First reactions from the streets of Brazil after the news broke that Congress had voted to initiate an impeachment proceeding against President Dilma Rousseff:
“What do you mean: politics? impeachment? president? – I just want carnival and football!”
“They are starting to investigate Petrobras. Quick, let’s cover up the bribes!”
“Congratulations on your political system, Mr Löw.” – “You need to start a world war and destroy the whole continent. Then the Americans will come, save your ass and build a proper democracy for you, too.”
“I am no longer important. Boohooo.”
“You greedy bastard politicians! You stole the oil, you stole the jobs, you stole the taxes, you stole the pensions! All I have left is this T-shirt and I will fight to my death to keep it!”
“My parents said we won’t get a permanent seat on the UN Security Council.”
“None of this matters. At least we are still a multi-ethnic, non-racist country and that is something we can be proud of!”
“Can this be true? Maybe I won’t be the most-hated person in Brazil forever.”
1889, that was a coup when the military toppled the Brazilian emperor Pedro II and forced him into exile.
1964, that was a coup which lead to 20 years of military dictatorship.
2016, that is, contrary to some angry rhetoric and calls of “coup” and “putsch”, nothing of the sort.
It is an impeachment proceeding permitted by the constitution. True, it is a huge circus in which corrupt and criminal politicians are trying to impeach another politician who has not been charged with corruption by making allegations about accounting tricks which are the least of Brazil’s problems. True, it is sad for Brazilian democracy that parliamentarians explain their vote with references to their families, gods, the military dictatorship, the fight against communism or in one case “for peace in Jerusalem”. True, Brazil’s congress revealed itself in this vote as an even greater embarrassment than the national soccer team (at least President Rousseff did not lose the vote by a margin of 7 to 1). True, there are a few crazies in Brazil who want a military government. True, the mood is quite heated and the level of political debate is in a bottomless pit.
But none of this constitutes a coup or a putsch.
Rather, it is a symptom of many of the things which are in disorder in Brazil. But now the world realizes the chaos that Brazilians – at least those who wanted to see it – knew all along. Unfortunately though, and this is only one of the many causes, while millions of households advanced into the economic middle class during the years of the oil boom, there was no equally fast and widespread growth of a politically active and educated class. Nor of a differentiated and non-partisan media landscape (only Globo, Globo, Globo everywhere). And thanks to the Football World Cup and the Olympic Games, the Lula administration could make ample use of the circus part of the age-old “panem et circenses” strategy and thus distract from economic malaise. But none of these are problems that are unique to Brazil.
But one thing does apply in particular to a country with Brazil’s history: One should be careful with words like “coup” or “putsch”. No need to conjure anything up. And after all, terms like “completely fucked up” are absolutely sufficient to describe the political situation in Brazil.
Everyone knows that situation: You need to photocopy a few pages from a book because you need to return it to the library, but you don’t have a copy machine on hand or your secretary has skipped work again.
In Sucre in Bolivia there is a solution to this problem. You call the “Copi Movil” and within a few minutes, the mobile copy shop will be in front of your house. You can also have your dissertation printed and bound here and have it taken directly to the university.
If you hand the driver enough money, he will be back with your PhD certificate after about an hour.
On my hike from Sucre to the seven waterfalls, I saw this bus.
As you can see from the sign behind the windshield, the bus still had to cover about 150 km to Potosí. It is really a shame that almost nobody in Sucre knows of the possibility to take a comfortable railroad to Potosí, but I hope that my article about this subject, to be published soon, will change this. Then, people won’t need to inhale dust and freeze for hours any longer. (Admittedly, there are also “normal” buses between the two cities.)
On yesterday’s flight from Cochabamba to La Paz, there was a thick cover of clouds, so I fell asleep, thinking I won’t miss much. Luckily, I woke up just as we were passing Mount Illimani, whose snow-covered peaks could be seen above the clouds. An absolutely beautiful sight.
I didn’t have my camera with me in the cabin, so I have to share this photo. Yesterday, there was even more snow. Everything was completely white. Spectacular.
At 6,438 meters, this is the highest mountain I have seen so far. It also holds the record for highest crash of a plane into a mountain, at around 6,000 meters. Despite this, I am looking forward to the return flight where I will hopefully catch a photo myself. I just have to catch a cloudy day.
Until then, I can see Illimani every day from La Paz.
On average, you are awoken by marching bands in Bolivia twice per week and at least once per week you will be prevented from falling asleep at night by a marching band and fireworks. I generally like this, and it’s much better than the songs of the 7th Day Adventists every Friday night or the music that my housemates play.
