as persons and crea tors of the knowledge merits. With the purpose of inserting readers into the context of the dissertation, I detail the first introduction -of several to come throughout the -to an actor who significantly informs the methods and ethical bent of the research, Leonardo. The Ambiguous Relationship of Researcher Informant Upon my first extended visit to San Lucas a small group of community members guided me through the last leg of the trip to reach the community, assisting me with my various knapsacks, as well: Mart a and her partner Carlos Don Nico l as Don E duardo and Leonardo. 10 Arriving there after nightfall, Mart a and Carlos took me to their home, and Leonardo accompanied us. The three of them were all in their early to mid twenti es. 10 The community had previously designated Marta and Leonardo, as well as one other woman, as facilitators for the project I proposed to develop in the community.


54 The lady of the house, Doa Elsina, and her husband were absent at the time having gone with their younger children to spend an extended period of time laboring in their fields deeper within the territory. Without the larger family the house was rathe r desolate, but Marta started a fire 11 around which the four of us sat and chatted in the darkness as we rested from the short trip. Leonardo was particularly gregarious and interested in engaging me in conversation. He asked me further about my background. When I first introduced myself to the community, I had explained myself as of Bolivian parents and a student in the United States. I detailed now that I was born and raised in the United States, but I had always visited Bolivia regularly and I had worked for a Bolivian non governmental organization some years before as well. Correspondingly, I learned from Leonardo that his background was slightly different from that of other community members in that t; the latter was Ignaciano, of another indigenous group. I asked Leonardo and the others what they knew of the Yurakar language, and during the discussion Leonardo began counting in Yurakar. Although attaining Yurakar proficiency was not a goal of my f ieldwork, I was interested counting I began to reach for my notebook and pencil from my shoulder bag and asked Leonardo if he might be able to start from the beginning. recording me, 11 Anoth er Yurakar woman commented to me later that without a fire going, the atmosphere just is not lively or happy.


55 I found his response so shocking, I was unsure whether or not he was joking. The atmosphere had been relatively friendly, but his tone now was particu larly accusat ory. I assured him -confused and slightly hurt that he would assume I was that type of outsider -that I was not clandestinely recording the conversation. The flow of the chat interrupted as such, Leonardo went on to explain that in the past he had worked recording the conversations of community members unbeknownst to them. She learned all the activities of the Yurakar residents, even how to make a boat, and she wrote texts he compiled a book on the Yurakar, copies of which were distributed to community members. He did not direct himself to me while he spoke, rather to Marta and Carlos and the quiet night. Nonetheless, his discourse seemed to contain a veiled yet highly crit ical and questioning accusation. He continued, of fact discourse. I was unable to decipher his expression or those of the other s in the darkness; regardless, I flatly record or take pictures either, for that matter, of people without their permission. Furthermore, my policy whenever I did take pictures und copies of the photos afterwards. Although I attempted to give further explanation of my motives for being a student researcher, having to do with my personal interest in


56 Bolivia, Leonardo only commented on my s tatement regarding permission: he agreed that it was critical. Soon afterwards, Leonardo left for his own home, and Marta Carlos and I bedded down for the night. Despite the relatively peaceful conclusion of our conversation, I continued to feel disturbed I did not like being considered a tourist; I judged my function in San Lucas in Bolivia, to be much more important and profoundly more respectful of the people of San Lucas than that of any tourist who might go to the area. Yet Leonardo viewed me as a t ourist, who would visit his community for the adventure of seeing people and places unfamiliar to her, take pictures, and then take them away to her own country for her own exploitative purposes. I felt misunderstood, and consequently, deeply vexed. Althou on student researchers, I did not regard my work as exploitative of Leonardo and the people of San Lucas ; at least, I did not like to. Regardless, I kept my camera hidden away, untouched, within my knapsacks th roughout the duration of that first visit. I itched to use the camera in order to remember the new people and places about which I was learning. Despite this naturally touristic desire, and although on several occasions community members queried as to the including Leonardo, I continued to separate myself from the device, as if distancing myself from all touristic associations and disrespectful treatment of indigenous peoples. I only use the camera when others ask me to, I argued. After a few weeks of my circulation through San Lucas regarding my function there and uncertain with respect to what utility that might promise,


57 and to whom, I was ready to return to the c ity for a short break. I despondently prepared family prepared to see me off. Amid the small bustle, Leonardo arrived. I assumed he had stopped by to politely say good by e to the foreign lady visitor. He did, and he also did a bit more. He took me by surprise when he approached me, looked me seriously in Feeling a mixture of relief and childish excit ement, I smiled and exclaimed, deep within my backpack. Others in the household had noticed our brief conversation and the appearance of the camera, and a small commotion started as people hurried back and forth to clean themselves up for picture taking. Even Leonardo borrowed a nice shirt from Carlos to change into for the pictures. questioned me, wi th the air which he would always tend to carry in dialogues with me of a prosecutor carrying out a cross examination. I assured him, and the others there, that I would. Although the particular episode concluded relatively p leasantly, many encounters with Leonardo throughout my months of fieldwork often did not. In fact, I would argue that our relationship was very much based in conflict and misunderstanding. I recognize my dissertation also as a project of attempting to clar ify and make less formidable the ambiguous relationship between researcher and informant.


58 Summary of Research Including the relationship of indigenous person and student researcher as a facet of analysis, I illustrate the intricacies of indigeneity via the lived realities of the community members of San Lucas and Santa Rita their contributions to its formation, including the meanings ascribed to it and for what purposes -my resear ch focuses particularly on the gender racial ethnic power relations underlying indigeneity. To better scrutinize these dynamics I examine an area of cultural friction, the colonization zone, a place where dichotomous identity categories coincide and overla p, their limits eroding and giving way to new identifying lifeways. Furthermore, affirming my dissertation as a research project on agency, I focus assumes. While I use a gendered lens in my analyses, I simultaneously make efforts to examine beyond identifying categories such as gender and ethnicity, recognizing the importance of individual history to the significances ascribed to indigeneity. As such, I follow the cases of multiple specific individuals from San Lucas and Santa Rita in this way illustrating their roles in the dynamics of indigeneity. Examining and questioning the intransigence of ethnic and racial boundaries, my dissertation analyzes the effects of ethnic and racial admixture and illegality on indigeneity and it furthermore studies its redefinition and refinement for the purposes of social movements; in this way, I research the processes of indigeneity in everyday practice as well as its dynamics in the con text of social movements. In situations of extreme ethnic and racial dominance, indigenous persons appropriate and incorporate socio cultural and economic practices of the dominant group into their everyday, to the


59 extent that ethnic limits become ambiguou s despite that the Other is a threatening enemy in various situations. Accordingly, lived indigeneity is based upon permeable ethnic and racial boundaries and allows for incorporation of non indigenous or semi indigenous traits and practices. In situations of less severe ethnic and racial dominance, in contrast, such boundaries may be more prominent and firmly enforced. As such, indigeneity serves as a form of negotiation of ethnic and racial dominance. Additionally, uncertain illegality tends to flourish i n the margins, areas traversed substantially by indigenous peoples. Like in the colonization zone, these areas are characterized by formal state absence as well as dynamic growth and change. Deft navigation of illegality becomes a necessary part of the eve ryday for the peoples of the colonization zone. Furthermore, its shared experience can serve to further blend ethnic and racial boundaries. In order for their demands as indigenous peoples to have legitimacy and gain recognition, however, indigenous mo vements must adhere to well defined identity categories and represent themselves according to strict boundaries between the indigenous and non indigenous; accordingly, ethnic boundaries as communicated via indigeneity discourses must be prominent. For the purposes of the movement, indigeneity is represented as pure and based on an essential set of identity traits. Also necessary for an effective social movement, indigenous people must distance themselves from associations with the illegal and must emphasize their marginality over their experiences with illegality. Men and women both participate in the formation and enactment of indigeneity in these differing contexts, although th eir contributions are distinct ly gendered. The case of


60 the communities of San L ucas and Santa Rita of the colonization zone demonstrates that men and women both negotiate the blurry ethnic lines necessary for survival of foreign dominance, like that of the colonos differ importantly. Examining cases of colono and Yurakar interethnic unions, it becomes apparent that men and women must be exceedingly mobile, moving frequently across urban and rural, colla and Yurakar, spaces, taking their children along with are particularly characterized by mobility in order to negotiate fuzzy colono Yurakar boundaries. In my dissertation, while I discuss several interethnic unions and romances involving individuals from San Lucas and Santa Rita I examine particularly the developments of colla men and Yurakar women couples, pertaining to a family in San Lucas The details of these family stories illustrate that men may travel more easily to urban spaces in order to take advantage of work opportunities there, and in these cases their spouses and children accompany them; however, Yurakar women travel between there and their home communities in order to visit their families, access freely available products of the indigenous territory, and harvest coca. The loosening or eros ion of Yurakar societal norms that in the past may part and parcel of the new cultural productions characteristic of the friction of the colonization zone. The particular tren the peoples of the colonization zone, so much so that Yurakar social norms bend and reform themselves in the interest o f socio economic survival; the development is also particularly suggestive of a certain autonomy coca symbolizes for Yurakar women.


61 Furthermore, that colla ownership in communal territory, lan d that can be used for coca production, is an important consideration for gendered power relations within the family: while men engage in income production in urban and semi urban colla spaces, women can travel to maintain their family ties in their indige nous communities. Throughout these movements and activities in multi ethnic and racial spaces, in household maintenance, and in coca production, women engage in child rearing, their children nearby to them at all times. In this way, women serve as cultural brokers of sorts, accepting, adapting, and applying varying economic and socio through the knowledge and experiences they impart to their children, although they facilitate this process in partnership w ith their spouses. For instance although men are family leaders in Yurakar and colla cultures, it is ultimate ly up to women to execute household activities and exercises on a daily basis, in this way significantly influencing family food preferences, Yura kar language usage, and economic strategies. Interethnic couples and their children in San Lucas and Santa Rita demonstrate that life in the colonization zone involves frequent movement as well as unconscious cultural blending and shape shifting, particu larly when the mother is Yurakar; the ethnographic research suggests furthermore that cases of single Yurakar mothers are exceedingly mobile. Engaging in the multiple economic opportunities that friction provides in order to sustain themselves and their children, they move recurrently among the mixed spaces of their frontier environment, taking advantage of the resources available to them in each. Moreover, bending to and accommodating colono dominance


62 is especially necessary for their economic survival i n the colonization zone. For instance, some single Yurakar mothers significantly appropriate and incorporate colono practices, imitating colono women dress styles, for instance, in this way distancing themselves from the Yurakar. This last outcome also suggests the greater avenues for open ethnic assertion for women than for men. the colonization zone, as well as its gendered aspects, both men and women must negotiate the uncertain illegality that stems in part from their coca production activities. Distinction between the legal and illegal, particularly with regards to coca, is especially ambiguous; Yurakar men and women both confront the uncertain risks of engaging in c oca production, correspondingly making careful navigation of murky illegality a part of their everyday. Notwithstanding this shared experience and the fact that coca serves as a critical economic mainstay for both Yurakar men and women, coca has particula rly gendered meanings and value, as already alluded to above. Looking at cases of Yurakar women in San Lucas and Santa Rita in later stages of their family lives, their varied experiences demonstrate the influence of friction and frontier living on their customizations of indigeneity. Absorption of and adaptation to the shocks of friction on the colonization zone involving encroaching colono dominance, uncertain illegality and a dynamic coca economy can allow Yurakar women such as Doa Elsina of San Lucas a certain degree of autonomy as to socio economic choices and their movements. For instance, increased engagement with murky illegality and economic dependence on coca production has allowed Yurakar women in some situations to leave abusive partners and support themselves and their children


63 independently. Increased investment in the friction simultaneously entails acceptance of life under the influence of coca union s and colono dominance. Considering Doa Elsina as a cultural broker, her children are not familiar with the Yurakar language, and several have chosen to form marital unions with collas In this way, her life experiences demonstrate that she has developed an indigeneity that allows permeable ethnic boundaries; this has become necessary for her survival in the colonization zone as an indigenous women. In comparison, for those not so invested in the friction of the colonization zone adaptation to colono dominance may not be so necessary or urgent; in fact, they tend to protect ethnic boundaries r ather than allow their erosion. In the case of Doa Consuelo of Santa Rita her economic, material, and familial interests are not limited to the colonization zone; correspondingly, she values the preservation and transmission of the Yurakar language and to view collas as a threatening enemy. She does engage in friction, however, in order to Yurakar women furthermore play a significant role within their households in the communication of practices and values concerning resistance and negotiation of colono dominance and correspondingly, indigeneity; in this way, although they do not generally hold visible leadership positio ns in Yurakar society, women participate critically in social movements through their contributions to the discourses influencing the developed surrounding coca, territory and development; while men and women both


64 they view coca as an important economic mainstay, consider territory as a critical resource for household survival and for coc a production, and perceive development as a means to access better state services for themselves and their families. In complex manners and processes that challenge the existence of a public private dichotomy, from their household position women transmit t hese views to their spouses and children; such discourses influence the formation and direction of the movement spearheaded by Conisur the indigenous organization representing the lowland indigenous communities of the colonization zone -that developed, dem anding the indigenous right to consultation regarding a state road project through the territory and voicing their position in favor of the road. For the purposes of an indigenous movement, however, indigenous groups must represent clearly defined boundari es between the indigenous and non indigenous; accordingly, the Conisur movement must communicate an indigeneity that is isolated from all coca and colono associations in order for their demands as indigenous people to gain legitimacy. Bolivian national dis courses depict coca production and colonos as being particularly antagonistic to lowland indigenous peoples. Additionally, various national and regional actors critically associate coca with illegal drug trafficking and the MAS party. Consequently, in orde possible, free of associations with criminal activity and political party manipulation moreover, the Conisur communities distance themselves from coca and the colono despite the fact that their engagemen t with these is intrinsic to their everyday experience as indigenous people. In these ways, they make a concerted effort for the


65 effective staging of their social movement to communicate an indigeneity based on strong ethnic boundaries. icipation contributes significantly to indigenous movements as well, particularly for the purposes of assertion of prominent ethnic boundaries. Their general association with the home and with socio cultural reproduction positions indigenous women especial ly as useful instruments of ethnic self affirmation. For this reason, women like Doa Consuelo in particular who loudly assert their Yurakar boundaries. Furtherm ore, her leadership in the Conisur movement originates importantly from her role as an indigenous woman leader in her community. For instance, her concern for the propagation of Yurakar customs and language has influenced her protagonism of NGO facilitate d community development projects; also, her interest in Yurakar cultural and political autonomy makes her an imposing leadership role in the movement, it is important to note the prevalent tendency in Yurakar society for men to assume responsibility of extra communal political affairs and women of everyday household maintenance; this influences the gendered roles assumed by colonization zone community members during the march to the state capital executed by Conisur. My dissertation accordingly elucidates the gendered, racial, and ethnic power dynamics of indigeneity and its correspondingly fluid nature; moreover, my research demonstrates the contestation of meanings at the center of social movements. Although Conisur strives to portray an indigeneity that conforms to the fixed terms of conventional


66 definitions in order to execute an effective social movement, its efforts tend to be ally close relations with coca and colonos ; however, in the process the movement communicates an alternate indigeneity in opposition to standard expectations, one that is based on flexible ethnic boundaries and that has permitted survival amid rapidly grow ing colono dominance. Their lived indigeneity comprises appropriation and incorporation of colono socio cultural and economic practices like coca production, union regulations, and engagement with illegality; consequently, they challenge conventional repre sentations of lowland indigenous groups as people who do not produce coca, do not ally with colonos promote forest preservation, and who are isolated from illegal activities. In w hat follow s I describe the stories of the people of San Lucas and Santa Rit a and simultaneously a particular story about Bolivia, as well as a story about indigenous peoples and indigeneity in general. It is a discursive analysis of agency, based in a feminist theory of practice. It is also a detailed examination of the inner ori gins and functionings of social movements, and an illustration of the precarious dialectic of state civil society. In this way, my dissertation has a trajectory, originating with the most crucial dynamics surrounding the communities of San Lucas and Santa Rita and moving with other civil society sectors. Chapter 2 examines the complex of race and ethnicity as it plays out in the colonization zone, and its gendered implicati ons for Yurakar women living there. Through an examination of the social meanings of coca among the Yura kar of the colonization zone, C hapter 3 analyzes illegality as a primary actor in the zone, its effects on the lives of residents there, as well as Yu


6 7 contributions to it. Chapter 4 details the formation of a social movement, critically endurance and change. Chapter 5 illustrates the stagin g of a social movement through the activities surrounding an indigenous march in which San Lucas and Santa Rita participated, demonstrating the contested and controversial nature of indigeneity in Bolivia and also the new forms of subaltern state engagemen t that possibly develop through social movements. Chapter 6 returns to Leonardo and our conflictive relationship, affirming my ethical stance within anthropology and justifying the methods I choose; I also emphasize my principal finding s and discuss the fu ture of the Bolivian In general, I detail my analyses through the life stories of various women in the communities, highlighting in this way the particularly gendered aspects of indigeneity and illegality, as well as of so cial movement formation, performance, and leadership.


68 CHAPTER 2 THE FATHER OF MY SON : THE GENDERED NATURE OF MOVEMENT, SPACE, AND INDIGENEITY IN THE COLONIZATION ZONE It was the end of my first extended visit to the community of San Lucas and I was re adying my various knapsacks to return to my homebase in the city of family who had housed and fed me during my stay -and San Lucas in the months that followe d had been assisting me in organizing the logistics of my departure and travel to Cochabamba. Just moments before, I had been asked to unsheathe my camera so that we could take photos of ourselves together, in memory of my visit. I promised that I would br ing copies of the photos taken the next time I returned to San Lucas The picture taking had motivated a small commotion among the women of the household, as well as some of the men, running to wet their hair and their their children in their good quality clothing, proper for a picture. Throughout the picture hung back. She had been morose over the past couple of days, in fact. Toms, her partner and father of her one year old son, had left the community a week ago to go to the small town of San Gabriel, and he had not returned. Other family members had told me that it was not the first time Toms had left and not returned for an extended period of time. Previously, he had been gone for various months before he appeared and resumed life with Maria and their son again. Toms was colla the term used in Bolivia to refer to those people of highland descent. Maria and her family and the majority of the community of San L ucas were colonos meaning they were among the many people


69 who had migrated f rom the highlands to the Chapar this lowland sub tropical region of central Bolivia, over the last thirty years. While the rest of the household a long with some other community members had gathered along the riverside now to survey the river and chat whil e awaiting my departure, I walked back to the house to close and fasten my bags. I found myself alone there with Maria, who was tending quietly to her son. I had been watching him indifferently as I busied myself around the house, simultaneously trying to think of something to comment to Maria to fill the silence between us. aid it sullenly and dispassionately, as if she dared me to feel sorry for the two of them but then again, hoped that I would, also. I had been a bit caught off guard by the intimacy of her comment. Although I had not felt much warmth from Maria over the pe riod of my stay, I did dare to sympathize with her now. as well as pain in her voice. s he expressed through her meagerly worded reply. The silence between us resumed, as I awkwardly tried to continue getting my things together. Then I thought of something. She looked surprised at first, but then thought it over and consented. We looked for a good place to take the picture, and placed Jos there, a spot near a mango tree.


70 Jos, however, finding himself se para ted from his mother and the object of strange scrutiny, became cranky and disagre eable. She started to move to situate herself in the picture with her son, but stopped short, a bit self conscious. me. In the community, breast would matter much. However, she went to her store of clothin g in the house, and finding a bra, redressed herself. She then came to sit with Jos in the picture. nervous about her hair and clothing, she appeared more at ease, at least, that her breasts despite many consecutive months of breast feeding Jos would have some shape in the picture. Jos was more tranquil with his mother at his side, and I took a couple of pictures of him with Maria that morning. I promised to bring the pictu res the next time I came to San Lucas in two weeks. Maria, Jos, Toms the people of the colonization zone, in general demonstrate through their lived experiences the fluidity of identity and ethnicity ( Barth 1969 ; Warren 2001 ) (2005) concept of friction here, particularly for its references to movement and its fluid yet abrasive nature. Conceiving of friction as the production of culture through the interactions that occur across difference, Tsing invokes the term in her analysis of global connections as they relate to forest


71 conservation and development in Indonesia. In this way, friction evokes a sp ecific type of movement inherent to globalization: a dynamic but definitively harsh flow of ideas, While I use friction in order to describe messy and dynamic cultural p roductions as they occur in the colonization zone, I do not seek to study globalization via a focus on movement and mobility; rather, I a im to explain the rough racial, ethnic and gendered dynamics of colon o settlement and expansion Moreover, I use fricti on in order to describe types of movement between two cultu ral worlds, the colono and the Yurakar I analyze the racial and ethnic contestations of the colono Yurakar identity binary For this reason I also use friction recognizing its capacity to creat herida abierta 1987 : 3, cited in Weismantel 2001 : xxxix ) where differing identity categories intersect. Anzalda and Weismantel use this expression in order to describe the cultural interaction and change that occurs at a n identity frontier between racial groups; the process is particularly harsh for the subordinate group, who against the other and bleeds They invoke herida abierta in their discussions of mixed race women; I apply it here in my analyses of frictio n and mixed ethnic and racial interaction in the colonization zone. Weismantel furthermore refers to the destructive yet creative movement of tectonic plates along a fault line to describe the interaction between white Indian racial categories. E xpanding t he metaphor and using it along with the concept of friction helps to understand the interaction between colono and Yurakar identity fault line, in the process dest roying old practices and meaning s and simultaneously producing fresh, new ones. The activity creates a shared cultural terrain,


72 although the newly turned up ground is rough and jagged at first. It is also important to recognize that, in the situation of th es collision and movement over the fault line While I invoke friction to describe the ethnic and racial dynamics of the colonization zone, I present the colonization zone itself as a frontier: a frontier of collidi ng identity categories, as described above; also, a frontier in the sense of a constantly changing boundary line of extractive development. I borrow from varying concepts of frontier, from differing regional studies, as they relate to the latter. Turner (1 920 ) presents the pre twentieth century North American western frontier, generally basing itself in the perspective of the new settler: a place of dynamic societal evolution where human agents work to tame and control the wilderness for their economic ben efit 3 ). In the colonization zone, it could be said that the colono and Yurakar spaces represent this civilization and savagery binary respectively. Schmink and Wood (1992) discuss the frontie r taking into account its association with various stakeholders, and correspondingly, its dynamic nature. They illustrate that the attraction to the Brazilian resources help s create the frontier and furthermore, that the frontier itself is constan tly changing due to contested definitions of resource ownership and uses. Understood as such, the frontier Like Schmink and Wood, Tsing (2005) also describes a resource fronti er, but more particularly a capitalist frontier. In doing so, she emphasizes the rapid, often unregulated extractive development that occurs at the frontier, in this case in the Indonesian rainforest. She highlights moreover that frontiers are not simpl y e dges (27) ; they have


73 an active, expansive quality to them due to the extractive interests that develop there. Also, similarly to Schmink and Wood, she presents the frontier as a place of unexpected y, positions (33) I revisit these aspects of the frontier as they pertai n to extractive development in C hapter 3 For the time being, incorporating these discussions I recognize the frontier as an erratically dynamic and particularly mobile place, charact erized by an interest in taming and exploiting the wilderness. The region established as a frontier, I recognize friction active in the places traversed by the people of the colonization zone. Moreover, noting that the lives of the actors here represented take place at the limits wherein dichotomous identity categories meet those of the departments of Beni and Cochabamba, those of colono and Yurakar, those of the urban and the rural -they exemplify the dynamic nature of identity, often encompassing and t hriving off of opposing elements ( Weismantel 2001 ) Focusing on movement and interaction of colla and Yurakar socio cultural practices, while boundaries are cro ssed to the extent that they become nearly nonexistent, it becomes evident that colla influences tend to dominate the colonization zone. I examine interethnic unions between colla and Yurakar peoples in order to understand the interaction of diverse ident ity traits in the colonization zone and its implications for the Yurakar men and women actors. The relationship between colla and Yurakar groups in the colonization zone is multi faceted, encompassing both attractive and repulsive elements. In their inte rethnic unions with colla people, Yurakar colla people may serve


74 as threats to Yurakar land and territory, they simultaneously represent neighbors, companions, and allies. Furthermore, a focu s on interethnic unions reveals the gendered nature of movement in the friction of the colonization zone. Young women and men of differing backgrounds meet and court in the crossroads represented here, free from regular communal norms and parental oversigh t. As freely as the unions form in the tumult of the friction area, they can also dissolve, women passing through pregnancy and motherhood in the process. Motherhood and its possibility in this way influence the movements of women and the decisions they ma ke. While they may consequently travel the friction zone more encumbered than men, this does not mean that they do not actively engage in the activities therein and beyond. Examination of ethnic and racial boundaries via interethnic unions in the colonizat ion zone moreover demonstrate s indigeneity as a dynamic process involving negotiation of foreign traits and practices in everyday life; it also begins to suggest the comparative roles of men and women in this process, from the Yurakar a the me continuously developed throughout my dissertation Colonos and Yurakar s can both make claims to particular indigenous experiences, and in this way the colonization zone illustrates varying stories of indigeneity. Yurakar men and women both participate in the negotiation of fuzzy ethnic boundaries in the colonization zone, requiring particular mobility; however, the cases of interethnic unions described suggest that women play a certain role as culture brokers. In fact, their responsibilities associated with the home and childrearing require increased mobility for survival in the


75 colonization zone. In this way, people must be familiar with shape shifting. This is true particularly for single Yurakar mothers. A focus on interethnic unions provides a critical perspective into movement, and it correspondingly demonstrates the gendered and racialized character of place. In the Yurakar colono Yurakar youth and adolescents drifting away towards the colono colla women choosing not to enter strictly Yurakar places, and colla men and Yurakar men and women traversing both. Certain ethnic and racial tensions influence these attractions and repulsions, dependent on presuppositions that to be colla is to be more civilized and that Yurakar spaces are more savage than those of collas These last considerations suggest furthermore that children of interethnic unions learn mobility more when the mother is Yurakar than when she is colla Before delving into the analysis, I discuss the relation of race to ethnicity developing the concept of race/ethnicity, from the perspective of the Yurakar people; I furthermore illustrate its relation to gender. I then focus on the identity frontiers encompass ed in the colonization zone: Beni Cochabamba, colono Yurakar, urban rural. After describing the dynamics of the colonization zone and colono Yurakar race/ethnic relations in this way, I discuss colla Yurakar interethnic unions, and their implications fo r Yurakar people in the colonization zone with respect to issues of land economic strategies, and gendered movement throughout ethnic and racial ized spaces Race/Ethnicity and Gender Most racial analyses of Bolivia and Andean South America are in the context of highland peoples (Canessa 2005 ; Gotkowitz 2011 ; Weismantel 2001), and I would


76 argue that this is demonstrative of the peripheral location of lowland indigenous peoples hood More importantly, this knowledge gap invites further analysis of the complexity of race as it plays out in Bolivia, Building on past research of race and racism in the Andes, I analyze race, ethnicity, and gender as intersecting axes of power from the perspective of the Yurakar people. Regarding race and racism in Andean countries mestizo people identified as an intermediate racial category, are salient in positions of power in national his tories and in social relations actually; this does not undermine, however, the current of racism pulsating through Bolivian, Ecuadorian, and Peruvian social interactions. Society measures exchanges in terms of a power gradient of white to Indian, the forme r representing superiority and the latter inferiority (Weismantel 2001). For this reason, non rural people of mixed descent are inclined to refer to themselves not as mestizo, gente decente y being that people of the Indian category are opposite, not decent. Important to the enactment of racial relations in Andean countries is the dependence not on biology but rather clothing choices, practices, and behaviors for association with the white or the Indian manipulation of dress, changing from peasant work clothes to flashier garments, in as an urbanized indigenous woman, when engaging in commerce in the city. In another analysis of manipulation of racial categories through patterns of dress, Weismantel demonstrates the particularities of race and racism in the Andes in her documentation o f


77 an intermediate racial personage, the chola A product of Indian and white miscegenation, with her both white and Indian characteristics in her appearance and corresponding movement between urban and white areas, the chola reminds white mestizo society o f the Indianness within them, that they would like to push away and forget. While the chola does not strive to fit either white or Indian categories, de la Cadena (2000) presents another type of racially intermediate group in Peru who candidly embraces whi te and Indian traits yet with the recognition of white superiority. In her analysis of race as it is enacted in Cuzco, she examines the incorporation of both middle an d upper class brown skinned Cuzqueos in this way recognize with certain pride their indigenous heritage yet claim they have cleansed themselves of those shameful cultural characteristics associated with Indianness through formal education. They do not ide ntify themselves with the Indian label; they have whitened themselves to a certain extent. These examples demonstrate the power gradient of white superiority to non white, or more particularly Indian, inferiority active in Andean countries. At the same ti me, the boundary between white and Indian is flexible, allowing for movement along the gradient via manipulation of physical, material, and cultural characteristics, for instance. This gradient functions in Bolivian society. To demonstrate its practical c reality, I detail a series of racial discourses as they occurred in my presence in Bolivia. Though I was born and raised in the United States, my parents are from Bolivia In the States, I am considered brown; in Bolivia, however, particularly among the indigenous


78 realized, however, that white does not refer to skin color alone, but rath er lifestyle; it constitutes moreover particularly important cultural and social capital. For instance, in the Yurakar communities residents would often comment, noting my pale shade of skin color in comparison to their much sun tanned one and also my app arent youth, that my looking for my age in the United States, as well, and I though I accompanied them in their labors at the present time, commonly in the city and in the United States I spend a e people than I had initially perceived from their brief observations at the outset; indeed, I came to learn that it signified for them a much coveted life of comfort, status, and access to Western e San Lucas schoolhouse held a civic ceremony with the students and school committee. I attended, as well, and in their opening remarks the schoolteachers recognized me, referring to me as they with a u niversity degree, and thanking me for my attendance. The community leader of the school committee, Don Federico addressed the students, as well, and I was uncomfortably surprised when I realized that he was highlighting me in his discourse. He tol d the students that they hard labor under the hot sun.


79 This discourse of aspira community members or parents to children, repeated itself in different forms throughout my fieldwork in the Yurakar communities. Another time, a Yurakar woman of Santa Rita discussed with me how she a nd her husband had sent their only son, having completed the schooling available in the community, to the middle school on the property of a colla union 1 along the road; however, the son abandoned it after just a few weeks. She remarked bitterly to me now that he must not want education and he would just have to suffer working under the hot sun like they did. In this way, to the people, their lives were harsh and economically grueling, characteristic of poverty and also lack of refinement. They wished for b etter for their children, that they should attend large schools in the city, handle hard cover books, learn how to use computers, and ultimately work in offices. Whiteness was associated with beauty and affluence; correspondingly, darkness was associated w ith coarseness, primitivism, and hardship. community members decidedly rejected it and disliked its external manifestation on their bodies. As will be discussed in C hapters 4 and 5 i t occurred that the communities participated in a march several weeks long from the lowlands to the highlands. The rays I noted that they were all considerably darker than before to such an extent that it had been slightly difficult for me to recognize a few individuals. Commenting to me on their burnt faces, they 1


80 The above discourses demonstrate the significance of whiteness and white culture or class in comparison to darkness; they also suggest that the state of being indigenous makes it difficult to achieve whiteness, and correspondingly, to b e indigenous can signify to lack whiteness. As already referenced above, the examples further highlight that people can become more or less white or indigenous through, to a certain extent, their choices as well as practices (education, exposure to sun, jo b patterns). Having briefly discussed associations with whiteness, it is important to also examine the significations of not simply darkness, but blackness. In another conversation with community members regarding skin color, I had commented that in the me; rather, I embraced it. Negra Looking back on the situation, I can comprehend how the community member was cleverly challenging the lofty position I had been assuming as some noble person who challenged racist ideologies through her attitude. At the time, however, I h ad been stunned by his question and began to ponder, because I had in fact never considered it negra particularly in reference to skin color or rather to a social group -or to both; regardless, I was aware that negra or negro in addition to being aesthetically displeasing to most Bolivians is often a reference to a decidedly foreign, inhuman Other. Imagining if negra


81 Not icing my hesitance to speak as I remained in thoughtful quiet, he started The conversation regarding the meanings surrounding blackness and black people is further illumina ting in juxtaposition with dialogues between my mestizo Bolivian family members and myself. They suggest that blackness is not simply wrong house in Bolivia, I ha d been explaining my study abroad experience in Senegal during my undergraduate program. My relatives had listened with polite interest; however, when I concluded my account, my sixty year old aunt cringed unmistakably and exclaimed with a worried, fearful people! ( Tantos negros Although my aunt may represent an older generation of Bolivian women, I would argue that this type of sentiment regarding blackness, more particularly black people, remains to a ce rtain extent in Bolivian society. As Wade (2010) has observed with regard to black and indigenous groups in Latin America in general, society regards black people as so different and foreign that they lose human qualities, resembling horrible monsters. In comparison, indigenous groups are foreign, as well, but they are still considered human, albeit a savage, backwards type of human. In Bolivia this comprehension of indigenous peoples is further complicated in that there exist different types of indigenou s groups. As highlighted in the discussion of colonial times to the present in C hapter 1 lowland groups have been considered as significantly more savage and less civilized than highland groups historically. This ethnic signific ance -the connotations of lowland people in


82 comparison to hi ghland -is critical with regard to aspirations to whiteness among social and race, while each has particular i mplications, cannot be considered separately. analyses, including that of present day relations between indgena s and campesino s for example. I refer to this dual and over lapping lens of analysis throughout my dissertation by invoking not issues of race or of ethnicity in my analyses, but rather those of race/ethnicity. T he case of relations between Yurakars and collas or even more particularly campesino s although the latter are characteristically thought of as dark while light skinned Yurakars are not uncommon 2 campesino s can wield more socio political power by virtue of the fact that they are campesino and not Yurakar. Historical stereotypes regarding peoples of h ighland and of lowland indigenous origins are salient to the present: to be of highland indigenous descent is not the extent of those of the lowlands. Furthermore, campesino s historically have more experience with urban life and mestizo culture in comparison to many lowland indigenous groups; this remains true, currently, as well. For these reasons, compared with Yurakars, collas The histories of marginalization of highland and lowland indigenous groups may be similar, but they are also critically different. This has important implications and demonstrates the necessity of critical examination of the dynamic histories that give way 2 I make this observation with the disclaimer that, of c ourse, much variation in skin color within each ethnicity exists. There are light skinned campesinos and there are Yurakar s who are darker than some campesinos


83 to racial concepts (Wade 2010). In Bolivia, indigenous peoples while they are not black, they also --depending particularly, in this case on the ethnic position of the indigenous group. It is critical to highlight, however, that racial/ethnic boundaries are porous and actors can traverse and even straddle groups through manipulation of external characteri stics, material conditions, urban/rural associations, etc. Race/ethnicity intersects importantly with gender, as well; while to be indigenous might connote inferiority, certain significances associated with woman vs. man further complicate contestations of power. For example, at the schoolhouse in San Lucas one morning Doa Elsina came by to visit. Her husband was helping cut down the brush and vegetation of the school soccer field at the time, and she had just delivered the breakfast she had prepared for activities at the schoolhouse that morning myself, and was sitting at a table with one of the schoolteachers who was giving an arithmetic lesson to the younger students seated at the table with us. Doa E lsina sat down at the table with us now, and observed the children are trying to learn these things, voice it was rather quiet acknowledgement. This self debasement was disconcerting By that time I had spent


84 accommodations. She was mother of ten children, ages four through twenty five, and she demonstrated her love of each of them through her daily labors and efforts to watch over them; correspondingly, they manifested their reciprocal care and concern for her. Recalling her demonstrable experience in family care and deft skills of household maintenance now, I protested her self assessment, telling her that sh e wielded valuable knowledge. Though not learned in a schoolhouse per se, it was not to be under estimated. Furthermore, that she did not have school knowledge did not make her less of a mother or of a person. Doa Elsina disregarded my challenge to her hu absentmindedly as she continued to observe the lesson. Her quiet acceptance of an identification as uneducated and of a corresponding position of lack or more particularly inferiority demonstrates a certain masculine hegemony un dergirding indigeneity in Bolivia, much related to the prevalent white hegemony. Similarly to de la (1991) analysis of the gendered aspects of indigeneity in Peru, trends among indigenous men and women in Bolivia are such that women are associated with the home while men, who have tended historically to travel between the community and urban areas more than women, with the extra communal; for this reason, men often have greater familiarity with mestizo relations and mestizo knowledge such as Wester n formal education and Western science in general than women (Cervone 2002). Furthermore, although at the present time Spanish is familiar among most generations of indigenous communities in Bolivia, previously indigenous men were more prone to become flue nt in Spanish than women, due to greater opportunities for movement and


85 work among urban mestizo society for the former than the latter. Moreover, many Bolivian indigenous groups like the Yurakar are patriarchal in that, although women carry out important communal roles, men occupy the positions of authority and tend to represent the communities in interethnic mestizo exchanges; with the incorporation of European and mestizo ideologies regarding decision making and gender relations, the people themselves h politics for instance, their lack of verbal participation in meetings -as demonstrati ng Indian power hierarchy Indianness is asso ciated with ignorance and rural community life, indigenous Cadena 1991). In the power gradient of white to Indian, while indigenous men might be recognized as Indian, indigenous women ar e even more so. In this way, indigenous women face double, inter locking hegemonies, white and male, with which they must contend on a daily basis. Overlapping Identity Categories The lived realities of the peoples of the colonization zone provide a critic al perspective into the racial/ethnic and gendered contours of indigeneity, as will be further demonstrated throughout my dissertation. In this section I illustrate the manners in which the indigenous experience of the Yurakar communities of the colonizat ion zone encompasses overlapping identity categories. The straddling of identity boundaries is common to indigeneity throughout Latin America ( de la Cadena 2000; Hale 2011; their experience.


