The Bolivian Diary (12 page)

We camped in a bad spot, close to the Ñacahuazú, to make use of its water; tomorrow we will explore both sides of the river (east and west) to become familiar with the area and the other group will try to cross it.

A calm day to restore our strength. Joaquín left with Wálter and El Médico [Moro] to explore along the course of the Río Grande; they walked eight kilometers without discovering a way across and found only a creek with salt water. Marcos walked a little upstream and did not reach the Frías; Aniceto and Loro went with him. Alejandro, Inti, and Pacho tried unsuccessfully to swim across the river. We moved about a kilometer back, looking for a better campsite. Pombo is rather sick.

Tomorrow we will begin building a raft to try to cross the river.

The raft was made under Marcos's direction; it turned out very large and difficult to maneuver. At 1:30 we went to the spot from which we could cross, and at 2:30 we began to do so. The vanguard made it in two trips and the third trip took half the center group, along with my clothes, but not my backpack. When they went back again to take the rest of the center group across, Rubio miscalculated and the river took the raft way downstream—it could not be saved, and fell apart. Joaquín
began to build another that was ready by 9:00, but it was not necessary to cross at night because it had not rained and the water level was still dropping. Of the center group, Tuma, Urbano, Inti, Alejandro, and I remain here. Tuma and I slept on the ground.

At 6:30 the rest of the center group began the crossing. The first section of the vanguard went at 6:00 and when the center group made it, everyone crossed; once the entire rear guard made it over, the center group left at 8:30. The rear guard was instructed to hide the raft and then follow behind. The path became rough and we had to clear it with machetes. At 6:00, thirsty and hungry, we came to a creek with a little pond, where we decided to camp; there are many pig tracks here.

Braulio, Aniceto, and Benigno walked about three kilometers to the river and came back with the news that they had seen tracks made by
abarcas
²
and by three animals, one with horseshoes; all are recent.

When we had walked more than half an hour, it occurred to me to leave the path, which was heading uphill, and to follow the creek, and in a while we came across a cornfield; I sent Inti and Ricardo to investigate, and then pandemonium broke out. The marker we had left for those behind us was missed, and they thought I was lost; groups went in all directions. The vanguard found a house and waited there for me. Inti and Ricardo ran
into some small boys and went to the house of a young peasant
³
with six children, who received them very well and gave them a lot of information. During the second conversation, Inti told him that he was the head of the guerrillas and he bought two pigs to make
huminta.
⁴

We stayed in the same place eating corn and pork. We made
ponche
⁵
in the early morning, but left it for the following day.

Posing as one of Inti's assistants, I went to talk to the peasant. The performance was not particularly effective because Inti was so shy.

The peasant is true to type—unable to help us, but also incapable of seeing the harm he can cause us, and for this reason, potentially dangerous. He told us about other peasants, but we could not be entirely confident about his information because he was not very specific.

El Médico [Moro] treated the children who had worms and a mare had kicked one of them; then we headed off.

We spent the afternoon and evening making
huminta
(it is not very good). At night we gathered everyone together and I made a few observations about the next 10 days. First, I am thinking of a hike of 10 days or more toward Masicuri, so that all the compañeros can actually see the soldiers for themselves; and then we would try to return along the Frías to be able to explore another trail.

(The peasant's name is Rojas.)

The old man's birthday: 67.
⁶

We continued down a clearly marked path along the riverbank, until it became rather difficult to get through, and every now and again we would lose the trail as it seemed nobody had passed through this area in a while. At midday we got to a point where it disappeared completely, next to a large river that suddenly made us doubt again whether it was the Masicuri or not. We stopped at a creek while Marcos and Miguel went upstream to explore. Inti, with Carlos and Pedro, did the same downstream, trying to find the mouth. They found it, and confirmed that it was the Masicuri, whose nearest ford seemed to be farther downstream, where they had seen several peasants loading horses in the distance. They have probably seen our tracks, so from now on we will have to take greater care. We are one or two leagues from Arenales, according to what the peasant told us.

Altitude = 760 meters.

We walked the two kilometers rapidly on the path made by the vanguard yesterday. From here, the trail took a while to clear. At 4:00 in the afternoon, we hit a main road that seems to be the one we have been looking for. There was a house on the other side of the river, ahead of us, but we decided not to go there, and instead we looked for another house on this side that should belong to Montaño, whom Rojas recommended. Inti and Loro went there but they found no one, although there
were signs that it was the right place.

At 7:30 we set off on a night march that served to show how much there is to learn. At around 10:00, Inti and Loro returned to the house, bringing not so good news: the man was drunk and not very welcoming; he had nothing but corn. He had got drunk at Caballero's
⁷
house on the other side of the river, where the ford is. We decided to sleep in the little patch of trees nearby. I was completely exhausted; the
humintas
had not agreed with me and I had not eaten anything all day.

The dawn let loose a downpour that lasted all morning, flooding the river. The news is better: Montaño is the owner's son—about 16 years old. His father was not there and will be away for a week; he gave us a lot of specific information about the ford, which he says is a league away. A section of the road follows the left bank, but only for a short distance. The only house on this side is that belonging to Pérez's brother, a small farmer whose daughter is the girlfriend of a member of the army.

We moved on to a new camp, beside the creek and a cornfield. Marcos and Miguel made a shortcut to the main road.

Altitude = 650 meters. (Stormy weather.)

A quiet day, spent at the same camp. The lad from the house came by three times: once to tell us that some people had crossed from the other side of the river looking for some pigs,
but would not come our way. We paid him extra money for the damage we had done to his cornfield.

