The Bolivian Diary (24 page)

We left the path and continued cutting through the woods, under the constant drizzle of the cold front. We walked until 17:00, spending two and a quarter hours cutting through the thick undergrowth on the side of the highest peak in the area. Fire became the great god of the day. The day passed without food; we saved the brackish water in our canteens for breakfast tomorrow.

Altitude = 250 meters.

After a meager breakfast, Miguel, Benigno, and Pablito set off to make a trail and to scout the area. At approximately 14:00, Pablo returned saying he had come across an abandoned farm with livestock. We all got ready to march and, following the course of the creek, we crossed the farm and headed to the Río Grande. From there a scouting party was sent off with the
mission to occupy a house if an isolated one was found close by; this was done and the first reports suggested we were three kilometers from Puerto Camacho, where there were about 50 soldiers, and that it is connected by a road. We spent the whole night cooking pork and
locro
;
³
the day had not brought the expected results and we set out tired as day was breaking.

We hiked slowly, avoiding old ranches, until the guide, one of the owner's sons, announced that we had passed the last one. We continued along the “beach”
⁴
until we found another farm, not mentioned before, that had squash, sugarcane, bananas, and some beans. We set up camp here. The lad who was our guide began to complain about severe abdominal pain, but it is hard to know if they are real.

Altitude = 560 meters.

We moved our camp about 300 meters to avoid being doubly exposed to both the riverbank and the farm, although later we learned that the owner never goes there; he always uses a barge. Benigno, Pablo, Urbano, and León went to try to cut a path through the rocky cliffs, but they came back in the afternoon saying this was impossible. I had to warn Urbano again about his rudeness. We agreed to make a raft tomorrow, close to the cliff.

There is news of a state of siege and threats from the miners, but nothing substantial yet.

We walked two hours to get to the cliff. Ñato was there making the raft with great effort, but it took a long time and was not a success; it has yet to be tested. I dispatched Miguel to try to find another exit route, but he failed. Benigno caught a large fish, a
dorado.

Altitude = 590 meters.

As expected, the raft was unable to carry more than three backpacks and even that was pushing it. The swimmers threw themselves into the water, but could do nothing because of the cold; I decided to send a group to the prisoner's house to look for a barge; Coco, Pacho, Aniceto, and Ñato went. Shortly, mortar fire was heard and Ñato returned with the news that they had clashed with the army, which was on the other side of the river. According to all indications, our people had set off taking no precautions and were spotted. The soldiers began their usual ruckus, and Pombo and Coco began firing without rhyme or reason, alerting them. We resolved to stay put and tomorrow begin a trail to get out of here. The situation is quite uncomfortable if they decide to attack us in full force because, in the best case scenario, we would have to cut through the arid, wooded cliffs.

A day of total calm; we maintained the ambush but the army
never came; only one small plane flew over the area for a few minutes. They might be waiting for us at the Rosita. The path over the ridge goes almost to the crest of the hill. Tomorrow we will leave at any rate; we have enough food for five or six days.

We thought at first we could make it to the Rosita or at least the Río Grande again, so we started out. On reaching a small water hole, however, this seemed more difficult than we expected, so we stayed there waiting for news. At 15:00, word came that there was a larger water hole, but it was impossible to get to, so we decided to stay here. The day turned nasty and finally the cold front treated us to a night of cold and rain. The radio broadcast some interesting news: the newspaper
Presencia
announced one dead and one wounded for the army from Saturday's clash; this is great and almost certainly true, and means that we have maintained our pattern of clashes resulting in casualties. Another report announced three dead, among them Inti, one of the guerrilla leaders, and noted the foreign components of the guerrilla force: 17 Cubans, 14 Brazilians, four Argentines, and three Peruvians. The Cuban and the Peruvian count is true; we will have to find out where they got this information.

Altitude = 900 meters.

We walked only one hour up to the next water hole, because the slashers have not made it to the Rosita or the Río [Grande]. Very chilly. Possibly it can be done tomorrow. We have enough light rations for five days.

The political upheaval in this country is fascinating—the incredible number of pacts and counter-pacts that are in the air. Rarely has the potential for a guerrilla catalyst been so clear.

Altitude = 840 meters.

Celita: 4?
⁵

We spent the day by the “Aguada Fría” [Icy Water Hole] beside a fire, waiting for news from Miguel and Urbano, who were slashing a trail. The time set for moving out was 15:00, but Urbano arrived after that time to tell us they had reached a creek and had seen fences, and thought it might lead to the Río Grande. We stayed put eating the last of the stew; nothing else is left except for one ration of peanuts and three of
mote.

I turned 39 [today] and am inevitably approaching the age when I need to consider my future as a guerrilla, but for now I am still “in one piece.”

Altitude = 840 meters.

We walked less than three hours to reach the banks of the Río Grande, an area we recognize and which I estimate to be two hours from the Rosita; Nicolás, the peasant, says it is three kilometers. We gave him 150 pesos and the opportunity to leave and he took off like a rocket. We will stay where we are; Aniceto scouted the area and believes that we can cross the river. We ate peanut soup and some
totai
fruit boiled and
cooked in lard; all we have left is
mote
for three days.

Altitude = 610 meters.

We had walked a kilometer when we saw the people from the vanguard on the riverbank across from us. Pacho had crossed while exploring and found the ford. We crossed in icy water up to our waists, against a strong current, without mishap. An hour later we reached the Rosita, where there are some old footprints, probably made by the army. We find the Rosita to be a larger waterway than expected, and there is no sign of the road that is marked on the map. We walked an hour in the icy water and decided to camp to take advantage of the
totai
fruit and to try to find the beehive that Miguel had found during an earlier expedition. We did not find the beehive and ended up eating only
mote
and palm hearts with lard. There is enough food for tomorrow and the day after (
mote
). We walked some three kilometers along the Rosita and another three along the Río Grande.