86 Beni Cochabamba The ambiguous political limit between the departments of Cochabamba and Beni This much contested area is where the communities of S an Lucas and Santa Rita reside. These circumstances contribute to a context of daily socio political obscurity and contradictions. Simultaneously, it is not disturbing or strange to the people, but rather a part of the normal fabric of life. The colonial a nd post colonial states historically overlooked and marginalized the area pertaining to Yurakar activity. The Yurakar were known to inhabit areas now associated with the departments of Beni, Cochabamba, and Santa Cruz (Sanchez 2005: 86). In fact, the reg ion that pertain s to the lowland department of Cochabamba and that includes the disputed boundary was known by names that referenced the Yurakar, for example: Land of the Yurakars ( Tierra de los Yurakars ), Yurakar Province ( Provincia Yurakar ), and the Mountains of the Yurakars ( Las Montaas de Yurakars ). Between the mountain base and plains regions, the area only interested the state as it related to crossing from one political center to the other, from Cochabamba to Moxos. In general, a weak state, lack of ethnic integration, and little geographical knowledge of the area have contributed to the constancy of the problem to this day (de la Fuente n.d.: 19 20). It remains uncertain how much of TIPNIS pertains to the department of Beni and how much pert ains to that of Cochabamba. The undefined political boundary has far reaching effects on the residents of this area, concerning provision of state services, indigenous organizational allegiance, and indigenous identity formation. In San Lucas for example a teacher provided by the departmental school board of Cochabamba and another provided by the departmental


87 school board of Beni both take responsibility for the community schoolhouse. In Santa Rita although all the teachers and the schoolhouse itself a re provided by the department of Beni and the Benian municipality of San Ignacio de Moxos particularly, the people of Santa Rita more often than not go to the department of Cochabamba to request state services. Although this may give the impression that th e departments compete in a sense for the allegiance of the people of this territory, the people indigenous organizations, due to their residence in the ambiguously d efined location. Several indigenous organizations are associated with TIPNIS particularly; those that pertain to the Yurakar communities of the colonization zone are the Subcentral TIPNIS and Conisur. The Subcentral TIPNIS encompasses all of the 64 indige nous communities that reside within the park. While the Subcentral interests itself in issues pertaining to the park area and does not affiliate itself formally with any of the departments, it tends to identify with the department of Beni more than with an y other. This has to do in particular with the general history of the area and contemporaneous issues regarding land and territory. One of the issues around which the Subcentral originated and evolved in the 1980s was the defense of the indigenous communit ies of the park against colla migrants invading upon the territory (Orozco Ramrez 2006: 64 65). These most recent migrants, interested in growing coca, tend to hail from Cochabamba. Accordingly, the Subcentral views the park territory in general terms as always having been Benian, and the colla settlers as foreign invaders from Cochabamba.


88 The department of Cochabamba supported the creation of the indigenous regional organization Conisur. This pertains to the TIPNIS communities of the southeastern portion It furthermore corresponds to the communities of the colonization Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011:272). This contribut es to a weaker, yet present association: to identify with Cochabamba is to align oneself with the colla migrants. Although people of the communities of the colonization zone might not make this connec tion, TIPNIS communities outside of the colonization zon e do. As mentioned above, colonization zone communities moreover report being neglected by the Subcentral TIPNIS due to their location and underlying association with Cochabamba ( Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 68). I t is difficult to ascertain the significanc e of departmental affiliation w ith regards to identity formation in Santa Rita and San Lucas While many community members nonchalantly affirm their heritage and/or community as being of Cochabamba, evidence suggests that being of Beni might constitute an important aspect of Yurakar identity. For example, when asking one woman of Santa Rita whether or not she considered nswered again, this time with History of the Colono Yurakar Boundary It becomes evident that the history of outsider settlement of Yurakar land is critical for understanding con temporary socio political symbolism in the region,


89 particularly colono and Yurakar identity categories. While I first explain this as a general history associated with the Chapar, I subsequently focus within this section on the colono yurakar boundary a s it applies to the colonization zone. In reality, the first Garca Linera 2010: 384). This is now modern day Villa Tunari, a major town and seat of local Cochabamban government in the region. In general, mission efforts were not successful among the Yurakars ( de la Fuente n.d. ; Sanchez 2005). Jesuit and Franciscan missions followed a pattern of establishment and subsequent abandonment over the late 17 th through early 20 th centur ies. Bolivian colonization of the region developed through a combination of state policy and individual economic necessity (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 38 39). Beginning in the 1920s the state encouraged settlement and development of the eastern lowland p ortion of the country, generally considered un exploited in comparison to the West. In the 1970s again the state enthusiastically promoted eastern migration and settlement. This second promotion coincided with a general economic downturn followed by closi ng of the state run mines in the 1980s. These events, in conjunction with a prolonged drought from 1981 1985, motivated unemployed, economically depressed Bolivians from the highlands to move to the eastern lowlands, enticed by the promise of fertile, vaca nt land. Many current residents of the Chapar are from families who previously had been highland miners. The history of Don Javier, a long time colla resident of the area, is particularly illustrative of the migratorial motives of the se Chapar colonists I fell into conversation with him one afternoon when traveling within the colonization zone and seeking a ride


90 from one of the car owning colla households along the dusty road. Don Javier owned a property near the end of this particular narrow, dirt road and lived near the ports of departure for various Yurakar communities. He was well known to the communities of San Lucas and Santa Rita Like the other colla residents of the area he engaged in agricultural activities on his property, but he and his wife also had a small store within their home from which they would sell various diverse articles such as soap, candy, and eggs to Yurakar people who came from across the river as well as to the other colla inhabitants Additionally, he or his wife would give rides to Yurakar travelers or random passers by desiring to go further down the road, in his car for a fee. Don Javier and his wife had three small children When I came asking for a ride that afternoon, Don Javier informed me that his wife had taken the car to pick up their children from the school down the road, but to take a seat there until she returned. He asked me about my visit to the area, and I asked him about his residency there. Speaking deliberately, he explained that he had been living in the Chapar for over twenty years. He was originally from the highland department of Oruro As a boy, h aborious work, upon his death he had nothing to leave to his wife and children. After his they found no help from family members, who regarded his father as a traitor for having left the family to go work in the mines. Consequently, they ultimately wen t to the


91 Chapar, following a relative of his mother who had already taken up residence there. He later m ade his own home in the area. He noted that his family members who remained in their hometown lived poorly, with little material comforts and few opportunities for economic prosperity: he observed particularly that none of his relatives had a house in the city, like he did (in his case, the specific city where his house was located was Cochabamba). He planned on moving his family there permanently to take advantage of the better schools in the city, as well as the general access to better services and ameni ties there, once his children had grown older. represent those of the majority colla residents, and they are also critical to the history of the colonization zone. The economic opportun ities the Chapar contains land and new income sources for its colla settlers permit escape from previous economic distress increased stability, avenues for improvement of social standing, and a certain prosperity that can be transmitted to posterity. The resources for economic survival and affluence the Chapar promises have attracted colla settlers markedly since the last quarter of the twentieth century. An important element of this formula for prosperity has been the opportunity for coca production. T he coca boom of the 1980s, spurred in part by the illegal drug trade, additionally attracted colonists to the area in the 1980s and 1990s. While colonists cultivate citric fruits, yuca corn, and rice for auto consumption, the majority depend on coca prod uction as their main s ource of income. The Chapar is well known nationally and internationally as a primary coca growing reg ion (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006; Sanabria 1997).


92 For the Yurakar and indigenous groups of this region in general, their experien ce with the colonists, or colonos 3 as they are called in Bolivia, has been harsh and threatening, as the colonos advance deeper into the territory, steadily usurping their land (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011 ; Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006 ; Sanchez 2005 ). The Yurakar people began feeling the effects of state colonization policies in the early 20 th century, to the extent that by the 1930s two differing groups had developed, according to Paz (1991): those who found themselves living nearby areas of colla se ttlement, for example close to Villa Tunari, Chimor and along the Chapar river and consequently, who had grown accustomed to colla proximity; and those of the Isiboro and Scure rivers region, who had little familiarity with colla settlements and retaine d much of their hunter gatherer lifestyle, in comparison to the former group. This pattern of colonization and its influence on Yurakar cultural practices altered significantly, however, in the late 20 th century. The 1970s brought the construction of a ro ad that penetrated the Isiboro Scure National Park (TIPNIS); then, eastern migrations of the 1980s and 90s engendered violent, rapid colonization of the Isiboro Scure region contiguous to the road While the group previously familiar with colla settlemen t moved away from areas of colonization during this later period, those of the newly affected TIPNIS area dealt with cultural change motivated by heavy colonization. For indigenous groups, colonos represent collas who push them off of their territory. Figu re 2 1 shows the areas inhabited by Yurakar speakers presently. In particular, Yurakar people from the Ichilo and Chapar rivers area (those most 3 strongest constituents with the party platform, formal organizations of colonists now call themselves Nonetheless, the majority of Bolivians, includin g indigenas, continue to recognize the social group as colonos; for this reason, I reference them as such throughout my dissertation.


93 experienced historically with colla settlement, as mentioned previously) note that the Yurakar had been the re first, as the most numerous inhabitants of the region, before colonos arrived (Sanchez 2005: 136 138). They remark furthermore that colonos do not treat them respectfully. As the colonos have continued advancing, the Yurakar have been pushed further aw Indigenous groups and environmentalist interests often fault colono activity for the decrease in wildlife in the territory and for abusive land use (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011 ; Orozco Ramirez et al 2006; Sanchez 2005 ). With regards to the latter, critics of the colonos point out that their large scale land clearing and mono cropping for commercial purposes is more damaging to the environment in comparison to the small scale agricultural activities in which indigenous groups engage for auto consumption. This contributes to widely accepted depictions in Bolivian society of colono lifestyle as exploitative of land, in contrast with indigenous lifestyle as attuned to the natural environment 4 In fact, in Bolivian society a term used interchangeably with colono is cocalero The colonos are often of indigenous descent, as well, b ut of the highlands. They have Quechua or A ymara heritage, and they bring their indigenous language s and practices to life in the Chapar Their view of the lowland indigenous groups, however, tends to be disparaging (Gironas Sotez 200 6 ; Grisaffi 2010: 426 427). This accords with general views of lowland Amazonian groups historically in Bolivia (Lehm 19 92) and in South America at large (Wade 2000). The view of lowland indigenous groups as 4 Similar discourses that depict colonists and indigenous peoples as two sides of an environmentalist binary have develope d nationally regarding the situation of colonization in the Peruvian Amazon, as well (see Greene 2009).


94 colonos may be critiqued for environmentally damaging land use among other practic es, they view themselves as the catalysts of productive development in the Chapar (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011: 271 ; Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006 ). In other words, thanks to their settlement and activity in the region over the past 30 40 years, small towns have developed, as well as schools and roads. C onversing one morning with a particular colla protagonist from the area surrounding San Lucas and Santa Rita Don Cu ri, he recounted to me his experience of growing up in the Chapar, observing th e regi well. He first moved to the area, presently belonging to a coca union named Eliodoro Villazn with his family from Santa Cruz, also a significant destination of highland migrants at the time, when he was a boy some twenty years ago At that time, he described, the closest school available for him to attend was in the town of San Gabriel some six to eight miles away. With no school taxi service available in the area back then, he would go jogging to school everyday, a n exercise of approximately one and a quarter hours. family and other colla settlers like they were the first ones in that area, he asserted that San Lucas and Santa Rita had no Yurakar op i nion, one maintained by m ost colonos in the area; while the formal organizations of the communities of San Lucas and Santa Rita with recognized land rig hts and designated authorities to serve as their intermediaries to state actors, may not have existed then, Yurakar people inhabited the


95 area long before colonos arrived. Nonetheless, Don Curi observed that since he and other settler families like his had come there, the region had developed extensively, with transportation and education services, for example. Correspondingly, i n contrast to their own ambitious determination and economic prowess colonos view the native groups of the Chapar as lazy and un enterprising, in instanc e, when I would mention off hand to colonos that I Other conversations with colonos further suggested their regard of the Yurakar as the strange Other, the own. T he complexity of the multiple aspects of colono identity l ends to various interpretations of their prejudices and allegiances. From one perspective, they are invasive and abusive exploiters of the natural environment; from another, they are opportunistic migrants who have sought new income sources for the betterm ent of their families after previous jobs and economic strategies failed (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006). A dditional examination of the role of, specifically, TIPNIS colonos within a global circuit demonstrat es the development over the last thirty years of th eir function to illegal drug trafficking (Paz 2011). Concerning this last aspect, w hen coca production developed negative connotations due to its association with the illegal drug trade in the 1980s the colonos through their coca union s, began emphasizin g their indigenous roots as integral to their identity instead of simply their cocalero practices. Nevertheless, it is challenging for the


96 colonos to assert their indigeneity claims as they are not native to the Chapar region (Grisaffi 2010 ; Gustafson 200 3); Bolivian society regards the Yurakar, Yuqui and Trinitario groups as truly indigenous to the area. Identity elements are further appropriated, shared, and adapted in the context of forming alliances with neighboring groups for the purposes of advanci livelihood, as is demonstrated by the colonos and Yurakar groups who live in close proximity to each other within the colonization zone. As colonization has advanced lowland indigenous groups, in particular those of the colonization zone, have en gaged increasingly in coca production activities similar to those of their colono neighbors (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011: 271). Since the 1990s it h as been documented that the Yurakars in the southern part of TIPNIS, now the colonization zone, pro duced coca although in smaller quantities than colonos (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 87). In comparison to communities that live outside of the colonization zone, moreover, indigenous groups here seem to live in peaceful symbiosis with colonos although bot h colonos and Yurakars remain on the alert for possible threats to their land and natural resource use (108). Interethnic unions often occur, and it is becoming more common for collas to reside and hold leadership positions within Yurakar communities in the colonization zone. In fact, for an extended period of time a colla resident of a Yurakar community in the colonization zone served as advisor to the leader of Conisur. The colono Yurakar relations in the colonization zone demonstrate race/ethnicity a s a relation of power. In basic terms, on the Bolivian scale of racial superiority colonos origins as compared to those of lowland indigenous groups, as explained above.


97 Furthermore the c olonos bosses to the Yurakar and other lowland indigenous groups. The colonos tend to be the ones who own cars, motor boats, and stores; consequently, for transportation services or to purchas e basic goods the Yurakar must go to colonos When Yurakar sell their coca or their fish, colonos are the intermediaries in the production consumption process. Confronted regularly with colonos in positions of socio economic power over them, the Yurakar can consider the colono than their own lifestyle. Additionally, Andean South American society tends to associate collas in particular the female figure of the chola, with dominating and aggressive characterist ics (Weismantel 1988 ; 2001); in Bolivia especially where social movements of which the coca union s were an important faction, along with other colla working class groups -resulted in the election of Aymara President Evo Morales ( Garca Linera 2010 ; Postero 2007), highland indigenous peoples have developed certain political power, both symbolic and real. The chola, of Quechua or Aymara descent, is known to be a shrewd businesswoman and a particularly adept market woman throughout the Andean block ( Babb 1998; Seligmann 1993 ; Weismantel 2001). Both reviled and feared by mestizo society, the chola figure has a distinctive attire: her pollera a full, brightly colored skirt often worn with several petticoats -two long braids of hair down her back, and a hat, the s tyle of which varies regionally. Colono women commonly dress in chola garb. President Morales is a cocalero and his presidential trajectory developed with the support of the Chapar coca union s ( Garca Movement to Socialism (Movimiento al Sociali smo, MAS) has a majority control of the


98 government and is dominant in municipal and departmental governments, as well. MAS has major political control in the Chapar most particularly, and colonos hold majority municipal government positions. Furthermore, indic ative of colono influence on socio cultural paradigms in the region, the radio station that predominates the air waves in the region is the colono language; th is is one of the few radio stations through which the Yurakar communities receive their news. Perhaps indic ative of Yurakar marginalization amid extreme colono dominance as well as Yurakar regard of Evo Morales as a representative of colonos was the r eaction of oldest son Carlos to a radio discourse of the President b roadcast on one of my first days of fieldwork in San Lucas The President had begun a commentary on indigenous peoples when Carlos standing nearby the radio at that m Indigena his brief comment Carlos expressed that the President would scarcely know the experience of an indigena an indigenous person like himself. Despite Yurakar resentment of their marginalization, t h e racial/ethnic social hierarchy affects Yurakar conceptions o f class and taste (Bourdieu 1984 ), as suggested through the clothing options from which Yurakar of the colonization zone choose. For example, a colla practice is the wearing of abarcas a leat her strapped sandal with soles made of rubber tire material. Although the majority of Yurakars women, men, and children -in San Lucas and Santa Rita wear common flip flops, it is customary to see a handful of community members wearing abarcas. Additional ly, although no women in San Lucas or Santa Rita engaged in this practice at the time of


99 my fieldwork, Yurakar and Trinitario women in other communities in the colonization zone dressed in polleras and wore their hair in braids, like cholas Maria, the yo ung Yurakar woman introduced above, had worn pollera in the past but no longer did. Don Federico the father of the family with whom I stayed in San Lucas seemed very much a product of a life lived shoulder to shoulder with colonos Both sides of his family were Yurakar and he could understand the language to a certain extent, but he did not speak it. His grandparents raised him, and colono union s were a nearby union near San Lucas At the same time, Don Federico enjoyed being deep in the forest, at work in his fields. In comparison to urban style living, he seemed to appreciate living off his land in general, also relishing activities like hunting and fishing. Though he enjoyed life living as a Yurakar man, it also seemed that he re gard ed his wilderness practices shamefully at times. At meal time one evening, I saw that he was using a large banana tree leaf as a plate. Although his household owned several bowls and s poons with which they normally ate their meals, the family was numerous and they had run out of bowls for the moment. Instead of waiting for another to finish eating so that a bowl could be freed, Don Federico simply obtained a banana leaf from a nearby tr ee. Observing him eating with enthusiasm from the banana leaf, I smiled, interested and appreciative of the practical innovation. Noting me watching him, however, he looked up, suddenly seeming nervous and assured grin.

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100 Another time during a coca harvest with friends and family, Don Federico donned his pair of abarcas at the beginning of the day. The weather had been particularly wet and commenting on this, he announced to the others readying themselves for the work abarcas soled shoes smugly. The motives of Yurakars in the colonization zone for donning colono ethnic ma rkers are not entirely clear; however, the presence of colono social, economic, and in Bolivian society. Although engaged in by a minority of people, such clothing practices were considered neither extraordinary nor outrageous among community members; rather, the Yurakar residents saw them simply as clothing options. However, that intrinsically colono clothing practices are part of the array of clothing options is a trend particular to the indigenous communities of the colonization zone. Among lowland indigenous communities away from the colonization zone, such practices are inconceivable; there, Yurakars view colonos as the opposition. To wear clothing associated w ith the colono boundaries of ethnic categories are more porous for Yurakar s in the colonization zone. The Urban Rural Now we turn to l ooking more specifically at the context of Santa Rita and S an Lucas A lthough lowland indigenous and commonly assumed to lived distanced from roads and any sorts of urban development, the communities live not far relatively speaking from a narrow dirt road that takes them and people of the colono union s to a small town, San Gabriel, an hour away (See figure 2 respect to TIPNIS) This is particularly significant because in Yurakar thought roads

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101 represent collas whereas Yurakar and Trinitario groups concentrate along the river ba nks; according to one Yurakar saying, where the road ends, the collas end (Paz 1991). Just in this way, across the river where the small dusty road begins, on both sides of it, are colono settlements. With the advance of colono settlement and given that t he communities live near the southeastern frontier of the park, it can be argued that the development of roads and towns affect them more noticeably than communities located farther within the park. From their communities, they can cross the river and then walk a path of twenty minutes until they reach the road. Following this road, it is a narrow, dirt stretch of ten miles until the town of San Gabriel. One passes various settlements pertaining to coca union s along the way. Although it is often necessary t o walk a portion of the road, community members can usually find a taxi at some point along the stretch on its way to San Gabriel. Taxis pass more often on Sundays, which is market day in San Gabriel. They also make regular trips on school days, taking sc hool children from the union s along the road to and from the middle and high schools in San Gabriel. Although transportation in this way might be cumbersome and unreliable this is especially true during the rainy season when the road becomes flooded -resid ents of Santa Rita and San Lucas have easy access to urban development. Community members commonly go to San Gabriel on Sundays, the weekly town market day, for purchases of staple goods as well as for the simple purpose of distraction. In recent years com munity members have become part of an evangelical church in San Gabriel; accordingly, every two weeks these community members (a handful of about ten

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102 culto ices. During fishing season, from June through September, community members make regular trips to San Gabriel and the neighboring town of Ishinuta to sell fish to intermediaries. Additionally, although the costs of providing for a child in the town critica lly limit this opportunity for community members, from time to the town in order that he or she may attend the secondary school there. San Gabriel would seem to co nstitute an important stage wherein indigenous actors represent themselves to outsiders: whenever the people of Santa Rita or San Lucas the younger generations, in particular -make the trip to San Gabriel, they first change into some of their nicest articl es of clothing. There seems to be a certain attraction in fact for adolescent inhabitants of San Lucas to the more urban amenities and distractions provided in places like San Gabriel. During my fieldwork period various teenagers both from San Lucas and Sa nta Rita left the intention of not returning to live in their communities. One, for example, was Emilia, the fifteen year old younger hirteen year old brother Cristian also left. The departures of Emilia and Cristian moreover the gendered experience of being an adolescent in a frontier. Emilia had been seen with an older colla man from another town outside of San Gabriel, and the family suspected that she may have left San Lucas because of a romantic relationship with her mother and older sisters, in particular worried anxiously, emphasizing t hat it was not prudent for a young girl to

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103 leave her schooling and family responsibilities to live alone in the towns. The mother of aimlessly in the towns by themselves. Emilia would learn her lesson the hard way, they prophesied. In contrast, all this time the family expressed little concern for Cristian When I addressed the discrep Cristian The exact term that Lia used in Spanish was fragility of the woman. Emilia is a mujersita and can become pregnant. Moving alone in the frontier, young men and women do not follow their indigenous procedures for marital unions; usually, these are negotiated among families in the community. In the towns, meeting less familiar people from outside of the community, young men and women decide on their own to walk together an d court. Given the fluidity of this space, a union can dissolve, the partners travel and leave as easily as they appeared, and the woman remains with a child. Young men can navigate the ruptures and discontinuities of urban rural frontiers more freely than young women in that childbirth and childrearing are less direct consequences of the romantic relations they may have with the acquaintances significantly. After two mon ths or so, the family forcibly brought Cristian and Emilia back home to San Lucas Emilia returned with a large bag of trendy clothes and shoes. I noted, for

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104 instance, a stylish pair of high heels and a sporty set of sneakers for which she would have littl e use in San Lucas While Cristian remained this time, Emilia left again soon after. In another case at the beginning of my fieldwork in Santa Rita the eldest son of a community leader, Doa Consuelo left during the night unbeknownst to his parents. Doa Consuelo and her family tended to me during my stays in the community, and when I greeted Doa Consuelo the following morning she was noticeably concerned. She stated distractedly that her son had left, and they did not know to where he had gone. It was l ater discovered that he was in the city of Cochabamba, working. While Doa Consuelo departure and distancing from their family, she seemed to tolerate and accept his urban employment. He eventua lly returned to the community some months later, upon which time his parents enrolled him in the colla school along the road to San Gabriel. While adolescent and young adult Yurakar men and women may leave the community in order to engage with more urban amenities and essentials, other families also prioritize the acquisition and installment of technological appliances seen in town within their homes in the community. For instance, although a development of the minority thus far, in both San Lucas and Sant a Rita several families had purchased electric generators along with television sets and DVD players, in order to watch movies in the evenings or during other leisure time. On one occasion when inclement weather prevented much outdoor work, one of Doa Els ina DVD player set

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105 aback to find the space, constituting th e sleeping quarters of the two parents and at least four children, containing also an assortment of technological devices: the said television set and DVD player, as well as a large keyboard and amplifiers belonging to the eldest son, who had learned to pl ay music in the evangelical church in San Gabriel. A disconcerting assortment of cords and plugs stretched from the devices across the floor of the house into a multi plug outlet, where the cellular phones of other community members were also connected or electric generator at work that afternoon. On the TV set the Will Smith movie Ali was watching intently. As I found a spa ce to sit with them on one of the wooden slab beds, I contemplated how I finally had the opportunity to watch a film I had been desiring to see for some time, in the middle of an indigenous territory in Bolivia. As another demonstration of the attract ion of lowland indigenous people to urban elements, on the periphery of San Gabriel, just outside the town limits, there has is a type of shanty town of Yurakar indigen ous families from the communities most nearby San Gabriel, wherein residents have constructed wood houses similar to those is familiar among the indigenous commu nity members, the largely colla San Gabriel residents have a vague understanding of it. It is often necessary to explain, for instance, not appear that barrio homeowne rs have formal land rights, an organization of homeowners does exist which coordinates with the local government of San Gabriel,

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106 homeowners must pay a fee in order to obtain land there, and land rights are in the process of being formalized legally. Often times residents are families from communities like San Lucas (note: no one from Santa Rita had a home in the barrio, at time of fieldwork) who have a second house in the barrio. These families tend to live more permanently in the barrio, and then travel to the community for community work days and meetings and to tend to their coca plots. The opportunity to send their children to the schools in San Gabriel, which offer more comprehensive education than that found in the community school houses, motivates fa milies to move to the barrio. This certainly The cacique of San Luc as and his wife and children live permanently in the barrio, and they travel irregularly to San Lucas for organized community activities as mentioned above as well as to fish and to tend to coca. In this way, it could be argued that barrio residents take a dvantage of services provided through San Gabriel and also of benefits of their indigenous community membership, like access to the community have residences in the barrio, or they stay with him when they are visiting San Gabriel for extended periods of time. Although San Gabriel is an extremely small town, its location in the region is critical. The mix of elements it comprises urban and rural, wealth and poverty s uggests its orientation on a frontier. Not far from the limits of the subtropical jungle and nature preserve, San Gabriel is also in the midst of a dynamic coca economy. Over the

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107 last twenty years, settlements within and near the colonization zone, like Sa n Gabriel, have come to develop electricity, cell phone towe rs, and sewage systems (Paz 2011 ). The buildings lining the main, cobble stoned thoroughfare in San Gabriel include eating places and stores, with the owners residing in the back or on the floor a bove. Several of the buildings, the second stories in particular, manifest an ornate Romanesque architecture, for example one construction with white cement pillars and light green trim. Numerous edifices exhibit satellite dishes, such that residents can w atch international television as they desire. A handful of homes in the barrio have satellite dishes, as well. Just off the main thoroughfare, however, the town plaza itself is a small cement square with little decoration, largely unnoticeable. In this way San Gabriel gives the impression of an economic hub that has grown quickly and violently. Although the neighboring town of Ishinuta shares a mayor with San Gabriel, San Gabriel appears to be more economically active than Ishinuta. The latter is older an d larger in size, and all of its thoroughfares are cobble stoned; however, San Gabriel is located such that it is the nearest crossroads for various peasant union s as well as indigenous communities situated in various directions away from San Gabriel. For these union Interethnic Unions The dynamics of San Gabriel as well as the implications for the regional actors of living within the friction of a frontier manifest themselves through th e occurrence of interethnic unions, as in the first time I met Don Lorenzo, the cacique of San Lucas and his wife and family. He had brought me to his house in the barrio to stay for a pair of days before traveling with him to San Lucas to attend a commun ity meeting. Arriving around 9 at night, all was dark and quiet except for lights and the sound of a TV in the

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108 upper level of a wooden construction on the property. I later learned this was his erect my tent, underneath another roofed but not walled wooden construction not far from the lit house, Don He called her, and she emerged from the illuminated room above. As sh e climbed down the wooden ladder to the ground I noticed that she was very pregnant, so much so that I wondered at her capability of descending and ascending the steps. I also noted, despite the nighttime obscurity, that she was very dark skinned, the colo r of people from the highlands and not the typical color of lowland indigenous peoples. Don Lorenzo and other family members found t wo plastic chairs for me and Doa Sonia, placed close to the house so that we could sit in the glow coming from the upper ro om. Don Lorenzo left us to go get himself something to eat in San Gabriel (we had arrived well after the regular time of the last meal of the day, and there were no leftovers). Left in the shadowy light, Doa Sonia and I began to engage in conversation and learn about each other. When I asked Doa Sonia where she was from, she first replied that she rather San Lucas ; however, as she and I talked further, she explained that she was originally from the highlands, as I had suspected. She later moved to Santa Cruz (another destination of east of the Chapar ), and afterwards she moved to the Chapar She ide ntified with the Chapar more than with any other places where she had lived, having resided there all her adult life. Her mother died when she was still a child, and she first moved to the

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109 Chapar to work as a cook in the barracks of a military station th ere. She had moved there with her first child Minoska She later met Don Lorenzo in Chimor one of the largest towns of the Chapar and on the main road that goes from Cochabamba to Santa Cruz. Don Lorenzo had been a leader in CPITCO, the regional organiz ation of indigenous groups of the tropic of Cochabamba, and he had traveled frequently at this time around the Chapar passing often through Chimor his previous Yurakar wife, one daughter in the fourth grade and the other in the fifth; Don Lorenzo spending her winter break with them for two weeks, but regularly attended school and lived in Chimor with he r godparents. She was also in the fourth grade. Doa Sonia was colla and their baby. These resided in the sec ond story of the wood construction next to Don Lorenzo and Doa Sonia. Of all the women I met in Santa Rita and San Lucas Doa Sonia was one of the most loquacious and forward. Her ease in talking with me demonstrated her significant experience with mest izo people. She asked me about my motives for attending the meeting in San Lucas and she inquired as to my own origins. When she learned I was from the United States, she asked several questions about life there, as well. By the end of my short visit, she 5 5 while I was living among their communities.

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110 San Lucas Doa Sonia, then and in subsequent times during my fieldwork in the region, often referred to the indigenous people of San Lucas was why parents in the community did not enforce that children complete their school assignments or even attend school. She did associate herself with the community at other times, depending on the situation, for example regarding issues of land and territ ory in the region as will be further explained in C hapter 5 The union of Don Lorenzo and Doa Sonia is suggestive of the racial/ethnic meanings coloring unions between Yurakar and colla peoples. To further analyze these significations, I refer again to the case of Maria and Toms, and then that of deceased partner. In comparison to the cases of Maria and Toms and Lia, it could be argued that the union of Don Lorenzo and Doa Sonia is slightly more static, especial ly when focusing on the movement patterns of the women in these three example s. For instance, in the latter case, Don Lorenzo mobilizes himself on a regular basis to visit San Lucas ; Doa Sonia tends to remain in San Gabriel while Don Lorenzo traverses th ese spaces alone The children remain with Doa Sonia during these instances, although sometimes Don Lorenzo takes his two daughters, born of his previous Yurakar wife, with him. The following discuss ions of Yurakar women in interethnic unions with colla men suggest more mobility, in contrast as well as a certain fluid motion t to the children of such unions through the mother. In describing in more detail Maria and

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111 hat interethnic/racial interaction between Yurakar and colla peoples in the area is commonplace and a part of everyday life. wearing away of old frontiers that is simultaneous w ith the creation of new cultural forms. Toms is from San Gabriel, and his mother owns a chicheria the colla equivalent colla people of the region, speaks Quechua, a native tongue of the highland and va lley regions of the Andes and the most spoken indigenous language in Bolivia. He has spent practically all of his life in San Gabriel, and he and Maria met there. Although they were not part of any church when they first met, they later became active in th e evangelical church in San Gabriel. when she was a child, taking the family to move elsewhere with other relatives. Later, from another community. They moved together from another place along the river, still in the colonization zone, to San Lucas some ten years ago, not long after it was founded. Following a trend of the young adults and children of San Lucas Maria does not speak Yurakar, the indigenous language of the Yurakar people. Toms on various occasions teases Maria regarding her failure to speak her indigenous language. At different times he has brought to San Lucas a cousin of his; they only speak in Quechua to e ach other, an irregular occurrence given that in San Lucas Spanish is most commonly spoken along with Yurakar among a few adult community members. During one such visit of the cousin, Maria asked Toms to teach

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112 her Quechua. He demanded that she teach him her language in exchange, to which she exclaimed in frustration that she could not because she did not know it. Maria claimed that her personal history had developed such that she had not learned her indigenous language. Her lack of command of her native language in ominance in Bolivia and Yurakar marginalization, comparatively. Of people, there exist circa 2,500 Yurakar speakers; in contrast, 30% of the population speak Quechua. Additionally, although I never heard Maria refer to herself as Yurakar or indigenous, in this instance she affirmed t hat she was not ashamed of her Yurakar origins. When Toms left, Maria reorganized her life to adapt to his absence. She at first remained with their one year San Lucas ; however, she ultimately decided to move to the city o f Cochabamba, an eight to ten hour bus ride from San Gabriel, for a fresh start (See figure 2 1 for the spatial locations of these cities and towns) Her church had a headquarters in Cochabamba, and she maintained contact with it. Additionally, she made vi sits to San Lucas during this time period to harvest coca and visit her family. Around this time, Maria discovered that she was pregnant by Toms again. After three months of separation, Toms and Maria reunited in San Gabriel; however, their lives did not become any more sta ble Together with their son they went to live in Cochabamba where Toms began a wage labor job. Maria returned by herself

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113 with Jos on various occasions to San Lucas to harvest coca; this particular pattern of displace ment is suggestiv a certain autonomy of movement for Yurakar women in the colonization zone, to be further discussed in Chapter 3 O n these occasions, Toms remained in Cochabamba working. This is not to say that Toms is not an affectionate father ; in general, he dotes on and accompanies Jos when he can. In fact, Maria remarked that Toms had sent them to San Lucas at these times because, in addition to their lacking cash income, Jos needed to eat his fill of fish and bananas. Jos did not like m eat; however, he had a special appetite for fish. This interestingly highlights a regional identity trait: popular discourse depicts lowland areas like the Chapar particularly indigenous communities, as abundant with tropical fruits and fish for the taki ng, in contrast to more urban or highland areas. Toms and Maria were unable to remain in Cochabamba for long due to the expenses of city life; they ultimately returned to San Lucas and San Gabriel after a couple of months. They spent time in San Lucas a nd San Gabriel, depending on economic and family needs, when in San Lucas San Gabriel staying at their church. Nearing the end of my fieldwork period, Maria and Toms married formally in the church, an extremely infr equent occurrence for Yurakar and lowland indigenous people in general. Customarily in the communities unions are consensual. A minority of people is active in a church and moreover, community members usually lack the finances to afford a ceremony and acc ompanying festivities. That Toms and Maria did marry is indicative of their strong connection to their church. earlier

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114 It is useful to make some observations here on the dynamics of Toms and Maria exhibits slightly more displacement in comparison to the father of her son. While Toms worked in urban and semi urban places, Maria moved among all these as well as San Lucas returning to the community on various occasions. Even during their period of separation San Lucas to visit family and harvest coca ; during this period Toms remained largely in Sa n Gabriel 6 Furthermore, although Toms cared for their son as well, when Maria moved Jos necessarily moved with her. This is an important consideration with respect to the filtering of cultural practices and with regards to ethnic affiliation. Toms and Maria both act as cultural brokers of sorts with respect to the combination of colono and Yurakar practices transmitted to their son; however, it could be argued that Maria does even more. For instance, Toms might spe ak Quechua to Jos and, fulfilling t colla and Yurakar societies subscribe, order food selection for their family bringing home potatoes a food characteristic of the highlands -or telling Maria to prepare banans from San Lucas for Jos ; however, Jo s and Maria make up the transitory home and because of the household responsibilities associated with her role as mother, Maria ultimately determines food selection and its preparation over the family hearth, as well as the language Jos hears in his clo se proximity as she tends to him throughout her daily activities. 6 It is important to note that Maria, upon leaving San Lucas on these visits, would often emphasize to her family members there to inform her when the planned to harvest coca. She was highly interested in being present for coca harvests. The importance asso ciated with coca for the Yurakar groups of the colonization zone will be further discussed in Chapter three.

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115 During the time when Maria became a single mother and then later a married woman, her slightly younger sister Lia remained a young widow and single mother. When I first met Lia in San Lucas she had also had a son Berno a couple months San Lucas Manco was colla as well, but from El Alto, a capital of La Paz. He had a high school education and was from a military family; however, he became involved in drug trafficking in the region and remained there. One night, when sitting around the household fire l ocated just a short distance away from the house of family members taking repose for the night -alone with Doa San Lucas The house, roofed but not walled, allowed for the people resting unde rneath their mosquito nets to listen and react as the history unfolded. Doa Elsina described that, though not from San Lucas Manco adapted well to the harsh rural environment and labors of San Lucas Friendly and jovial, he was popular in the community, and he was particularly helpful and considerate to Doa Elsi. He had planned on living permanently in San Lucas shortly before his death. He poisoned himself when drunk one n ight. Lia was already pregnant with their son at the time. emphasized that Lia was not being able to take care of Berno as he needed, on her own.

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116 I heard soft sobs coming from the netting that night. In the early morning as household members were waking up, I overheard Lia saying to voice was tearless, but melancholy. Li a partner to give her companionship and help raise her son. demonstrates significant movement, though in this instance her situation as a singl e mother particularly influences her itineran t lifestyle She lived in San Lucas with her family, and her mother and sisters helped significantly to care for Berno. They often did so, critiquing her at the same time for not providing her son the proper att ention he needed. Though she always returned, Lia left San Lucas regularly, according to community, she would move to San Gabriel to work in cleaning, she would travel w ith a girlfriend to another town to look for serving jobs, for instance. Sometimes during these travels she would leave Berno with her family, but more often she would take him with her. Manco had been deceased almost two years by the time of my fieldwork. C ommunity members did not recognize children like Berno who were products of interethnic unions as more or less Yurakar or colla but simply a mix of the two. How the children identified themselves as adults, whether as Yurakar or colla for example, depe instance, in conversation with Doa Elsina regarding Berno, she had commented, grows up he will want to leave San Lucas

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117 himself, it also suggests that to leave San Lucas for La Paz is to reject association with Yur akar lifestyle. Land and T erritory While the propagation of certain cultural practices through children might not be a contentious issue, disputes over land and territory often do contribute to an identity politics based on dichotomous categories. At the same time, the constant advance of colono dominance and even its gradual institutionalization through socio cultural practices contribute to Yurakar acceptance of it. Intrinsic to the histories of Santa Rita and San Lucas in fact is a certain negotiation of colono dominance. For instance, w hen discussing Santa Rita families had been responsible for it: two from a Yurakar region outside of TIPNIS, along the Ichilo River, and two from an area just neighboring Santa Rita This latter area now constitutes the colla union of Eliodoro Villazn but, a community leader emphasized, Yurakar residence had extended through out that space previously. Colono settlement progressed gradually forcing Yurakar i nhabitants to circulate within a smaller area until they eventually found themselves encircled by collas Similarly, t he community of San Lucas developed because of colono advancement on indigenous land San Lucas San Lucas of the Isibor o River; community members of the original San Lucas left and founded New San Lucas because colono settlement on the territory had advanced to the extent that indigenous residents did not have sufficient area for agriculture. Presently San Lucas residents on a regular basis must collectively mobilize and move themselves temporarily to the borders of their territory in order to fend off colono settlements that have begun moving onto their land.

