Ignominious End of a Despot | Final ignominioso de un despota

Lupe Cajias, Los Tiempos:

The Trumpeter Who Returned to Dust

The biography of Evo Morales Ayma (Orinoca-Oruro Canton, 1959) is recounted in the most mythological ways. Iván Canelas, one of his biographers and former minister, claimed that Evo followed the path of Jesus; in the manger of Plaza Murillo, they placed a big-headed baby as Morales. No one knows how much was spent for Martín Sivac to follow him for three years to write the praises in “Jefazo.” Argentinians assert that an elderly teacher in Salta remembered that “bolita” who was already showing signs of leadership in first grade.

Dozens of press articles around the world repeat stories that were never verified. Perhaps the only ones who could clarify some scenes from his early biographical videos are Iván Iporre, “Evo’s eyes and arms” from before he became president, or Alex Contreras, another of his biographers and his spokesperson until 2008. The little peasant boy running after oranges seems more like a scene from Isico in the movie “Chuquiago” than a real anecdote. The story that he was a good soccer player and that’s why he was invited to be a leader seems more like an imitation of Juan Lechín’s beginnings; Morales needs to kick his opponent to win, as we have seen. He got angry when CNN’s team defeated the players he had on his planes. How much did he pay and with what budget did he transport his team?

Morales himself liked to tell events in one way and then in another; for example, the passage of his father bribing the rural teacher so that his son could pass the grade. In his 18 years of government, in addition to his decades as a union leader, he recounted scenes that have no other source to be verified.

However, the hard data of this man’s trajectory are enough to astonish. Born in a typical poor farmer’s home in one of the most remote highlands from any city, he suffered alongside his family from forced economic exiles. He was a migrant in northern Argentina. After the drought that devastated the highlands in the 1980s, he went to the tropics in Cochabamba. There, he became an Andean man wearing short-sleeved shirts.

It is very possible that he worked as a baker, bricklayer, ice cream vendor. There is a photo showing him fulfilling his military service with the faces of many rural youth who proudly wear the uniform that consecrates their citizenship.

The people of Oruro were happy to have a fellow citizen when he arrived at the Government Palace and stepped out onto the balcony on behalf of so many marginalized Bolivians. Combative like his ancestors, they were also the first to halt his narcissistic ambition. Evo, at the height of his power, wanted to change the name of the airport dedicated to the great Juan Mendoza and put his image as he did in the Cable Car, in subsidized food, on the roads. The Oruro Civic Committee did not allow it.

In Oruro, they claim he played the trumpet in one of the big bands. In 2006, the audience at the famous carnival’s entrance welcomed him with applause and cheers. He seemed to parade in his element (very different from other politicians who become Transformer dancers). At another carnival, alongside foreign footballers who enjoyed his generous friendship, he encountered the “familiar face” that was part of his downfall.

In the 2024 carnival, the former trumpeter was declared persona non grata for instigating blockades that affected tourism in Oruro, the city’s most secure source of income. The sumptuous museum adorned for him by the publicist Juan Carlos Valdivia, director of a short film about Evo the footballer, is now dusty. If before only a few visited, now no one comes.

The trumpeter doesn’t even have the chance to attend as a former president in an official box. He is obliged to sit like any other spectator, incognito. Evo Morales cannot bear that anonymity. He cannot walk peacefully in airports or Plaza Murillo or attend union congresses. He is confined to a radio booth.

He, who was awarded honorary doctorates by various universities, is now persona non grata in neighboring countries and cannot vacation wherever he pleases. Isolated, he cannot even hire private planes from his friends who now refuse to gift him more horses.

Evo was a coca grower leader dedicated to his grassroots until 1994; he faced the empire that ravaged the producers. He was loved, admired. Power and advisors from Havana, Caracas, São Paulo, and Puebla twisted his fate. He personally dealt the treacherous blow to each of his comrades from difficult times. The worst was the poisoned dagger to end Filemón Escóbar.

The traitor now feels betrayed.

Solitary, his old signs of paranoia worsen. He hallucinates visions where he is seen alongside Simón Bolívar or next to Víctor Paz. His face, his gesture, his expression say more than his words.

He is no longer a trumpeter; he can no longer dance at the entrance of the Oruro carnival.

Even worse, synthetic drugs are displacing cocaine. Coca prices are falling worldwide; traffickers and consumers are onto something else. Even the sacred leaf has abandoned him.

Leave a comment