Altitude = 610 meters.

We walked about 15 kilometers along the Rosita in five and a half hours. During the trek we crossed four streams, even though the map shows only one, the Abapocito. We have found many recent tracks. Ricardo killed a
hochi
⁶
and this, along with
mote,
was how we got through the day. There is enough
mote
for tomorrow, but presumably we will find another house.

Many of us burned our bridges, eating the rest of the
mote
for breakfast. At 11:00, after two and a half hours of walking, we came across a farm with corn, yucca, sugarcane, and a sugar mill to grind it,
jocos,
and rice. We prepared a protein-less meal and sent Benigno and Pablito off to explore. Two hours later Pablo returned with the news that he had run into a peasant whose plot was 500 meters from this one; he said that other peasants were headed this way and they were taken prisoner when they arrived. At night, we moved our camp, and slept at the boys' farm plot, next to the start of the road to Abapó, seven leagues from here. Their houses are 10 to 15 kilometers above where the Mosquera and the Oscura rivers meet, next to the latter.

Altitude = 680 meters.

We walked at a slow pace for about 12 kilometers until we reached the settlement, which consists of three houses and the same number of families. Two kilometers farther down lives the Gálvez family, where the Mosquera and the Oscura meet; we have to hunt down the residents to be able to speak with them because they are like little animals. In general, they received us very well, but, Calixto, who was appointed mayor by a military commission that passed through here a month ago, was reserved and reluctant to sell us a few little things. When night fell, three pig merchants arrived, carrying a revolver and a Mauser rifle; they had passed the vanguard's observation post. Inti, who interrogated them, did not take their weapons and Antonio, who was guarding them, did so very negligently.
Calixto assured us that they were merchants from Postrer Valle and that he knew them.

Altitude = 680 meters.

There is another river called the Suspiro that flows into the Rosita from the left; no one lives along it.

In the morning, Paulino,
⁷
one of the boys from the farm below, told us that the three individuals were not merchants: one was a lieutenant and the other two were in a different line of work. He obtained this information from Calixto's daughter, who is his girlfriend. Inti went with several men and gave the officer until 9:00 to come out—otherwise they would all be shot. The officer came out immediately, crying. He is a second lieutenant in the police force who was sent here with a
carabinero
and a teacher from Postrer Valle who had volunteered to come along. A colonel who is stationed in that village with 60 men sent them. Their mission included a long trip for which they were given four days, passing points along the Oscura as well. We thought about killing them, but then I decided to send them back with a severe warning about the norms of warfare.

Investigating how they had been able to get through, it was established that Aniceto abandoned his post to call Julio and this was the moment they came; besides, Aniceto and Luis were found sleeping at their posts. They were punished with seven days' kitchen duty and one day without eating the stew or the
roast and fried pork that was served to excess. All the prisoners' belongings were confiscated.

The old lady.
⁸

After two days of profuse dental extractions, which made me famous as “Fernando Sacamuelas” [Tooth-puller] alias Chaco, I closed my clinic and we set off in the afternoon, walking just over an hour. For the first time in this war, I traveled on a mule. The three detained men were brought along for an hour on the path beside the Mosquera, confiscating all their belongings, including watches and sandals. We considered bringing Calixto, the mayor, as a guide as well as Paulino, but he was sick, or pretended to be, and so we left him with a serious warning, which will probably be in vain.

Paulino promised to take my message to Cochabamba.
⁹
We will give him a letter for Inti's wife, a coded message for Manila, and four communiqués. The fourth [see
Appendices
] outlines the composition of our guerrilla force and clears up the rumor about Inti's death; it is the
[blank in the original].
We will see if we can now establish contact with the city. Paulino pretended to come with us as our prisoner.

Altitude = 750 meters.

We walked in effect some three hours, leaving the Oscura or Moroco River to find a water hole in a place called Pasiones.
We consulted the map and everything indicates that we are no more than six leagues from Florida or the nearest houses at Piray, where Paulino's brother-in-law lives, but he does not know the way there.

We thought of continuing, making use of the moonlight, but it is not worth it considering the distance.

Altitude = 950 meters.

We walked for only one hour and then lost the path, and looking for it held us up all morning and part of the afternoon; then the rest of the day was spent clearing the trail for tomorrow. The night of San Juan's Eve was not as cold as it is reputed to be.

Altitude = 1,050 meters.

Asthma is becoming a serious problem for me and there is very little medicine left.

We walked a total of 12 kilometers, taking four hours. For some stretches, the path is good and quite visible, but at other times we have to feel our way. We climbed down an incredible cliff, following the tracks of some cowherds and their cattle. We camped by a trickle of water on the slopes of Durán Hill. The radio brings news of struggle in the mines. My asthma is worsening.

Altitude = 1,200 meters.

We followed the path made by the cowherds, but did not catch up with them. At mid-morning we saw a ranch on fire and a
plane flying over the area. We never learned whether there was a connection between the two events, as we continued on and by 16:00 reached Piray, where Paulino's sister lives. There are three houses here, one of which is abandoned, another has no one inside and the sister lives in the third house with four children; her husband had gone to Florida with Paniagua, the man from the other house. Everything seemed normal. Paniagua's daughter lives a kilometer away, and we opted to camp at her house, buying a calf that was immediately slaughtered. Coco, with Julio, Camba, and León were sent to Florida to buy some things, but they discovered the army was there: about 50 men who were waiting for more to bring the total to 120 or 130. The owner of the house is an old man called Fenelón Coca.