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118 This is usually done defensiv ely and the strategy largely consis ts of San Lucas residents demonstrating their use of the space through the camp out until the colonos leave. Indigenous communities do allow for foreigners to have usage and ownership rights of their indigenous territory if foreigners affiliate themselves to the community. Community affiliation takes place through a process of community discussion and consensus, although standards for rejecting or accepting an affiliation request vary among communities. When a community member takes a spouse who is from ou tside of the community, the new spouse regardless of ethnic background becomes an affiliate of the community, as well; community consensus is almost not necessary in these cases. However, in San Lucas there occurred a more irregular situation wherein two i ndividuals, both friends of the cacique and foreigners to San Lucas wished to affiliate themselves with the community and use the land for agricultural purposes. One was a Yurakar woman from another area of the Chapar outside of TIPNIS; the other was a camba man from Santa Cruz who now resided in Chimor and had a traveling clothes selling business that brought him frequently to San Gabriel. The community accepted Chimor man, however, creat ed more controversy. In a community meeting, the provocative discussion touched upon varying economic survival and the risk posed by foreigners on the territory who could exp loit communal land to their own advantage due to their better finances. Community members had commented that accepting outsiders was certainly less problematic when

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119 they were poor and indigenous like themselves; that they were from a different indigenous g roup was inconsequential. In this way, the community members seemed to make an important association of indigeneity with poverty. In particular, Doa Julia, a woman resident and older sister of the cacique voiced the strongest discontent with the Chimor discussion had been generally civil and calm, she spoke in an agitated manner, although with her eyes on the ground and avoid ing the corner of the room where the Chimor man was sitting. hat happens with colonos middle of your territory you have colonos that settle and make their farm, and before you know it more have come, taking up more land and taking it away from the community right in the middle emphasis to her point that dominant foreigners would invade all the space around an indigenous person. At this, however, Don Lorenzo responded to her outburst in an irritated tone, children 7 will marry colla people and your land will go into the hands of colla people His sister did not respond directly to his comment, but remained in silent anger for th e remainder of the meeting. In the end, the majority of community members did not see the Chimor man as a major threat and accepted his affiliation. When put to a vote, 7 or not Don Lorenzo was referring to Do however, have more sons that daughters of marrying age (at least three, to one).

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120 Never theless, after the meeting that night several people voiced their doubts regarding Don Jos varyi ng opinions and concerns among the indigenous communities regarding colono dominance. There may be those like Don Lorenzo who have traveled and had extensive interaction with people outside of the Yurakar communities to the extent that ethnic categories s uch as Yurakar and colla are insignificant to him. His life history and responses during the meeting suggest, as well, that to him development involves To his sister Doa Julia, concerns regarding land resources are clear and present to her in her daily life in San Lucas necessitates the passing on of land to her children. In the meeting that day, furthermore, o ther community members addressed this insecurity regarding land allowance to outsiders; community members expressed that they preferred to make sure that there was land for all of their children first, and then unused land remaining could be for foreigners Of course, the limits that delineate threat or aid, enemy or partner, become vague when interethnic romance and unions are prevalent. The development of a certain union between a colla man and Yurakar woman in Santa Rita further brings into relief the colla Yurakar antagonism regarding issues of land and territory and it also manifests the ambiguity the divide develops when interethnic unions become a concern. I nterethnic unions with collas tend to be a less frequent occurrence in Santa Rita in compar ison to their incidence in San Lucas and

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121 perhaps this makes them more consequential in the former ; the union and corresponding communal affiliation became a problem involving the community as a whole in Santa Rita e at stake concerned colla in communal land ownership. marital practices as in the cases of interethnic unions previous ly discussed, the developments of their union in the context of the community are significant for analysis of colla yurakar relations. The particular colla man of concern, Don Ignacio, had an appreciation similar to that of most highland colonists of th e Chapar Originally from the department of Sucre, Don Ignacio asserted that it had been arduous work for him and his family to make the land bear fruit when he was growing up. Correspondingly, h e was a staunch supporter of Evo Morales and the MAS government, highlighting that it was thanks to the President that Sucre received irrigation development projects that substantially helped peasant farmers like his family. Don Ignacio found that, in ty in Sucre, it was much less challenging to make the land yield crops in the Chapar. This land interest is an important influence on Don Ignacio young Santa Rita woman, and his corresponding communal affiliation. Don Ignacio has r elatives in Eliodoro Villazn the coca union nearby Santa Rita and although the actual procedures involved are not clear, he formed a marital union with Olivia, the daughter of a Santa Rita family. The parents formally gave the daughter away to Don Ignac io. He became affiliated to the community through a communal process similar to that

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122 described above for San Lucas Olivia and Don Ignacio soon had a son, and Don Ignacio ultimately built his own house in Santa Rita develo ped his own standard sized coca field in Santa Rita Don Ignacio, as a community member, participates in all community activities and obligations, often demonstrating his strong MAS support in Santa Rita community meetings, as well. Although Don Ignacio wo rk s alongside Yurakar community members to generally maintain and support Santa Rita Yurakar affiliates demonstrate a veiled mistrust of him, suggestive of their preconception that he, in disconcerting ways, i s not ne community leader Doa Consuelo informed me that the community had detected a critical consequently did not intend to allow him to live permanently in Santa Rita When first petitioning for his community affiliat ion, Don Ignacio had apparently played upon familial support Santa Rita people learned afterwards that he still actually had family in Sucre and had several relatives in Eliodoro Villazn F urther indicative of Yurakar of colla presence within and b enefit f rom their land and territory, when Olivia and Don Ignacio began demonstrating marital problems, community leaders exhibited a fast acting desire to formalize D Olivia had not wished to have Don Ignacio as a partner when their union was orchestrated, and afterwards she was found to be engaged in an affair with a Yurakar community member. Furthermore, she became preg nant again, and it was rumored that the father was not Don Ignacio. A s the familial crisis endured, Don Ignacio began making trips to Sucre under the pretense

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123 of providing aid to an ailing uncle there. Community members also commented that Don Ignacio had asserted he had no qualms leaving Santa Rita with his son for Sucre. Upon learning of this, community leaders discussed among themselves the need disassociation or not from Santa Rita t now a Consuelo had insisted gravely to the community day community ; accordingly, in order for the formal communal procedure to transpire, Don Ignacio had to be present. 8 Since Don Ignacio was colla it was difficult for communi ty members to accept his allegiance to Santa Rita and to the gains of Yurakar people. Cognizant of the history of colla Yurakar relations, they also harbored concerns similar to those of Do a Julia of San Lucas : colla people were infamous for usurping te rritorial control from Yurakar s. As such, Santa Rita developments, and his movements beyond the community warily. is the free license t o coca production Don Ignacio gained via his marital union with her. It is a substantial consideration with regards to and 8 Rita peopl e temporarily from his ambiguously threatening presence, unregulated by communal accords there was the possibility that he or his family could return, claiming a stake in the community. There was e share in Santa Rita.

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124 suggests the importance of land as a resource for specifically coca production, fo r the 9 T he value to both men and women, colla and Yurakar of land for coca production demonstrates itself moreover through out the developments of Tom s and Yurakar s and collas land is a resource at the origins of divisive conflicts, but also one that engenders cross cutting alliances when interethnic unions are concerned. During the times that Toms and Maria were financially stressed when residing in Cochabamba, Toms was just as preo ccupied as Maria that she promptly make a trip to San Lucas to harvest coca. Furthermore, some months later Fernando traveled to San Lucas to fish and harvest coca in order to be prepared financially for the approach ng birth of their second child while Mar ia remained in San Gabriel 10 In this way, land and territory and their potential for coca production, are resource s acutely important for family maintenance. When colla people become part of a Yurakar family -and the care of Yurakar children and future hybrid grandchildren consequently depends upon the foreign Other the reasons for conflict over land become confounded. urvival in the Colonization Z one In the colonization zone, boundaries become porous, weak, and quite permeable. Th e effects of such porous boundaries on Yurakar socio cultural practices woman from San Lucas was pregnant by a colla man from one of the nearby towns. It 9 I more closely analyze the meanings of coca to colonization zone residents, and its gendered aspects, in Chapter three. 10 The baby came sooner than expected, and he in fact missed the birth because he was still in San Lucas at the time

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125 seems they separated around the time of her pregnancy because he never came to San Lucas and her parents attempted to give her away to a friend of the family in San Lucas soon after. She gave birth to a daughter during my fieldwork period, and they remained with her parents fo r some months afterwards. When the baby was a few months old, Leandra left San Lucas with her and did not return. On a visit to San Lucas some time whereabouts arose. woman. Gossipy conversation surrounding this followed. Eterazama is a town larger than San Gabriel, in a more developed zone of the Chapar don the chola ga colla bar, Leandra was acting the part of a cholita, most likely serving as a waitress of sorts. This highlight s significantly the performative aspects of identity, as well as de la Cadena 1991; Comaroff 1996 ; Little 2004 ; Moghadam 1993 ; Roseman 2002); vario us factors have contributed to such trends, including temporary state; women of h ighland indigenous origins also wear and shed chola attire as they desire and see fit (Paulson 2002). In this way, it would seem that women have more avenues to claim a certain ethnic association and make use of its symbolic connotations than men do.

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126 In t he above instance, Leandra had made a choice, through her ethn ic/ racial practices, to associate herself more with colla people. Her exact motives are not clear; however, access to diverse income opportunities is a likely influence. In San Lucas people dep end on coca and commercial fishing as their main income sources; in Eterazama, someone like Leandra can work in various service jobs. Furthermore, colla than Yurakar an d work in the colla environment of a chicheria. Donning cholita attire and acting the part wins her important cultural and economic capital. Again, an important underlying influence on the economic decisions of the various Yurakar women discussed in deta il Leandra, Lia, Maria -is motherhood. All were single mothers for varying periods of time and due to differing circumstances. They were each involved in interethnic unions with colla men. Although each used slightly different strategies with varying outco mes in order to survive as single mothers, mobility and bending to colono dominance is important for all of them. Ethnic/Racialized and Gendered Movement and Space In the colonization zone, distances between the rural and urban disappear as elements of eac h intermix. From San Lucas residents can travel to small and large towns and engage in activities with colla people as well as individuals of other races/ethnicities. At the same time, these various elements of urban ness and colla ness can travel into Sa n Lucas -via the Chimor man, Manco, Toms, and Doa Sonia, for instance -although these have less attraction to San Lucas of movement is generally from San Lucas towards the outside. This particular repulsion from San Lucas to the urban and colla and its certain ethnic/racial charge, made itself evident via a marital conflict that occurred between

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127 Doa Sonia and Don Lorenzo a couple of months into my fieldwork. By this time, Do a Sonia had given birth to their son, and the baby wa s a couple of months old. Don Lorenzo evidently had told Doa Sonia that he was going to San Lucas for the purpose of harvesting coca and would return to their home in the barrio shortly afterwards. In San Lucas however, it occurred that Don Lorenzo and o ther men community members began drinking together, and his visit extended into several days. Doa Sonia San Lucas to seek him out. I had been in San Lucas at Doa Elsina t the time, where Don Lorenzo had been staying those days. Doa Sonia arrived that afternoon, striding angrily down the path leading to Doa Elsina her chest. Though she greeted me cordially upon her ent rance, she disregarded the rest of Doa Elsina Lorenzo She harshly upbraided him for having left his family for an extended period, for allowing himself to become intoxicated, and for having deceived her. Don Lorenzo said nothing all the while she spoke, until when Doa Sonia finished H e sighed carrying out his plan, he turned away and began readying a fishing net. ed intention of remaining in the territory, Doa Sonia made no sign of leaving San Lucas without her spouse. She stood forebodingly on the threshold of Doa Elsina sit Doa Son ia appeared slightly awkward in her avoidance of interaction with the rest of the household. No one else engaged with her, either.

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128 Eventually, she wandered over to me, to where I was sitting by the fire with Lia, frying bananas. Doa Sonia began engaging m e in idle conversation; after a few quiet colla I looked at her, confused by her seemi ngly confidential remark, voiced in the midst of Doa Elsina family. Lia, sitting beside me, looked disturbed and perplexed by her comment, as well. Not knowing how to respond, I could only offer Doa Sonia an expression of semi comprehension. She left soon afterwards leaving just as stormily as she had entered. Some moments later, Don Lorenzo followed after her. From our site at the riverside, Doa Elsina nd I watched Don Lorenzo and Do a Sonia further up river, crossing it to return to San G abriel together. Despite the fact that colla spouses of other Yurakar men from the community did in fact spend the night and stay for extended periods of time in San Lucas Doa Sonia colla ging in the decidedly Yurakar Doa Sonia does not wear a pollera she distinguishe d herself on various occasions as being not the same as her she is colla and a rank above them -though she shares in her formal education and that of her children in contrast w ell as other seemingly crude mannerisms. Recognizing that Doa Sonia has previously been a single mother, supporting herself and her daughter in the Chapar on

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129 her own for an extended period of time, it is probable that protection of her socio political st anding has been a special priority. Culturally and socially, she affirms herself as an educated colla woman. Furthermore, noting the gendered influences of ethnic/racial power dynamics, Doa Sonia and the ease with whic h actors such as Toms, Ma n co, and Don Sebastian have penetrated San Lucas and Santa Rita demonstrate that it might be easier for a colla Yurakar territories than for a colla woman A mong Bolivian society it is more acceptable for a man to traverse those terrains considered wild. In contrast, were a woman to do the same her socio political standing could suffer. In a similar vein, it is also worth noting a certain ethnically/racially charged dislike of Doa Sonia by previous wife, who passed away mysteriously prior to his and Doa Sonia a kind and generous woman. She had been a pale skinned Yurakar woman from Beni and lovely in appearance, according to those who had known her in San Lucas and Santa Rita In contrast, Doa Sonia bruja, Consequently, Doa Sonia may cho ose not to associate herself intimately with her for to racial/ethnic reasons; correspondingly, they may choose not to like her due to racial/ethnic differe nces, as well. Doa Sonia San Lucas and subsequent flight from i t with Don Lorenzo demonstrate the manners in which colla and Yurakar racial/ethnic dynamics may influence a certain colla repulsion from the Yurakar despite colla interest in

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130 Chapar land ; similarly, these dynamics also propel a particular Yurakar att raction towards the colla illustrated by the movements of young Yurakar adults and adolescents. As noted earlier, younger generations tend to leave San Lucas on a regular basis. Leaving permanently is more uncommon; however, movement and temporary stays from San Lucas to San Gabriel and even to Cochabamba is a normal part of Yurakar life. I do concede that this is most especially a trend for the youth of San Lucas than for that of Santa Rita ; however, for both communities movement and lives lived among v arying places, including the primary crossroads of San Gabriel, are common. before Maria and Toms reunited, I overheard Doa Elsina talking with her twelve year old daughter J imena underneath their mosquito net at bedtime one night. I was not far away from them, within my tent. Doa Elsina was talking to her young daughter, urging her not to walk alone in the towns; young girls who did so only found trouble and lost options to lead more comfortable, stable lives. Doa Elsina further supplicated Jimena not to become like Emilia broke into sobs. She proceeded to talk to Jimena, though, through her tears, instructing her to re examples of Maria and Lia as a warning: they also had walked alone in the towns when and circul ation in the tumultuous friction area is prevalent for Doa Elsina on a daily basis regarding her daughters. Friction is more threatening for young women than for young men. The woman can become pregnant and be responsible for the care of

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131 children, losing considerable autonomy as a consequence; comparatively, the man in the friction area has more freedom to engage with the diverse peoples there and continue moving, unencumbered by dependents. Final Remarks Movement is important for understanding ethnicity Barth (1969) has highlighted ethnic boundaries, particularly the transactions that occur across them, as crucial to understanding the formation of ethnic identity. Studying ethnic/racial identity in the colonization zone, movement across ethnic boundarie s is constant to the point of rendering such boundaries indistinguishable. Although the colla and Yurakar indigenous groups of the colonization zone tolerate each other, it is evident that colla ness is the more dominant ethnic racial influence. Collas ho ld more social, economic, and political power; their socio cultural practices easily infiltrate the region, simultaneously with the advance of roads. Interethnic unions further blur boundaries between opposing identity categories, self and other, friend an d enemy. In general colla discrimination against Yurakar people may underlie colla Yurakar racial/ethnic relations, and interethnic unions do not undo such discriminatory inclinations ; 11 however, interethnic unions do tend to further complicate and confus e the standards for ally determination: when the Other becomes partner in raising a family, interests regarding social reproduction are shared. Although conflicts over resources bring ethnic boundaries to the foreground, that both colla and Yurakar groups engage in coca production and share interests in the propagation of the coca economy can make them allies in certain situations, as will be further 11 racial/ethnic unions historically is the desire to control and dominate that which one both hates and fears (Wade 2009).

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132 discussed in C hapters 4 and 5 Inter ethnic relations in the colonization zone demonstrate in this way that Yurakar and colla identity categories rely complexly on colla reductionist observation. colla romances and unions in the colonization zone a place of dynamic interaction of opposing elements: Yurakar and colla urban and rural, Benian and Cochabamban -I do not mean to argue that lif e in a frontier area causes single motherhood. Rather I am highlighting that the friction of the frontier contributes to greater opportunity for unions and dissolutions. I am not critiquing or lamenting single motherhood, either. Rather, I indicate that me n travel the bumps and shocks of friction areas more easily than women in part because they do accompanied by children hanging from a knapsack on her back or toddling along a t her travel the contours of the frontier and beyond; on the contrary, as suggested here and as the re mainder of my dissertation will further demonstrate, women of San Lu cas and Santa Rita do navigate the frontier providing for their families, participating in intra and extra communal politics, and defining social movements. They demonstrate that mobility is particularly important for the Yurakar indigeneity experienced in the colonization zone, especially for survival as a Yurakar woman. Motherhood in particular differentiates the experience of being an indigenous woman from that of being

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133 an indigenous man, and it also influenc es the values and symbolism of c oca, treat ed in C hapter 3

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134 Figure 2 1. Map of areas currently inhabited by Yurakar speakers, and indigenous territories corresponding and adjacent to them. Modified from Yurakar /geography

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135 CHAPTER 3 MONEY IN COCA: GENDER AND THE NAVIGATION OF (IL)LEGALITY IN THE COLONIZATION ZONE Although families often maintain small plots around their houses, communities organize themselves such that primary agricultural areas nestle deeper in the forest, distanced from the San Lucas and Santa Rita community schoolhouse and homes stand. In San Lucas for instance, most residents walk to the edge of t he area populated by houses, and then travel by canoe across a lagoon for thirty minutes; once reaching this more thickly forested part, they walk another twenty to thirty minutes through narrow paths before reaching their coca parcels. People rarely trave l alone, and if there is no canoe available they make the entire trip walking. For these reasons, when Doa Gloria the Yurakar woman from outside of TIPNIS who had recently affiliated herself -and her spouse passed by Doa spray coca with pesticides Doa Elsina decided to join them on their trip in order to check on her coca parcel. I tagged along, as anthropologists are wont to do. As we traveled through the lagoon in the canoe, Doa Gloria and Do a Elsina talked about their past, in particular the duress experienced from previous spouses and simultaneously the relief and satisfaction gained through work in their fields. Doa colla and a taxi driver of sorts in San Gabri el. Previously, for several years Doa Gloria had been in a relationship with a Yurakar man. He had often been unfaithful to her, and during this trying time of her life, Doa Gloria found solace in her agricultural labors. She eventually left him and too k care of herself and her children on her own for several years before meeting her current spouse. Doa Elsina,

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136 for her part, concurred that she found work in her field particularly satisfying. Once there, she would often become oblivious to other concerns and labor mechanically until the task at hand was complete and her plot was in order. She described, in particular, the time when she had left her first husband who had also been abusive -and gone with her children to live with her parents. She had had a coca parcel and provided for herself and her children from the fruits of her labors on the plot; she had also sold beer in the community for additional cash flow. She made her livelihood independently like this, until she met her current partner, Don Feder ico That had been some sixteen years ago After docking the canoe we trekked through the terrain until we reached the coca pijchear (gradually add leaves of coca between the teeth and cheek until th e leaves form a ball there) and rest under the small shelter that the family used for overnight stays, Doa Elsina and Doa Gloria walked around the parcel, Doa Elsina surveying her coca and making comments along the way. Walking through a section of the parcel, Doa Elsina indicated that it belong ed to Lia, her second oldest daughter. Lia was widowed and with a one year old son. healthy green leaves of the plants admiringly and Continuing to gaze upon the various rows of coca as we walked among them, Doa a knowing and intimate tone, as if she w ere commenti ng on an outcome that was

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137 power and feminine comforts it represented, an d completed our circle of the parcel. After harvesting some tomatoes and sugar cane, we returned to the shelter and rejoined Don Hernan. Doa Gloria and Don Hernan readied themselves to fumigate their own ntually Doa Elsina and I left to return to her house in the community. She hoped to come back to work on her coca in a few days. The activities of the day spent with Doa Elsina, Doa Gloria and Don Hernan demonstrate that for the people of San Lucas and the colonization zone, coca serves partly as agricultural good, as relieving work aid, as commodity, and as income source. These illustrate only superficially the multiple meanings that coca represents to Yurakar men and women here, and it just begins to suggest the various discourses associated with coca on national and also international levels. In Bolivia, coca conjures post colonial discourses of Indian delinquen cy. Coca also plays an important international role as the primary raw material of cocaine. Regionally, among colonos of the Chapar, coca has become a critical source of cohesion and political strength. This pastiche of histories (Clifford 1997), discours es, and practices surrounding coca influences the meanings and uses Yurakar groups associate with it, as well. Although all of these varyingly contribute to the meanings of coca for the th the illegal drug

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138 trade has particularly important repercussions on Yurakar habitus. B ecause of the economic value of coca production, Yurakar actors appropriate it as a primary livelihood strategy, further eroding and rendering indistinguishable the d ivide between colono and Yurakar practices. it also engenders a discourse of possible illegality surrounding coca production. The ambiguity and varying conseque ntiality associated with Bolivian law demonstrat es 25). In other country contexts (like that of the United States) law is more rigid in that its written parameters significantly restrict the meanings and ex periences actors derive from it; as such, force does not come from its literal form and its experience is not limited to formal institutions; rather, law is such t hat actors commonly interpret, adapt, and modify it according to the situation and to their needs. In this way, law is variable and malleable, and its meaning most powerfully articulated via its social and cultural dimensions. increases outside of urban centers. here. Living with the reality of elastic law, act ors create, incorporate, and depend upon fragments of other normative structures be it community justice, union regulations, or otherwise with the goal of establishing order. They modify this construction of diverse normative frameworks as their needs chan ge, as well. Accordingly, the normative

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139 system in Bolivia is diverse, flexible, and dynamic; the law is an element of that normative, socio culturally experienced universe. cultural dimensions are among their most important consideration applies correspondingly to illegality. Additionally, the elasticity characteristic of Bolivian law has important repercussions on illegality, rendering its parameters uncertain, vague, or virtually nonexistent in some situations. The particularly uncertain illegality surrounding coca production does not evidently manifest itself through the events of the day earlier described in part because it interweave s itself into Yurakar quotidian life in the colonization zone. markets and practices of normative frameworks I explain coca tion as legal or illegal in the colonization zone as more particularly While licitness and illicitness refer to those practices that actors deem legitimate or unacceptable, respectively, through their lived ordinary, legality and illegality refer more particularly to those practices that the state views as legitimate or illegitimate. Such a distinction between the licit vs. the legal is useful for an analysis of coca production practices in the colonization zone in that, while such pra ctic es are imbued with special social, cultural, as well as economic meaning that renders them against a vague yet ever present backdrop of legal restrictions. Coca production activ they might not be legal. Laws concerning land/territory and coca production have been

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140 a much contested work in progress in Bolivia generally and their consequential ambigui ty is particularly charged and complex in the colonization zone, explained already as a dynamic place of porous boundaries -to the extent that their obscurity is a characteristic trait of law and the legal from the perspective of Yurakar coca producers. T hey are very much conscious of the fact their coca production activities might be legal, but then again they might not; if not, they could suffer huge damages to their economic livelihood. Accordingly, (il)legality looms as a primary actor in the colonizat ion zone, the Yurakar is characteristic of their everyday lives In their collection of essays, Gunewardena and Kingsolver (2007) refer to under constraints. I use navigation similarly here in my analyses of agency exercise d by indigenous men and women. Navigation conjures up the image of a skilled pilot guiding his or her vessel over rough, uncertain terrain like the Yurakar boatman, navigating h is canoe across the river, familiar with its various bends and marshes, areas of shallow and deep waters, and how these evolve with the changes of the year; after years of traversing the waterways of his territory, careful guidance of his vessel amid the o bstacles lying within the water at times murky, at others more translucent is natural, though always necessitating cautious calculation. In this way, navigation is useful for its implication of a certain expertise or deft knowledge ingrained in the actor. Yurakar men and women are in charge of their movements and decisions taken as they traverse the friction of the frontier, yet they move taking into account that the terrain itself is alive with perils like (il)legality, often ambiguous and unseen, in its uneven surfaces.

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141 (Il)legality is a critical outcome of and, simultaneously, contributor to the hazards of the frontier. The lucrative opportunities that coca production provides and the possibility to exploit them through manipulation of (il)legality inte nsify activity at the frontier and contribute to friction; simultaneously, the engagement of colonos and indigenous actors with (il)legality further complicates the ambiguities of legal coca production and propagates (il)legality. The friction of the front ier has brought the Yurakar peoples of the colonization zone into jarring interaction with colla practices; it also exposes them to an intense cash economy and new livelihood strategies. (Il)legality becomes an added tool to navigate the friction of the f rontier for Yurakar men and women of the colonization zone. Although coca may have similar meanings for both men and women, tied to its economic value and association with (il)legality, its importance is also particularly gendered. Coca production is an exceedingly lucrative income source for indigenous men and women. Coca grants women special autonomy as well as the means to carry out their responsibilities as mothers in Yurakar society. This is particularly useful for traveling the ruptures and shocks of life on the frontier. The following first presents a summary of the histories surrounding coca in the trade and the consequent implications for the meanings ascribe d to coca on international, national, and regional levels. I then focus more specifically on the significations of coca among the Yurakar people of the colonization zone, elucidating its importance as a primary income source as well as the murky (il)legal ity surrounding

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142 Histories and Meanings of Coca in the Andes The role of coca in Andean South America is multi faceted and complex, with a long history dating prior to European co lonization (Allen 2002 ; Mayer 2002). During the period of the Incas, coca held an elevated place in part for its association with the elite class. Elite Incas engaged in its consumption largely for ritual purposes, and coca represented a luxury item. It fu rthermore played the role of an object of prestige, in that those who possessed and bestowed coca upon others differentiated themselves as Despite its identification with the elite, archeological evidence de monstrates that coca also circulated among the non elite (Allen 2002 ; Mayer 2002), and it in fact played an important role as an item of exchange. In this respect, Mayer identifies coca as the first Andean commodity. Its liquidity has endured to the presen t, as well, as the c hapter will later illustrate. Integral to the practices and rituals surrounding coca is consumption of the leaves of the plant erythroxylum coca which grows as a large, leafy green bush on the eastern slopes of the Andes mountains. In general, the plant grows well in humid, tropical climates, and it is particularly well suited for the nutrient scant soil at the foot of the Andes (Allen 2002). Contrary to commonly held assumptions, the leaves of the coca eaves are placed between the teeth and cheek, often the person cheek, which the p er son sucks until it loses flavor. The ball can then be removed and another formed with new leaves. The effects of coca consumption, in this way, are

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143 similar to drinking a cup of coffee or taking an aspirin (Allen 2002: 190). It helps relieve feelings of hunger, thirst, and fatigue. Andean societies often drink tea made from coca leaves for medicinal purposes, including alleviation of nausea and altitude sickness. among Andeans, colonial rulers profited from its production and sale to natives (Allen 2002: 189 ; Gootenberg 2008 ); they also provided it to mine workers to increase their endurance of harsh labor practices. Contrastingly the Catholic church, recognizing consumptive practices. Eventually, ho wever, economic interests in native sale and taxation of coca influenced the lifting of coca production controls. 1 Coca consumption in this way became labeled an indigenous practice, not one of honor or prestige but one in gaged. Despite its denigration among post colonial mestizo society, coca consumption continued to hold important economic and social value for highland indigenous groups. Its use as a mode of exchange has already been noted; moreover, it plays an important role in reciprocal relations in Andean societies (Allen 2002 ; Gootenberg 2008 ; Mayer 2002 ). Engaged in properly, coca consumption is never practiced alone; possessors 1 Although Bolivian society largely associates coca and its consumptive practices with highland groups, coca did traverse the space of Yurakar territories during pre colonial, colonial, and post colonial times. Interest in the development of coca production influenced the Inca to penetrate a section of the Yun gas region which the Yurakar inhabited (Sanchez 2005: 87). With European colonization, the Spanish took control of these lands, eventually turning them into haciendas. A later influence on Catholic mission efforts in the area, in fact, was to develop coca haciendas (de la Fuente n.d., Sanchez 2005: 87). The plantations would often contract highland natives to work the coca fields (Spedding 2004: 65 67). The Yurakar themselves retracted from these settlements, deeper into the areas where they now reside (S anchez 2005). The practice of coca consumption became more familiar to Yurakar groups with increased engagement with mestizo criollo society in the twentieth century, as will be later explained.

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144 share leaves with their companions, following special ritual practices that affirm their relationships with natural, creative spirits as well as with the friends and family who accompany them. In this way, for indigenous groups who persist in the practice, coca consumption has been a form of resistance to dominating post colonial discourse. Coca role as the primary material of cocaine further complicates the meanings associated with the leaf; this aspect endows co c a with a certain notoriety internationally, as well as negative publicity within the Andean imaginary T he post colonial mestizo state had generally tolerated coca consumption prior to the twentieth century W hen North American and European countries outlawed cocaine in the 1920s these international influences, particularly from the United States pressured coca produc ing Andean c ountries to instate coca controls Peru and Bolivia were largely noncompliant with the international demands, the former ignoring the m and the latter often demonstrating blatant resistance, for several decades (Gootenberg 2008) In reality, the psychologic al effects of coca and cocaine differ greatly from each other; the production of one kilo of extracted cocaine necessitates a multi stage process that uses approximately three hundred pounds of coca leaves ( Allen 2002: 190 ; Lens and Sanabria 1997: 15). No netheless, medical discourse in the mid twentieth century depicted coca consumption as a cause of Indian poverty and illiteracy, in this way painting indigenous coca consumers as derelict drug addicts. This debate regarding the health effects of coca consu United Nations Single Convention on Narcotics Drugs in 1961, which called for the banning of coca consumption and production within a twenty five year period (Allen 2002: 191 192). Mayer and Allen in dicate that at the essential heart of the coca debate

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145 in Andean societies, hidden within the health discourse, was racial discrimination and sub estimation of Indian ness. Since then, despite the 1961 signing, coca consumption and production has persisted in Andean countries. T he reasons for its particular maintenance in Bolivia are working classes, as well as the evolution of societal respect of the historical origins of coca practice s (Goo tenberg 2008 ; Lens and Sanabria 1997a: 4); also, political and economic crises in Bolivia in the last quarter of the twentieth century and the demand of the illegal drug trade contributed to coca production further development s in the country (Allen 200 2: 192 ; Gootenberg 2008) Neoliberal policies resulting in the closing of state mines coupled with state projects that encouraged eastern development motivated the campesino and working class groups interested in new in come opportunities like coca production. Furthermore, a lthough coca consumption is often still associated with backwardness i t has become a practice of non traditional users, in lowland Bolivian and in Northern Argentina as well, as an aid for work endura nce and as resistance against western hegemony, according to Rivera Cusicanqui (2008). Coca and Drug Trafficking Nonetheless, its relationship with the illegal drug trade continues to be a strong influence on the meanings and practices associated with coca in Bolivia. It has contributed to differentiated cultivation practices regionally and the development of dichotomous labels, traditional and surplus 2 regarding coca production. The principal 2 The Yungas area, as well as Vandiola of Cochabamba, were designated a zone of traditional coca production: an area with a history in producing coca for native use rs, and also large enough to supply the

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146 areas where coca cultivation takes place in Bolivia are th e Yungas of the La Paz department and the Chapar of the Cochabamba department. The state recognizes the Yungas as a zone of traditional coca production, and coca produced in the Yungas is the leaf of choice for traditional coca us ers (Grisaffi 2010 ; Spedd ing 2004 ). Yungas leaves are light green, smaller, and have a sweeter taste in comparison to those of the Chapar; in comparison, Chapar leaves are larger, thicker, dark green, often stained, and are more bitter tasting. Yungas and Chapar coca leaves gro w at relatively similar rates, developing every 90 days and rendering about four harvests per year. However, there exist various differences between Yungas and Chapar coca in cultivation and harvesting techniques. Land elevation varies substantially in th e Yungas; for this reason, coca parcels must be terraced (Spedding 2004). Additionally, coca producers harvest leaves with certain care in the Yungas, only taking those leaves of the same age and making sure not to tear them as these garner less value in t he traditional market. Chapar coca cultivation, in contrast, follows simpler techniques in that the land is flat, rendering terracing inapplicable; furthermore, producers harvest leaves pulling from the beginning of a branch upwards to the tip, with no pr ecaution for ripping leaves in this way. (It should be noted that for the illegal drug trade, ripped leaves are inconsequential.) Consequently, Chapar harvesters have a much higher rate of productivity than in the Yungas: a worker can harvest 90 100 lbs o f coca per day; whereas in the Yungas a harvester collects 8 9 lbs in a day (Spedding 2012: 13). us Th of coca parcels was necessary. The degree of eradication varied, according to the particular area of the Chapar, as I will later explain. However, how the t erritorial boundaries of the traditional and surplus zones are determined has been a controversial subject, and the labels themselves have been critiqued as arbitrary. See Spedding (2004), Rivera (2008), and Grisaffi (2010) for information regarding the de bate over the designation of traditional and surplus coca production zones.

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147 increased use of pesticides. It is commonly presumed for these reasons that Chapar coca answers more the demand of the illegal drug trade, rather than that of traditional coca consumers ( Grisaffi 2010; Lens and Sanabria 1997b ; Spedding 2012 ). It is largely peasant farmers colla people of highland indigenous descent -who carry ou t coca production, as the principal component of their household economy (Le ns and Sanabria 1997a ; Spedding 2004); their face has come to be associated with coca production, legal and illegal, over the years. This is true for Peru, as well (Gootenberg 200 8); in fact, coca production has developed in step with colonization of lowland regions in both countries, serving in the last half of the 20 th century as a strategic element of survival for economically stressed highland peasants. 3 In Bolivia u ntil the Ag rarian Revolution of the 1950s, haciendas had carried out large scale production of coca. The land devolution that ensued put parcels in the hands of peasant laborers. Coca cultivation requires little capital and significant manual labor; furthermore, the work is such that men, women, and children are capable of carrying it out (Spedding 2004). For these reasons, entire families engage in cultivation activities. Coca also renders high value per unit of weight, opportune for farmers who must carry their prod uct loads walking long distance paths. These peasant producers have often been the ones who bear the risk of engaging the production process of the illegal drug trade (Lens and Sanabria 1997a) one that reaches internationally to cocaine markets in Brazil and in Russia, among others (Gootenberg 2008) 3 Similarly, Ramrez (2011) notes that in the Colombian Amazon small scale peasant farmers have come to play an important role in coca production, although these do not make si gnificant claims to indigenous heritage generally. Coca production developed to its actual large extent in Colombia with the heightened counter narcotrafficking activities carried out in Bolivia and Peru in the late 20 th century.

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148 The actual process that produces cocaine from coca involves three stages, carried out in multiple locations and through a web of varying actors. The first stage, which transforms coca leaves into cocaine pas te (impure cocaine sulfate) requires that the leaves be macerated in a pit with other chemicals (Leons and Sanabria 1997a). This stage involves simple technology and chemical knowledge such that coca producers themselves can carry it out in their locality 4 The second and third stages up until recent years took place in more urban areas and even beyond Bolivian borders; presently, however, there have developed the means and organization to execute them in the area of production 5 The second stage converts c ocaine paste into cocaine base (purer cocaine sulfate). The third converts the base into cocaine hydrochloride and involves more complex technology. With the growth in notoriety of the illegal drug trade, debate has developed regarding the environmental e ffects of coca production. In general, advocates of coca growers argue that coca can withstand soils that would prove toxic for other crops ( Salm and Liberman 1997 ; Spedding 2012). For instance, a coca field consumes in forty years what it takes a corn fie ld to consume in one year alone (Spedding 2012: 17 18). Additionally, coca production entails the use of basic hand tools, and does not employ 4 Regarding the developmen t of, particularly, the cocaine industry in Peru and Bolivia, legal cocaine manufacture evolved in Peru in the early 20 th century for sale in North America and European countries as a medicinal drug and as an ingredient in certain beverages (Gootenberg 200 abroad, Peru eventually eliminat ed its manufacture, as well; however, by this time Peru had perfected the streamlined, efficient production of cocaine paste. Drug traffickers gradually moved this manufacture to Bolivia, where it deve loped substantially in the 1950s and 60s, thanks in part to the unstable significantly to Peru in the last quarter of the 20 th century, as both Peru and Bolivia fe ll into economic crisis. 5 Cocaine: The New Front Lines Wall Street Journal, January 14, 2012 accessed June 10, 2013, lMyQjAxMTAyMDEwNjExNDYyWj.html?mod=wsj_share_email_bo t

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149 large machinery that could harm the environment. The actual clearing of forest for the mono cropping of coca can have deleterious effects on the natural environment (Salm and Liberman 1997). Also, the disposal of chemicals used in the processing of coca into cocaine paste and cocaine can be environmentally damaging; however, this is not a direct consequence of coca p roduction, but rather one of cocaine. Specific, current information regarding the contribution of coca to the Bolivian economy is lacking; however, available data suggest it has the potential to contribute significantly to the regional economy. Coca has s erved as a significant taxable tropical product to the department of Cochabamba; its taxes contributed to the development of the department University, roads in the Chapar and other departmental government activities in the 1970s (South 1977: 32). The gro wth of coca cultivation in the last decades of the twentieth century fueled population growth and economic activity, as well. For example, from 1978 to 1988 coca cultivation in the Chapar grew from 13,000 to 55,000 hectares, and the population grew from 2 4,000 to 350,000 over the 1967 1989 period (Grisaffi 2010: 429). Correspondingly, in 1989 90 coca production contributed 60% of the gross agricultural product for the department of Cochabamba (Bostwick 1990: 31, cited in Sanabria 1997: 172). Coca and narco reaching influence on economic activity has manifested itself through bank colla pses in Cochabamba resulting from money laundering schemes (Sanabria 1997: 11). With regards to employment and income, coca cultivation has served as a princ ipal direct source of income for a significant number of families in Bolivia, and coca/cocaine economy employs directly and indirectly a large proportion of the Bolivian population ( Laserna 1996 ; Lens and Sanabria 1997a: 18 19).

