Paro in Peru - stuck in a blockade again

We decided to go straight to the capital, Lima, from Cuzco and found some cheapish ticksts at the station. The journey was to take around 20 hours, starting at 8pm. As is quite common in these parts the journey was a roller coaster ride with the bus rattling along at full speed round winding mountain roads, despite the thick night fog. After the initial anxiety, as per usual we were able to salvage some very broken sleep until the early hours.


At around 3am the coach stopped. At first I thought it was a loo break, and fell back into a slumber, happy that the stationary vehicle would offer a better prospect of sleep. But as the day of light increased, a glimpse through the window revealed that we were one of maybe 40 coaches bumper to bumper, sitting along a road in the middle of nowhere. It was quite clear that we were stuck in a blockade, or 'Paro'.

In the previous month there had been a series of high profile paros in Peru, targeting the main routes between the major cities. I'm still not completely sure about what they have been in opposition to, although I know some may have been in response to the horrendous government masacre of indigeous people in the Amazon back in June (see earler 'News roundup' post) , and others against the government's water privatisation proposals.

At the front of the line I could make out group of people and a small plume of black smoke. Wiping the sleep from my eyes I grabbed the camera and went to investigate. There were groups of people engaged in heated arguments between those responsible for the blockade and those caught up in it. The scenery combined with the filthy black smoke form the burning tires on the roadside created a post-apocolyptic, Mad Max II -like scene. There were a group of men with a crowbar trying to dislodge a huge boulder that sat on an embankment a few metres above the road. I asked a few people what it was all about. Some said lack of jobs, others mentioned that the main road through the nearby town needed serious work, and that it had done for 15 years; the people of the town had taken advantage of a strike on the previous day to finally send a powerful message the government -get on with it!

As the time passed, tensions began to run high as patience dwindelled. Occasionally someone one would begin to roll or kick rocks off the road, only to be met by the angry, old Cholitas (indig enous women), who imediately began to replace each rock with 3 more. At one point, a rock-throwing battle broke, initiated by some idiot teenagers. There was a lot of shouting and people began moving back out of the wa y, and a few of the vehicles at the front reversed out of the danger zone. I scuttled higher up the embankment from which I viewed the situation, along with many other spectators. It was all over pretty quickly, with the offending youths retreating high among the rocks, perching like baseball-capped v ultures. Thankfully, despite the high tension of the situation, that was the only violent incedent of the day.

We spent the rest of the day chatting with other bemused travellers (many of which were on their way to catch a flight) and sitting in the sun relaxing. It was a fine place to be stuck in a blockade. People began to eat their lunches on the grass and, to our disappointment, followed the local tradition of using any availabl e place of natural beauty as a bin. We d ecided to try and set an example by wandering around bagging the litter. Some looked shocked whilst others, the bus driver included, sniggered and made snide remarks. It did have the desired effect though; a lady with her children came up to us thanked us, pressing her children to follow our example, and shortly afterwards we saw others picking up wrappers and bottles too.

During the day we'd become concern ed about the many children caught up in this - would they really make us stay put throughout a cold night with no heating or supplies? During one of the many community debates and meetings which took place on the frontline, I had my say. I too am an activist, I said, and am supportive of peaceful direct action when the government continuosly fails to listen to the people. But surley holding up young mothers and babies, without water or food is unfair, and no way to drum up sympathy and support for the cause?.

The day went on, and the radio reports m ade their various predictions for how long it would last, the favourite being 48 hou rs (this was bac ked up by the "VIVA EL PARO! 48 HORAS"! grafitti that had been painted on the windscreens of each vehicle hours before. Supprisingly the police were nowhere to be seen for most of the day. I couldnt help but imagine the police response on the UK if a major route had been blockaded! Helicopters, video cameras and truncheons all round. The light began to dwindle, and we began to wander if it really would last so long. Then , suddenly the coach engines started up one by one. They were letting us through! We had been there for 16 hours!

So, the 20 hour journey had turned into one of 36, so we were happy to reach a hostel in the early hours mist of Lima. The plan was to sleep for an hour, find migration to sort out our illegal status, and then head off to begi n a voluntary project in a rural village; making ecological stoves out of mud and donkey shit.