The
macheteros
spent the entire day slashing without coming across a single house; they estimate they completed about six kilometers, which is half of our work for tomorrow.

We decoded a long message from Havana, the main news being about the meeting with Kolle, who claimed he had not been informed our undertaking was on a continental scale and, if this was the case, they were ready to collaborate in a plan and wanted to discuss details with me; Kolle himself, Simón Rodríguez, and Ramírez
⁸
will come here. The message also stated that Simón had declared his decision to help us independently of what the party decides.

Besides this, there is news that the Frenchman,
⁹
traveling with his own passport, will arrive in La Paz on the 23rd, and will stay with either Pareja or Rhea. Part of the message has yet to be decoded. We will see how to deal with this new conciliatory offensive. Other news is that Merci turned up with no money, claiming it was stolen; misappropriation is suspected, although something more serious cannot be ruled out. Lechín
¹⁰
is going to ask for money and training.

Hildita's birthday: 11.
¹¹

A peaceful day on the march. At 10:00 in the morning we caught up to where the
macheteros
had stopped; it was a slow hike after that. At 5:00 in the afternoon, we were informed that a cultivated field was ahead and at 6:00 this was confirmed. We sent Inti, Loro, and Aniceto to talk with the peasant, who turned out to be Miguel Pérez, the brother of Nicolás, who is a rich peasant. But Miguel is poor and exploited by his brother, so much so that he seems ready to collaborate with us. We did not eat because it was so late.

We walked a few meters to avoid the brother's curiosity and we camped on high ground overlooking the river 50 meters below. The position is good as far as protecting us from surprise attacks is concerned, but it is rather uncomfortable. We began preparing a large quantity of food for the journey across the mountain range toward the Rosita.

The afternoon brought strong and persistent rain that fell all night, delaying our plans. It flooded the river and left us isolated once again. We will lend the peasant $1,000 so he can buy and fatten some pigs; he has capitalist ambitions.

Rain fell all morning: 18 hours of rain. Everything is wet and the river is very high. I sent Marcos, with Miguel and Braulio, to look for a trail to the Rosita; they returned in the afternoon after having cleared a four-kilometer path. They reported that there was some terrain ahead similar to that which we call the Pampa del Tigre. Inti feels ill, from stuffing himself too much.

Altitude = 720 meters. (Unusual weather conditions.)

Josefina's birthday: 33.
¹²

Partial failure. We hiked slowly, following the pace of the
macheteros,
but by 2:00 they had reached a level plateau where machetes were no longer needed; we slowed down further, and at 3:00 arrived at a water hole where we set up camp, hoping to cross the plateau in the morning. Marcos and Tuma went off to explore, returning with very bad news: the entire hill is surrounded by steep rocky cliffs, making it impossible to descend; there is no alternative but to turn back.

Altitude = 980 meters.

A lost day. We went down the hill until we came to the creek; we tried to climb along its banks, but this was impossible. I sent Miguel and Aniceto to see if they could climb a rocky cliff and cross to the other side, but without success. We wasted the day waiting for them; they returned later stating that the cliffs were the same: impassable. Tomorrow we will try to climb to the last ridge just past the creek, the one that leads to the west (the others descend to the south, where the hill ends).

Altitude = 760 meters.

A day of slow, uneven progress. Miguel and Braulio went up the old path and got to the little creek by the cornfield; from there they lost the way and returned to the creek at nightfall.
When we reached the next creek, I sent Rolando and Pombo to explore it up to the point where it meets a rocky cliff. They had not returned by 3:00, so we took the track Marcos had been making, leaving behind Pedro and Rubio to wait for them. We arrived at 4:30 at the creek by the cornfield, where we set up camp. The explorers did not return.

Altitude = 720 meters.

A slow hike up the creek. Pombo and Rolando returned with the news that we could cross the other creek, but Marcos had already explored it and it seemed just like this one. We headed off at 11:00, but at 13:30 we encountered some ponds with very cold water that we could not wade across. Loro was sent to explore and took so long that I sent Braulio and Joaquín from the rear guard. Loro returned with the news that the creek widened farther up and was easier to cross, so we decided to go ahead without waiting to see what Joaquín would find. At 6:00, while we were setting up camp, Joaquín brought the news that we could climb the ridge to a very accessible path. Inti is unwell; he has gas pains for the second time in a week.

Altitude = 860 meters.

The whole day was spent climbing steep ridges through dense undergrowth. After such an exhausting day we decided to camp without reaching the top; I sent Joaquín and Pedro to attempt it alone and they came back at 7:00 saying it would take at least three hours to slash a way through.

Altitude = 1,180 meters.

We are at the source of the creek that runs into the Masicuri, but headed south.

A bad day for me. I was exhausted and moved through will-power alone. Marcos, Braulio, and Tuma left in the morning to work on the path, while we waited in the camp. We decoded a new message reporting that my message had been received through the French mail drop. We set out at noon, with the sun strong enough to split rocks, and a little later, when we reached the crest of the highest hill, I felt faint; from then on, I kept going from sheer determination. The highest point in this area is 1,420 meters, a summit that overlooks a wide area that includes the Río Grande, the mouth of the Ñacahuazú, and part of the Rosita. The topography is different from what is marked on the map: after a clear dividing line, the ground abruptly falls to a kind of wooded plateau, eight to 10 kilometers wide, at the end of which the Rosita flows. Then there is another range of similar heights to this chain and a plain that can be seen far in the distance.

We decided to descend a different way, which was passable but very steep, to follow a creek that leads to the Río Grande, and from there to the Rosita. It appears there are no houses along the riverbank, contrary to what is marked on the map. After an infernal hike, without water and with night already falling, we camped at 900 meters.