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150 Regarding the relationsh ip of coca production to the state more particularly, due in part to the long tradition of coca consumption in Bolivia, coca regulations have tended to be less severe in comparison to the cases of Peru and Colombia (Ramrez 2011). In Colombia, which has li ttle history of traditional coca consumption, coca production is illegal; in fact, coca production has developed in a regional context of guerrilla mobilization to the extent that the state has tended to directly link terrorist activity to coca production and drug trafficking. T he Peruvian state recognizes traditional uses of coca, permitting its production for controlled via a state institution (55 56). The Bolivian case is similar to that of Peru in tha t the state recognizes traditional uses of coca. It permits significant coca production in certain areas of the country, subject to particular regulations that will be discussed subsequent ly e, outright identification of its production as a wrong or illegal act is much contested, further eroding the clear boundary between the legal and illegal with respect coca production. Despite state concessions for traditional coca production, Bolivian coc a producers regarded regulations in the late 20 th century as repressive and unjustly enforced; in fact, they became an impetus for social movement mobilization, and an influential factor in the developments that led to the presidential election of Evo Mora les. While the 1961 signing of the Single Convention on Narcotics may have lost force, under international influence particularly United States priorities concerning the War on Drugs -Bolivia instated stringent controls on coca production through 1988 le gislation, Law 1008, the Regulation of Coca and Controlled Substances Law. It called for eradication of all coca fields, except for a traditional zone in the Yungas. It

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151 furthermore designated an area of the Chapar as a zone of gradual eradication, compens ating farmers for voluntary eradication of their coca fields and providing crop cultivation was allowed and any coca fields found would be forcibly eradicated. The eradication pr ograms, carried out on the ground by special Bolivian police forces like the Leopardos (referred to colloquially as the Leos ), were famous for abusive practices eradications i s in fact debatable as threatening tactics were often used to force farmers to burn or cut down their coca. Societal racial discrimination manifests itself in state prisons: those imprisoned for issues of narcotrafficking are often poor and indigenous (Le ns and Sanabria 1997a). 6 In response to the aggressive coca controls of Law 1008, however, colonos of the Chapar actively resisted eradication campaigns throughout the 1980s and 90s ( Garca Linera 2010 ; Sanabria 1997). For example, they formed self defens e committees against the Leopardos, and they mobilized politically through their coca union s, organizing road blocks and other activities in protest of coca production controls. The union s became an important basis of political organization, solidarity, an d identity for colonos as eradication efforts persisted ( Garca Linera 2010). 6 There is a pattern of the detrimental effects of the U.S. War on Drugs on subaltern peoples internationally. Harrison (2002) highlights that in Colombia African descended peoples bore the brunt of U.S. drug policies there in the late 1990s. U.S. inter ests in the area influenced increased violence among the Colombian military, drug traffickers, and guerrillas. Afro Colombians have had to contend with the civil fro Colombian displacement coincides with the chronology of U.S. international drug policies in South America. While the U.S. concentrated its War on Drugs efforts in Peru and Bolivia in the 1980s and early 1990s, it shifted its focus to Colombia in the 19 90s after deeming Peru and Bolivia a zone more under control (Gootenberg 2008).

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152 These organized mobilizations succeeded in winning sanctions from the state for coca production in the Chapar. In TIPNIS the state conceded compensatory eradication in 1994 ( Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 98 99). More importantly, the union s achieved a major breakthrough after years of heated conflict in various forms with the state, when in 2004 it modified Law 1008, consequently permitting that in 3 2 00 hectares of the Chapar union families would each be allowed one cato (1,600 square meters, the size approximately of a basketball court) for coca production. Important to my later discussion of the ambiguous nature of coca production laws is the observation that the one cato ru le was never actually written into law; it stands as an understood political agreement that resulted from state union negotiation at the time (Laserna 2011: 246 247). The agreement was supposed to be followed up with a study of national coca market demand to further ascertain supply controls; however, this never coalesced. Also, the 2004 agreement gave large responsibility to the union s for enforcement of the one cato rule (Laserna 2011: 246 247, Paz 2011). These work in conjunction with state law enforceme nt agencies like the Leopardos and Umopar for regulatory activity. This development also demonstrate s the elastic qualities of Bolivian law and simultaneously people case, union structure provides regulation and policing of coca production activities, drastically blurring the state civil society divide in areas like the Chapar moreover. Civil society ca n often significantly carry out a certain state function complicating state civil society power plays. Navaro Yashin (2002) for instance demonstrates the dual

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153 responsibility of both state representatives and civil society in the creation of state ceremony and patriotism. Roitman (2004) illustrates that in the peripheries of the Chad provide security have developed, as a result of the organization of factional group leaders, actua l and ex state officials, and enterprising individuals. In these ways, civil society contributes to state activities and vice versa ; the state moreover depends in complex (and often disconcerting) ways on civil society for its tenuous hegemonic power. In a n area such as the colonization zone where coca production is drastically important to residents, the coca union through their regulatory role. Over the various decades of mobilization, the coca leaf has come to symbolize a vitally charged element of identity for the colonos of the Chapar (Grisaffi 2010). While they may not be indigenous to the Chapar area and are originally from the highland s they affirm indigeneity via their claims to the coca leaf, drawin g on the leaf as an emblem of Andean history and culture. For example, the union s often organize coca chewing sit ins and festivals of the coca leaf (Grisaffi 2010: 432); these activities art in Andean cultural practices, at the same time downplaying its role in the illegal drug trade. It is important to note that when union mobilizations first began, indigenous heritage was not a primary identity element; instead they would affirm their id entity as peasant farmers, campesino s (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006). It is in more recent decades that colonos began emph asizing their identity as indigenous, tied to their close relation with the coca leaf.

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154 The rise in political power of Aymara coca produ cer and MAS party leader Evo Morales that culminated with his election as President for two consecutive terms has contributed to the political charge surrounding coca and coca production nationally. Evo Morales is a colono coca producer of the Chapar, who began his political career in the coca union s, eventually becoming leader of the six federations of coca union s of the Chapar. The special police unit against narco trafficking imprisoned him on several occasions for reasons related to his activism in co ca production in the 1990s, in fact. As in Andean culture (Grisaffi 2010). Although he became President of Bolivia in 2005, he has maintained his leadership of the fe derations of Chapar union s. Under his direction, the state also petitioned the United Nations to make an amendment to the 1961 Convention on Narcotics Drugs that would allow for traditional uses of coca. He has made efforts to increase the number of hecta res legally permitted for coca production 7 and his administration dismissed the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency from the country in 2009 8 (Laserna 2011). Simultaneously, although in the 1990s coca production may have dropped, since 2000 it has increased by 1 12% 9 State discourse promotes coca as an important part of Bolivian culture through various propaganda and marketing actions, 7 The government proposed increasing the legal area of coca production in the Chapar to 7,000 hectares from 3,200, aligned with syndicate demands that the one cato rule be m odified to one cato per affiliate instead of per family (Laserna 2011: 250 251). 8 This latter action follows the MAS party position critical of U.S. interference in national affairs, trafficking policies of the 199 0s in Bolivia. 9 Cocaine: The New Front Lines Wall Street Journal, January 14, 2012 accessed June 10, 2013, lMyQjAxMTAyMDEwNjExNDYyWj.html?mod=wsj_share_email_bot

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155 for example, sponsoring the sale of coca based soft drinks 10 and other coca based industrial products (Rivera 2008: 149 150). Des for Bolivian social practices, Bolivian society is not dissuaded from presumptions that presidency has se en various coca union members assume national, departmental, and municipal government positions. Factions opposed to the MAS government often claim that the government is corrupt and involved in illegal drug trafficking 11 The ambiguities, accusations, and counter trade contribute to a context of murky illegality (van Schendel and Abraham 2005) surrounding Chapar coca. Anti MAS factions in general tend to view cocaleros, the most active MAS party supporters, as ignorant criminals. Yurakar Meanings of Coca The varying discourses surrounding coca, along with the colla settlers who engage in its production, have permeated TIPNIS and the indigenous communities that reside therein. The meanings that Y urakar actors ascribe to coca have developed with their interactions with these discourses. The Yurakar people of the colonization zone have experienced their most concrete engagement with coca as they have adopted coca production practices from colono g roups. Before proceeding into analysis of the meanings and practices that comprise coca for the Yurakar groups of the colonization 10 Boliv ia Launches BBC News, January 20, 2011 accessed June 10, 2013, latin america 12222395 11 Cocaine: The New Front Lines Wall Street Journal, January 14, 2012 accessed June 10, 2013, http:/ / lMyQjAxMTAyMDEwNjExNDYyWj.html?mod=wsj_share_email_bot

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156 zone, I give more explicit attention to the geography and terminology pertinent to the colonization zone, in light of coca p roduction and legality. The state recognized the area that is now TIPNIS as a national park in 1965 through Law 07401 (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011). Later on, in 1990, the state recognized the park as also an indigenous territory and the area was le gally designated a native communal territory (TCO, territorio comunitario de origen) in 1997 ; a long process of re assessing contradictory land rights and establishment of territorial boundaries ensued, however, and the TIPNIS formal land title was not iss ued until 2009 12 The southeastern portion of TIPNIS has particularly vague qualities due to its high degree of colono activity When TIPNIS was first recognized as an indigenous territory in 1990 the state also observed that colonos inhabited the southeas tern portion of the area. Consequently, it was decided that a territorial limit ought to be instated to linea roja ) which was in fact cre ated in 1997, in agreement with indigenous and colo no groups of the area, polgono 7 ) and the designated colonization zone. Private property land rights were allowed to union s of the zone, the rest of TIPNIS remaining as native comm unal territory. The colonization zone is furthermore distinct from the rest of TIPNIS and more broadly, within the Chapar due to its particular focus on coca production and its role within a drug trafficking circuit. It is important to highlight that a m ajority of the colonists who populated the colonization zone came at the h e ight of the drug boom in the 1980s 12 The nature of TCO status and the process of TCO land titling will be further addressed in chapters four and five.

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157 (Paz 2011); furthermore, neoliberal economic policies at the time that resulted in the closing down of various state mines motivated the migration s of economically depressed Bolivians to this area. In contrast to other areas of the Chapar where colonists developed mixed crops systems of agriculture that included coca in the colonization zone residents developed land primarily for the mono cropping of coca Correspondingly, comparing the colonization zone to the rest of TIPNIS in general, Paz (2011) notes that two different economic models exist. In non colonization zone TIPNIS, indigenous communities practice a model of collective resource use and exploitation ; this tends to be based on both subsistence and commercial activities that permit sustainable forest resource use. For instance, various communities have developed significant commercial cacao, alligator, eco tourism, and timber communally ma naged projects that reach national, regional, and international markets In contrast, in the colonization zone the predominant economic model is based in commercial coca production; it is based in a private property system, and its main resource is land ne cessarily, deforested land Furthermore i n the 1990s, the special police unit for drug destination of coca production in the area was generally the international drug trade. Paz (2011) highlights that colla coca production in the colonization zone is part of the larger world capitalist system. Harrison (1989) discusses the basis of illegal drug economies in a core periphery system wherein raw materials produced and processe d in Southern countries supply the illegal goods that satisfy demands in Northern countries. Capitalist accumulation motivates coca p roduction for illegal drug traf ficking, engendering moreover the expansion of the agricultural extractive frontier (Paz 201 1).

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158 T he current state, while recogniz ing the significant presence of colonos in the colonization zone, seems to partially distinguish with drug trafficking; over the last decade law has ben t according to union identification as elemental to Bolivian cultural heritage. As noted above, the state originally had not allowed coca production in TIPNIS, including the colonization zone ; however, this total prohibition across the park changed when Law 1008 was modified i n 2004, allowing for union families to cultivate one cato (1,600 square meters) of coca each. It is important to note that this one cato rule applies to the colonization zone; in the rest of TIPNIS coca production is illegal and any fields found are subjec t to eradication. In 2009 subsequent to the fieldwork carried out by mixed commissions of colonos and indigenous groups, the red line was modified, adjusting the colonization zone from an area of 92,000 hectares to one of 124,000 ( Costas Monje and Ortiz E chazu 2011: 269 272). TIPNIS itself comprises a total area of 1,215,585 hectares. Fifty two coca union s pertain to the colonization zone, to which 20,000 families are affiliated ( Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011: 271). It is important to highlight here both national park and indigenous territory creates confusion regarding territorial jurisdiction (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 49); this ambiguity is all the more exacerbated in polygon 7, which legally has the qualities of national park, indigenous territory, as well as colonization zone. On my first extended visit to San Lucas while waiting for San Lucas residents to negotiate a car to take us in to the path that leads to San Lucas influence of the colono economi c model on San Lucas families promptly evidenced

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159 itself. Don Eduardo, a San Lucas resident, began to explain to me that he and one of the community leaders had to take a list of San Lucas of the federations of coca unio n union of San Gabriel. He was very matter of fact, explaining the trip at hand as a serious civic duty he would be carrying out. I, however, was quite stunned by his remarks. San Lucas i s affiliated to the union asked. Union s provide the organizational and normative structure of colono life ( Garca Linera 2010) and are an elemental part of colono identity. From my experience in other parts of the Chapar, I had understo od union colono Don Eduardo, however, did not see anything abnormal in the relation I was describ The influence o f coca on the lifestyles of the Yurakar people of the colonization zone is such that, again, colono indigenous boundaries that would be very prominent in other areas of the Chapar are weak and permeable here. The economic value of coca production to the indigenous communities makes adoption of colono coca practices attractive to them. In addition to the possibility of legal coca production, legal sale of coca is possible through union affiliation. Without affiliation to a union coca producers must sell t heir coca through informal, illegal means to rescatistas agricultural intermediaries who buy crops wholesale, often at a lower price than that which it would garner on the legal market (Orosco Ramirez et al. 2006: 93). Though prices can fluctuate, one pou nd of harvested coca has an approximate value of fourteen Bolivian pesos (the exchange rate is approximately seven pesos to the U.S. dollar); coca

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160 producers usually sell the leaves in large bags that hold fifteen pounds each (94). Accordingly, one bag yiel ds 700 pesos, the equivalent approximately of one hundred dollars. This is much more profitable than products like bananas and pineapples, for example; furthermore, product cultivation and transportation is simpler for coca, comparatively. Despite its eco nomic value to Yurakar people, coca production carries its risks. Yurakar communities are aware of state regulation, often aggressive, of coca production, their main source of income; breach of those regulations makes their economic activities illegal an d punishable. For example, the Yurakar people of the colonization zone are familiar with the sound of helicopters of the Bolivian drug police Leos cortacocas -can be an alarming signal in their midst. There is veiled understanding that state punishment is not always systematic or just, either. Stories circulate of how the Leos burned one coca crop owner with acid in a nearby colla settlem ent, and of how the Leos do not permit owners to harvest coca before they burn down their crop. Consequently, when people of San Lucas or Santa Rita neighboring settlements or see ominous co lumns of smoke rising from other parts of the cortacocas 13 13 These ar e stories, the details of which represent the fears and trepidations surrounding coca production punishments for Yurakar producers. That these fail to mention union participation in enforcement of coca respect to even the reach of union regulations.

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161 often indistinguishable from eac h other: for the Yurakar groups of the colonization zone coca is the fruit of their hard labors and their primary economic mainstay; at the same time, it can also be an illegal good. Furthermore, the reality of their function within an international, ille gal circuit manifests itself on a regular basis. During my fieldwork an event that made the Bolivian headlines, was broadcast across Chapar radio stations, and was the subject of gossipy discussions in San Lucas and Santa Rita was the Bolivian drug police production, found deep within TIPNIS 14 ( Paz 2011 ). Although peopled by both Bolivians and Colombians, the installation was said to be under the control of Colombian drug traffickers, and the police d iscovered 114 kilos of cocaine ready for export on the premises. One Colombian was killed in the confrontation, and several were injured. Discussing the incident with a couple, Don Rodrigo and Doa Carolina, in Santa Rita I asked if Leos ever came there t Don Rodrigo and Doa Carolina to spray pesticides on one of their coca crops that day; their children in class at the community schoolhouse, Don Rodrigo and Doa Carolina had made the trek to their coca field with me. We sat on the ground now to rest for a moment against a fallen log just away from the rows of coca. Don Rodrigo explained that Leos did come to Santa Rita but for him, community people really had nothing to fear from this because no cocaine produ ction occurred there. Asking, then, if they knew 14 Hallan 114 kilos de droga en megalaboratorio en el TIPNIS 2011, accessed June 17, 2013, 114 k ilos de droga en megalaboratorio en el_146512_302981.html

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162 whether or not the people involved in the mega laboratory incident were indigenous, Don Rodrigo asserted that they were not. firm ly. Although he may have been referring to the impossibility of Yurakar involvement in such a large scale, international drug operation, he seemed to make a clear separation between pichicateros 15 They could not be one and the same. In practice, however, the distinction between the two is not totally clear and the distance between their living spaces is not far. Although classified as foreign and non Yurakar to people like Don Rodrigo, the pichicateros were a regular presence within the territory, perhaps even more prominent than the Leos in that their actual figures traversed the space of the community on an almost daily basis. While bathing or washing clothes in the river, it would be common for a mot or boat, loaded with large, inscrutable sacks, to pass us going down the river, carrying two to three colla looking individuals. Their dark, stern faces would stare at us as they passed by, and we would return the stare from our place at the river bank. On e of the first times I saw one of the boats, I was standing knee deep in the river as I tried to wash clothes with Doa Elsina in San Lucas I asked her, maintaining P ichicateros he boat accelerated on and disappeared in in its wake. 15 pichicata twentieth century (Gootenberg pichicatero

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16 3 In addition to pichicateros cocaine and cocaine like substances cross the paths of community members in very real w ays. It occurred in Santa Rita that the thirteen year old daughter of a community leader, Doa Consuelo, came across a package of a white powdery substance in her treks around the community and turned it into her mother. Other relatives learned of the inci dent, and this information ultimately reached the ears of Don Curi, a colla property owner ne ar Santa Rita who was involved in drug trafficking, including cocaine production. He was a well known figure in the region, seen traveling up and down the river i n his motor boat on a regular basis and crossing onto Santa Rita detract from his generally amiable character to community members; in addition to other small considerate acts, Don Curi gave rides to community members in his boat or even allowed them to use his boat when they were in a bind, and they recognized him as a courteous man. The Santa Rita temporary conflict betwee Doa Consuelo of having confiscated his drug product, and Doa Consuelo and her spouse accused Don Curi of unfairly causing rumors to spread in the community regarding their family. Finally, in a discussion mediated by the community Corregidor in their daughter had submitted to them was baking soda, and they asserted with certain ty that it was not the drug cocaine. Don Curi accepted their explanation, but at the same time requested that their family, as well as the others of Santa Rita refrain from threatening to turn him into the authorities. Apparently, this had been a common

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164 occurrence of late. It is interesting to that Doa Consuelo was more upset about the idea of being accused of stealing, than of being involved with drugs. Although the p arties resolved the conflict that morning Doa Consuelo, who had raged angrily throughout the meeting at the suggestion that she might be hiding drugs in C uri was his nickname, Hugo his formal on e she muttered indignantly as she walked about the house, continuing her household chores. Doa Consuelo was a much respected woman in the community and in the indigenous territory. Don Curi and his drug m aking had been an irritable nuisance to her that morning; although she and community members could usually disregard his illegal In this way distances, both geographic and conceptual, betwee n coca and cocaine and between what constitutes legal and illegal coca production practices, respectively, are shorter and vaguer here in comparison to other areas of Bolivia and even in comparison to other areas of the Chapar. V arious considerations base d in formal law contribute to evaluation as a legal or illegal practice, for instance: whether or not the producer is part of a union whether or not the production is southeast of the red line, whether or not the land under cultivation i s under one cato, and whether or not the coca produced fuels narco trafficking. (Also, those who enforce coca production regulations are not exactly state representatives; in various instances coca union s are enforcers, as well.) However, several other con siderations concerning

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165 licit markets and the changing, often contradictory nature of Bolivian laws themselves detract from the force of legal standards and contribute to the indefinite boundary between what is legal and illegal coca production. For instanc e, although coca production in TIPNIS may have been illegal until recently (recall that production in the colonization zone was only made legal in 2004) it was always licit. Some Yurakar residents of what is now the TIPNIS colonization zone engaged in coc a production as early as the 1990s; however, there always existed purchasers and at prices that made engaging in the risks of illegal coca production worthwhile. That the demand prevailed and found means of engaging the exchange process in TIPNIS, and cont inues to do so, contributes to the licit nature of coca production in TIPNIS in general. Furthermore, specific territorial boundaries regarding the nature and ownership of tory and have influenced the uncertain (il)legality of coca production there. Legal property rights for the park and indigenous territory were not fully established until 2009. The red line itself was determined in 1997, but it was readjusted in 2009. For Yurakar groups, in particular the residents of Santa Rita who reside near the red line, the inexistence of formal boundaries or the existence of regularly changing ones makes difficult their determination as part of the colonization zone. For example, the uncertainty of territorial boundaries and its implications for their coca production was a critical issue in a Santa Rita community meeting. There arose discussion surrounding the possibility of a new Bolivian military base not far from the community and the advantages and disadvantages that this could bring. One

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166 disadvantage named was stricter enforcement of coca controls, to which community members responded with great consternation. A Santa Rita man spoke up, however, amidst the buzz of anxious chatter and agitated exclamations, that the key consideration was whether or not they were beyond the red line, and he understood that Santa Rita was. Consequently, their coca ought to be in accordance with production regulations. Others contended that the commun was not in fact certain, though. The community decided ultimately that their location from the red line had to be determined urgently, within the next couple of days. Other conversations with Yurakar community members further demonstrated that overlapping laws complicate the distinguishing of their coca production as legal or illegal. For instance, when traveling away from San Lucas and Santa Rita to return to Cochabamba in early October, I came across Don Nicol as of San Lucas along with other Santa Rita community members on the road to San Gabriel. Don Nicolas and the Santa Rita leaders were going to Villa Tunari for a Conisur meeting. Stopping at a small eatery along the road for refreshment while waiting for a car to come along, the small group began to chat about the nature of their territory and its implications for coca production. Don Nicolas took out a map of San Lucas and the surrounding area that he had had to show the week prior in Cochabamba to INRA, t he state regulatory institution for land rights, to clarify San Lucas conflict with colonos Rolling out the map for the other men to see, Don Nicolas remarked with concern that if the territory was TCO, co ca production was illegal. Recalling the importance of the red line now, I asked for clarification; I had thought that presence within the colonization zone was enough to make coca production legal. Don

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167 Nicolas reiterated, however, that coca production wit hin the TCO was illegal. Indeed, legislation from the 1990s regarding indigenous territories made coca production in TCOs illegal; the current mix of laws and semi laws do not seem to account for indigenous communities who affiliate themselves with union s. For these reasons, a murky (il)legality clings to the coca active in the lives of the people of San Lucas and Santa Rita Again, its legality is uncertain: in some respects, coca production among them is legal; in other respects, it is not. The people of San Lucas and Santa Rita must contend with this uncertain (il)legality on a regular basis; this navigation of the contours of (il)legality is so interwoven into their quotidian, it is a part of their subconscious, a layer of their habitus. It could be sai d that they both engage with and contribute to the murky (il)legality; they are Yurakar and deserving of status as natives of the park, yet they engage with rules and regulations that have been made to curb colono settlement and exploitation of park terri tory. From a legal point of view coca production is a colono practice. However, indigenous groups of the colonization zone have adopted the practice of coca production out of economic interest. It has become sult, they are drawn into, and simultaneously help produce, the discourse of (il)legality surrounding coca. Their navigation and co production of murky (il)legality manifests itself through laborat ory incident, I participated in a conversation in San Gabriel with Doa Sonia, the San Lucas colla wife, and Doa Laura, a San Lucas Yurakar woman. Doa Laura and her spouse had a home in the Barrio, and she had walked up to the table at an eate ry where Doa Sonia was sharing a liter of coke with me and her children. Doa Laura had a large

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168 knapsack tied to her back, and she looked ready to travel. Doa Sonia served coke to her in another glass, and Doa Laura sat down with us, explaining that she wanted to husband, and she asked if Doa Sonia could watch her two young children for her in the meantime. Doa Sonia accepted, and the two women began to discuss the drop i n price of coca. Ignorant of the local economy and having been under the assumption that coca prices did not vary significantly, I asked what was causing coca prices to drop now. b een a crackdown in drug trafficking; as a result, the outlets for the sale of coca were diminishing. She described, for instance, that coca used to be transported down river in a chain that led abroad. This had been interrupted, and the economic consequenc e was an over supply of coca. Accordingly, prices were falling, and as a result, Doa Laura was going urgently to harvest her coca now in San Lucas Within San Lucas itself the price of coca was a particularly hot topic, with the power to incite earnest c month and a half after my conversation with Doa Sonia and Doa Laura, I and Doa Elsina were sipping yuca chicha (a drink made of fermented yuca commonly made among lowland indigenous groups) offe in San Lucas and Doa Elsina began to inquire as to the sale of coca in San Gabriel. She knew of families from a neighboring Yurakar community who had gone to Ishinuta, the next town over from San Gabriel, i n order to sell their coca that weekend. It seemed that the market in San Gabriel was diminishing, such that there were no more coca

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169 evident as she tried to ascertain the outlets for and means of selling coca, when in conversation with other San Lucas residents that night 16 Navigation of (il)legality entails not only strategies of coca production and sale but also endeavors into the vague terrain between coca and cocaine. The reality, in fact, pichicateros were not Yurakar. One afternoon while sitting around the household fire, Doa Elsina recounted the story to me of how her second oldest son Carlos went to work with the pichicateros when he was about thirteen years old, as a cook for them. The police picked Carlos up in a drug bust, and he was put in a juvenile detention center in the city of Cochabamba. Doa Elsina went to Cochabamba to visit him, and she was also called in for questioning during this time. Doa Elsina explained that in particular the police had wanted to verify whether or not other family members were involved in drug trafficking, as well. Doa Elsina had were satisfactory enough for the authorities, and Carlos was eventually allowed to return home after a couple of months. Doa Elsina observed that he became humble and appreciative of his home and family after his return. ecame involved in a more direct role in the work of pichicateros along with a couple of his first cousins. 16 From my experience in San L ucas and Santa Rita I understand that in general coca prices and demand fluctuate, depending on various factors; consequently, that I cite two instances during my fieldwork wherein coca prices were falling does not imply that this is actually a clear and present trend. Coca prices may have fallen on occasion, but they also may have risen again. Similarly, purchasers who were not buying may have begun to purchase again, or new ones may have arisen.

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170 They also were subjects of a drug bust; however, Oscar was able to get away while his cousins were captured and imprisoned. That was some three year sister Doa Olivia in fact goes to the prison in the city of Santa Cruz on a regular basis to visit her son there. Doa Elsina posits that Oscar no longer works with the pichicateros but rather dedicates the majority of his time to fi shing. In these ways, when Doa Elsina identified for me the pichicateros while washing clothes in the river that day, her quiet statement disclosed little of the actually intimate manners in which the group had traversed her life through her sons. Forays into cocaine production are possible options when navigating (il)legality in the colonization zone, and (il)legality Coca and the discourses surrounding it have become an integral part o f the quotidian, not solely from an economic perspective, although its financial worth does influence its meaning to the people. Communities constantly engage with (il)legality; simultaneously, adoption of colla cultural practices regarding coca is continu ally under negotiation. For instance, to pijchear has become a common practice in San Lucas and Santa Rita mostly among the men but also among some women. The men often take time before and during work in their fields or work fishing or even during a long community meeting -consumption is not an indigenous practice of the Yurakar. Pijchear as well as akhulliku another word for coca consumption, are in fact Quechua and Aymara terms; coca consum ption and the ritual practices associated with it are indigenous highland customs. Yurakar groups do not engage in the whole ritual process (neither do colonos for that matter (Grisaffi 2010)); they simply consume the coca.

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171 Despite its background from the highlands, the practice has become quite regular among Chapar native groups; also, Yurakar groups have adopted other Quechua vernacular associated with coca production. For instance, it was common to see Jos, ful of harvested coca leaves that had been drying in the sun, put them in his mouth, and start chewing, most likely trying to mimic the actions he had observed of other family members. Yurakar groups also use the Quechua term matu to refer to harvested co ca leaves that have not yet been dried in the sun. Although Yurakar groups may appropriate colono practices and terminology regarding coca, at the same time coca holds its own singular meaning for them. For example, an expression I often heard in referen linda est la coca often said appreciatively, as if describing a pretty female member of the family (when it was yours, of your family; when it belonge d to others, of their family), and the coca took on almost personal qualities. One case occurred when walking by the coca field of Don Juan, the new San Lucas affiliate from Chimor whose seedlings were just sprouting. Doa Elsina mentioned to me as we pa Linda est la coca, no I had been closely watching the path ahead of me as we walked, and had not and searched for coca until I saw the tiny sprouts coming out of the ground. They did to give them a good deal of value.

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172 linda est la coca expression than simply that the coca crop is looking nice or even pretty, for Yurakar people. What is so valuable about the nicely growing coca is the economic output that it will give to the producer and his or her family, the means to provide for herself Linda est la coca say often both Yurakar men and women -with shining eyes knowing well of the promise of solvency and life comforts that a good coca crop holds. daily practices. Don Federico after some contemplation while resting on the ground on e this point of view, coca has an almost exact equivalency with cash; it is a mode of e xchange. The times that Maria returned to San Lucas from the city to harvest coca further San Lucas Sa n Lucas to harvest coca and thus have a means to purchase foodstuffs in the city. On one of these occasions, I harvested coca with Maria in her plot. Much more familiar with the work than I, she despite being obviously pregnant at this point advanced up an d down the rows of coca at a brisk pace, her small frame easily straddling the bushes while her arms mechanically ripped the leaves off each branch. While I straggled behind, Maria finished the afternoon having harvested the entire parcel largely on her

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173 ow n. Gathering together our sacks of matu I chatted with her about the details of harvesting and selling her coca. Maria answered and commented on my inquiries amiably, observing for the benefit of my edification at the end of our conversation, The economic value of coca to indigenous peoples of the colonization zone might be easily comprehensible, but it has profound repercussions on livelihood strategies and family priorities. The actions and discourses of other women o n various occasions sister Lia, she explained to me that she intended to go harvest her coca crop soon. As we walked along the path, she went over the calculations out l oud regarding the amount of income to be gained. they were the words of an incantation, ful While this has the same meaning for both men and women, that coca literally has substantial monetary value, at the same time the significance is particularly gendered. For several years Doa El sina endured marriage to a spouse who regularly abused her physically; she had four children with him and ultimately left him, taking all but the oldest child who had decided to remain with his father. (Later on, he rejoined his mother.) Although she lived under the auspices of her parents during this time without a husband, she supported herself and her children significantly through her coca plot. She

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174 describes herself as being self sufficient for this period, and she reports this with some proud satisfac tion. The suggestion that coca allows women a bit more autonomy is significant. Near spouse Don Federico began joking around with the other father of the family, in Doa lived on her own previously, and she could do it again. Gendered Meanings of Coca: the Case of Lia The importance of coca for indigenous women in the colonization zone manifests itself all the more clearly in the life of Lia, a twenty year old widow with a one year old young son. The decisions she took regarding work and livelihoo d strategies suggested a pursuit of the quick cash of coca. In group coca harvests, Lia was often the hardest worker. During group harvests, it is customary to keep note of the weight harvested by each individual, such that each can be given a just share o f the sale. During one harvest, I overheard Lia maintain a competition with a middle aged man friend of the family as they harvested and weighed bags of matu throughout the day. They were very close throughout the day, and in the end, I believe she beat him. On another occasion, Lia left San Lucas home community of Limo for a large coca harvesting there. Limo is on anoth er river, and Lia remained there almost a week. Another time, sulky because family members had excluded her from a commercial fishing trip the night before, she set about

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175 harvesting the nearest small coca parcel to the house, by herself. Although everyone was attentive to opportunities for coca harvests, Lia more often than not acted and pursued the income. Although Lia fended for herself aggressively in this sense, the cash inevitably ran port, but she was living in Cochabamba with Toms, she commented that Lia ought to go there, also, because there were good work opportunities. When community word of mou migrant to the city needs money immediately at every moment in order to pay for food, lodging, and other basic necessities, in contrast to San Lucas where people can easily se cure 143 ; Moore 1990: 100 103 ), in the city helps cushion the financial duress experienced e specially at the beginning of the transition (Overa 2007). For economic and personal reasons, it is possible that Lia desired to have a husband again. However, when Lia did begin to noticeably welcome male companionship, this caused some controversy among her family. At first, family members noted a certain level of distraction and restlessness about Lia; she would remain in San Lucas for a short period of time, and then leave at the suggestion of economic opportunity elsewhere or simply at the opportunity to travel with a girlfriend to one of the towns. Then, Lia began to talk with men in the towns she traversed outside of

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176 San Lucas and she was often seen talking with one particular single Yurakar man from San Lucas Family members were generally disappro ving of her activities with men; with regards to the San Lucas community member, they highlighted that he was a boracho malo (bad drunk) and had a tendency to be lazy. He would not make a good spouse, and he would only make her life harder. Although I unde rstood the importance of identifying a partner of good caliber, how she felt, did not seem wrong to me; however, other family members thought not in terms of what e ffects a spouse would have on Lia, but more particularly on what repercussions it could have on her son. When discussing the family debate surrounding emphasized that b y taking on another husband Lia would be giving her son a step father. According to Maria, a step father does not care for the step child like the original father would, and furthermore a step father often mistreats the step child, if not physically then i n other ways. Maria spoke from her experience having a step father. She claimed that Don Federico had been callous and unkind to her, though she did not describe in what ways exactly. For these reasons, Lia ought to focus on rearing her son until he was ol d enough to take care of himself; then, perhaps she could think of herself more. Recalling the time when Toms had left Maria and suggesting to Maria that her her fu ture during that period. She asserted, however, that she had been planning then

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177 to raise Jos by herself. She was firm in her opinion that a mother should think first of her children. of the being over her own needs; at the same time, the decision she articulated seemed a rather drastic one, although one that had been taken by various other Yurakar women in the past. Rejecting the valuable economic support that a new husband could provide, Maria recommended that the Moreover, Maria suggested that the woman was in fact able to provide for her chil d by herself, without a husband; although she might have to struggle a good deal, it was provide good quality care to the child and not compromise that in any way, through for example the provision of a harsh step father. Doa Gloria and Doa Elsina had made similar decisions to raise their children on their own, as mentioned previously, although motivated by spousal infidelity and physical abuse, respectively. In stead of enduring harsh partners, they preferred to provide for themselves and their children on their own. Doa Gloria, in particular, affirmed that she had not planned to take on another husband in order to avoid all possibility of marriage to an undepen dable, possibly abusive partner; in fact, her current alone, were she to do so, wou ld be to carry out her responsibility as a mother; in the cases of Doa Gloria and Doa Elsina, their motivation generally speaking was to

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178 escape and protect themselves from abusive relationships with men. In this last situation, however, it is important t o note that the women did not leave their children. A desire to focus on raising a more tranquil family is a possible influence on their decisions to leave their husbands and be single. Lia some weeks later chatted with me regarding her own plans for fami ly and travel. Although she wished to have friends, and these included male ones, she had decided it was best to remain single and not give her son a step father. She also planned to leave San Lucas ultimately and move to the city because she found the cri tical gaze of her family and community members to be caustic. First, however, she wanted to tend to her coca plot. Then she would be prepared financially to leave for good. 17 The history of Lia -as well as those of the other women here mentioned -suggests the important role of coca in the lives of Yurakar women of the colonization zone. Coca provides them the possibility to independently provide for themselves and for their children, in this way allowing them to carry out their responsibilities as mothers important in Yurakar society: the mother, more than the father, is expected to raise and t, coca furthermore enables Lia to endure the hardships of being alone by permitting her significant purchasing power: she can bask in her feminine independence and buy herself, for instance, a dress or even several, at that. 17 A month later, Lia was formally paired with the male San Lucas community member with whom she had been regularly conversing. H er uncle Don Lorenzo, the San Lucas cacique not her mother or step father, orchestrated the union. She remained with her new partner for a handful of days; she found him overly controlli

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179 Final Remarks In this way, co ca serves as a tool for Yurakar women of the colonization zone to negotiate the friction of the frontier in which the y find themselves. As noted in C hapter 2 friction aggressively exposes them to new relations with people of other racial/ethnic groups li ke the colonos changed means of forming marital unions, and new patterns of movement. The present chapter furthermore demonstrates that this constant friction at the frontier, a friction whose intensity grows with the development of the illegal drug marke engagement with a dynamic cash economy and new livelihood strategies. Socio political boundaries between colonos and Yurakars become increasingly ambiguous and contested as Yurakar groups appropriate their commercial coca production activities. Obviously, then, coca is a primary player in the creation of this friction. Coca on local, national, a nd international levels. In Bolivia, the significance of coca depends on the perspective of the particular social group: in some situations it represents a proud historical symbol, in other circumstances a remnant of Indian backwardness, and in others the primary ingredient of an international illegal commodity. For the colonos of the Chapar, coca has become an important instrument of identity politics on a national level; this has contributed furthermore to its association with the MAS government. Importa beyond formal institutions, its meaning not based in its text but rather derived from indi San Lucas and

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180 Santa Rita community members may have limited experience in courtrooms and prisons, but stories of law and legality (i.e. the Leos) are a more prevalent influence on t heir actions and decisions taken. Consequently, law and legality have important socio cultural dimensions. Elasticity can also engender ambiguity, and correspondingly, actors incorporate other normative frameworks alongside the legal, in this way manipulat ing their resultant normative pastiche according to their needs. Accordingly, union regulations carry just as much or in some instances more weight than actual laws in the Chapar. Also, licit practices regarding coca production prevail despite that they m ight not be legal. T trafficking efforts, on national and international levels, contributes to a discourse of murky, uncertain illegality surrounding Chapar coca. Due to indefinite Bolivian laws regardi ng coca production and the licit market for illegal coca San Lucas and Santa Rita activities might be legal in some instances, but in others they might not. This (il)legality permeates the most intimate crevices of Yurakar life i n the colonization zone in (Il)legality is both elemental part and outcome of the frontier Yurakar men and women adeptly employ coca production to survive and navigate the frontier and are likewise agents in the creation of (il)legality. Coca production, in comparison to other common income opportunities for indigenous men and women of the Chapar, is much more lucrative; in the colonization zone in particular, it is fou predominant economic model. C oca production is gendered in that it offers Yurakar

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181 women in the colonization zone important tactical autonomy as well as economic power to carry out their responsibilities as mothers in the turbulence of the frontier. The (il)legality surrounding their personally valuable coca may cloud Yurakar those of both men and women -practically benevolent intentions, in the Bolivian public eye. Furthermore, how the Bolivian imagination situates coca p roduction, in the context of indigenous movements, depends on strictly defined categories of indigenous person and colono thus prohibiting understanding of the complexity of lived indigeneity. C hapter 4 details the beginnings of a national road controvers y and the context of the formation of opinions and positions in San Lucas and Santa Rita regarding the road and the state, which influenced the subsequent decisions and actions the Yurakar groups of the colonization zone took. I focus on examples of a few Yurakar women of San Lucas and Santa Rita and demonstrate the intricate negotiation of indigeneity in which each engaged.

