The Bolivian Diary (31 page)

The only news on the radio is the postponement of Debray's trial to September 17, at the earliest.

A bad day. It began auspiciously but then the animals refused to go on a track that was very rough and, finally, the male mule refused to walk any farther and was left behind on the other bank. Coco made the decision due to the violent flooding of the river, but four weapons were left on the other side, among them Moro's and the three antitank shells for Benigno's gun. I swam across the river with the mule, but lost my shoes in the process so now I have only sandals, which does not amuse me
at all. Ñato made a bundle out of his clothing, wrapped his weapons in an oilcloth, and jumped in where the torrent was the strongest, and lost everything. The other mule got stuck and then jumped in to go across by herself, but we had to bring her back because there was no way she would make it. León tried to take the mule across, but they both nearly drowned as the current had increased.

Finally, we made it to the creek that was our goal; El Médico was in a very bad way, complaining throughout the night of neuralgia in his extremities. From here, our plan was to make the animals swim back to the other side, but the rising water level interrupted this plan, at least until it goes down again. Furthermore, planes and helicopters have been flying over this area; I do not like helicopters at all because they could be setting up ambushes along the river. Tomorrow we will explore upstream and downstream, in order to determine exactly where we are.

Altitude = 780 meters. Walked = three to four kilometers.

I forgot to mark an event: Today, I took a bath, after more than six months. This constitutes a record that several others are already approaching.

A quiet day. Scouts went upriver and to the creek; those who explored the river returned at dusk with the news that most likely we could cross it when the river level drops further and said there were sandy areas where the beasts could walk. Benigno and Julio explored the creek, but only superficially and they were back by 12:00. With the assistance of the rear guard, Ñato and Coco went to find the things we left behind, passing
the mule and leaving behind only a bag of machine-gun bullet casings.

There was an unpleasant incident: Chino came to tell me that Ñato had roasted and eaten a whole piece of meat in front of him; I was furious with Chino because it was his job to stop him, but after investigating further, things got complicated because it was hard to tell whether or not Chino had authorized the act. He asked to be replaced and I put Pombo in charge again, but this was a bitter pill for Chino.

In the morning, the radio reported that Barrientos claimed that I have been dead for some time; it was all propaganda, and at night it was reported that he was offering 50,000 pesos (US$4,200) for information leading to my capture, dead or alive. The armed forces apparently gave him a
[illegible in the original].
Leaflets were distributed in the area, probably with my description. Requeterán
⁴
says that Barrientos's offer could be considered a psychological maneuver, since the tenacity of the guerrilla force is well known and they are preparing for a long war.

I talked at length with Pablito, who, like everyone else, is worried by the lack of contact and believes that our fundamental task is to reestablish links with the city. But he showed himself to be steady and determined, the “Homeland or death” type, wherever it leads.

The day began with a tragicomic episode: right on 6:00, the hour of reveille, Eustaquio came to warn us that people were advancing along the creek; he called for arms and everyone
was mobilized; Antonio had seen them, and when I asked him how many there were, he responded holding up five fingers. In the end, it turned out to be a hallucination, dangerous for the morale of the troops, because immediately afterwards they began to talk of psychosis. Later on, I spoke with Antonio and clearly he is not himself; tears came to his eyes, but he denied that he was worried about anything, saying he was only affected by a lack of sleep as he has been on kitchen duty for six days for falling asleep at his post and then denying it. Chapaco disobeyed an order and was sanctioned with three days' kitchen duty. During the night he asked me to assign him to the vanguard because, according to him, he did not get along with Antonio. I refused. Inti, León, and Eustaquio went off to make a thorough exploration of the creek to determine whether we could get to the other side and make it to a large mountain chain that can be seen in the distance. Coco, Aniceto, and Julio went upstream to scout the fords and see how we could take the animals if we went that way.

Barrientos's offer has apparently caused quite a stir; in any case, one crazy journalist thinks that US$4,200 is too little money, considering what a menace I am. Radio Habana reported that OLAS has received a message of support from the ELN: a miracle of telepathy!

