Flying Women of Totora
In a unique aereal event, residents of this Bolivian town celebrate brides-to-be, fertility, and the return of ancestral spirits.
Text & Photos © Ricardo Carrasco
During the month of November, the colonial town of Totora is turned into a colorful fiesta, where hundreds of people carry out the Celebration of the Swings of San Andrés, perhaps the most original tradition in Bolivia. Once a year, the residents of the village gather to say goodbye to the souls of dead relatives and to celebrate the youth of women in search of husbands. To further this purpose, they set up gigantic swings on the cobbled streets, then decorate them and throw themselves a party that lasts for several days.
Inside the bus to Totora, I am accompanied by a great number of countrywomen in colorful attire. They talk to one another
in Quechua and although I can make out some words, the ocher landscape through the window catches my attention. Small adobe houses scattered on the hillsides inevitably remind me of the scenery in Central Chile, but my mind abruptly comes back to Bolivia as the road becomes a rustic cobbled path, bouncing travelers from one side to the other.
After five
bumpy hours from Cochabamba, we arrive at dusk in Totora, a small village known for its colonial architecture. Once off the bus, I walk along a narrow street where I meet Mrs. Olimpia Alba sitting in her small store. Fortunately, she speaks Spanish, and she tells me, “ You have arrived just in time for the Celebration of the Swings of San Andrés.”
Perhaps subconsciously, I had gone into the mountains looking for images and I had, serendipitously, arrived at the right place. A great party welcomed me.
The following
day at sunrise, I am already taking pictures on the streets, which quickly become host to numerous visitors from Cochabamba and Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Many of the houses around town are in shambles. There I meet Ramiro Arispe, a geologist dedicated to the preservation of the town history, who has come to support its reconstruction. "Totora has 485 colonial houses, but after the 1998 earthquake (which measured 6.5 on the Richter scale), many were almost completely destroyed," says Arispe, looking around sadly.
We are walking among numerous young people in costume, and soon we find ourselves exploring a beautiful colonial patio. "The houses around the square used to belong to the coca entrepreneurs,” Arispe tells me. “That was a thriving business up until 1950.”
I climb up a narrow path, which leads to the cemetery, a good vantage point with a panoramic view of the village and its asymmetric architecture. From afar I see large wooden beams coming out of the roofs. These pillars do not belong to the great houses, but instead to the swings that throughout November rock the ancestral beliefs of the totoreños.
According
to tradition, on November 2 the souls of the dead come down from the top of the mountain or hanacpacha (heaven or upper world). Then, throughout the month, the young women swing high in hopes of helping the spirits return to their celestial abodes, tired from wandering around in the world of the living. This is why the wooden beams are ornamented with ribbons, flags and streamers so that the souls go happily away, carrying good memories of the village and their descendents.
Many women, carrying their babies on their backs, have arrived from the mountains to see the "flying women". Belisario Rioja, an ornithologist who returns year after year to enjoy the festival, tells me, "Young women and some who haven't been lucky with love, swing with the belief that catching a basket with their feet will get them a boyfriend. Inside the basket, relatives put small gifts that symbolize the arrival of the rains, good harvests and fertility."
Meanwhile,
two strong 'pushers' pull leather lines tied to the seat of the swing, driving the girls swiftly up in the air, so high that it seems they will almost touch the sky. "Flower that flutters, flower that flutters...!" they scream as they fly high in the Andean sky.
The sun sets in Totora and the women have already helped their relatives to go back to hanacpacha. The baskets slowly begin to disappear in the hands of their happy owners, who watch the luck of other swingers that follow or simply vanish through narrow side streets, shaking streamers from their backs, maybe to meet their long yearned-for suitors.
For a photo gallery and the Spanish language version of this article please visit Ricardo Carrasco's official website, rcsphoto.net. Publishers interested can contact him to purchase reproduction rights.
Text & Photos © Ricardo Carrasco
During the month of November, the colonial town of Totora is turned into a colorful fiesta, where hundreds of people carry out the Celebration of the Swings of San Andrés, perhaps the most original tradition in Bolivia. Once a year, the residents of the village gather to say goodbye to the souls of dead relatives and to celebrate the youth of women in search of husbands. To further this purpose, they set up gigantic swings on the cobbled streets, then decorate them and throw themselves a party that lasts for several days.
Inside the bus to Totora, I am accompanied by a great number of countrywomen in colorful attire. They talk to one another
in Quechua and although I can make out some words, the ocher landscape through the window catches my attention. Small adobe houses scattered on the hillsides inevitably remind me of the scenery in Central Chile, but my mind abruptly comes back to Bolivia as the road becomes a rustic cobbled path, bouncing travelers from one side to the other.After five
bumpy hours from Cochabamba, we arrive at dusk in Totora, a small village known for its colonial architecture. Once off the bus, I walk along a narrow street where I meet Mrs. Olimpia Alba sitting in her small store. Fortunately, she speaks Spanish, and she tells me, “ You have arrived just in time for the Celebration of the Swings of San Andrés.”Perhaps subconsciously, I had gone into the mountains looking for images and I had, serendipitously, arrived at the right place. A great party welcomed me.
The following
day at sunrise, I am already taking pictures on the streets, which quickly become host to numerous visitors from Cochabamba and Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Many of the houses around town are in shambles. There I meet Ramiro Arispe, a geologist dedicated to the preservation of the town history, who has come to support its reconstruction. "Totora has 485 colonial houses, but after the 1998 earthquake (which measured 6.5 on the Richter scale), many were almost completely destroyed," says Arispe, looking around sadly.We are walking among numerous young people in costume, and soon we find ourselves exploring a beautiful colonial patio. "The houses around the square used to belong to the coca entrepreneurs,” Arispe tells me. “That was a thriving business up until 1950.”
I climb up a narrow path, which leads to the cemetery, a good vantage point with a panoramic view of the village and its asymmetric architecture. From afar I see large wooden beams coming out of the roofs. These pillars do not belong to the great houses, but instead to the swings that throughout November rock the ancestral beliefs of the totoreños.
According
to tradition, on November 2 the souls of the dead come down from the top of the mountain or hanacpacha (heaven or upper world). Then, throughout the month, the young women swing high in hopes of helping the spirits return to their celestial abodes, tired from wandering around in the world of the living. This is why the wooden beams are ornamented with ribbons, flags and streamers so that the souls go happily away, carrying good memories of the village and their descendents.Many women, carrying their babies on their backs, have arrived from the mountains to see the "flying women". Belisario Rioja, an ornithologist who returns year after year to enjoy the festival, tells me, "Young women and some who haven't been lucky with love, swing with the belief that catching a basket with their feet will get them a boyfriend. Inside the basket, relatives put small gifts that symbolize the arrival of the rains, good harvests and fertility."
Meanwhile,
two strong 'pushers' pull leather lines tied to the seat of the swing, driving the girls swiftly up in the air, so high that it seems they will almost touch the sky. "Flower that flutters, flower that flutters...!" they scream as they fly high in the Andean sky.The sun sets in Totora and the women have already helped their relatives to go back to hanacpacha. The baskets slowly begin to disappear in the hands of their happy owners, who watch the luck of other swingers that follow or simply vanish through narrow side streets, shaking streamers from their backs, maybe to meet their long yearned-for suitors.
For a photo gallery and the Spanish language version of this article please visit Ricardo Carrasco's official website, rcsphoto.net. Publishers interested can contact him to purchase reproduction rights.
posted by canbiz at 4:21 PM
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