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182 CHAPTER 4 MOVEMENT To make the trip from the Chapar to the city o f Cochabamba, the capital of the department of the same name, the traveler has two basic options: the buses, which seat some fifty people, depart approximately every hour at their most frequent, complete the trip in about seven hours, and cost approximatel y Bs 25 1 depending on the particular surubis 2 which seat eight people, depart as the last seat is sold, complete the circuit within four hours, and can cost up to twice as much as the bus. Although notorious for the g reat risks their drivers take in order to reach destinations quickly, when time is a priority the extra cost of the surubi is well worth it to the traveler. On one occasion I shared the company of Doa Consuelo of Santa Rita and her extended family on a su rubi going from Villa Tunari to Cochabamba. Due to her San Pedro a Yurakar community far up the Isiboro River, to stay with her so that she could tend to her mother while she was un dergoing treatment from a healer in Cochabamba. (Doa Consuelo explained to me that this particular healer, although indigenous, was not Yurakar; he was of highland origins.) Additionally, a younger brother, his wife and newborn baby, and an extended cous in who was also recovering from an illness, as well as his adult son, had been visiting her family in Santa Rita at the time. Consequently, when she planned the present trip to take her mother for her regularly scheduled visit to the healer in Cochabamba, the visiting family members organized 1 T he exchange rate is approximately seven Bolivian pesos to the U.S. dollar 2 The name surubi comes from a river fish, whose movements the minivans are said to mimic, d arting back and forth between cars on the highway.

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183 themselves to go along with her. In the surubi there was just enough room for Doa Consuelo and her family, the driver, and myself for the four hour ride. Our trip to Cochabamba took place in the context of the culmin ation of an indigenous march that had several days ea r lier reached its capital La Paz. It was referred to as the 8 th terdepartmental highway which would traverse the heart of the TIPNIS national park, if constructed as planned. Although the march originated out of a concern specific to TIPNIS, indigenous groups from around the country had incorporated themselves. A coupl e of days in La Paz, the state responded through a decree that no road would be constructed through the park at all and, with a commission of march leaders, drafted a law of protection of TIPNIS. Simultaneously, factions suppo rtive of the road had begun organizing their counter offense. No one from San Lucas or Santa Rita had participated in the march. In fact, during my recent visit to Santa Rita a small group of community members, including the community Corregidor, had left to participate in a mobilization with representatives from other nearby indigenous communities in support of the road. They had formed a road block in the town of Castillo, on the main road that connects Cochabamba to the city of Santa Cruz, and it had act ually made travel out of the Chapar slightly more difficult than usual. As we sped along now in the surubi, our distance from the Chapar increasing and that from Cochabamba decreasing, Doa Consuelo chatted with me regarding her recent efforts to disen gage from all leadership roles. Previously, she had been President of Santa Rita

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184 Organization had spearheaded a community tourism project, as well as a commercial artisanry one. She found, however, that she was the most active contributor to the projects and that her fellow community members lacked enthusiasm to help support and execute them. Feeling that she was facilitating the projects largely by herself, and increasingly concerned over her ageing moth ago. She had decided to limit her leadership positions to Secretary of Education, her current duty for the community. She expressed frustration furthermore regarding the negotiation of inter personal conflicts that such leadership roles often entailed. during the car ride. Don Vladimir the Cacique Mayor of Conisur had even contacted her some days prior requesting she participate in th e mobilizations developing presently against the march. Doa Consuelo, however, had excused herself, giving her responsibilities to her ailing mother and her own ill health as reasons for her to refrain from going. She preferred to tend to her own househol d duties rather than get involved in extra local or even local politics. At this point, speaking about her past work for the community and her present to leave their f Perplexed and slightly distraught at the forthrightness of her inquiry, I did not know how to immediately respond. In the community, I had been offering my facilitative services to help produce a community his Licenciada, someone with a u niversity education. I was aware that this endowed me with a certain

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185 Doa Consuelo. It was a distinction with which I did not quite feel comfortable. esponsibility for my care during my visits to Santa Rita ; in fact, I had spent several consecutive afternoons that week in Doa the family and the household with Doa Con suelo, to the extent that there may have woman friend of mine who had participated in the recent mar ch that reached La Paz the previous week. I knew from past discussions with her that strong convictions had I remained quiet on the particular issue, and the conversation flowed into other subjects. Doa Consuelo went on to clarify that, although she believed a woman should not participate in events like marches, they should participate in activities that furthered their education; in this case, travel away from home was warranted. Giving herself as an example, Doa Consue lo noted that she had participated in numerous trainings over the years, given by NGOs and state organizations, covering various issues from autonomy, to gender rights, to new legislation on indigenous education. On several occasions, Doa Consuelo had tak en one or more of her children with her. She recounted how at

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186 one time she had taken her son Rigoberto, a toddler at the time, with her to a training that took place in a building of several stories in the city of Cochabamba. Rigoberto rode along with her in the elevator, Doa Consuelo commented amiably. She took her participation in such trainings seriously; whenever she was selected as an attendee, she treated her attendance as a civic duty, report ing on the content of the training at the monthly communal meeting. communal politics, expressed briefly yet emphatically through our car ride conversation, in the subsequent weeks, comparing and contrasting her opinion with the statements and actions of other Yurakar women in the events leading up to a counter march that Conisur ultimately called. Women of the colonization zone communities seem to echo, linked intrinsically to the home. However, their actions taken and beliefs expressed with regard to the proposed road project and law of TIPNIS protection are varied, demonstrating the importance of personal history not so much gender or even ethnicity -in explaining the choices individuals make regarding political goals and involvement. Social movements do not normally represent one cohesive interest or perspective; they commonly comprise varying ethnic and class affiliations and even political parties, br inging together diverse factions who ally themselves momentarily to achieve mutually beneficial outcomes (Gustafson 2002, Postero 2007, Warren 1998). Although the movement might present a well defined platform and goals, this does not negate points of cont ention within the formation. Various Latin American indigenous movements provide such an example, in that they present a unified demand for

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187 protection of cultural rights yet conflict and negotiation over gender rights take place among the participants (Rou sseau 2011 ; Speed 2008 ; Speed et al. 2006 ; Stephen and decisions made regarding the environment: that identity proves insufficient as a basis for understanding subject formation and corresponding actions taken; rather, produces a more useful analysis (167). I apply a similar approach to the developments leading to the counter march, examining p motivations and decisions are not determined by identity categories such as gender or ethnicity. The inclinations that influence participation in social movements vary critically, and can be better unde rstood through examination of personal history, while guided by considerations of identity characteristics. Furthermore, by studying in this way the developments of social movements I acknowledge that they are fragmented. The Conisur sponsored movement for infrastructural and commercial development of the TIPNIS via a demand for respect of indigenous territorial rights is no exception. I furthermore argue that key to understanding a social movement is the recognition of fundamental discourses motivating it s trajectory. At play within social movements is the contestation of meanings and representations (Rubin 2004), often whether they marched or not are the discourses at play in the lives of the people of the communities. Guided by environmental movements, I recognize that it is necessary to look critically at the discourses regarding development, territory, and TIP NIS employed in the context of the

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188 environmental and indigenous movements surrounding the road. Furthermore, by focusing on the activities and conversations leading up to the march, I am not suggesting that a march or other such public protests are the mos t critical, culminating steps of a social movement (Warren 1998); rather, my purpose through discussion of the pre march developments is to take advantage of the significant opportunity it provides to examine the discourses underlying the movement. Also, i t allows for demonstrating the fragmented nature of movements at the same time. Among the indigenous communities of the colonization zone, coca i s an important econ omic foundation This reality provides a primary background for the of th i s influence, people of the zone tend and the protected area. Furthermore, representations of development that allow for commercial production, and additionally promise public services to indigent populations, are particularly appe aling. The MAS party and colono groups reinforce this logic through their own discourses in the area, as well; however, this should not be understood as MAS and colono actions. The people of the communities actively i nterpret discourses, reconciling the meanings conveyed with communal and personal priorities. responses amidst the burgeoning social conflicts tend to be irregular in comparison t o

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189 the area as others and she is not as dependent economically on coca. In compariso n to lives coca has a different significance in herself into counter march activities in the area. and contributions to counter march developments demonstrate their influence on social movements, through their role in the family and household. Their appropriation of and resistance to certain discourses influence the decisions and practices enacted by th eir children, spouses, and other family members. Taking this into consideration, analysis of individual women in the area demonstrates varying degrees of acceptance and resistance to colono dominance; while acknowledging that family members as well as comm unity members all influence each inclinations vis vis meanings of indigeneity and the everyday incorporation of colono significations, within each corresponding household. B efore analyzing the discourses at play in the lives of the indigenous communities of the colonization zone, I discuss the history of indigenous claims to land and territory in Bolivia to provide important context to the current conflict. I also provide a s ummary of the details of the TIPNIS road project and the indigenous march for the protection of TIPNIS that took place from August October of 2011. I then briefly analyze the lism,

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190 and discourses surrounding this march, elucidating in this way the discourses t hat motivated their initial responses and understanding of the march and its goals. Following the prevalence of certain discourses in their lives, I trace their actions and decisions made in the months following the march and the new legislation regarding compare her life history and current event responses to those of two other women from San Lucas and Santa Rita Doa Elsina and Doa Carolina; in doing so, I analyze each wo man and correspondingly the varied processes that brought each to her decision regarding participation in the counter march. Bolivian History of Indigenous Claims to Land and Territory State policies beginning in the mid twentieth century had an important influence on the development and colonization of Eastern Bolivian lands, the home of various lowland indigenous groups ( Fundacin Tierra 2011 ; Lehm 1996). The Agrarian Revolu tion of 1952 resulted in the possession and redistribution of hacienda lands: in the Western highland areas this followed a trend of land parcelization to peasant farmers; comparatively, in the east viewed as empty, unexploited land in the eyes of the stat e -land policies engendered the consolidation of territories into the hands of large scale landowners, often for the purpose of cattle ranching (this especially in the department of Beni). Additionally, the state also developed migration and development po licies that promoted Eastern movement and settlement, creating for example the National Institute of Colonization in 1965. Over the following two decades, some 70,000 families migrated eastward to places like San Julian, Upper Beni, and the Chapar (Fundac in Tierra 2011: 9). In particular, during the 1970s, peasant farmers in the

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191 Western highlands began to struggle with limitations on land expansion, as a result in part of the 1950s land parcelization. Accordingly, the 1970s marked the beginning of signifi cant colonization in Beni and the Chapar of Cochabamba in particular. The drought of 1982 83 and the later flooding of Lake Titicaca in the highlands exacerbated this migratory trend. Trends regarding Eastern development and colonization in the mid to lat e twentieth century contributed to the invasion of lowland indigenous territories and natural resource exploitation in these lands. The 1980s economic crisis detrimentally affected cattle ranching such that the Beni department looked to other revenue sourc es, such as the timber industry (Lehm 1996: 413). Timber companies increasingly entered into the Eastern lowlands, and the region also soon became a target for petroleum exploration. Under the terms of colonization policies, any Bolivian citizen was formal ly eligible for land receipt, pursuant to regulations that required the recipient to demonstrate land development; however, in the 1970s and 80s corrupt state practices resulted in land endowments as political favors, engendering indiscriminate land use (F undacin Tierra 2011: 10). From the perspective of lowland indigenous peoples, invasions from timber companies and colonists increasingly pushed them off their homelands, and the land available to them for survival decreased progressively. In general, stat e policies regarding land development and colonization had neglected to consider lowland native peoples. In the case of TIPNIS, while 1965 legislation had recognized the territory as a national park there was no account of the indigenous groups that reside d therein (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 51 52).

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192 Developments regarding land and resource use made increasingly necessary new legislation pertaining to land rights; indigenous organization for rights to land and territory in the last two decades of the twen tieth century helped bring attention. In the 1980s lowland indigenous groups began organizing themselves in defense of their lands, and in 1982 with the help of NGOs, they created their own regional federation, the Confederation of Indi genous Peoples of Eastern Bolivia (CIDOB) (Postero 2004). This initial wave of indigenous organization culminated in 1990, as indigenous groups from the eastern lowlands held the first indigenous march in tory, which ended in the state capital. Days afterwards the state responded by issuing three supreme decrees, each formally designating an indigenous territory: the Siriono indigenous territory of Beni, the TIPNIS territory, and a multi ethnic indigenous t erritory situated between Beni and La Paz (Fundacin Tierra 2011: 14). In 1992, the state issued other decrees designating additional indigenous territories. Then in 1996 the state established Law 1715 for the Institute of National Agrarian Reform (INRA), which detailed specific procedures and regulations regarding land titling. In the 1990s, as well, new articles were incorporated in the Constitution that formally recognized indigenous rights and established a collective form of land rights specific to ind igenous peoples, legally named Native Community Territory (TCO), which was ultimately included in the INRA law. In general, TCO status gives the land important communal qualities and designates the land owners as an indigenous collectivity that, furtherm ore, has certain jurisdiction over the natural resources therein (Orozco Ramirez et al. 2006: 47 49). TCO land is indivisible, communally owned, and recognized as necessary for indigenous

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193 economic needs. For those TCOs that are also identifie d as national parks, like TIPNIS, legislation views that indigenous residence is not incompatible with regulations concerning protected areas. Land development projects cannot proceed without first consultation of the indigenous owners; however, the state holds final jurisdiction. The INRA and TCO legislation initiated the process of land right re organization, saneamiento de tierras possession and redistribution of lands and the issuance of new, app ropriate land titles (Fundacin Tierra 2011: 10). Accordingly, application of INRA was slow and cumbersome in its first ten years. By 2006, the initial time limit for completion of all land title re organization under INRA, just 10% of all lands applicable to the law had gone through the process. That same year the Morales government extended the deadline by seven years and also issued a new law 3545, Communitarian Redirection of Agrarian Reform. This essentially modified INRA such that the process of re ti tling was more streamlined. The new law emphasizes, in particular, the distribution of communal land titles. The pace of TCO titling did increase substantially from 2006 to the present in comparison to the ten years prior. As of 2011, 20.7 million hectare s 3 total of land had been given TCO status; 16 million hectares were still in demand (15). 4 With regards to 3 A hectare is 10,000 square meters, roughly 2.5 acres. 4 groups of native peoples, modifications were made in the language of TCO titling, as well: the formal label changed from TCO to TIOC, the latter signifying Indigenous Originate Peasant Territory. The TIPNIS land title was formally changed from TCO to TIOC in 2010. Most in Bolivia are still more famil iar with the term TCO rather than TIOC (Fundacin Tierra 2011: 16 17), and for this reason I continue to employ the former.

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194 TIPNIS, its formal land titling process came to completion in 2009, 5 and the Subcentral TIPNIS received the land title (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echaz u 2011: 269). indigenous groups -along with other factions that may ally themselves according to the interest at hand -have employed the march as a political strategy to bring a c laim to the ; Postero 2007). For example, in 1996 an indigenous march took place demanding that the TCO form of land titling be included in the INRA law. Also, in 2002 another march occurred calling for a Consti tuent Assembly. Highland groups, including colonos and other peasant farmers, have marched with lowland indigenous groups on varying occasions. A recurring, overarching theme of the marches is state recognition of indigenous autonomy and rights to land and territory. TIPNIS and the Proposed Interdepartmental Road Despite state and indigenous group negotiation over territorial ownership and authority over the last two decades, conflicts between the state and indigenous groups regarding land rights and natur al resource control occur regularly. One that has developed in controversy over the last decade and has attracted international press coverage is that concerning an interdepartmental road project that would affect TIPNIS. Although proposals for the Beni Co chabamba road circulated amid state discourses as early as the 1960s (Paz 2011), its construction began to gain credibility when in 2007 the Morales government formally approved it and went on to sign an agreement in 2008 5 No private property exists in TIPNIS except for that pertaining to the colonos of the colonization zone. However, various indigeno us communities in the zone have given up their TCO status in order to legally produce and sell coca (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011: 271 ; Orozco Ramirez 2006: 50 51). The implications of this change in land title will be discussed further in the next c hapter.

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195 with the Brazilian government for financing of the road. The Brazilian National Bank for Social and Economic Development (BNDES), a public/private consortium with interests in infrastructural and extractivist projects, would facilitate the financing, and Brazilian company OAS would carry o ut the road construction. The proposed road would provide a more direct route from the department of Cochabamba to that of Beni; currently, travel by land between the two departments consists of a lengthy detour far east through the department of Santa Cru z, and the total circuit can take over twenty four hours. The proposed road would connect Villa Tunari in the Chapar of Cochabamba with San Ignacio de Moxos in Beni. The projected costs of the 306 km road are $436.2 million, of which Brazil committed to f und $332 million (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011: 281). The road consists of three legs: one, from Villa Tunari through the colonization zone to the town of Ishinuta, construction of which has begun; the second, from Ishinuta through the center of the park to Monte Grande, the focus of the controversy; and the third, from Monte Grande to San Ignacio de Moxos. While OAS carried out two informational meetings regarding the road project in San Ignacio and in the colonization zone, respectively, a consultat ion of the TIPNIS indigenous communities had never been carried out as of 2011, when the government proposed to begin construction of the second leg (Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2011: 283 284 ; Paz 2011: 11). The road portends to cross a critical area of TIPNIS, with regards to its identification as a national park. In 2001, coordination between TIPNIS indigenous organizations and the Bolivian park service established specific zones of the park with according rules of land and natural resource management (

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196 indicated an area where native use of the land for non commercia l purposes was managed, exploitative projects were permitted. The majority of the TIPNIS indigenous communities reside in this last area. The road follows a direct course from Coch abamba to Beni and would traverse the nucleus zone of the park; this has caused much consternation among environmentalist groups and indigenous peoples and their advocates. In these ways, the road project has created considerable debate and division with in Bolivian society regarding issues of development, conservation, international relations, and indigenous rights; those who have taken most visible action to further div erse factions concerned in the TIPNIS conflict muddy the motives and purposes of each side; nonetheless here I attempt to provide a basic redaction of the most prominent developments in 2011. At this time the Subcentral TIPNIS convened a meeting of the Co rregidores of the 64 indigenous communities of TIPNIS to discuss the impending road project 6 center of the terr itory (Paz 2011: 11). When OAS began to install construction equipment near the proposed origin of leg two, CIDOB and the Subcentral TIPNIS 6 Total participation at the meeting is uncertain, for instance the number of communities from the colonization zone represented there. Due to difficulties of travel, full participation of all the communities of TIPNIS is often not possible.

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197 Paz. A list of sixteen demands articulated the motives of the march, a primary one was that the road not traverse Over a month into the march, there was a major confrontation between marchers and state police, which, although the march already had been receiving constant media coverage, attracted significant controversi al media attention and resulted in the resignations of various upper level state officials. Colono groups, supportive of the from the town of Yucumo, Beni. The marchers rem ained immobile, consequently, for several days, during which time they complained that they were prevent ed from securing appropriate rations of food and water for themselves. At this time, a minister of foreign relations was sent to dialogue with march lea ders; this communication proved unsuccessful and in the end a group of women marchers made the minister walk with them to the location of the colono road block. 7 The following day state police awaited the marchers when they attempted to advance, confrontin g them with tear gas and taking leaders away by force. Marchers were forced onto buses to return them to their home communities. Although the march had attracted support from the media and various sectors of Bolivian society since its inception, the Yucum o events enflamed public sympathy for the marchers. Community vigils in support of the marchers had developed in various 7 Muc h controversy surrounds this particular event. Supporters of the government claim that the minister was taken hostage by the marchers at this time and mistreated; march representatives argue that he had simply been made to walk.

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198 departments since mid August; however, media images of police in Yucumo dragging away men and women with their mouths bandaged and hand s tied communicated direct state repression of the march to the Bolivian public, inciting strong critiques from anti MAS factions and compassionate support from Bolivian society. The marchers regrouped, reorganized, and continued the march, reaching La Paz on October 19 th La Paz residents received the marchers amid much fanfare, and local government by declaring that no road would cross TIPNIS at all. Subsequently, a commission of state and march representatives drafted a short form of a Law of TIPNIS Protection, to be elaborated in the near future. Among other qualifications referring to the park ter implications for land and natural resource use became a major subject of contention in MAS and Morales government groups, in particular, claimed that the law would render park land untouchable and impregnable to all types of land and natural resource exploitation, including that initiated by pa rk residents. Extractivist State Policies The developments of the TIPNIS road controversy embrace of extractivist policies and furthermore called into question its commitment to plurinationalism (Paz 2011) Although I recognize tha t the issue of plurinationalis m and extractivis m merits lengthy discussion, I present it briefly in the extent that it pertains to the TIPNIS road project The state took actions to construct the road through TIPNIS

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199 without formal consultation of the indig enous communities residing there, a special indigenous right to consultation that t he Constitution and other Bolivian legislation recognizes. 8 Throughout the developments of the TIPNIS march, the state justi fi ed its support of the road project for the infr astructural development it would provide the country as well as its benefit to local and national economic activities. Additionally, although the state did not publicize the information as the crisis progressed, TIPNIS holds important not yet explored, na tural gas deposits of international interest. T he conservation, while it may be more taboo in the North is not uncommon for Southern countries (Gustafson 2013) ; the latte often desire urgently to achieve economic prosperity and feel justified in leaving the responsibility to biodiversity conservation to those Northern countries more economically powerful than themselves. Despite th is common tendency among Southern states the MAS party had campaigned on respect for the natural environment and promotion of indigenous economic models and sustainable development. The made regarding resource development and exploitation in other parts of the country, contradicted its previous commitments to natural resource conservation; they reflected, moreover, a development model reminiscent of colonial times, based in the supply of raw materials to wealthier countries (Paz 2011). Paz suggests that s uch an extractivist model would necessitate a centralist, even mono national state. 8 Bolivia ratified the Int 169), which enumerates a list of indigenous rights including the right to consultation, in 1991.

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200 s had surfaced prior to the TIPNIS controversy high positioning ; these commentaries gained increased significance as the TIPNIS conflict evolved. The MAS party had campaigned p resent ing itself as strongly anti neoliberal, but also advocating plu rinationalism; accordingly, the party platform included a n appreciation of indigenous communitarian politics and also the goal of reducing socio economic inequalities. Despite these c ommitment demonstrated significant co llusion with multinational corporations involved in extractive industries ( Gutirrez Aguilar 2011). For instanc e, the government facilitated soy production destined for biodiesel industries (Fabricant 2011); such policies benefited large landholders in Eas tern Bolivia. In general, the Morales government has prioritized raw materials ex portation as an economic policy; for example, China is a primary receptor of Bolivian tin exports (Paz 2011) The development of hydrocarbon reserves often with foreign invol vement, has been a special priority for the Morales government ; o ver its past two terms the Morales government has designated additional areas of hydrocarbon interest for the state oil company (YPFB), including in protected areas (24) In 2007 t he governme nt identified two by supreme decree in TIPNIS as gas concesssions, each to be developed under joint associations of YPFB and transnational companies (24 25) promise to promote communitarian management of natural resources and contradict its intention to prevent the dispossession of collective goods ( Gutirrez Aguilar 2011: 276 277) Public manifestations such as the August breach of its previously asserted commitments and a certain popular dissatisfaction.

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201 Consideration of the international dimensions of the TIPNIS road project further suggest s T he TIPNIS interdepartmental road would contribute to mor e efficient, complete inter oceanic travel across the continent, in this way promoting the plans for Integration of South American Regional Infrastructure (IIRSA) (Paz 2011) Furthermore, the previously mentioned hydrocarbon deposits in TIPNIS are some of the few r emaining in the Sub Andean belt; the road would allow their more feasible exploration. Paz and important financier of the project Brazil, has emerged as a significant economic force in the co ntinent over the last decade ; it would take a strong interest in the road project for the cross continental communication opportunities it promotes, as well as for possible access to new energy sources. Additionally, as mentioned previously, coca productio n in the colonization zone forms part of an international illegal drug circuit that supplies Brazil and extra continental demands. Consequently, Bolivia assumes a position as raw material supplier similar to that of previous international relations, althou gh in a changed economic geography. In conjunction with extractivism, t he MAS government promotes the nationalization of public goods; the state advocates nationalization as a means of controlling against dis possession (Fabricant 2011). The combination is similar to the model of economic development of the Venezuelan state, a current ally and source of foreign aid for Bolivia. It is important to highlight that Evo Morales won the 2005 presidential election, promising to nationalize the gas industry (Gustafs on 2013) Furthermore, f or social sectors such as the urban poor the development of natural gas

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202 holds the promise of national prosperity and socio economic ascendancy. Accordingly, s extractivist policies. No netheless, as the TIPNIS conflict demonstrates, such policies would seem to conflict with plurinationalism (Gustafson 2009; Paz 2011) : it is difficult for the state to follow nationalist policies yet simultaneously permit multiple autonomous models of econ omic development. Scholars of Bolivian state processes highlight, however, that plurinationalism is a concept in process, being defined via the evolution of its implementation in Bolivia (Fabricant and Gustafson 2011) Furthermore, while extractivist polic ies may often require a centralized authority the Bolivian state has come to espouse its combination of nationalist and extractivist goals in response to several decades of neoliberal free uch sought after natural resources. its style of developmentalist goals with indigenous rights concerns is a work in progress. Notwithstanding these considerations, critics observe that xtract ivist policies suggest only discursive support of the leveling of socio economic hierarchies (Fabricant 2011; Gustafson 2013). They posit that extractivist economies cannot achieve the goals of decolonization that MAS has advocated; extractivist policies c ontribute to socio economic inequalities, small landholder dispossession and displacement, and unemployment (Gustafson 2013: 65). Additionally, they note that as the state adopts increasingly centralist, authoritarian policies it is restricting the space f or social mobilization.

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203 persistent support of the road indicates not simply a certain extractivist stance but reflects more broadly the evolution of socio economic hiera rchies in Bolivia. Quechua and Aymara descended peoples like the colonos of the Chapar have developed substant i a l political power over several decades of economic change and social mobilization; as a social group, they serve as a foundational support of P res ident Through their migrations to and settlement in the Chapar they have come to develop a particular economic system appropriating and adapting various models to their needs: their eco n omy is particularly individualist although union ized and based in exploitation of deforested land for coca production, destined for national and international markets. Plurinationalism ought to allow coexistence of multiple economic models; however Morales gov ernmen t policies in TIPNIS demonstra te support of one, an extractivist strategy like that in use by the colonos Consequently, Paz suggests that the Bolivian state is becoming mono nationalist, favoring one type of people and their lifeway instead of considering the diverse socio economic sy stems Noting the different economic models practiced in the colonization zone and the up, Paz (2011) observes a critical conflict of in terests that reproduces itself across the country, involving the state and majority and minority racial/ethnic groups. Dominant racial/ethnic groups practice extractivist economic models that depend on constant, expansive natural resource exploitation Thi s is similar to the capitalist resource frontier to which Tsing refers (2005). In contrast to the dominant model lowland indigenous groups

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204 engage in communally oriented economic strateg ies that depend on their territorial autonomy. For example, as describ ed in C hapter 3 in TIPNIS various indigenous communities engage in communally managed cacao, timber, and ecotourism projects developed in accord with protected areas regualtions (Paz 2011). Supporting nationalist ity to prevent extractivist economies from usurping territorial control from minority social groups is questionable. The Perspective of the Indigenous Residents of the Colonization Zone The majority of indigenous groups of the colonization zone did not pa rticipat e in their reaction indicates the dominance of the colono socio economic model with which they regularly engage Though they shared the same ethnicity with the marchers as low land indigenous peoples, the communities of the colonization zone live in a special context in relation to colonos As mentioned previously, these communities have not tended to feel a strong affiliation to the Subcentral TIPNIS, one of the coordinating or ganizations of the march. The Subcentral TIPNIS is more strongly positioned with Beni, and the colonization zone communities had often felt that the former neglected them. In comparison, Conisur had been a nearer, more visible presence of late. Also, the c olono run radio stations of the Chapar regularly broadcast propaganda declaring the march to be United States and the economic importance of coca in their lives influence greatly their positioning vis vis the territory as national park and the road project; the factors at play in the development of their positioning are particularly evident in the context of the growing crescendo of indigenous politics during the months of the march. Furthermore, the developments regarding indigenous politics and state interests created new

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205 opportunities for people usually unnoticed by the state and the public, hidden in the shadows of the frontier. onstrated itself early on, as the march was about to begin in August. Passing by the house of Don Nicolas, a community leader at the time, I noticed he had just returned to San Lucas from a recent visit to Villa Tunari, the seat of the municipal government His wife, a couple of other community members, and the recent affiliate from Chimor Don Juan, were present. I sat down on a bench in his house to listen and chat, as Don Nicolas recounted the events he had witnessed in town. He and another community me mber had gone to Villa Tunari to run errands for the community. He had returned to San Lucas some days later than expected, and he explained that this was due to his attending a conference. All the union s were required to attend, he explained; accordingly, he and his companion had to attend. There had also been discussion in town regarding the road conflict. consternation. He went on to comment that communities like San Lucas living i n this particular area of the territory, were accustomed to colono proximity and regular negotiation of colono land invasion. In contrast, the vague others whom he seemed to associate more closely with the l abel colono presence near their land. The road and the opportunities for colono incursions it brought were an important threat to these groups. Although he did not state whether he was for Don Juan went on to remark that, in his opinion, dissenters to the road failed to realize the development opportunities it offered, particularly the means to transport their

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206 products to more distant markets. He argued, furthermore, that t he people of San Lucas and surrounding communities really ought to change their communal land rights to that of privately owned parcels. It was necessary, in order to function properly in the contemporary economy. People like Don Juan from outside San Luca s transmitted a discourse that socio was a viewpoint echoed by other proponents of the road. It is interesting, furthermore, that Don Nicolas did not associate himself with that its discourse might have represented to him. In fact, in other conversations with community members of San Lucas and Santa Rita during those months, although TIPNIS was somewhat near and familiar to them in fact, it often seemed that people were unsu re of the legal implications of TIPNIS and whether or not that the legal terms and boundaries of the colonization zone are often confusing for the common person, as mentio ned in C hapter 3 Many community members did seem to progressed. Near the end of August after some weeks of varying discourses from Radio Kawsachun Coca, the Cochabamba newsp aper, and people of the colonization zone, I myself was confused regarding the territorial qualities of the indigenous communities of polygon seven. In San Lucas having visited with Doa Elsina for several weeks, I had grown accustomed to chatting with he r about our li ve s. Curious now, I asked her whether or not San Lucas was a part of TIPNIS.

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207 She seemed very uncertain a bou t my question, though, and called to Don Federico He respo Santa Rita Don Federico San Lucas but it did to Santa Rita ver Don Federico frameworks of analysis, was certain that Santa Rita h TIPNIS ought to be the same as that of San Lucas zone. From the indigenous standpoint of the people of San Lucas like Doa Elsina and Don Federico area, National Park of the Isiboro Scure (PNIS), was given to it in the 1960s by an unfamiliar, far away state that disregarded the existence of inhabitants there. The -and by indigenous orga nizing that may have been slightly less distant -establishing the current name and zone of colonization. For people like Doa Elsina and Don Federico in San Lucas their c communal discourses that have associated Interestingly, also, their spousal relations demonstrated that Doa Elsina acknowledged information regardi ng political boundaries a Western concept, like maps, learned through interactions with mestizo society -

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208 knowledge base, and not her area of expertise. On other occasions, as well, she deferred discussions regarding legal territori al boundaries to men. Furthermore, my attempts to elicit significations of TIPNIS in terms of maps and boundaries repeatedly did not produce the compelling conversations I had expected. Another time, I again was San Lucas were situated literally and figuratively within it, with Doa Elsina and her family. I had brandished a book published by a Bolivian NGO that focused on issues of land and territory rights, and it contained numerous Turning to the page that dep ( Figure 4 1 ) I put San Lucas Where ought to be San Lucas the page with me, I pointed to the large dot for San Gabriel, as indicated on the map, I pointed to the red line, and I pointed to other small towns and coca union s ettlements illustrated with black periods and bounded within blue rectangles, respectivel y, on the map. Doa Elsina acknowledged that she could not find San Lucas on the map, either, and encouraged me to show it to her brother Don Lorenzo, the community cacique. I followed her suggestion and showed the map to Don Lorenzo, as well as to the oth er men who were at her house at the time. I inquired if San Lucas noticed that Santa Rita was not on the map either; Buenaventura a Yurakar community near both S an Lucas and Santa Rita was on the map, but represented by a dot much tinier than all the others. After peering at the map, Don Lorenzo remarked that the map was most likely a bit dated. San Lucas had just been formed in 2001. I

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209 indicated, however, that t he book had been published that same year, in 2011. Community members explained that San Lucas was in fact near the red line; however, for whatever reasons, San Lucas and Santa Rita as well were not on the map. three year old son Carl os looked at the map last, taking the book in his hands. He commented that the red line was supposed to be near his San Lucas union indicating union s filled up a significant section of the area sout heast of the red line. With regards to TIPNIS in cartographic terms, then, it would seem that San Lucas was irrelevant; in fact, in the area where they lived in the colonization zone, colono union s were most consequential. It should be noted that the rest of the area of TIPNIS on the map was a green expanse, showing a dot when a community large enough existed. The frontier of legal coca production was significant to the people of San Lucas ; for this reason, all were familiar with the territorial existence of the red line. As already suggested, the meanings that San Lucas and Santa Rita people attribute to territory are also relevant to their is important to understand the relationship of place, personal history, and economy in Depending on these factors, territory has different meanings to different groups and individuals, demonstrated through the life histories and correspondi ng positionings vis

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210 vis territory of Doa Nora Chau, an indigenous woman from an area of the Chapar east of TIPNIS, and Doa Elsina. Doa Nora is from the Tacana indigenous group, but as a young woman formed a union with a Yurakar man and has spent th e majority of her life living with his family on the Ichilo River, in the eastern portion of the Chapar They live off of their subsistence agriculture, although some products like cacao which they process into raw chocolate -they develop for small scale sale. Doa Nora worked for various non governmental organizations (NGOs) as an area boat conductor, and Doa Nora has worked for NGOs as a local facilitator for their development projects, as well. Doa Nora views colonos antagonisticall y, as a threat to her family and her way of life. Land is obviously important to her household economy. Moreover, colono invasion on indigenous lands limits the area available to her children and subsequent generations. Colono incursion also represents gra dual political subjugation to colonos for Doa Nora and the people of her territory. As President of CPITCO, the departmental coordinator of indigenous organizations for the tropic of Cochabamba, Doa Nora is a leader in regional indigenous politics. She believes that the road will open TIPNIS to colono invasion. Although she is not from TIPNIS, she foretells that the state could use the TIPNIS road as a precedent to execute similar projects in other indigenous territories. Doa Nora chose to participate protection, and other representatives of the communities of the Ichilo River accompanied her. Doa Elsina, in comparison, has spent a significant portion of her life learning to incorporate colono incursions into her quotidian lif e Her community of San Lucas has

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211 colla affiliates, and she has sons and daughters in law who are colla as well. Most importantly, while Doa Nora and the communities of the Ichilo River do not grow coca, Doa Elsina and her family have come to depend on coca production as a primary income source. For Doa Beliaria, moreover, coca production has allowed her critical autonomy to endure personal times of hardship (Chapter 3 ). concep strong opposition to that of the marchers, or what they represented publicly. For of TIPN loud, she wondered at the veracity of the report; if it was true, it boded a harsh threat to h Later on, in October, she commented to Doa Gloria that she had heard that cortacocas would be coming around; she pl anned accordingly to harvest her coca soon. grin gos 9 As a social movement develops a public front, it becomes increasingly necessary that it establish clearly defined and widely understandable boundaries regarding the es of their 9 This is a colloquial term in Spanish for white foreigners, usually from North A merica or Europe.

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212 arguments may be overlooked and the fragmented opinions the movement represents meld into one prominent posture, in particular as it gets transmitted across sectors of society. The march, especially through the colono controlled media and commu nication outlets in the Chapar came to represent a notion of conservation that prohibited all special ecosystem, on national and global levels, were largely absent or muted in discourses surrounding the march and TIPNIS, for the indigenous peoples of the any practical use from it. In this way, to demand respect for TIPNIS as a park and protected area was to render it useless to people like Doa Elsina. This was a concept survival. Simultaneously, various state and colono supported sources associa ted the road general terms, that it would bring better access to medical and educational services and allow TIPNIS inhabitants to reach larger scale markets. Furthermore, a broad discourse of a paternalistic state wishing to better account for the needs of TIPNIS indigenous inhabitants surrounded the road. As the marchers were increasingly showcased in the Chapar as representing a highly protectionist environmentalism, the road came to a cquir e broadly defined meanings of commercial and infrastructural development, from which indigent, deprived populations could benefit. Following this logic, those who were

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213 Colonization zone commun ity members at times appropriated this discourse as the march developed. For example Leonardo a San Lucas community member, would often engage me in conversations on current events regarding the road and the march. trafficking. The government will have better particular resembled arguments made on Kawasachun Coca Radio and also given by the state. March advocates had given d iscourses claiming the opposite, that the road would allow for the proliferation of illegal drug activities. Remembering Doa Nora and regarding the march, I would sometimes o ffer that the actual marchers lived a reality different from the people of the colonization zone; however, Leonardo elucidated a louder discourse, both literally and figuratively speaking, than mine and I often found myself listening. Given the pro road discourses circulating in the Chapar and the conflicting contra road arguments of those of fellow indigenous organizations, perhaps it should not be surprising, then, that Conisur, the organization that represents the indigenous communities of the southea stern, Cochabamban portion of TIPNIS, took an ambivalent stance regarding the road for almost the duration of the march. When CPITCO, the indigenous umbrella organization of which Conisur is a member, called organizational meetings in preparation for the m arch in July and August, Conisur was repeatedly

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214 absent. The latter seemed to remain silent on the issue until the march reached its final stages. It has been suggested, also, that the department of Cochabamba and the national government offered Conisur and its constituent communities development projects in exchange for its support of the road. At this time, the Cacique Mayor of Conisur began to give statements to news media generally against the march and in favor of the road. A week be fore the march arri ved in La Paz, MAS government supporters in this case a gathering of social groups and political organizations against the march and in favor of the road. It took place over several days, the principal events being scheduled on Columbus Day. MAS radio stations like Kawsachun Coca broadcast the gathering from its beginning to conclusion, and people in San Lucas and Santa Rita listened to it intermittently as it progressed. Various pro MAS organizations including peasant coca unio ns gave speeches, generally giving words in support of the government and of the road. President Morales also spoke at the event 10 The Conisur Cacique Mayor and his advisor were present and spoke at the concentration, as well, and members of Doa Consuelo radio in Santa Rita Vladimir Cesar proclaimed that Conisur was in favor of the road, presenting a signed document that 10 A culminating moment was the renaming of October 12 th from Columbus Day to D e colonization Day, time of colonization.