This Wednesday, I didn’t expect anything extraordinary for lack of any national, religious or international celebration, but as coincidence wanted it, a high school in Potosí was just celebrating its anniversary. Students and teachers had been contemplating for weeks how to celebrate this year and finally came up with a creative idea: a marching band and fireworks.
One school doesn’t like to go to the party alone, so they invited all other schools in Potosí to provide a marching band as well. All together, they wanted to march through the city for at least 12 hours, leaving no street unvisited. No wonder that people were hiding in the mines of Cerro Rico.
As soon as I heard the first drum roll, I quickly finished my dinner and stormed outside in order to film the spectacle for you. Watch for yourself and pay attention to the school uniform, the overly brisk body movements, the insignia on the banners and the name of the school.
Ok, and now honestly: Who, at least among my readers with an interest in German history, was not reminded at least a little bit of an SS march?
Everything in fitting black. Black banners with Germanic eagles. (Bolivia doesn’t have an eagle, but a condor as its national bird.) With the slogan “Honor – Discipline – Work”. The name of the school: Marshal Otto Braun College. That sounded very German, and in a small city at 4,000 meters altitude in the Cordilleras, it aroused my curiosity.
Because I knew from experience that such festivities would go on for hours, I walked to the local library and discovered that my knowledge of history is very much limited, both in temporal and in geographical terms. Otto Philipp Braun, or Otto Felipe Braun as he is called in Bolivia, did come from Germany, but he really had no connection with the SS. Rather, he came as a 20-year old immigrant first to the USA in 1818, then to the Caribbean and finally to South America. From a job as a horse trader, he somehow advanced to become a cavalry officer in the army of Simón Bolívar (by far not the only German or European to do so). During the liberation wars against the Spanish, he proved himself more from battle to battle, was promoted and after the wars became governor of La Paz, supreme commander of the military and ultimately Bolivia’s defense minister.
This shows that swift careers by immigrants are not only possible in North America. But why do we never learn of these stories in Germany?
Marshal Braun died in 1869, so he didn’t have anything to do with the German Reich either, which was not yet in existence by then. So why the German eagle and the black SS uniforms? It’s easy to imagine how this came about. “Hey, in a way, we are a German school. What do we want to wear?” “Leather pants!” “Too cold for that in Potosí.” “Mmhh, I will go to the video store and get some films about Germany.” Well, those films were Schindler’s List and Valkyrie and thus the image of Germany remained frozen in 1945.
The bandmaster was slightly more modern than the costume designer, creating an odd dissonance between repertoire and dress code. A marching band in SS uniforms is playing “They don’t care about us” by Michael Jackson.
It got more bizarre. A smoke grenade was lit, the lead dancer gyrated with his fancy stick in a cloud of green smoke, and then the whole show degenerated into a completely kitschy Las-Vegas-style revue.
That’s when I realized what had been the inspiration: “Springtime for Hitler” from the film The Producers, although I am uncertain if the parody was intended. Searching for more photos of this school band, it turned out that the SS uniforms are relatively new. Three years ago, the musicians in the marching band of Marshal Otto Braun College in Bolivia were still wearing German-Reich-style spiked helmets. (After minute 4:40, you even get some simulated machine-gun fire thrown in.)
If you ever receive Bolivian exchange students in Germany, please take the time to inform them of the progress made since 1945. And maybe advise them carefully that they shouldn’t wear these kind of uniforms when arriving at the airport.
Links:
There are many more connections between Germany and Bolivia, from refugees to presidents.
Because I don’t receive enough donations to support my blog, I have to start working as a lawyer again. Unfortunately, I don’t possess any other skills.
After my long sabbatical of six years, I have to start small. Very small.
This is my new office, right next to the train station in Sucre, Bolivia.
Not only New York has a Statue of Liberty. So does Potosí in Bolivia.
This one is no replica of the famous sister, but an original creation in its own right. Yet sisters they are, for they have the same father: Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi was the architect of both Statues of Liberty, and in fact many more around the world. The one in Potosí was erected in 1890, only four years after the one in New York had been inaugurated.
But even the combination of Ladies Liberty and Justice cannot deliver either to the miners still working under inhumane conditions in the mines of Cerro Rico in the background.
Because I knew from experience that such festivities would go on for hours, I walked to the local library and discovered that my knowledge of history is very much limited, both in temporal and in geographical terms. 