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215 nd for the road. Indeed, the peoples Conisur represents are indigenous, but share similar interests with the colla union s also represented at the La Paz concentration in that they produce coca; as noted earlier, however, the groups harbor certain antag onisms, though veiled in the discourses. The document presented did include a statement requesting respect for the territory corresponding to the peoples of Conisur; although vaguely stated, this refers to their territorial rights as indigenous peo ples and includes the demand that their land control not be usurped. Colonos pose the greatest threat to Conisur communities in this regard, as they do to other indigenous communities of TIPNIS and of the Chapar at large. The position that Don Vladimir el ucidated at the La Paz concentration was one that had been confirmed at a meeting of Conisur member communities some weeks before that they were in favor of the road colonos on their te rritory. They demanded that colonos currently settled on their land leave, and that they be assured no new invasive settlements would form. Accordingly Don Nicolas, who had attended the previous Conisur meetings, affirmed to me the general position that Sa n Lucas as a community had decided to take, and it aligned with that represented by Don Vladimir road, but we want the colonos of factly. After the marchers arrived in La Paz the following week drafted, new mobilizations developed in response. Conisur representatives and media outlets in the Chapar began to disseminate information that the short law would indeed

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216 prohibit all exploitative activities like farming and cutti ng down trees in all of TIPNIS, and that included their own communities. In an impromptu meeting in Santa Rita called Conisur means, explained with agitation the possible da their community and other s in the area. He furthermore called for Santa Rita community members to accompany him to a gathering organized by Conisur in Castillo, a town near the beginning of the first leg of the road, to lea rn more about the consequences of the law. At first, no Santa Rita community members responded to Don Mateo stood in the middle of the community meeting house waiting for people to begin volunteering but they remained in wordless uncertainty. Do n Mateo community members suddenly leave their work for an indefinite period of time to oppose comprehend how, was harsh. It was particularly hard to accept and follow when taken with the consideration that people who were distant relatives of theirs had possibly marched for the law. After enduring the uncomfortable silence for some minutes, Don Mateo finally shouldered his backpack and said in frustra he walked out of the community house by himself. I noticed, however, that some individuals straggled after him. I had been standing outside of the community house where a few other women had gathered to list en to the goings on. As Don Mateo had been talking during the meeting regarding the threats the law posed to their crop cultivation and livelihood, one woman who had been standing

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217 ensive been in San Lucas and Santa Rita those days since the march had arrived in La Paz, and I felt I knew as little about the new legislation as they did. Doa Carolina commented that she did not know about the law herself, but the developments surrounding it, touched upon at the meeting, seemed important to her. Accordingly, after Don Mateo left without community support, Doa Carolina went to talk to her husband, positioned closer within the meeting house. her husband Don Rodrigo and their youngest child readying to leave Santa Rita with a commission of some five f amilies that had formed to go with Don Mateo to the gathering The community had previously designated Doa Carolina to assist Doa Consuelo in providing me meals and in tending to me, as necessary. Doa Carolina confirmed that she was going to go attend t he event now and politely excused her acknowledging that traveling to towns to learn about national political developments had not been a common activity for a Yurakar wo man previously. Therefore I, being forward to her return. I learned afterwards that those who had gone to the event, although summoned initially for informational pur poses, ultimately formed a road block on a major highway nearby, in support of the TIPNIS road project. As mentioned previously, this had

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218 partially impeded my departure for Cochabamba that week. People from San Lucas had participated in the mobilization, a s well. Doa Elsina, recounting the events to me later, explained that Don Lorenzo had convened the community to go all together. Doa Elsina had gone with the majority of her family. year old son sitti ng nearby youngest child had enthusiastically gotten involved in the mobilization that day. Despite the representation of San Lucas and the partial participation of Santa Rita and a few other communities of the colonization zone, the blockade lacked support in general and the municipal government influenced it to disperse relatively quickly, after a day or so. The particular highway was a crucial conduit of interdepartmental mo vement and commerce, and blockaders confronted the anger and irritation of bus drivers and other cars on the highway, trying to get by. against one woman from Santa Rita recounted to me with some outrage. After the events of the previous months, the identification of indigenous people as a faction in favor of the road was an illogical association for the Bolivian public. (This confusion, and rejection, prevailed throughout the events and months that followed, which I will explain further in C hapter 5 .) Discussing later on with Doa Carolina her experience at the road block and what she had learned regarding the march and the road, Doa Carolina affirmed her opinion that the marchers had n ot represented her interests. The marchers wanted the people of the communities to remain living as their grandparents had, and not farm the

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219 land or change the landscape in any degree, she explained. I asked if she was concerned that the road might permit increased colono incursions; however, she posited colonos She seemed firm in her belief that the government was on their side now. Gendered Community Leadership: Doa Consuelo One person of Santa Rita who voiced little opinion about the march and the road throughout the mounting consternation was Doa Consuelo. This was unusual because she had a history as an outspoken lead er in the community and in the region. It was not for nothing that she was commonly invited to represent Yurakar indigenous peoples at trainings and conferences because she was well known to take seriously the advancement of her Yurakar people, participa ting enthusiastically in such trainings, and afterwards informing and mobilizing her community as necessary. Perhaps most her ability to assert herself to others regardless of the i r gender, ethnicity, and class. For instance, Doa Consuelo had been the only woman to give a statement at the large Conisur assembly convened in Santa Rita in July mentioned at the beginning of the dissertation The assembly took place before the march an d opinions regarding the road had formed, and representatives of the departmental government of Cochabamba, of the coca unions, and of other state and indigenous organizations were present, along with the various representatives of all the constituent comm unities of Conisur. For the first part of the assembly, space was given for each of the state officials and indigenous organization representatives to introduce themselves and report on their relationship with Conisur.

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220 The state officials represented a pa rticularly paternalistic and generous state, extending its assistance to an unfortunate indigenous group. For instance, in his discourse the Yurakar congressman 11 remarked upon the benevolent and progressive development of the state, demonstrated through i farthest indigenous community as was occurring that day. The representative of the governor of the department of Cochabamba, the last to speak, went on to comment ough TIPNIS. He observed to those gathered that their communities lived in a rudimentary state, advising that the road would bring modernity, turning their wilderness into a place of prosperity. With the indigenous attendees did not give any opinion for or against the road in the hat services and amenities the state would provide for them. After a period of q uestions and discussion the Cacique Mayor called to the attention of those gathered that there had been no input from women attendees up until that point; emphasizing that th e presence of the state officials at their assembly was a particularly special occurrence, he demanded that the women also respond to their presentations. participation is usua lly unnoticed in that they speak less than men. Women take care to prepare enough chicha and serve it in cups and bowls intermittently to attendees 11 Pursuant to the 2 the national legislature; accordingly, the Yurakars have one representative.

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221 throughout the meeting. When the meeting is large and lasts several days, like the present assembly, the men fish the night before for the women to prepare meals for the attendees throughout the day. When they are not cooking or serving, in the meeting hall women usually sit on the floor on a blanket or sack laid flat. From the floor or from far back in the meet ing hall, they tend to their children, keeping toddlers from crying and rocking babies to sleep. Distracted with childcare, they often listen to the meeting with half an ear. Although men may also help serve during meetings, they are usually less encumbere d than women and tend to sit on benches closer within the meeting hall, giving their full attention to speakers. Out of the awkward silence that day at the assembly, one large set woman strode briskly to the front of the meeting hall to the long table wher e the state representatives and indigenous leaders were seated. She began by introducing herself as Consuelo Mal d o n ado of Santa Rita She thanked them for coming to visit her estyle and needs. Though she spoke clearly and strongly, she seemed nervous and she asked the visitors on several occasions during her discourse to forgive her if she spoke incorrectly. The guests thanked her, and she returned to her place in the meeting h ouse. No other women offered to speak; though other men spoke throughout the assembly, no one presented his statement so forthrightly as had Doa Consuelo, going to speak directly in front of the guests. On various other occasions when her fellow community members have preferred to guard silence, Doa Consuelo has chosen to be bold, for constructive purposes. For example, at a monthly meeting of Santa Rita a main point on the agenda was the

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222 annual election of a new community council. During the meeting, fo r each position community members were to nominate candidates aloud, and then from the list community members -one at a time, going around the meeting house -were to vote by voice for their choice. 12 Initially, when the outgoing Corregidor asked for communi ty members to begin nominating individuals for the first position on the agenda, the new Corregidor, no one offered names. A long silence followed, wherein the Corregidor urged community members several times to speak up so that they could accomplish the t ask at hand efficiently. Still no one spoke. law Vladimir and the note taker wrote down the names on the blackboard at the front of the meeting house. Motivated, other community members began suggesting names until a sufficient list was developed. The process continued for each of the other council positions. At one point, Doa Consuelo exclaimed again, demonstrating her knowledge the right hand of the community Corregidor. Agreeing with Doa Consuelo, council 13 12 The person with the most votes won the position. It can be a long process, especially gi ven that, besides the community council, Santa Rita 13 Dona Ca rolin Santa Rita community members say that it was the first time the commun ity elected a woman as cacique.

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223 While other indigenous people may tend to act meekly towards those placed higher than them within the social hierarchy of the Chapar Doa Consuelo defends and asserts herself to colla people. As demonstrated previously ( C hapter 3 ), she responded angril cocaine produced on his premises. The day that Don Curi went to Doa Consuelo and her spouse Don Osvaldo Consuelo to arrive from was hing clothes in the river before beginning, even though Don Osvaldo had already returned to the house from his work. Doa Consuelo also deftly negotiates transactions with other colla actors in the area. Perhaps also special to Doa Consuelo in the context of the friction of the frontier is her steadfast pride in her Yurakar origins. (This also becomes important in the context of indigenous organizing in the months that follow). She and her husband Don Osvaldo speak Yurakar fluently, and they often speak it together and with other family and community members. Although their children do not speak it, Doa Consuelo posits that they understand their native language. Doa Consuelo herself is a favorite of the Educational Council of the Yurakar People (CEPY), an indigenous run NGO that focuses on the valorization and education of the Yurakar language and way of life. CEPY regularly invites her to attend their trainings and workshops, and Doa PY workshop for the preservation of Yurakar language and stories. During another community meeting, Doa Consuelo demonstrated openly and aggressively her pride in her indigenous origins. At the time, the colla teacher of the community schoolhouse was add ressing the parents regarding the upcoming events

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224 scheduled for the national Bolivia day. He began to list necessary purchases, for which which the students would carry out a march in the center of the community. flutes; it was not necessary to purchase other emphasis. anniversary they could use the types of instruments and mat erials to which Doa Consuelo referred; however, those would not be proper for the National Bolivia Day. 14 purchase the formal uniforms and marching band instruments. Doa Consuelo acquiesced, as well; the teacher held important influence over the parents in such situations. Nevertheless, Doa Consuelo had made her position known plainly during the meeting. 14 having any hint of ind igenous history. These, particularly those of the lowlands, tend to be regarded as 2009 Constitution and recent state policies employ a rhetoric inclu societal practices and discourses, like those enacted by the Santa Rita teacher, reveal the tenacity of post plays ways of behavior and, except for Doa Consuelo Santa Rita people follow his lead; this enacts another highland lowland, urban rural hierarc hy.

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225 Resistant to Yurakar subjugation in all its forms, Doa Consuelo wa s often hostile towards colla influences. For instance, when I once asked her if she knew talking abo colla language to be able to defend herself. Like any concerned parent, Doa Consuelo strives to be well equipped for defense of herself and her family against any threat; a clear one to her is colono dominance. Despite her activity in issues of concern to her community, Doa Consuelo may have not shown interest in the march at the time because it did not pertain to her directly; she dedicated the majority of her time to her household economy, demonstrating in this way that h er family was her first priority over that of her community. Doa Consuelo maximized her time and energy, engaging in various income production activities. During fishing season, she fished morning and night with her husband. It seemed I would see them onl y in the mid to late afternoon, when they would stop at the house to eat a meal. Osvaldo other household members, on one such morning when Doa Consuelo and Don Osvaldo had gone fishin g again. The couple slept little, taking advantage of the fish available to sell through September and October. They had coordinated their fishing activities efficiently, as well, having developed a good working relationship with one colla buyer who would come to Santa Rita purchase fish from Don Osvaldo and Doa Consuelo. In San Lucas in contrast, other families transported their fish via taxis the one to one and a half hour trip to the towns of

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226 San Gabriel and Ishinuta to sell their fish. After some weeks of fishing, Don Osvaldo and Doa Consuelo took the household to visit their eldest daughter at her boarding school far in another area of the Chapar for her birthday. They bought her a dress, and took the daughter and family to a small tourist ic town of the Chapar for a meal. Doa Consuelo and Don Osvaldo also tended to their coca parcels, in particular as the fishing season died down. When I arrived in Santa Rita on one visit in October, I found Don Osvaldo and Doa Consuelo lounging, submerg ed within piles of coca they and their household had harvested earlier that day. They did not rest long, however; the following day they left early in the morning to take Doa Consuelo to take advantage of state sponsored reduced rate medical services in t he town of Villa Tunari. Later on in November Doa Consuelo commented to Don Osvaldo that they ought to go harvest another plot, ahead of a trip to Cochabamba they were planning for the purpose of making various purchases. Doa Consuelo and Don Osvaldo ma intained various economic activities simultaneously. For instance, they had a second home in Don Osvaldo community of Tres Flores far up the river beyond the colonization zone, where they had cattle and which he tended to at various times of the year. He left for Tres Flores in late November, planning to remain there for three to four weeks, then return to Santa Rita to retrieve Doa Consuelo and his family once the school year ended, and spend the following month together in Tres Flores In his absence Doa Consuelo continued to work diligently on her own, fumigating and weeding the family coca parcels, and taking her children along with her to assist. Simultaneously, in November and December Doa

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227 Consuelo worked at making artisanry to sell to me and other foreign acquaintances of hers. Their multiple homes and affiliations to other communities seemed moreover unique to Doa Consuelo and her family. In addition to their home in Tres Flores Doa Consuelo visited her parents and family up the river beyond the colonization zone in San Pedro at least once a year. For this reason, she had suggested to me that I take a break from visiting Santa Rita over the months of December and January because she and her family would be absent, taking advantage of t he school break to spend time in Tres Flores and then in San Pedro break, if they would leave Santa Rita They replied, however, that they would not; they would just remain in Santa Rita over the end of year holidays. I asked further if the community tended to empty over the holidays, but Don Rodrigo and Doa Carolina claimed otherwise, sayin g that families primarily remained in Santa Rita I remarked that Doa Consuelo had commented to me that she would be absent, in San Pedro for those months. goes to San Pedro B Osvaldo younger siblings; their father and the majority of their extended family had migrated over the years from Tres Flores to Santa Rita and the majority resided there now. Regarding amily affiliations, her parents were deceased, though she had cousins who lived in Santa Rita and her uncle was one of the community founders. For many in

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228 San Lucas and Santa Rita extended family members lived in the area, if not in the actual community. For an extended period of time, Don Rodrigo did not have his own canoe for river travel; in the last months of my stay he acquired one, but it was not large enough to embark on long trips. Additionally, as mentioned previously, Doa Consuelo had determi ned not to get involved in communal or extra communal politics to any significant extent for the present time and focus on her family affairs alone. She and Don Osvaldo had six children, ranging in age from four to seventeen. Her father and sick mother had come to live with them for the time being, as well. Accordingly, as agitation regarding the intangible law developed and spread through the community from five families to additional ones, Doa Consuelo and her family remained disinterested. At one point for instance, in a Santa Rita meeting held in late November at this time, Don Osvaldo was already absent the community discussed mobilizing themselves to attend a Conisur gathering being held on another river that upcoming weekend. Although Don Mateo had mobilized himself alone the month before to attend the gathering in Castillo, and drew support from a minority of families in that instance, Yurakar communities commonly depend on rule by consensus for their organization. He explained in the current meeti ng that t he upcoming gathering was to discuss further action Conisur communities ought to take regarding the law, and it was suggested that demands. The Corregidor asked for v olunteers now to go with him and represent Santa Rita at the gathering. One by one around the meeting house, leaders of the major families, and their spouses, volunteered themselves to go. They noticed that Doa

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229 Consuelo was one of the only community membe rs not to name herself and pointedly asked her if she would go. Looking uncomfortable, Doa Consuelo responded that she had been planning on taking her sick mother to Cochabamba that weekend to continue with her treatment there; after returning from Cochab amba, she might be able to join them late, for the last part of the event. The following day as everyone began to leave for the event, Doa Consuelo left taking her young sons with her, to work in her farming parcel for the day. She did not return until th ing to a political gathering she prioritized her work. that event, Doa Consuelo was not the only one to be reluctant to get directly involved in political mobilizations. At this time there began talk that Conisur would spearhead a march to the capital in support of the road and against the intangible law. At a group coca harvest on another community nearby, Doa Margarita, whether she would go march. it was not worth her time, was her opinion. Talking to other women of Santa Rita and San Lucas who had already participated in mobilizations in support of the road, I asked them if they would go march, if there w ere one now. d to me.

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230 Though she was older than Doa Carolina, Doa Elsina gave a similar response, regarding her duty as matron of the household when I asked her if she would go to the hildren. By mid December Conisur had definitively decided to march to the capital, in support of the Villa Tunari San Ignacio de Moxos road and against the Intangible Law. The march would depart from the Chapar from the to wn of Ishinuta in the colonization zone. Communities in their entirety were going to the march. I had returned to Cochabamba by this time, and the national newspapers were publishing stories about the burgeoning march, displaying photos of Santa Rita commu nity members gathered in Ishinuta, for example. Given her enthusiasm for the causes of the march as discussed with me in November, I was not surprised to see a week or so later in the newspaper a photo of Doa Carolina, bundled up in the cold at a resting point in the march. Around this time, as well, I learned via phone conversations that Doa Elsina had joined the march. Initially, from San Lucas a small group of men had gone to the march, and then a majority of the community, including women like Doa El sina, joined in a week or so later. Doa Elsina had fallen ill at one point in the first stage of the march but then come as a surprise to me despite her previously voi ced inclination to stay in the event of a march; full communities were being asked to show their allegiance to each other and to Conisur through their full participation, and I understood that in that case Doa Elsina would not resist nor allow herself to be excluded. Additionally, she had participated in earlier mobilizations in support of the road.

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231 It was in the first days of January, however, when looking over the Cochabamba newspaper headlines, that a photo grabbed my attention, seemingly misplaced in t he development of the story of the Conisur march: it was a photo of Doa Consuelo, in the march. The story accompanying the photo presented her as Doa Consuelo Mal d o n ado of Santa Rita a woman participant in the march in support of the road. She was quote d as saying that they the marchers demanded the state listen to their needs for development. The force and purpose of the march was indeed so strong that it required all community members to participate. Everyone had gone to the march, even Doa Consuelo. Doa Elsina, Doa Carolina, and Doa Consuelo Doa Elsina, Doa Carolina, and Doa Consuelo all became participants in the Conisur march, but their individual histories and socio economic interests brought them to that activity in different ways. The foll owing analysis of their varying life stories suggests that dependency on coca and investment in the colonization zone are more Doa Consuelo. I reference native language u se here, as well, acknowledging it as a possible indicator of resistance to erosion of clear Yurakar cultural traits, particularly concept of indigeneity that each wo man wields. Despite differing degrees of usage of native language, each woman does call herself indigenous, and also Yurakar at that. I summarize discussions presented previously and include additional information relevant to the factors emphasized now. S C hapters 2 and 3 I refer to it briefly here. Although Doa Elsina and her spouse engage in commercial

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232 fishing during the fishing season as do all the other families in the region, her economic mainstay tends to be coca production; moreover, coca has proven an important life support over a long duration of her life, not just recently. Her children and siblings live primarily in San Lucas and in the nearby communities and towns. Doa Elsina speaks Yurakar fluently, but only tends to speak it with her sisters, or when another woman engages her in conversation in the language. While less is known of Doa Carolina, coca serves as a primary income source for her and her family. Her parents deceased an d her siblings living far away, Doa extended family live in the area, making her primarily invested here. Although the S anta Rita it would appear that he does not have as much material wealth as his other siblings, like Don Osvaldo His house is significantly smaller than Don Osvaldo own canoe for an extended period of time, their h ousehold does not have its own fumigator. His mother is deceased and his father is ageing; Don Rodrigo has been family, Don Rodrigo and Doa Carolina live immersed in the frontier of the colonization zone and the constant, rapid engagements with colono dominance that this includes. I t should be noted that Doa Carolina enjoys to pijchear with Don Rodrigo while at work. In the midst of this engagement and appropriation of t C hapter 2 ). Doa Carolina speaks Yurakar fluently, and she speaks it with other community

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233 members and within her household; however, Don Rodrigo a nswers back to her in Spanish. Doa Consuelo has slightly more diverse income options than the other two women. Coca is an important income source to her household as it is to theirs, as well; land in Tres Flores Individually, she often benefits financially from her work with NGOs, and she engages intermittently in commercial artisanry in Santa Rita she has family in San Pedro with whom she mai ntains contact regularly. She did not grow up depending on coca; it became a main player in her household economy when she moved to Santa Rita as a young woman with Don Osvaldo It is interesting to note, additionally, that Don Osvaldo was one of the last of his siblings to move to Santa Rita from Tres Flores When he speaks of his home in Tres Flores he refers to it wistfully, describing appreciatively the natural forest materials with which his house there is built. It is likely that Don Osvaldo and Doa Consuelo came to Santa Rita to take advantage of the lucrative coca production possible there; its location near urban Should their coca plots become endangered, howeve r, it would seem that, though the occurrence would be harsh, Don Osvaldo and Doa Consuelo are prepared to adapt and develop new economic strategies. They both speak Yurakar fluently and speak it with each other. Doa Consuelo, for her part, engages other women in her family and in the community in conversation in Yurakar. S he tends to look distastefully upon colono practices ; for example, she is resentful of the Quechua language and she dislikes her

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234 In addition to he r decision to distance herself from leadership positions and avoid participation in political mobilizations, that coca was slightly less prominent in Doa the region may hav e been factors in why Doa Consuelo and her family were some of the last to join the march. That they did go is indic ative of the importance of rule by consensus in Yurakar communities, as well as in indigenous communities more broadly speaking ; 15 allegian ce to the collectivity over the individual is a high priority. 16 Nonetheless it is important to note that if it had not been for the break down of the small motor Don Osvaldo uses with his canoe for long distance travel during his trip to Tres Flores in la te November, he, Doa Consuelo, and their family would have been in their other house far north of the colonization zone throughout the preparations for and duration of the actual Conisur march. 17 In this way, although the histories of each person in the co particular circumstances differ from the general trends of the region. Final Remarks The lives, beliefs, and actions of the three women demonstrate moreover the fragmented nature of a social movement. The interests and motivations of the actors and parties who make up the movement are not homogeneous but rather diverse. Research demonstrates the multiple facets encompassed within a social movement with 15 See, for example, Speed (2008: 88 89, 129 131) for the case of Chiapas indigenous communities and the importance of consensus rule to their organization, as well as the prioritization of the collective over the individual. 16 In fact, subsequent to D Santa Rita lt strongly compelled to go along with communal consensus. 17 Don Osvaldo did not make it to Tres Flores in fact, and had to return to Santa Rita rowing.

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235 regard to ethnic and political affiliatio ns (Gustafson 2002 ; Postero 2007) as well as with respect to gender differences (Speed et al. 2006 ; Stephen 2001 ), but here I call more gender or ethnicity does not de termine the decisions she makes; while identity categories such as gender and ethnicity can serve as broad guidelines for influence on personal motivations and decisions ta ken. The MAS party and colono union s are constituent elements of the social movement that developed in favor of commercial and infrastructural development in the TIPNIS through a claim of indigenous rights to consultation on changes made to indigenous terr itory; the Conisur indigenous groups are contributing players, as well, taking a front stage role in the activity of the counter march. What I emphasize here is that the Conisur groups themselves did not represent one solid interest, but rather comprised v arying beliefs and concerns regarding the road and its effects on indigenous economies. Furthermore, to say that the indigenous actors were mere puppets of the MAS government or of colono influences would be an over simplification; the events and activitie s described here demonstrate that individuals actively engaged in processing of information and negotiation of community and foreign interests with their own personal interest s. While movement participants hold varying individual interests, simultaneously certain discourses regarding territory and development have influenced the movement. Primary discourses in the area uphold coca as a critical economic mainstay. While territory in itself is valuable, it becomes particularly important to the people of the colonization zone because it allows them to cultivate coca. For this reason,

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236 representations of territory that depict land and natural resources as highly protected and unexploitable are particularly threatening to the people of the colonization zone. Corr that also promises better access to education and health services, is attractive to them. n the first march against the road, different discourses and values surrounding territory and development exist among other indigenous communities outside of the colonization zone, where coca production and colono dominance are not as prevalent. Indigenou s women play a special role in social movements through their position in Yurakar society is near the home, while in comparison men are viewed as better suited to activ ely participate in formal meetings and travel outside the community to engage in mass political activities. It could be said that this view is changing slightly, July Conisur assembly, and with women taking on visible leadership positions, for in their household and in the community. For instance, in the cases of Doa Elsina and Doa Carolina, though they would have felt obligated to remain home in case of a march, as they said, they would have made sure to send their older children or spouses. They would have pushed their family members to support the march. Additionally, the three women descri bed provide examples of varying degrees of acceptance of and resistance to colono dominance; although long term data are not available, it is possible that they will inculcate certain norms and practices regarding colono convergence and

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237 meanings of indigen eity to their children and families for example, with respect to food, language, partner choices, economic strategies, and goals worth marching for. In the end, all three women went to the march along with their families demonstrating a certain need or rol e for indigenous women in public manifestations not yet discussed -but the processes that brought them there varied. marching is not the only way of participating in or contributin g to an indigenous movement; rather, it is more so engagements with and influences on discourses that are most consequential to the forms and turns the social movement takes in the long run. C hapter 5 engagement with such discourses during and after the march, particularly the ir efforts to represent an indigeneity that satisfied the expectations of national political actors

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238 Figure 4 1. Map of TIPNIS, modifi ed from Costas Monje, Patricia and Mara V irginia Ortiz Echazu (2011). Estudio Caso No 2: TIPNIS, la coca y una carretera acechan a la Loma Santa: territorio indgena en Cochabamba y Beni In Informe 2010: Territorios Indgena Originario Campesinos en Bolivia: entre la Loma Santa y la Pachamama. Fu ndacin TIERRA, ed. Pg. 266. La Paz, Bolivia: Fundacin Tierra.

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239 CHAPTER 5 THE STAGING OF THE CONISUR MARCH Ironically or perhaps, just as it ought to be the office of CPITCO, the coordinato r of indigenous groups of the tropic of Cochabamba, resides within the building of the Unified Syndical Conf ederation of Peasant Worker s of Cochabamba terminal. The edifice stands out colorfully on the block, brandishing on its front the Bolivian wiphala, a flag representing the various native Andean groups through differently colored squares. Walking into the building and climbing up the stairs to th floor, one often passes men and women peasant farmers coming or going, the women wearing their characteristic polleras and their hair in braids. ago when the latter was low on funds, and the two entities regard each other ambivalently within the shared while CSUTCC, associated with the Chapar coca union s, supported the road project may have aggravated th is ambivalence at the time of my alone on the last floor, and the visitor often reached its door wheezing heavily after the four flight trek. Within, the office is simple, containing much of the basic necessities of any office: a couple of desks, bookshelves with thick binders, three desktop computers, and meeting space. Artisanry from the indigenous communities of the Chapar that CPITCO represents decorates the walls and shelves in places, as well. It was January, and the Con isur march was a month in progress and San Lucas and Santa Rita were both participating (Figure 5 1 shows San Lucas community members in the first leg of the march ) At this time, I found myself in the middle of

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240 Doa Nora Chau, trying to make sense institutionally and conceptually of the current developments. I understood that Conisur was no longer part of CPITCO; in fact, in the newspapers CIDOB, the national had dis recognized as indigenous peoples the Conisur marchers. It seemed that different social groups were flourishing CPITCO had first introduced me to the communities of Conisur the year before as affiliated with CPITCO and in this way branding them as indigenous peoples; for this reason, the explanations that CPITCO gave now for the current dis associations were further confusing to me. Doa Nora posited that the people of Conisur did no t constitute indigenous communities; they were union s. In fact, CPITCO had information that the Conisur Cacique Mayor, Don Vladimir, had initiated processes to change Conisur 1 To CPITCO, this change i n land indigenous. Once they renounced emphasized to me, they grow coca. this was true. I was familiar with both places at this point, and the colonization zone 1 I do not in fact have proof of this; while the land status of various Conisur communities as TCO or private property was dubious, that Don Vladimir could have initiated such a large scale process on behalf of the various communities seemed incredible. Then again, I was able to attend only a few Conisur meetings and I cannot say what resolutions regarding the territory may have taken place during meetings of Conisur community leaders during the TIPNIS controversy.

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241 communities grew coca; communities on the Ichilo River, another area of the Chapar, did not. economy based on coca production -or perhaps eng agement in coca production at all -negated indigeneity; although they explained this significance to me as basic knowledge, it seemed that such coca practices had been disregarded or given less importance prior to the TIPNIS march. I found the present conv ersation disconcerting coca production, CPITCO still recognized them as part of their own. Moreover, I knew that if one were to simply ask inhabitants of communities such as San Lucas and Santa Rita of their indigenous affiliation, the majority would affirm that they were indigenous and Yurakar. Conisur communities, Doa Nora continued to highlig ht the incompatibility of coca production with indigeneity as our discussion progressed. For instance, she went on to discuss her participation in a CIDOB sponsored communications training for indigenous women that had been ongoing since the previous year. She commented that a young woman, Doa Vero, of Conisur had initially been selected to represent the communities of that area as a participant in it, as well. I knew of Doa Vero. In discussions regarding Yurakar way of life in Santa Rita she was one of the most vocal, describing with obvious pride the importance of Yurakar language use in the community and the value that community members give to their Yurakar heritage. In the training, however,

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242 those of the other participants in that they reflected union influenced lifestyle. cocalera d. In the light that cocalera demonstrated that the definition of indigeneity that CPITCO wielded, and that most likely union organization, private land holdings, and most importantly, engagement in coca production. These attributes were most characteristic of colono groups, and in th e context of the present environmental conflict surrounding TIPNIS, colonos became even more threatening than usual to those concerned with protection of land control. In general with regards to social movements, it becomes necessary that boundaries be str ictly defined for the purpose of elucidating a claim as strongly as possible (Rubin 2004). The limits between us vs. them and friend vs. enemy become sharply pronounced, and actors who fall within the conceptually vague terrain of the border, like the indi genous communities of the colonization zone, can consequently find it national and regional organizations of lowland indigenous peoples. The following analyzes the conceptual and discursive conflicts that evolved in the context of the Conisur march and its subsequent developments. The Conisur communities exhibit hybrid qualities, in that they incorporate both syndical affiliations and communal land ownership practic es into their organization; they furthermore colono

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243 while simultaneously retaining pride in their indigenous language and continuing to engage in certain lowland indigenous practi ces. They have come to appropriate colono practices, like union organization, in order to take advantage of the economic benefits of coca production more effectively and also as a means of negotiatin g colono dominance. Mainstream discourses propagated by t he press, regional and national indigenous organizations, and anti MAS factions, however, depicted an indigeneity that was coca free, most especially as the TIPNIS controversy grew. Conisur consequently strives to hide all coca associations and emphasize t hose qualities typically characterized as indigenous, for the purposes of their movement. These efforts are not particularly successful, however, due to obvious colono support within the movement. Sharing certain socio political interests, Conisur and the coca union s allied during the march. In this way, Conisur leadership, colono groups, and the marchers themselves contribute to the attempts at an authentic indigeneity; these and eneity, one that contains significant coca colono qualities and that also demonstrates important engagement with illegality The TIPNIS controversy and Conisur march brought varying significances of indigeneity into circulation, demonstrating the contestat ion of meanings that stimulates social movements (Alvarez et al. 1998 ; Rubin 2004 ). Greene (2009) refers to indigenous appropriation of varying historical, state, and inter ethnic/racial discourses as it pertains to the sculpting of their own concept of in digeneity, explaining it as indigeneity that serves the purposes of their life in the colonization zone, one that allows

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244 for an economic basis in coca production and for close r elations with colonos Although their alternate indigeneity does not overcome the dominant, coca free discourse on indigeneity and gain mainstream legitimacy, its persistence on the discursive scene as march and post march events develop constitutes a brea k in the dominant structure. It moreover challenges the on looking public to consider that indigenous people are not confined to essentialist, environmentalist representations but rather are enmeshed in illegality. rts to emulate dominant conventional interpretation s of indigeneity should not be confused with subjugation; rather, they partially accept the mainstream their everyday lives. Stephen (2005) refers to this outward semblance of acceptance fulfilling their coca inclusive indigeneit y in their quotidian practices. They resort to related ones does not impede their self affirmation as indigenous people. In general, the people of the Conisur movement embrace an indigeneity that allows for change, even if it is rapid and intense as they have experienced historically, of their practices and customs in the interests of surviv al. The transpiring of the TIPNIS controversy and indigenous marches also brings into prominence varying meanings of development, much associated with the differing significations of indigeneity in circulation. The indigenous proponents of the first march envision a development which

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245 permits them to propagate a certain core set of indigenous values and priorities. Preservation of socio political autonomy is important here. Th ose of the Conisur march also give importance to the maintenance of their territorial control; however, from their perspective, development may not conform to or respect any essential set of indigenous values. After years of negotiation of colono dominance in fact, the values of the Conisur communities may have come to imitate those of the colla union s. Nevertheless, they still call themselves indigenous, and discourses of adult community members presently suggest that Conisur communities will continue to do so, despite the degree of change the future might hold. The Conisur movement also demonstrates that women can play a special role in movement helps their strategy to emph asize the indigenous qualities of their people and particularly gendered. As a woman in her community, she carries out special activities and responsibilities different fro m those of men, and this experience motivates her actions and discourses in the movement; in this way, she carries out a leadership role that men could not play in the same way. While personal interests and communal motivations as well as prevalent regiona l Conisur communities are also taking advantage of a new opportunity of state engagement not available to them previously, through their participation in the march and in pos t march developments. Their location of ambiguity, with respect to

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246 government boundaries and territorial organization, has made them particularly inconspicuous to state and civil society institutions in the past; through agents like Doa Consuelo, the Coni sur communities take advantage of the direct state access open to them now, even though it might relegate them to weak positions of negotiation in some instances. Uncertain of its duration, they use the opportunity to voice their concerns and demand govern ment accountability. Before delving into an analysis of the Conisur movement and the conflict of indigeneity discourses active within it, I present a brief summary based on Garca Linera (2010) of the history of Chapar union s and the characteristics impor tant to union organization and life, applying this then to the organization of Conisur communities. Then, I examine the indigeneity discourses at play, as presented in Bolivian newspapers during the time of the Conisur march, highlighting the roles of the press, national and regional indigenous organizations, anti MAS factions, and Conisur in the discursive contest that developed. I focus on the strategy of the Conisur movement staging an indigeneity through their public manifestation, emphasizing the inter twining of tactics of acceptance and resistance from a macro national level to the micro communal. To this end, I turn to the role of Doa Consuelo within the Conisur movement in order to elucidate its gendered aspects and also to articulate Conisur commun limit myself largely to the timeframe of the Conisur march and the semester following it. Since I was not present during the march and several of the proceedings which I clo sely examine here, I rely on a variety of sources for my data, including newspaper and

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247 I also use the results of formally facilitated small group discussions carried out in San Lucas and Santa Rita prior to the marches to supplement my analysis. Chapar Coca Union s With the trend of eastern migration and settlement of the Chapar in the sec ond half of the twentieth century, union s provided a primary organizational structure for highland migrants and have ultimately become an integral part of colono lifestyle (Garca Linera 2010). The first such union in the Chapar formed in the 1950s. Union s in general oversaw the distribution and circulation of land, pooled and coordinated institutional authority at a time when the state was far distant. While union s ar e a form of collective organization, important to their functioning in the Chapar has been their allowance for individual autonomy. Important to union properties. For such reasons, it has evolved that colono land properties are individually owned, and property owners are free to sell their lands to the individuals they choose. The union must give final approval for land sale/purchase but the choosing of land buyer is l highland customs wherein kinship regulates land distribution; in the context of Chapar union s, the market regulates land appropriation. Whoever the property owner, however, he or she is obligated to participate in communal work activities and political mobilizations. In this way, while the union provides social cohesion and has contributed significantly to collective identity as will be described, it simultaneously allows for members to make autonomous economic decisions.

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248 Repressive coca eradication policies in the 1980s initiated the development of a critical function of union political history: they are the organizing institution for political mobilizations for colonos The union s form Through the union s, coca growers have organized major road blocks, hunger strikes and marches. When the federat ions call such activities, every union member must unanimously participate, requiring impressive capacities of coordination. For long term activities such as marches for example, members participate in shifts: while one group marches, the other remains at home to work; afterwards, the groups rotate so that the latter group replaces those who had been marching and allows these to return home and work. In these ways, it can be said that union s significantly structure colono life. They coordinate macro activit ies like mass mobilizations; however, they also regulate communal, everyday activities like land use and even conflicts between neighbors. They influence to a significant extent information transmission, as well. Leaders communicate information from outsi de the union or region to members at union opinion regarding major current events and issues. Local radio stations such as Kawsachun Coca and Soberania (Sovereignty) broadcast meeting convocations and assembly resolutions. 2 Union s then, in addition to constituting the daily fabric of life for colonos in the Chapar, have provided the means for economic defense as well as voice for national 2 For its role as a primary means of cocalero propaganda and communication, in fact, Radio Soberania was persecuted and closed temporarily in 2 002 (Linera et al. 2010: 423).

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249 political claims. With respect to this, the federations have been successful in linking their regional interests with those of other sectors, such as miners, working classes, and lowland indigenous groups at various points over the last decades to create broad based alliances whose demands achieve national recognition. They were an integral part of the cross ethnic presidency in 2005. In comparison to the socio political significance of union s, the communities of San Lucas and Santa Rita differ essentially from union s in their land practices yet they also exhibit related traits. San Lucas and Santa Rita land, as used and understood during the time of my fieldwork, is communally owned. A community member cannot sell a piece of the lan d on his or her own. For this reason, when individuals from outside the community wish to have land there, they must affiliate themselves through a process of community approval, as occurred when Doa Geysa and Don Jose sought to affiliate themselves with San Lucas (Chapter 2). They did not buy land parcels; they were voted in and allowed to farm an area of land within the community. 3 In the context of various discourses and counter discourses circulating at the time of my fieldwork, the legal land rights i n paper for San Lucas and Santa Rita are not clear; however, based on practices alone, the two follow communal ownership. This is in contrast to union qualities of individual ownership. Although San Lucas and Santa Rita do not constitute union s in and of themselves, they are affiliated with union s to a certain extent as affirmed by community members (Chapter 3); however, the communities do not participate in union assemblies on a regular basis, essential to union norms. 3 During the community meeting that determined the affiliations, in fact, a leader emphasized that the land was TCO.

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250 While they differ from union s in various important practices, San Lucas and Santa Rita imitate them critically in that they rely on coca production as a main income source. For this reason, union affiliation bestows important advantages for coca production and sale as mentioned previousl y (Chapter 3). Furthermore, protection of coca production rights as a primary function of union s resonates significantly with San Lucas and Santa Rita communities. Because of the importance of coca production to communities such as San Lucas and Santa Rit a giving up their qualities and even legal territorial status as native communities in order to better imitate union s becomes an attractive course of action to them. TCO status grants indigenous peoples expanses of land that allows them to propagate and s urvive their practices and customs as indigenous peoples; coca production is depicted legally as an industry foreign to lowland indigenous groups and viewed as particularly invasive and threatening to the land itself as well as to native customs. As noted in Chapter 3 from a legal perspective coca production is a colono practice, and coca production in a TCO is in fact illegal. Laws emphasize in this way that lowland native status and coca production do not mix. Such considerations have motivated other in digenous communities within the colonization zone to give up TCO status and become full union s ( Costas Monje and Ortiz Echazu 2 011: 271; Orozco Ramirez 2006: 50 51 ). According to Fundaci n Tierra, a Bolivian NGO that focuses on issues of territory and land rights, when the colonization zone was established in the 1990s it included some fourteen lowland indigenous communities already existing there. As time has progressed, union dominance has, as well. By 2011, indigenous communities in existence previously had disappeared from

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251 INRA documentation; in a report made public by Fundacin Tierra to news media at the time of the Conisur march, the organization explained that previous indigenous communities were now registered as union s, and others were not taken in to account at these communities had been incorporated into union s. Greene (2009: 155 161) discusses a similar case of indigenous communities adapting their legal native c ommunal land rights to meet the needs of their situation. Aguaruna communities in the Peruvian Amazon have developed the custom of renting sections of their territory to individual colonos They have found this necessary because their territory constitutes coveted land for rice and coffee production It is consistently the target of colono intrusions, and the state has failed historically to impede the foreign invasions. While renting land has allowed them to maintain jurisdiction of their territory and sim ultaneously earn a decent income, environmentalist groups and the state have incompatible with the practices of territo rial jurisdiction, as well. Similarly, the colonization zone communities are belittled as having sold out or as simply inauthentic indigenous people because of their union affiliations, and therefore undeserving of indigenous rights to consultation on matt ers such as the road and other park developments. In a context of rapid socio economic change, wherein the state has been historically absent and correspondingly union s have come to provide much of the normative structure in the region, union alignment has been a logical course of action for the indigenous communities of the colonization zone.

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252 Whatever the legal territorial status of the colonization zone communities might union r ather a hybrid of the practices of each. I speak from the experience of San Lucas and Santa Rita during the time of my fieldwork and cannot attest to the realities of all the communities of the colonization zone in this way. However, both these particular communities use and own the land following communal norms; although they do not follow the internal organization and norms of a union they affiliate themselves with union s in order to make better incomes through coca production. Furthermore, if one were t o ask the community members if San Lucas or Santa Rita constituted a union they would reject the label; they might concede, however, that they did have certain linkages with union s located outside of the communities. Indigeneity Discourses in the Media In the context of Bolivian ineffective. The Conisur communities met with much disparaging critique and questioning of their indigenous origins when they promoted their demands regarding the TIPNIS roa d. Discourses from indigenous organizations such as CIDOB and the Sub discourses in public media described the Conisur marchers as non indigenous or fake indigenous peop les, as illustrated in daily news reports of the march 4 They emphasized 4 http://w van a la marcha del conisur_156160_325479.html. January 17, 2012, accessed March 14, 2013, http :// desconoce como indigenas y miembros de cidob a marchistas del_157095_327649.html

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253 that the marchers were from the colonization zone, claiming that the area though affiliated with the park was not TCO and was heavily influenced by coca union s ; 5 furthermore, the Coni sur march itself was most likely a creation of the coca growers and the MAS party 6 This may have been true in certain respects; however, such discourses that denied the agency of the Conisur marchers in this way operated under an underlying assumption tha t coca union s could not represent lowland indigenous peoples, and even more peoples to grow coca. They were slightly perverted if they did so. To them, coca union s signified colla colono people. As such, newspapers and journals noted cocalero participation in the march, for example members of coca union s cooking for the marchers along the way at their rest stops and providing them warm clothing, as well 7 The coca union s for their part explained t o news sources that they wanted to support the marchers morally, but they themselves would not march. Other sources reported that Don Vladimir the Conisur 5 2012 accessed March 14, 2013, Razn, February 4, 2012, accessed March 14, 2013, subdivision TIPNIS patrocinada Gobernacion_0_1553844655.html 6 2011, accessed March 14, 2013, se alist an para recorrer otros 30 km_154676_322023.html 7 2011, accessed March 14, 2013, proveen comida pero niegan que marcharan_154404_321388.html.

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254 Cacique Mayor was a coca cultivator and produced excessive amounts, at that 8 They also noted that co mmunities in the colonization zone had become union s themselves 9 Such sources depicted the first march as benevolent, propagated by peoples truly concerned about preservation of the environment, whereas the Conisur march was a sad farce created by commerc ial interests. 10 11 Within the march, of course, the marchers viewed themselves, their engagement with coca, and their ambivalent relation with colono people differently. The Conisur marchers arrived in La Paz on January 30 th of 2012. I was able to travel and meet up the location of the national government buildings. A San Lucas community member, Don Eduardo, had found me and guided me to the city blocks where the march ers were cramped together, waiting to enter the plaza. Talking bac k and forth with Don Eduardo I unfolded the daily newspaper I was carrying which included several articles and photographs concerning the Conisur march. The front page had a large write up of that interestedly, and read, making comments and reading sentences aloud from time to 8 :1. 9 2012, accessed March 14, 2013, p?identificador=2147483954879. 10 These were often included with critiques of Evo Morales, for example in issue 98 of Nueva Cronica y 11 The national government, for its part, described the Conisur march as an organic creation of truly poor, support from NGOs, it emphasized, as in the December 24 th and 25 th 2011, Los Tiempos articles

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255 time. While we stood there, other marchers from the crowd began to gather around us regarding the march over the past weeks, the marchers had not seen themselves in the newspapers until then Wishing to know the opinion of the San Lucas and Santa Rit a people regarding the public critique of their march and their indigenous identity, I remarked on some of ation, and that they felt this was a grave offense to them. simultaneously, it was clear that their lived experience as native peoples was distinct from that of the people from other areas of TIPNIS. People from communities like San Lucas and Santa Rita propagated a meaning of indgena different from that most recognizable and significant to the first march and the mestizo public. Looking at the newspaper pictures of the march, D on Eduardo pointed at one and colla replied casually. He continued to peruse the paper, seemingly oblivious to the significance of his remarks. Colla people were

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256 incorporated into and significantly supporting the Conisur march. Of course, such intimate relations of lowland indigenous people s with colonos living, working, even facilitating a march together -were more than acceptable for community members like colonos and coca union s. Don Eduardo asked if h e could take the newspaper with him to show to the others, and I let him. After greeting a few other San Lucas community members, I left the gathering saying I would look for them and meet up with them the following day. It seemed like a conflict of meanin gs perhaps previously disregarded was being made blatant through the march. was well articulated to me through an unexpected situation that occurred during their stay in La Paz. Th e marchers remained in La Paz for almost two weeks, waiting for the government to respond to their demands for the elimination of the Law of TIPNIS protection, among other claims. This period included consecutive days of negotiation between Conisur leaders hip and the government, as well as critiques and counter critiques traversing the distance among the state, Conisur, and CIDOB, further fueled by news commentaries. Upon their arrival I remained in La Paz some four days visiting them daily at the stadium where the national government had lodged them and then returned again a week and a half later when they were still there. The first time I visited the stadium the day after my conversation with Don Eduardo in fact, I was sitting with Doa Elsina and her fa mily, chatting with them about their experience in the march and simply catching up since the last time we had seen each other in December. Truly,

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257 everyone had gone to the march: Doa Elsina and her husband Don Federico her children, her sons and daughte rs in law, and her grandchildren. They all looked darker than when they were in San Lucas due to hours spent marching under the high altitude sun of the altiplano, and many appeared to have lost weight, as well. The stadium was closed, roofed, and had som e six floors. We were sitting in an area where San Lucas community members had taken up residence, and we were sprawled atop mattresses donated to the marchers by the government, spread out over the floor of the stadium. I had brought with me pictures I h ad taken during my last visit to San Lucas ; her and me. Then gesturing to her colla Fernando had not been at the harvest, and he looked at the pictures over her 12 he commented amiably, with interest. At this time, a much colla wife, who had come to our spot and was now standing over us and looking at the pictures with alarm. 12 linda estaba la coca

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258 I stuttered out self photos to their envelope. Doa Sonia continued to explain: the Co nisur marchers were making the claim that they were not cocaleros ; this was necessary because the press was claiming that they were not indigenous due to their producing coca. Doa Sonia talked to me like a teacher trying to impart an important lesson to a student. She discourse seemed to emphasize that native ancestry and self recognition as indigenous was enough to establish indigenous identity. Transferring easily from one point of lecture to the next, she made an example of were born in the United proclaimed identity in this respect did not depend on place. Doa Sonia continued we grow coca and it goes to drug trafficking, but it has to do with our being poor and I found myself quite speechless. I believe I might have eked out something to the respect that she need not worry because I had no intention of telling rep orters of what I had seen in San Lucas or Santa Rita Never before had any community member

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259 relation with drug trafficking. In addition to my initial shock, I was slightly resentful of what could have been interpreted as my public chiding by Doa Sonia. I felt like I had been unfairly admonished; after months of visiting San Lucas the importance of coca production to everyday community life had become obvious fact to me, a nd pictures of the people coca harvesting could not contribute to or detract from that already blatant reality, I thought. Yet according to Doa Sonia, hiding coca had become an integral strategy for the political manifestation they were now staging. I mad e sure to get the photos off my person, quickly tossing the envelope containing them to Doa Elsina; just five minutes previously they had seemed to me quite innocent and pleasant, suddenly they had become incriminating and dark. As I walked home from the stadium later on, I also contemplated how Doa Sonia had given me, the anthropologist, an interesting lesson on indigenous identity in Bolivia. Similarly to the arguments of other anthropological research (Bolaos 2010 ; Greene 2009 ; Stephen 2005 ; Warren 2 001 indigenous people are not defined by a set list of characteristics; change and admixture nd appropriation of other group s characteristics in this case, coca pr oduction and colono like practices -are necessary for survival. The communities of the colonization zone have come to engage in coca production as an economic strategy and also as a socio political means to negotiate encroaching colono dominance; simultane ously, they have developed close relations with colonos and regular engagement with dark illegality. Cultural change in this direction is particularly problematic however because of colono o lowland

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260 indigenous groups more broadly. In national politics, organizations representative of lowland indigenous groups often make the argument against colono presence nearby colonos in the proces s, positing that colonos grow coca, this fuels the illegal drug trade, and their activities engage in none of those activities. To national and regional indigenous organization s engagement in coca production colonos -can make them seem taint ed; Conisur crossed well over the indigenous limit. Especially in the co ntext of political manifestations, claims to indigenous rights, and allegations of Conisur Furthermore, to anti MAS factions coca signifies the cocalero groups whose support brought Evo Morales and the MAS party to power. For various reasons, the developments regarding the TIPNIS conflict and the first and second march es provided interesting fodder to their critiques of the MAS government. In his political discourses Evo Morales had generally portrayed himself as a representative of indigenous peoples and advocate of practices appreciative of the Mother Earth. His posit ion in support of the road project and critical of the first march consequently seemed in conflict with his political platform. To anti MAS factions moreover, the second march appeared as

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261 cocaleros and MAS supporters, as well as ignorant tools in the orchestration of a farce by the MAS gover nment. 13 Anti MAS factions associated the Conisur marchers with all the negative discourse surrounding the Chapar cocalero a profit seeking criminal thriving amidst his illegal coca dollars. While the participants of the first march represented the truly noble Indian, concerned for the preservation of his natural environment, to anti MAS factions the Conisur marchers were corrupted ind genas who had rejected their native status in order to become cocaleros Their interest in pecuniary profits motivated the ir desire for the road at all costs, even environmental destruction. The racial tinge of Bolivian politics must also be highlighted here. Calla and Muruchi (2011) note that during been directed towards i ndigenous people supportive of MAS; however, indigenous people against MAS have not been such targets (308). For example, during the period of the Constituent Assembly in the city of Sucre indigenous or rural looking delegates were frequent objects of rac ial ridicule and harassment in plaza a historical landmark of elite power. Facial features and articles of dress such as a mineworker 13 MAS opponents who were furthermore motivated by economic involvement in drug trafficking, is similar to the Colombian grower movement from the Putumayo re gion (Ramrez 2011). Although in Colombia the coca growers did not forward a particularly indigenous claim as in the Conisur case and they also asserted themselves as coca producers, the two cases are similar in both movement illegality, in their marginal positions, and in the denial of agency rendered them by their opponents. The Colombian state disregarded the coca the FARC guerrillas. Ramirez indicates that if the state were to recognize t he cocalero campesinos motivations for growing coca and decisions taken for participation in the movement, rather than dismiss them as pawns of transnational forces of illegality and of state enemies, it would be forced to recognize mobilization, disregarding the participants as passive puppets likewise bestows excessive agency on transnational drug trafficking and grants exaggerated potency to MAS and the coca syndicates, in addition to overlooking their indigenous rights and history of state neglect. In both Colombian and Conisur cases the assumption that subaltern people are ignorant and easily conned by illegality is prevalent.

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262 indigenous authority designated t he people as indigenous to the urban anti MAS onlookers. In comparison, n on MAS indigenous delegates, after asserting their party Other analyses suggest that not all indigenous peoples but a certain type is associated with MAS and vilified by the opposition. I t is interesting to note that in Calla observe articles of clothing particularly associated with highland history as identifiers of indige nous heritage for the anti MAS factions. Gustafson and Fabricant (2013) highlight furthermore that, while anti MAS factions might look more favorably on certain folkloricized, passive representations of lowland indigenous peoples (9), they more directly as sociate colla groups with MAS. To opposition factions, MAS supporting Andean descended peoples represent a combative and threatening type of indigenous people that has been gaining social and political force in recent decades For these reasons, the opposi are ambivalence in Guatemala is applicable to the discussion here. Ladinos (comparable to laim that racism no longer exists in Guatemala, and they assert moreover that they are often victims of reverse racism by certain indigenous peoples; however, ladino everyday treatment and regard of indigenous people demonstrate that certain racist ideolog ies continue to guide their actions. Furthermore, ladinos tolerate a certain indio permitido : the indigenous person who may be proud of her heritage, educated, and wear indigenous signifiers, but who is not

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263 seeking to disrupt the conventional racial hierar achy in Guatemala However, they critique those indigenous people active in movements to change racist ideologies regarding such indigenous actors as threats. Similarly, MAS opposition tolerates and even embraces a certain indigenous representation often associated with lowland group s, of a non threatening, picturesque people not affiliated with MAS. The first marchers embodied this indigenous type; the Conisur march, however, in support of the cocaleros rec alled the militant, colla type of indigenous people to the opposition T h is influenced their outright reject ion of the Conisur movement. I will refer again to race/ethnicity as it applies to MAS and the Bolivian state in C hapter 6 The Conisur communit indgenas despite their significant engagement in coca production, as Doa Sonia explained; in fact, it was a part of their everyday, incorporated into their indigenous way of life to such an extent that the student a nthropologist had come to understand it as a lived reality of their experience as indigenous peoples. However, to primary actors in the national political arena the media, CIDOB, anti MAS factions who wielded reductionist notions of indigeneity, coca produ ction was gen a of colonos and MAS supporters. For these reasons, in order to effectively voice their demands regarding the road and the park, the Conisur marchers had to hide their relation with coca. Pe indigeneity in the colonization zone was that she herself was the colla wife of a Yurakar inhabitant. It was interesting but also, made sense -that a colla migrant herself could so vehemently voic e the position of the Conisur communities. Her role

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264 reflected the integrality and complexity of colla qualities to the history and identity. customization of indigeneity ( Greene 2009), and its dependence on the particular in conflict with that of the first march and with that most familiar and pleasing to the mainstream public, to the forefront. Appropriating and reforming discourses from those available to them they have developed an indigeneity that allows for close engagement with colonos includes coca production as a socio economic basis, and incorporates union qualities into th eir organizational structures; simultaneously, it admits typically conceived indigenous practices such as hunting, gathering, fishing, communal land ownership, river and canoe dependence, native language use, and regional native food and drink choices. Thi s as their indigeneity has familiar meaning to them, and it constitutes the means for their survival of colono dominance in the area. Despite the importance of this indigeneity to their everyday lives, the indigeneity they display for the purposes of the m arch and for their public claims to indigenous rights must be otherwise. As a faction of indigenous peoples they are a minority and have little symbolic power to recognize their own experience of indigeneity as a legitimate one. In situations such as that accepted indigeneity one that is totally coca free -despite the fact that that which is lived within the group is intricately dependent on coca. 14 The people of the Conisur communities 14 This is comparable to cases of indigenous tourism and commercial artisanry in Latin America ( Babb 2011; Little 2004 ; Stephen 2005) wherein indigenous artisans and tourism performers replicate an essentialized meaning of indigeneity that satisfies tourist expectations, while that lived within their everyday lives is different and complex.

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265 play an integral r ole in the creation of their own indigeneity, as they engage with varying influences on their everyday lives like the colonos ; they are also protagonists along with coca union s and cocaleros as will be demonstrated below -in the representation of The Conisur Movement Strategy As Doa Sonia referred to previously, masking and denying the significance of coca to their communities, while emphasizing the possession of traits typically associated w ith indigenous peoples, became a primary strategy of the Conisur movement. From the early stages of the march, the Cacique Mayor Don Vladimir Roca made public statements in the newspapers that their march was definitively not cocalero or colonist, in respo identifications; he threatened furthermore to go after with a bow and arrow any reporter informing otherwise. 15 Later on, a Conisur leader gave an interview with national newspapers wherein he affirmed that the Conisur communities did not grow coca and also that one of their primary interests was the care of the flora and fauna of their home. 16 Throughout the march, various participants carried bows and arrows and were accompanied by flute music typical of lowland indigenous groups (note that the first state when in La Paz, Conisur representatives often made statements in their native language. Several of the qualitie s represented here like language use were not faked; I 15 March 14, 2013, con %E2%80%9Cflechar%E2%80%9D a los periodistas_155473_323930.html. 16 13, 2012, accessed on March 14, 2013 02 13/Nacional/Destaca dos/03nal 001 0213.aspx.

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266 indicate more particularly the careful choosing of those to be displayed clearly and of those to be hidden away. In these ways, Conisur affirmed that they were TIPNIS natives, perhaps even more indigen ous than those people of the first march, and in contrast to those marchers, they supported the road project. negotiation with the national government was that the law of TIPNIS pro tection would not in fact be eliminated; however, a formal consultation of all the indigenous communities of TIPNIS would be carried out, in which they would be asked whether or not they wanted the road and whether or not they agreed with the law of TIPNIS protection. The state had asked CIDOB to present itself during the weeks of negotiation with Conisur and participate in the discussions, but CIDOB had refused, arguing that even consideration of changing the law would be a grave offense to the purposes of their past march. They posited furthermore that Conisur did not represent the TIPNIS indigenous communities, and therefore did not merit any place at a negotiation table after two weeks the government alone with Conisur drafted a law of consultation, detailing the terms for carrying out a process of consultation among the TIPNIS communities. Once passed, with the help of state services, the marchers returned to their commu nities. In the aftermath of the march and the incipient discussions regarding the consultation, a strong critique that arose was that the Conisur peoples did not merit

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267 being consulted because they lived in the colonization zone and did not represent indige nous communities. 17 interconnections with colonos not only with regards to everyday affairs b ut also with respect to economic and political interests. Chatting with Doa Elsina and her daughter in law Marta back in San Lucas after the march, they affirmed the real role of colla people in the march. They remarked for instance on the drollness of th e colla women wearing sweat pants during the march. When I asked for clarification, they explained that the women had removed their polleras and put on sweat pants for the march; they would not put their hair in braids, either. They changed from their coll a dress in this fashion so that the march wo gen a one, and so that it could not be said that it was cocalero influenced. Doa Elsina and Marta went on to explain that it seemed the colla people came via the federations of coc a union s, and new people were rotated in regularly to take their place. The cooks, as Don Eduardo had earlier suggested, also were supplied through the federations. The discussion with Doa Elsina and Marta is particularly illuminating in that it demonstra tes that identity, more essentially legitimate indigeneity, requires performance: it necessitates certain or hidden away -in order to win public recognition and validation as indigenous. 18 17 La Razn, February 4, 2012, accessed March 14, 2013, subdivision TIPNIS patrocinada Gob ernacion_0_1553844655.html 18 Jackson (2007) notes how indigenous groups in Colombia reinstate and recover past festivals and ancestral stories in order to gain state recognition and gain certain land titles. Paulson (2002) also analyzes how highland indi genous women in Bolivia manipulate dress in order to pass as certain types of

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268 I remarked to Doa Elsina and Marta that those colla people must not have been staying with them in La Paz, though, because I did not recall seeing them when I visited the marchers at their lodgings in the city stadium. Doa Elsina clarified, however, t hat the colla people had been there, taking up the upper floors of the stadium, while they and the other marchers were on the lower floors. From their recounting, it did not seem that they had much exchange with the marchers from the federations. The conve rsation illustrates that while colonos significantly support the Conisur manifestation, by helping it to have greater numbers and engaging in a certain simultaneously exi sts an important ambivalence between the colla and indigenous peoples. They are foreign Other to each other, regarding each other as strangers and even perhaps with a certain passive resentment -mimicking interestingly the relation between CPITCO and the Federation in their shared building -speaking little to each other and maintaining separate living spaces in the stadium. Self interest certainly motivates the colonos contribution to the Conisur march: they are fervent supporters of the Morales governmen t and of the road project. Accordingly, they formed alliances temporarily with the Conisur communities for political purposes. Similarly to the explanation of colono and indigenous community relations in the colonization zone given in C hapter 2 the people of the coca federations and of Conisur are friend foes to each other. They came together now for a shared interest in the road and in coca. Although Doa Elsina and Marta made light of the colla presence in the march during their conversation, they were also aware of the serious significance of cocalero indigenous women, depending on the situation. For performative aspects of identity as it pertains to Andean cholas see Weismantel (2001).

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269 ness to the public and the according necessity to set a proper stage for the performance, in order to successfully voice their claims as indigenous peoples. The stage setting in this way was not simply a f unction of Conisur or colono leadership, but one carried out on a micro scale by community members, as well. Doa Elsina described, for instance, how when marching into La Paz the day of their arrival she approached a La Paz woman and asked for use of her bathroom. The woman was amiable and allowed her its use, and also engaged Doa Elsina in conversation regarding the march. The woman remarked to Doa Elsina that the marchers had a cocalero look to them. Doa Elsina had replied, negating the observation, h owever: no, she and the rest of the marchers were certainly indigenous. In these ways, Conisur community members assisted in the staging of the march themselves; additionally, while Conisur, MAS, and the coca federations were important drivers and influenc es on the mobilization, the sustenance and culmination of the march San Lucas and Santa Rita community members returned to their communities at least once during the march in order to obtain funds to sustain themselves on the march. In several instances, it was women who returned to the communities, leaving their spouses to continue in the march, while they harvested coca, sold it, and then rejoined the marchers. Yurakar pe ople found these actions necessary in order to support themselves throughout the march. This was not a rotative system like that practiced by the coca federations during their mass mobilizations; it was rather family members, of their own volition and with permission from community leaders, leaving representatives

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270 continued participation. In this way, while the march received certain supports from MAS and the coca federati survival. This also illustrates the significance of Yurakar contributions to the social movement: motivated by a particular concern for their economic maintenance, women recognized the need to harvest their coca; however, there was also a general understanding that their families could not communal issues such as th e current political manifestation. Consequently, women left to harvest coca and bring back the money for themselves and their families in the march, while the men remained marching. cocalero and claim a coca free indigeneity were generally not successful. Colla participation in the march was noticeable, through the actual persons of the marchers and the organizations providing support services to the march. Regarding the latter, the coca federations provided c ooks, and members of coca union s and MAS party affiliates were the ones who came out to provide food, shelter, and clothing to the marchers as they progressed from the Chapar to La Paz. The significant existence of colla qualities within the Conisur commu nities was difficult to deny moreover in that interethnic unions were a prevalent occurrence. Orders from coca federations were not the only reason for colla march participation; rather, many colla people were actual inhabitants of the Conisur communities.

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271 While the march participants claimed outwardly that they did not grow coca and they affirmed furthermore that such activity was not proper to indigenous people 19 inwardly they understood themselves as indigenous peoples and accepted coca as an elemental two, coca production and indigenous peoples, could not mix. Simultaneously, it is important to note the differing role of coca in the identity politics of colonos and of the C onisur communities, notwithstanding their mutual economic and social dependence on the crop: while colonos brazenly claim the coca leaf as an important component of their al economic value, and have appropriated various socio cultural practices associated with it (Chapter 3), but they do not acknowledge coca as an item intrinsically Yurakar. Although they understand it as an important part of their lived reality, the peopl e of the Conisur communities do not call coca colla Other. 20 those related to coca exists among all the people, and despite its prevalence they call themselves and think of themselves as indigenous. A lthough it is difficult to draw any conclusive inferences from the experience, the results of a drawing activity whe rein I asked community members of San Lucas and Santa Rita 19 13, 2012, accessed on March 14, 2013 02 13/Nacional/Destacados/03nal 001 0213.aspx. 20 among men and women of the colonization zone communities (Chapter 4).

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272 place despite its importance in economic and social respects -within their, categorically speaking, indigenous worl dview. Circa ten community members, men and women, in each community participated in separate meetings held in San Lucas and in Santa Rita The people drew themselves fishing, and at work weeding and clearing fields; women additionally illustrated themselv es tending to their household, engaged in cooking and cleaning tasks. Interestingly, no participants, except for one thirteen year illustrated herself carrying out sever al activities, with captions included; one was of her the almost total absence of coca from their pictures to their attention, some participants responded that they had be en thinking more in terms of what activities they do for their community, for instance during communal work days; others gave the explanation that time constraints had limited them from drawing completer pictures. I often wonder, as well, if the participan ts thought primarily of drawing what might be pleasing to me, the foreign, formally educated student. It is possible that they assumed I would appreciate representations of indigenous people doing manual labor and tending to their household, but not growin g coca. Taking into account these considerations, it is still interesting to note that the first images that came to mind and that they chose to set to paper did not include coca. The activity, along with the everyday lives of the people of the colonizatio n zone as well as their representations of themselves during the march,

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273 since infancy come to populate the communities perhaps that association will change. It can be expected that their view of themselves will change in the process. cocalero free is an important demonstration of resistanc e. De la Cadena (2000) refers to existence of two differing conceptions of the world, in this case regarding race, in her analysis of brown skinned middle class disadvantageous characteristics, but they also claim that these are not permanent or limiting, asserting moreover that individuals can improve upon negative traits of indigeneity through education. In this way, the analysis demonstrates that partial acceptance of the dominant group explaining the manner in which definition of indigeneity, yet not totally. Zapotec weavers may outwardly represent themselves as well as their artisanry in terms aligned with the discourse of romantic, egalitarian indigenous peoples; however, within their communities, they live a felt indigeneity that is more complex, incorporating for example capitalist modes of production and certain socio economic stratifica tion. In this way, manner to the case of the Zapotec artisans, the people of the Conisur communities both accept and resist the discourse of the dominant in this case, the media, anti MAS factions, and regional and national indigenous organizations together representing

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274 themselves as coca free in their public claims to indigenous rights, yet engaging in a different indigeneity, much dependent on coca, in their everyday lives. Furthermore, the Conisur march presented a means, more particularly a national stage, for them to publicly express their alternate indigeneity, although perhaps inadvertently. Weismantel (2001) highlights the embodying of binary categories in her di scussion of Andean cholas, suggesting that the women undermine socially accepted sex and race labels through their incorporation of both characteristically masculine and feminine traits, as well as both white and Indian qualities, through their identity pe rformances. Although I do not employ theories of performance or focus on dress to communities is comparable in that they represent both the cocalero and the indigenous socio e thnic categories in their lives and in their staging of a social movement. Their affirm furthermore their hybrid qualities and therefore ambiguous place among identity c people of the first march in that these are associated with cocaleros ; but then again, the effect evoked in the observer when she recognizes a familiar object being used in an irregular, unexpected way. Estrangement is the disturbing feeling aroused within the visitor to the Andes for example when she sees the chola, wearing a bowler hat, s everal sizes too small and usually worn by men by Western standards. I apply estrangement here, to the

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275 the concept of illegality. Illegality in itself often impels a r eaction of fear, disgust, as well as magnetic awe. In their incorporation of both cocalero and indigenous identity categories, unintentional or otherwise, an important issue of contention is illegality via coca. In various instances throughout the march, that they were not cocaleros, but rather indigenous people, was the assertion that they were not criminals; discursive negotiation of illegality vis vis the state occurs necessarily in the cases of other coca grower m ovements, as well. Conisur made efforts throughout the march to distance themselves from criminal labels, emphasizing for instance that if they grew coca it was not to a large extent, and they had no part in its ultimate destination. Indeed the state itsel f, in its support of the Conisur march, seemed to avoid associating the marchers with illegality or any type of criminal activity, instead highlighting that they were native inhabitants of the park. Similarly, participants in the campesino cocalero movemen t in the Putumayo region of Colombia made efforts to position themselves not as criminals, but rather as social actors who had suffered state neglect (Ramrez 2011); the state in its engagement with the movement emphasized discursively that illegality and criminal identity negated the possibility of movement cocalero movements of the 90s responded in like manner to state designations as criminals and critiques of their presumed associations with drug t rafficking, by emphasizing their identity not as as indigenous people who were in need of state protection from oppressive, internationally driven counter drug trafficking policies (Paulson 2002: 150). The case of the Conisur moveme nt differs from the two above in that it does not

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276 blatantly associate itself with coca producers; it does however resonate particularly with the latter in that the Conisur and 90s cocalero movements both made indigenous identity claims and contested the op they challenge that illegality negates indigeneity. For the Conisur movement, at stake more critically than their general recognition as social actors, as in the Putumayo case, is the demand for recogn ition as indigenous peoples, as well as the rights associated with this title, for example the rights to consultation, land, and territory. Engagement with illegality and criminal activity delegitimizes claims to indigenous identity. Mainstream discourses often prefer to depict indigenous peoples like the Yurakar as innocent, isolated and oblivious to illegality. More particularly, Amazonian indigenous peoples are often assumed to be natural environmentalists (Greene 2007), in juxtaposition with coca grow ers and colonos who relentlessly engage in deforestation (Orozco Ramirez 2006; Greene 2009: 146). The Conisur march demonstrates, however, that indigeneity is not so neatly contained; the march manifests moreover that illegality has permeated into the ind supposed to be here. Confronted with the Conisur march -enmeshed in coca signifiers yet sporting a quasi indigenous face -the initial desire of Bolivian society may be to previous one and critique the coca federations for corruption and calumny; loo king Bolivian public to consider that the murky (il)legality is rampant, attractive, and

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277 heir illegality and, furthermore, that their case as indigenous peoples is not marginal and g their rights as citizens and indigenous peoples. The discourses and activities surrounding the TIPNIS conflict and the two marches demonstrate moreover not simply different meanings of indigeneity but also contrasting understandings of development. In statements to newspapers, CIDOB, the Sub Central TIPNIS, and CPITCO often asserted that a primary concern of theirs with uld bring colonos rampant rendering impossible the survival of their way of life. When questioned in a talk show interview that such a position would seem to negate devel opment in the indigenous communities, Doa Nora Cha vez the CPITCO President, responded that the indigenous communities had a different vision of development than that which the government was advocating through its defense of the road project. As an examp le of the type of development the indigenous communities desired, she described a state run medical program in which Bolivian doctors were commissioned to indigenous territories ( about one per location) to live within the communities and apply their medica l services instances affirmed furthermore that they were not against the road per se; rather they

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278 ng the territory, they feared ultimately losing political control of the area. Those of the Conisur march also wished to maintain what political control they had of the area; however, the economic reality of coca in their lives and their history of negotia tion of colla dominance influence d their understanding of development. As discussed throughout my dissertation Bolivia holds various experiences of indigeneity. TIPNIS indigenous groups outside the colonization zone demonstrate a certain economic model ba sed in communitarian resource management (Paz 2011); in the colonization zone a different economic model, developed by colla residents and based in coca production, predominates. Accordingly, t he indigenous communities of the colonization zone have come to engage with and appropriate this latter model. Coca provides them lucrative income opportunities and a promise to become as powerful as their intrusive colla neighbors. For the Conisur communities p rogress necessarily included admixture, and it is possi ble that they would not have minded their futures resembling that of the dominant colla majority. The attraction to the urban, away from the community, in younger generations of San Lucas and Santa Rita as well as the trend of interethnic unions with coll a people has been discussed previously (Chapter 2). Choice of monetary spending for various families in San Lucas demonstrated a certain interest in electronic goods such as small electric generators, television sets, and DVD players. The results of a smal l discussion session with San Lucas community members held in the community and priorities. I asked the group of some ten men and women what they appreciated or

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279 slightly, a repeated answer was the community schoolhouse: a two room, brick building built by the state some two years prior. In comparison to all the other structures in the community largely wood framed residences built by the people themselves, the schoolhouse stood out. Federico th A similar discussion facilitated in Santa Rita produced different results, men and women community members there naming their Yurakar culture and language and community meeting house built by the community, among other features, as being the nicest and most pleasant of their community; nonetheless, trends valuing extra communal technology and luxuries, similar to those mentioned above, are present to a certain extent in Santa Rita as eventually engender economic stability that allowed them lives with television sets and refrigerators, less labor under the hot sun, and schooling that made their children into medical doctors was real. answered. In contrast to cases of other lowland indigenous groups, like the Aguaruna of the Peruvian Amazon who highlight the existence of a pure Aguaruna essentiality and align themselves according to fixed ethnic boundaries (Greene 2009: 30, 54 59), the indigenous groups of the colonization zone practice an indigeneity that accepts ethnic racial admixture and correspondingly functions along b lurry ethnic lines. Such an

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280 indigeneity is necessary in order to survive the friction of the frontier, a region charged with colonization, (il)legality, and ethnic conflict. An indigeneity that allows admixture for survival is not singular to the Conisur c ase, but rather resonates with that represented in other Latin American indigenous movements, for example those of certain Brazilian groups (Warren 2001) who, influenced by a history of extreme colonization and miscegenation, have only recently made claims to an indigenous identity; their historical both acceptance of and resistance to foreign cultural (and biological) traits, moreover constitutes an important part of their indigenous identity. It is also import ant to observe that until that moment the Conisur communities had not participated significantly in national indigenous politics, while the Aguaruna above mentioned have played a substantial role historically in Peruvian lowland indigenous mobilizations, w herein representing themselves as particularly themselves nationally as indigenous communities of TIPNIS. Furthermore, colonization zone community members might use the refe rence of knowledge, language fluency, or simply strong pride in their indigenous heritage, suggesting the existence of an actual Yurakar identity; however, the lim its of such Yurakar ness are ambiguous. For example, children of interethnic unions are not negated Yurakar identity; they are more likely to be seen as an obscure mix of both Yurakar and colla traits. It is necessary to consider that in Santa Rita eth nic boundaries and affirmation of Yurakar ness may exist more prominently than in the case of San Lucas : in Santa Rita there are more adults who proudly speak Yur akar

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281 fluently and less interethnic unions than in San Lucas and in general the people of Sa nta Rita verbally assert their Yurakar identity more often than those of San Lucas However, despite this distinction between the two communities, the limits of Yurakar ness are ambiguous among the people of both San Lucas and Santa Rita In both communi ties Yurakar identity allows for straddling of ethnic/racial boundaries; accordingly, an individual can embrace both colla and Yurakar signifiers, and still be Yurakar For these reasons despite the ambiguous image of a future influenced by the development ideals detailed previously, it is possible that Yurakar communities of the colonization zone would continue to identify as Yurakar in some ways, notwithstanding continued appropriati on of colla socio economic practices. If the communities continue to actively participate in indigenous movements and mass mobilizations as in the present, this identity affirmation is even more likely to be prevalent. Indeed Doa persistence of a certain indigeneity over future years of change, though a reformed one; the lives of the othe r community members of the colonization zone hint more strong ly at continued affirmation of Yurakar ness. The personage of Doa Consuelo provides a certain testimony to this. When I had been visiting the Conisur marchers at the stadium in La Paz with an American colleague on another occasion, we encountered Doa Consuelo in the bleachers below, participating in a Conisur rally in progress at the time. She greeted us and chatted

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282 briefly, commenting that she had been in meetings of Conisur leaders with the government the previous day. She concluded, responding to the public critique of their march presently, Consuelo proudly affirmed her Yurakar indigenous identity, and a ll that that included: her engagement with coca; her movement among Cochabamba, San Gabriel, Santa Rita colla Yurakar, and North American peoples; her hard labor in her community, an d her work as community stateswoman to local, regional, and now national leaders. Suddenly uncomfortable with the attention Doa Consuelo had thrown upon my judgment, I responded with a te conversation, and Doa Consuelo excused herself to attend a meeting being held in the stadium. In what follows, I return to the conversation with Doa Consuelo, looking behind her statement to the role she playe d during the march and afterwards. (In Chapter 6 I return to my meager reply to her question.) Doa Consuelo in the Conisur Movement As mentioned previously, Doa Consuelo had a late start to the march, joining in its second or third week (Chapter 4 ). She recounted to me afterwards that she had gone by herself with her thirteen year old daughter Natalia ; Don Osvaldo joined them with the rest of their children at a later time. Although the reasons for their family not initially going to the march all togeth er are unclear, there are various important considerations: their family had always been reluctant to go; Doa Consuelo preferred to prevent her younger children from bearing the hardships of a march (Chapter 4 ); Don Osvaldo has a

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283 lame leg, which may have made his long term participation in the march difficult; and Doa Consuelo was particularly capable of firm self assertion, a quality valuable to the leadership of indigenous organizations. Although he held an important role in their household as father of the family, Don Osvaldo was soft spoken in comparison to Doa Consuelo. In manifestations and state commissions, Yurakar people often strive to Doa Consuelo atte nd to the march at first while Don Osvaldo managed the household and work at home. In fact, the Conisur Cacique Mayor had been asking Doa Consuelo for her participation in march developments for a long time. Accordingly, in march proceedings Doa Consuelo was featured relatively prominently. She was quoted in the newspapers on at least one occasion, and marchers arrived in La Paz and forced themselves into the Plaza Murillo ( after my conversation with Don Eduardo and my departure from the marchers that day, the tussle had commenced) Doa Consuelo was positioned to such an extent that she suffered an injury and had to go to the hospital. Her leg was scraped badly, and she had t o receive stitches. In La Paz, Doa Consuelo was in fact selected regularly to represent the marchers in negotiations with the government, and she participated in Conisur leadership meetings. sting that this was why she was often chosen over others to be on commissions. I spoke with her on limited occasions in La Paz because she was frequently in meetings.

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284 leadersh ip position was important. Besides her declaratory capacities, what was assert proud affirmation of her indigenous, Yurakar identity as indicated through her practices, disc ourses, and motivations. As described previously (Chapter 4 ), she valued her Yurakar language as well as the Yurakar education of her family and community, having served as a representative of CEPY (the Educational Council of the Yurakar People) in San ta Rita and as the community Secretary of Education. She had promoted tourism and artisanry projects in the community that focused on Yurakar of the community scho ol teacher when he insisted that the community could not carry out a proper celebration of the National Bolivia Day if the activities did not follow urban, mainstream organization and style. In her everyday discourses and practices, she firmly distinguishe d herself as Yurakar. By highlighting Doa Consuelo in this way I do not mean to say that no one else in the colonization zone communities did, only that Doa prominent its indigeneity. Scholars have argued that women play a special role in the identity politics involved in social movements due to the tendency to view women as responsible for t he ; Pappanek 1993). Women are often perceived as more indigenous, or more associated with the home and community in comparison to men ( de la Cadena 1991; Comaroff 1996). In indigenous

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285 movements part icularly, women can assume the role of m other and c ommunity c aretaker and in this way develop frontline positions wherein they propagate discourses and social needs (Cervone 2002; Viatori 2008). march activities. 21 After the marchers returned home subsequent to the drafting of the law of consultation, preparations soon began for the executi on of the consultation; Doa Consuelo maintained a high level of activity in these and other post march developments. A commission of state officials was to carry out the consultation, holding four communities with the purpose of recording their communities were selected to participate in trainings in order to help the state facilitate the consultation; Doa Consuelo was selected as one of these facilitators. As a Santa Rita community representative, she traveled to Cochabamba to receive tools and supplies for flood disaster relief in the region. Additionally, she participated with the Cacique Mayor Don Vladimir in news interviews by the state sponsored television station. She and Don Vladimir also attended meetings with national officials and international diplomats, representing themselves as TIPNIS indigenous inhabitants. Doa Consuelo traveled outside the community frequently for these purposes, and she developed a working relationship with President Morales. 21 I t is interesting to note that CEPY cut off communication with both Doa Consue lo and Conisur as the valorization and documentation of Yurakar language and culture; showing support of the cocalero entwined indigenous groups of Conisur at the time most likely would not political platform.

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286 Spanish. Evidently, the President had become well acquainted with her assertive nature as well as her pr ide in her Yurakar heritage. Doa Consuelo described to me further that, when the President had visited the marchers on one occasion at the stadium in La Paz, he formally became godfather 22 to a few children of the marchers. Her youngest son Ruben was one of them. In their relations with the state during the march and the preparations for the consultation, opposition critiques continued that the state had deceived the Conisur communities into serving as an instrument in its pursuit of the road project. Thi s is a simplistic rendering of what actually developed; the case of Doa Consuelo illustrates that the indigenous communities took advantage of the direct access to the state opened to them, the most direct they had ever experienced. In her key position in the Conisur movement, Doa Consuelo made the most of the nearby conduits for her direct engagement with the state, for her own benefit and that of her people. In the preparatory months prior to the consultation, President Morales visited different areas of TIPNIS, bestowing donations of electric generators and other items of collective use on the communities there in the process. When it was announced that he would soon be visiting Santa Rita to speak to the people of that region and deliver gifts, Doa C organizing food preparation, producing artisanry for display, and helping create commissions of community members. A half dozen communities were expected to arrive in Santa Rita San Lucas included. 22 rather to one who pledges a certain socio economic support to the child.

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287 The day of the visit, communities began arriving in Santa Rita in the early morning via canoes with motors. They brought large containers of chicha the drink typical of lowland indigenous peoples, made from fermented yuca to share and helicopter, and after brief words from the community Corregidor and from Don Vladimir Roca Doa Consuelo bestowed a Yurakar tunic on the President. At this time, the indigenous communities. The schoolchildren then performed a theatrical dance, dressed in Yurakar cloaks and carrying bows and arrow s. Afterwards, gifts were distributed to the communities in attendance, including several electric generators, outboard motors, and solar panels. To close the activities, a meal was distributed to all those in attendance, and the President left subsequentl y. I had been attending the event with community members from San Lucas and left at twilight with them. All had seemed to transpire smoothly enough, except for some confusion during the doling out of gifts. Some days later in San Gabriel I encountered Do a Consuelo and Don Osvaldo; had occurred: Santa Rita did not receive any donations. They were awaiting Don Vladimir, who was supposed to pass through there that afterno on, to voice to him their complaints. I had been trying to speak with him at the time, as well, and decided to wait along with them. When Don Vladimir arrived, it was decided to gather in an eatery to discuss better.

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288 Doa Consuelo lagged behind, going to talk to an acquaintance before entering the eatery, and Don Osvaldo and I followed Don Vladimir to the entrance where he placed his order. quietly to Don Vladimir. The latter seemed d istracted, or chose to disregard Don and Doa Consuelo soon after joined us. Once the conversation initiated, Doa Consuelo dominated. She spoke agitatedly to Don Vladimir fuming that the community had worked painstakingly, going to great lengths to provide the best host services possible for the event, and yet had received nothing in return. She spoke vehemently, as if the blow had been dealt to her personally, and she wa s retaliating now with her words. march developments. Although Doa Consuelo seemed to declare that receipt of government benef its had ad been uncertain until the very end, principal discourses strong in the area influenced the 4 ). Many marchers chose to participate due to personal and

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289 communal interests important to them, concerning the liberty to farm and deve lop the Conisur communities were well aware that the government needed them and was in fact indebted to them for their continued support of the road project. Through intermedi aries such as Doa Consuelo, they would ensure that their demands for community aid and national government accountability would be heard. frustration that the discrepancies in dona tions were a major problem; Santa Rita had not been the only community to not receive any donations. At this, Doa Consuelo relaxed slightly. Don Vladimir proceeded to take out his cellular phone and call someone who seemed to be a Cochabamba departmental government official. On the phone, Don Vladimir informed that several communities were protesting about how the aid had been distributed at the Santa Rita event. remarked over the phon e, half jokingly. There was not a concrete conclusion to either the conversation with the state day, except that Don Vladimir and the officials would be following up on t he donations discrepancy. However, other visits of different state representatives to the area persisted in the following months, and Doa Consuelo continued to take advantage of invitations to trainings and conferences held by state organizations ( See F i gure 5 2 for a photo of Doa Consuelo participating in a state led meeting in preparation for the road consultation ) There was even vague talk that Doa Consuelo might be provided a

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290 place in the municipal government. In these ways, the Conisur communities continued to engage in power plays with the state using the means, though in some situations meager, made available to them. They were people who had had insubstantial extra communal institutional engagement in the past in comparison to other areas, due i n part to their location within ambiguous departmental government boundaries; additionally, their strange residence as indigenous communities in a region of syndical predominance inhibited them from clear affiliation with union s and had simultaneously made them inconspicuous to regional indigenous organizations. The controversy surrounding the road and the Conisur march had created new, closer conduits of engagement with state institutions for the indigenous communities of the colonization zone, and they to ok advantage of the opportunity, uncertain of its duration. Final Remarks While factions clearly positioned against the state road project label the Conisur indigenous commu nities of the colonization zone as a hybrid of colono and indigenous organizational structures, and of those corresponding identity categories, as well. Retaining native communal ownership of their land, they incorporate syndical association to their organ izational patterns. These syndical affiliations are necessary in order to obtain the full economic benefits of coca production. Hybrid identity, however, is ineffective in the context of the identity politics involved in social movements; boundaries betwee itself on prominent lines of demarcation between indigenous peoples and cocaleros the latter as e nemies of the natural environment and of everything indigenous; while this

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291 type of differentiation had existed prior to the march, it came to the forefront in sharp definition during the TIPNIS controversy. The occurrence of the Conisur march and the publi c responses to it brought different meanings of indigeneity into circulation. Mainstream discourses, such as those wielded by regional and national indigenous organizations, anti MAS factions, and the press, proclaimed authentic indigeneity as coca free; f urthermore, they interpreted coca and its corresponding associations as antagonistic to indigenous people. In contrast, the lived reality of the Conisur communities depicts an indigeneity that allows for a socio economic basis in coca production as well as for close relations with colonos In order to strive to mask all cocalero associations from their movement and simultaneously emphasize those qualities typically associated with indigenous people. Although factions in opposition to the Conisur march describe it as a creation of the MAS government, shared interests between Conisur communities and colono groups influenced their alliance and combined efforts to perform an indig eneity authentic to the mainstream. In this way, the hiding of cocalero qualities for the purposes of the Conisur movement is a strategy enacted by all its constituents, from a macro to micro scale, including the individual marchers. The performance is fl awed, however, due to the explicit colono alliances motivating the movement. Ironically, the attempts to represent an authentic indigeneity and their failings put on a public stage the Conisur The case of the Conisur ma rch and its critiques provide an example of the contestation of meanings at the nexus of social movements. The Conisur communities

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292 produce an indigeneity that carries sig nificance for their lived reality. Through the march developments, they represent this indigeneity, one in conflict with that advocated in the indigeneity, its persiste nt presence as march and post march activities evolved can create an unexpected It impels the on looking public to consider indigenous engagement with illegality as not an impossibility, bu t as a practical reality. exert a certain resistance through their partial acceptance of the follow an indigeneity in their everyday lives that diverges decidedly from that which they strive to reflect during the march, in its strong affiliation with coca. They may resort to non practices, recognizing the coca related ones as marginal to their Yurakar essentiality; however, their self affirmations disregard those dominant categorizations and follow their own more complex meaning of indigeneity. Despite their significant engagement in The varying meanings of indigeneity put forth by the first and second marches correspond with contrasting meanings of development, as it p ertains to indigenous socio march envisions development that maintains and strengthens their indigenous socio political autonomy over the area; while they would appropriate an d adapt mainstream

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293 technologies, institutions, and practices, they perceive a core of indigenous values and priorities which they seek to protect. Similarly, the Conisur march desires a development that would solidify indigenous political control over the territory; however, clude a high level of miscegenation and admixture; they also might choose to disregard or be unconscious of a certain set of indigenous values in order to allow these processes to occur. Consequently, although for the benefits of a social movement they may resort to practice functions along ambiguous ethnic limits. Notwithstanding extreme change, many call themselves indigenous presently, and the actual stance of adult co mmunity members suggests that many will still call themselves indigenous in the future. In social movements, women can play a significant role in its public indigenous face indigenous than other people of the Conisur communities, particularly the men; rather I suggest that her gender influences the purpose of her discourses in the context of the movement She truly is a primary caretaker of her community and she carries out asks that the state hear and respect their demands for assistance in time of floods, for socio econo mic support of their children, for example -she speaks from experience and is not simply acting out a role for the official, public face of the Conisur movement. In

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294 this way, Doa Consuelo carries out a particular role as a leader in the movement that a ma n could not execute in the same manner. In addition to Doa Consuelo leadership role in the movement, it is worth noting the particularly gendered Yurakar gender norms: while men were exp ected to attend to march activities, women assumed responsibility for the daily needs of their families while on the march, in this way supporting its maintenance. Although personal and communal interests as well as regional discourses regarding territori participate in the march and subsequent developments, they are simultaneously taking advantage of the opportunity for direct state engagement currently presented to them. Their ambiguous locat ion, territorially and socially, in addition to their minority status has contributed to their disregard by state and civil society institutions in the past. Through intermediaries like Doa Consuelo, the Conisur communities use the position of negotiation though limited, allowed them now to communicate their concerns to the state, demand government accountability, and possibly develop new techniques of institutional engagement.

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295 Figure 5 1. San Lucas community members participating in Conisur march in December of 2011. Source:

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296 Figure 5 2 Doa Consuelo and other Conisur commun ity leaders attending a meeting Source:

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297 C HAPTER 6 CONCLUSION Methods and the Ethnographer Informant Relationship a taunting smirk. He was sitting on an overturned canoe by the riverside, having followed me and Doa Elsin a to the spot. She and I were ourselves sitting on another overturned boat nearby. Leonardo was intoxicated, and had been for most of the day; when in this state, he was prone to seeking me out and accosting me with accusatory questions regarding my motive s for being in San Lucas as a student researcher. Now, for instance, he was inquiring as to how many audio recordings of indigenous people I had made in Bolivia over my years of student research. He was convinced that student researchers like me made huge profits on the photos, audio recordings, and information we gathered in our field sites and brought to our home countries. Leonardo had be sieg been making valiant efforts to bite back my anger a nd respond politely and pacifically. Some of his digs had partially valid bases: yes, I did keep lengthy field notes of my experiences in San Lucas ; yes, I would compose a dissertation that would read in receive a diploma and ultimately se cure employment based on that dissertation; and yes, despite all that my future career might owe to the fieldwork experience I enjoyed with them presently, this one time period was p robably the closest, most direct engagement we would have with each other. Accordingly, I found it difficult to not agree receive all that they deserved from the fieldwo rk experience that anthropologists, and

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298 researchers in general, gained from their communities. Simultaneously however, although the researcher informant relationship constituted a decidedly unequal power play, I could not call it exploitative; furthermore, anthropologists made admirable various ways to their field sites. I also deemed my research, as well as that of other social scientists, to have broadly benevolent goal Consequently, I did not appreciate being regard ed as an evil doer, as Leonardo contempt tinged comments suggested and I found it hard not to satisfy his drunken challenges to engage in a heated debate. His present qu estion was not difficult for me to answer, though I had never recorded interviews or focus groups for any sort of data collection during my research in indigenous communities, and the discomfort that motivated me to refrain from using the audio recorder a mong indigenous informants had been an object of embarrassment to researcher would not ma ke extensive audio recordings of the indigenous people she visited though, and he continued relentlessly through nightfall to question me and make comments suggestive that I was a gold digger of indigenous peoples. Throughout my fieldwork in the coloniza tion zone, I often hated Leonardo; however, I also generally wanted him to accept me yes, as a student researcher, but one who did not exploit or disrespect indigenous peoples. If I could convince him in this way of my goodwill motives, then anthropology, and my role in it, could be saved, I thought to myself. However, there never was a

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299 conflictive relationship. There were bad days and good days, and nearing the end of my fieldwork the bad days in fact increased. I highlight relationship here not wishing to shame or critique him or me, but rather determining to elucidate the tensions between researcher and informant. These tensions are permanent reality: anthropology will never be able to recon cile completely its argu ably exploitative relationship with indigenous peoples or with marginal people, more generally speaking; however, that does not mean that anthropology should be abandoned. The more important take away from my experience, and similar ones of other researchers ( Abu Lughod 2008; Goldstein 2012), is that it is the responsibility of anthropologists and social scientists in general to recognize and moreover clarify these tensions and make efforts no matter how small, to alleviate them. W ith this in mind, I have designed my dissertation as presented here While my methods seek to capture the intricacies of the everyday, I employ narrative significantly throughout my writing in an effort to represent the people of my fieldsite as the dynami c individuals they are and, furthermore, acknowledge their role in the creation of the knowledge my dissertation imparts. I recognize them as people, who have their own presuppositions, ideals, and frameworks for making sense of the world. Accordingly, my request for affirmation of her people as indigenous; I try to present it not so much as an expert anthropologist presenting her report of her findings, but more so as a person striving to represent other individuals whom she has come to know as sincerely as possible. The Yurakar community members are not passive objects; although I wield critical power in that I determine the form and shape they take when I set their stories to

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300 paper, including myself in the analyses I represent Yurakar community members as dynamic agents who resist the constraints of the paper and challenge the ethnographer. It is perhaps all the more necessary that I address indigenous informants in this wa y, considering that my dissertation seeks to analyze the complex, changing meanings of indigeneity from the perspective of indigenous peoples. Through my case study of the indigenous peoples of the colonization zone of TIPNIS and their participation in a s ocial movement in Bolivia, I seek to illustrate the formation of indigeneity concepts and how these both incorporate and contest hegemonic definitions of indigenous people. In doing so I furthermore demonstrate the agency of indigenous groups in the conce ption of indigeneity, or better put, of indigeneities. In this way, I present indigeneity as a dynamic process, negotiated among indigenous members themselves, the state, and broad racial ethnic discourses. I highlight also that indigeneity is critically i nfluenced by race, ethnicity, and gender. Principal Arguments My research in Bolivia brings to the forefront these intricate dynamics, through a gendered lens. In the context of this larger action, I focus my analysis on the everyday practices of the Yurak ar, a lowland indigenous group, studying how in fact racial/ethnic admixture influences the processes of appropriation, incorporation, and adaptation of practices new and old inherent to indigeneity. I do this through a focus on the phenomenon of colono e thnic/racial dominance in the national park and indigenous territory of TIPNIS. In particular, I seek to inform the breadth of research on indigenous identity politics and indigenous movements in Latin America through provision of a more part icularly gende red analysis that directs itself to the everyday origins of social movements: how does the quotidian customization of indigeneity compare between

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301 men and women. Correspondingly, my dissertation probes how these intimately experienced indigeneities influenc e men in social movements. To examine the complexities of the racial ethnic gender power relations underlying indigeneity, I consider an area of friction, the colonization zone of TIPNIS, where dichotomous id entity categories collide and overlap, engendering new cultural productions. With a focus on ethnic/racial boundaries, my research demonstrates the effects of varying ethnic/racial admixture and of (il)legality on indigeneity and the refining and reformatt ing of indigeneity concepts that take place for the purpose of social movements; in this way, my research examines meanings of indigeneity in practice as well as significances of indigeneity in the context of social movements. Although ethnic boundaries al ways allow for exchange of traits and practices to a certain extent, in situations of dominance of a non indigenous or semi indigenous group, ethnic / racial cultural and economic pra ctices to the extent that ethnic boundaries become blurry. Lived indigeneity adapts in this case to incorporate less indigenous like characteristics and hybrid socio cultural practices, despite the fact that in various situations the Other is a threatening enemy. In other situations of less severe ethnic/racial dominance, identity boundaries can be more clearly defined. In this way, indigeneity can be seen as a means of negotiatin g ethnic/racial dominance. Additionally, uncertain illegality prospers in marg inal spaces, which also tend to be locations of indigenous people; formal state absence often characterize these areas, as in the colonization zone historically. Accordingly, deft navigation of uncertain illegality becomes a necessary part of the

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302 indigenou may be a shared activity across differing racial/ethnic groups, engendering further blurring of ethnic boundaries. In the context of indigenous movements, identity categories mu st be clearly defined and limits between what constitutes indigenous and non indigenous strongly pronounced (Rubin 2004) ; correspondingly, ethnic boundaries as presented via indigeneity discourses become strict and less flexible. In these situations indige neity tends to be represented as pure, based on a certain set of identity traits, and opposed to admixture. Also, for the purposes of the social movement, indigenous people must isolate and separate themselves from illegality, discursively highlighting the ir marginality over their experiences with illegality. Men and women experience the formation and enactment of indigeneity in these varying contexts differently. The case of the Yurakar communities of San Lucas and Santa Rita of the colonization zone demo nstrates that men and women both participate in negotiating the blurry ethnic lines necessary in situations of extreme dominance, like in that of the colonos but in different ways. Cases of interethnic unions are particularly illustrative in demonstrating that both men and women must be exceedingly mobile, moving between the semi urban and rural, the colla and Yurakar areas, taking their children in tow; however, Yurakar women must be particularly mobile in order to negotiate fuzzy ethnic boundaries. For instance, w hile men may take advantage of wage labor opportunities in the urban and semi urban areas of Cochabamba and San Gabriel, women accompany their spouses in these places along with their children; however, women return to their home communities to visit family, take advantage of

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303 freely given goods typical of the indigenous territory, and harvest coca returning to the semi urban afterwards This is an important observation in cases of interethnic unions between colla men and Yurakar women: men can free license to land as affiliates of the indigenous community, land that can be used for coca production. Also, it is important to note that coca production and its harvest, particularly, can be largely carried out by wom en. In this way, while men may attend to income production in the colla semi urban world, women attend to maintaining ties with their indigenous family; that free land for coca production is accessible through Yurakar women most likely helps permit this function to occur. Throughout these various activities and movements, women engage in child rearing, taking their children with them wherever they may go. In this respect, women serve as certain culture brokers, imparting particular practices and experienc es to their children, though always in partnership with their spouses. Toms often told Maria what to cook, for instance bringing her potatoes, a characteristically colla food, to include in the meals, but he would also instruct her on other occasions to t ake their son Jos to her community so that he could eat his fill of bananas and fish, typically lowland indigenous foods. However, it was Maria who would carry out the actual cooking and meal serving tasks, making efforts to incorporate the differing food customs as best as she was able. In this way, people growing up in the friction of the colonization zone, like Maria and Toms and their children, learn to be mobile, as well as chameleons of sorts. It is important to note that in the case of interethnic unions when the woman is Yurakar children learn mobility more. When the man is Yurakar, upon visits to relatives in his

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304 community the colla wife remains at home in town with their children Recalling the racial charge of interethnic relations, strictly Y urakar areas are presumably backwards and uncivilized to colla people, and colla women would not consider remaining there for an extended period of time. Highlighting also the gendered aspects of racial/ethnic relations, colla men have more license to tra of the Yurakars; in contrast, colla women have limited political power in this regard and could suffer certain blows in social standing for associating themselves with the marginal, decidedly Yurakar and living among them. Comparatively, single Yurakar mothers must become increasingly mobile still, as suggested by cases like that of Lia and Leandra; indeed, they must bend increasingly to colono dominance in order to survive economically in the colonization zone colla traits, as when Leandra began wearing chola garb, in order to support themselves and their children on their own, embracing colla identity and distancing themselves fro m the Yurakar in this way. This last example also demonstrates that women have more options for open ethnic assertion than do men. With respect to illegality in particular, both Yurakar men and women negotiate the risk of the uncertain (il)legality entai led in their coca production activities in their communities. In the marginal area of the colonization zone law is particularly elastic, rendering ambiguous the limits between legal and illegal coca production. Navigation of the murky (il)legality that cli ngs to coca here becomes a necessary part of everyday life for both Yurakar men and women; however, the implications of this navigation is

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305 permits them a certain degree o f autonomy. Absorption of and accommodation to the ruptures and shocks of friction -characterized by colonization, (il)legal coca production, and dynamic interethnic relations -has allowed Doa Elsina a certain degree of negotiation power in marital unions as well as a particular level of autonomy. For instance, engagement with (il)legality and increased economic dependence on coca production has enabled her to leave an abusive husband and support herself and her children on her own. Correspondingly, she ha s tolerated and adapted to life in close proximity with coca union s and colono dominance. Examining her as a cultural broker, her children do not speak Yurakar, and several of her sons and daughters have form ed marital unions with colla people In this wa permeable ethnic boundaries. In order to survive as an indigenous woman, her indigeneity needs to accept change and allow ambiguous limits between the Yurakar and non Yurakar. Doa Consuelo, in contrast, although a protagonist among the indigenous communities of the colonization zone, is not totally invested in the friction of the frontier she is particularly pr otective of ethnic boundaries. She has adequate material and economic support without engaging in coca production. Furthermore, she advocates preservation and transmission of Yurakar language and distinctive cultural practices, and she tends to consider c ollas and all their associations as a threat. This is not to imply that she is particularly less mobile than the other women here described; rather,

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306 while women like Maria, Lia, and Leandra have lived moving substantially between the semi urban/urban world of collas and their home community in close proximity to each Yurakar communities of her husband and of her parents. Significant NGO involvement has also influenced her parti cularly Yurakar self assertions. Despite her propensity to resist colono dominance, however, she will engage with friction for additional economic gains for her family. The cases of Yurakar women of San Lucas and Santa Rita suggest that Yurakar wom en play a particular role in the transmission of values and practices regarding resistance to colono dominance, colono convergence and meanings of indigeneity within their households; correspondingly, although they m ay rarely hold visible leadership positi ons or be significant public speakers, Yurakar women participate critically in social movements through their interpretations of and influence on the discourses that motivate these. Significant discourses regarding coca, territory, and development have ev olved in the colonization zone. Although men and women childrearing and in provision for family sustenance engenders that they do value coca as an important economic mainsta y ; they consider territory as essential for their survival as a necessity for coca production; and they regard development as a means to emerge from their place of marginality and receive better state services. From their role in the Yurakar home, women i nfluence the views of their spouses and children. Such discursive forces in turn have helped motivate the Conisur movement.

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307 For an effective social movement in Bolivia however, indigenous groups must tightly demarcate the lines between indigenous and non indigenous; for Conisur this means they must represent an indigeneity devoid of coca and colono markers. In certain national discourses, coca production and the colono are associated with the non indigenous, or better put, considered as definitively antag onistic to lowland indigenous peoples; moreover, national and international discourses depict lowland groups as natural preservationists such that demands for a road over forest preservation erodes indigenous authenticity. Consequently, despite the fact th at coca and engagement with colono dominance is important to their particular lives as indigenous people, the Conisur communities must distance themselves from it for the purpose of the movement. They strive to communicate an indigeneity that is pure and based on clear ethnic boundaries, such that their claim to an indigenous right to consultation has legitimacy. In representing a prominent ethnic boundary for the purposes of an indigenous movement, women again play an important role. The general associat ions of men and women with extra communal affairs and the home, respectively, contribute furthermore positions women as a useful tool of indigenous self assertion for the pur poses of indigenous movements. Moreover, particular women like Doa Consuelo who openly distinguish their Yurakar affiliation are valuable for the affirmation of strong ethnic sur movement stems from her particularly gendered, indigenous manner of leadership in her community: her concern and interest in propagating Yurakar culture and language

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308 have made her a protagonist of development projects in the community; also, her consi deration for the protection of Yurakar cultural and political autonomy positions her as an affirmative intermediary for her people. Indeed in the context of the Conisur movement, Doa Consuelo asserts her Yurakar identity and that of the people she repre sents through her role as a woman community leader: as a community caretaker she has a true concern that the needs and demands of her people be met. movement, it is import ant to note prevalent Yurakar gender norms that define extra harvest coca and bring back cash to continue the march, while the men remained in the march. My dissertation in these ways illustrates the gendered, racial, and ethnic undercurrents of indigeneity and its dynamic, fluid character. It correspondingly demonstrates the contestation of meani ngs at the crux of social movements, in this case, that of indigeneity itself. Despite the necessity to represent indigeneity in fixed terms that conforms with mainstream expectations of indigenous people for the k efforts to stage an authentic indigenous movement communicate an alternate indigeneity based on permeable ethnic boundaries, a version that has allowed for survival amid rapidly growing colono dominance in the colonization zone. Their lived indigeneity a ppropriates and incorporates colono socio cultural and economic practices, such as coca production and union norms, as well as engagement with (il)legality; in this way it contests conventional

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309 representations of lowland indigenous groups as people who do not engage in coca production, do not ally with colonos advocate forest preservation, and are immune to transnational illegal circuits. In contexts like that of Bolivia, what constitutes indigeneity can be a particularly politically charged subject, infus ed with histories of racial conflict and colonial and post colonial subjugation. The platform in transition of the state and reconciliation of its party based affiliations with multiple national constituencies also renders the state an uncertain yet princi pal protagonist in the debate over indigeneity. My dissertation is furthermore a research project on agency. I demonstrate how the various individuals encountered through my fieldwork contribute to the conceptions of indigeneity they wield in their everyda y lives and for the purposes of the social movement. I illustrate the gendered manners of indigeneity formation; however, I also highlight the importance of individual history to the processes, appropriations, and adaptations inherent to indigeneity. By fo cusing on multiple specific individuals and their roles played in the action of indigeneity, I recognize its dynamism. Research Implications : Indigeneity and the Bolivian State While the Bolivian state is not a specific focus of my research, in the conte xt of note important considerations regarding the The Morales government has made significant election and it has instated social welfare policies that benefit subaltern classes ; however, upon further evaluation, various critiques arise regarding the extent to which MAS diverges from previous state projects that marginalized indigenous peoples I n general, the state faces challenges to deconstruct post colonial hierarchies due to persistent racial ideologies that pervade Bolivian civil society and the state itself

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310 Goodale posits (2009), analyzing MAS party principles and ideology, that MAS does however, it does constitute a particular development of that history. declaration of ideological principles and its efforts to hold the Constituent Assembly attest to enlightenment principles, its declaration invokes universal human rights, social justice, liberty and liberation, and participatory democracy (173). The declaration also d escribes a moral cosmology based on the relationship of the individual to the collective, and the individual is inscribed within a framework of laws and obligations to the state and other persons. Additionally, the Constituent Assembly is symbolic of an instrument of liberalism: with natural rights language, it cements certain ideologies into a new constitution (174 175). Thus, Goodale argues that the rise of Morales and MAS is a At the same time, however, MAS combines liberal frameworks with discourse that values the indigenous, invoking for example communitarian justice and Andean cosmology According to G oodale, this discursive hybridization demonstrates that MAS is giving new meanings to liberal terms of democracy and citizenship. Defined as such, the project is a long work in progress, to O thers assert that s political agenda constitutes a s ubstantial enough break constitute (Gustafson and Fabricant 2011). As opposed to free market policies that prioritize privatization, as menti oned previously MAS promotes industry nationalization for the

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311 redistribution of public income. Correspondingly, the MAS government has developed several nationally controlled extractivist activities concerning, for example, gas, soy, and petroleum. Additi onally, in comparison to previous multiculturalist policies, MAS advocates a more radical incorporation of indigenous rights via its support of plurinationalism. This combination of nationalist extractivist policies would seem incompatible with the princi promote indigenous rights in practice (Fabricant 2011; Gutirrez Aguilar 2011; Gustafson 2013). For instance, the state has discursively recognized Andean environmentalist values and communitarian political systems. Gutirrez Aguilar highlights however, that the MAS government demonstrates its preference instead for party politics. Furthermore, n ationalist economic policies require a central authority and inhibit multiple centers of territorial control (Gustafson and Fabricant 2011; Gustafson 2013). The TIPNIS confli ct, in particular, showcases the s e dilemma s In light of the TIPNIS controversy, some have even critiqued that the MAS state does not constitute a change from the past post colonial order, having simply put an indigenous looking person at the head of the same, problematic instituions 1 Despite these critiques, it is important to consider that MAS did not rise to power on a purely indigenous platform (Gustafson 2009; G ustafson 2013; Gustafson and Fabricant 2011). The leadership of Evo Morales was based in union politics, not a product of several combined social movements, representing various constituent 1 Gustafson (2013: 62) cites the critiques of various Bolivian sch olars. Also, see Gutirrez Aguilar (2011).

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312 groups, including highland and lowland indigenous organizations, class based A common attraction for neoliberal principle s (Postero 2007). a social group that developed from anti United States sentiments and neoliberal resentments. Evo Morales still plays an important role as its leader. Accordingly, MA strongest priorities tend to be neoliberal resistance (Gustafson 2013), and it does not articulate a strong indigeneity project in practice. This could be due in part to the complexities of indigeneity ; w hile all indigenous peoples share in a general h istory of colonization, as my dissertation demonstrates the indigenous experience varies significantly across Bolivia. For example, Evo Morales represent one particular type Additionally, a majority of proclaime d indigenous people live in urban and semi urban areas or move between urban and rural areas regularly ; they engage in diverse economic relations and business ventures, demonstrating that indigeneity is not static but based on constantly changing hybrid p ractices and meanings. T hese urban based colla indigenous factions significantly support MAS (Albro 2010b, Goldstein 2012) ; ironically s tate discourses and institutions do not effectively represent their indigenous experience. The state resort s to convent ional conce p ts of indigeneity based in for example, communal, non capitalist, largely rural relations. This demonstrates a general state tendency ; nonetheless, the MA S state neglects to recognize the dynamic, hybrid nature of indigeneity in its new statutes

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313 general discourses may demonstrate a certain discursive indigenous project in s o much as it imperialist goals. In Andean South America there exists a type of indigenous activism that western, and North American This indigenista discourse tends to follo w a good evil binary wherein the indigenous represents balance, humanity, and environmental respect while the North American represents capitalism, individualism, and destruction (Canessa 2010 ; Cervone 2002: 191; Garcia and Lucero 2011: 291; Paulson 2002 ) The MAS party develop ed out of a subaltern experience wherein North America i s a virulent enemy ; accordingly, this anti imperialist indigenista discourse contributes to the MAS platform As mentioned previously, however, this discursive project does not t ranslate into practical protection of indigenous rights and autonomy. Neoliberal and imperialist resistance is a priority of the MAS platform, to the extent that it carries more significance to the party than an indigenist project; corresponding ly, as the TIPNIS conflict demonstrated, a certain extractivist economic development model is foundational to the party platform concerning TIPNIS suggest the persistence of colonial racial ideologies within the post neoliberal state and civil society. The particular extractivist economic model the state (Paz 2011) It is important to note that coll as, while of highland indigenous heritage, have significant experience with urban and mestizo practices and they have appropriated and adapted these into their everyday The road project would threaten the territorial autonomy of the

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314 TIPNIS indigenous com munities and the communitarian economies they have s upport of the road suggests a certain hierarchical preference wherein the lowland indigenous communitarian economic model is less valuable to the nation than the colla extractivist. a certain racial/ethnic ideology that associates the colla mestizo with progress and the yurakare with its absence. Discourses between state representatives and Conisur communi ties demonstrate a regard of the lowland indigenous communities as not Throughout the Conisur mobilization the state never recognized the importance of colla settlement in the area and never acknowledged the duction activities, only and in need of state services. Through its disregard of colono dominance the state would seem to tacitly accept TIPNIS favor a colono dev elopment model. The colla extractivist model motivated by economic and racial ideologies similar to those underlying c oloni al models -represent s a better path to civilization for all Bolivia, more than the indigenous communitarian models practiced by lowla nd communities Weismantel (2001) notes that Andean countries like the rest of South America have accept ed an This means that t hey believe in white superiority to such an extent that white ness symbolizes economic success. Correspondingly society denigrates anything that is Indian. Furthermore, the white ideology influences Andean countries to submit themselves to a world capitalist exchange system, wherein they assume positions of exploitation for Northern countries.

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315 Alth ough the MAS government may seek to d ecrease economic relations with the United States an ideology of whiteness persists in Bolivia. The struggle with a li modernity, western defined stability and prosperity. policies; however, presently they suggest a relation of Bolivian raw materials supply to countries whiter or with more capital, than Bolivia. The state also supports colla economic models over those of lowland indigenous peoples. As explained previously, a racial/ethnic ideology that tends to regard highland indigenous people as more civilized than those of the lowlands, and furthermore views the latter as savage forest dwellers prevails in Bolivia; this ideology also is a dimension of the white Indian racial hierarchy that undergirds Bolivian society. It is important to highlight that collas like the colono s have appropriated various socio economic practices associated with whiteness and adapted them to their everyday situation; as such they represent a hybridization of and, moreover, demonstrate resistance to white hegemony support of a colla mestizo economic model does not constitute submission to an ideology of whiteness; however that it supports a colla extractivist model over a lowla n d indigenous communitarian one suggests the prevailing influence o f that ideology in Bolivia. In simplistic terms, a colono economic model is perhaps whiter and more aligned with modernity than a communitarian indigenous one. In this light, my dissertation demonstrates the importance of studying the racial and ethnic dim ensions of indigeneity. The white indigenous binary is prevalent throughout Latin America (de la Cadena 2000; Weismantel 2001), but it is necessary to

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316 analyze in a more nuanced fashion its racial/eth nic dimensions to understand the variations of indigeneit ethnic/racial dominance. Consequently, its dynamics influence the formation of seemingly conflicting indigenous movements, as occurred in the case of the TIPNIS controversy. A focus on the dominatin g relations of race and ethnicity can help explain indigenous movements (Greene 2009; Gustafson 2009), for example, could be more complete with a racial/ethnic focus. Whi le my dissertation may provide richer ethnographic information regarding the racial/ethnic dynamics of indigeneity, it also seeks to add to the breadth of knowledge on gendered meanings of indigeneity. Significant ethnographic research details the manners in which Latin American indigenous women influence community organizing and extra communal politics through their household and familial role s (Allen 2002; Isbell 1978; Stephen 2005 ). I add to this by further demonstrating roles in negot iating racial/ethnic power relations and their implications for social movement formation In these ways, my dissertation contributes to the discussions on indigeneity, indigenous movements, and gender in Latin America through analysis of the complex indi genous experience in Bolivia presented via the testimonies of lowland indigenous women.

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329 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH Tatiana Gumucio studied International Studies and Busi ness at the University of Pennsylvania, where she concentrated in management and minored in French and in African Studies graduating in 2004 Subsequently she interned at the non governmental organization CERES (el Centro de Estudios de la Realidad Econm ica y rights for indigenous people. She later went on to pursue her M.A. and Ph.D in anthropology from the University of Florida She received her Ph.D. in the summer of 2013. Her research interests are gender, Latin American indigenous movements, agency, race and ethnicity, and minority rights. Born and raised in the United States, she is of Bolivian heritage.