The explorers returned: Inti and his group climbed along the creek all day and slept at a high altitude, which was very cold; apparently, the creek begins in a mountain range ahead of us and flows west; the animals cannot get through there. Coco and his compañeros tried unsuccessfully to cross the river,
clambering over 11 cliffs before reaching the canyon where the Pesca River should be located; they saw some signs of life there: farms cleared by fire and an ox. The animals will have to cross over to the other side, unless we can put everything on a raft, which is what we will try to do.

I spoke with Darío about the issue of his leaving, if that is what he wants to do. At first he argued that to leave would be very dangerous, but I warned him that this is not a refuge and if he decided to stay then it would be for once and for all. He agreed and said that he would correct his shortcomings. We will see.

The only news on the radio was that a shot was fired over the head of Debray's father and that all Debray's preparatory documents for his defense were confiscated under the pretext that they should not become political propaganda.

An exhausting day. Miguel set off at 7:00 with the vanguard and Ñato, with instructions to walk as far as possible on this side and to make a raft when it became difficult to continue. Antonio stayed with the rear guard in an ambush position. A couple of M-1s were left in a little cave that Ñato and Willy know about. At 15:30, after receiving no news, we started out.

I found it impossible to ride a mule and, sensing an asthma attack coming on, I had to leave the animal to León and continue on foot. The rear guard had orders to begin their march at 15:00, if there were no counter orders. At about this time, Pablito arrived to say that the ox had reached the place where the animals could cross and that the raft was being built a kilometer farther up. I waited for the animals to arrive, which
did not happen until 18:15, after some men were sent to help them. The two mules then went across (the ox had done so earlier) and we continued at a weary pace until reaching the raft, where I discovered that 12 men were still on this side—only 10 had gone across. So thus split up, we spent the night, eating the last ration of ox, which was half-rotten.

Altitude = 720 meters. Walked = two to three kilometers.

A slightly longer stretch was covered: five to six kilometers, but we did not make it to the Pesca River because we had to take the animals across twice, and one of the mules refused to go. We still need to make one more crossing and to see if the mules can get through.

The radio broadcast news of Loyola's arrest; the photos must be at fault. Our remaining bull died—at the hands of the executioner, naturally.

Altitude = 780 meters.

The day was spent constructing the raft and crossing the river, hiking only 500 meters to a camp where there was a little spring. The crossing went without incident in a good raft that was pulled by ropes from both sides of the river. When finally left alone, Antonio and Chapaco had another row and Antonio gave Chapaco six days punishment for insulting him; I respected his decision, but I am not sure it is fair. During the evening there was another incident when Eustaquio complained that Ñato had eaten an extra meal, which turned out to be some pieces of fatty bull hide. Another difficult situation over food. El Médico
raised another little problem with me concerning his illness and what the others thought about it, based on some comments made by Julio; it all seems trivial.

Altitude = 820 meters.

Pablito.

A day of stomatology; I extracted teeth from Arturo and Chapaco, while Miguel explored up to the river and Benigno to the road; the news is that the mules can get up, but first have to swim, crossing and recrossing the river. In Pablito's honor we made some rice: he is 22 years old, the youngest of the guerrillas.

The only radio report is about the postponement of the trial and a protest over the arrest of Loyola Guzmán.

We started out at 7:00, but Miguel soon brought news that they had seen three peasants around a bend, but did not know if they had seen us; the order was issued to detain them. True to form, Chapaco sparked off another dispute, accusing Arturo of having stolen 15 bullets from his magazine; this bodes ill and the only good thing is that, although his rows are with Cubans, no Bolivian pays him any attention. The mules made the whole journey without having to swim, but when crossing a gully, the black mule fell and hurt itself, falling down about 50 meters. Four peasants and their little donkeys were seized, while traveling to Piraypani, a river located a league upstream from this one; they told us that Aladino Gutiérrez and his troops were hunting and fishing on the banks of the Río Grande.
Benigno was thoroughly reckless by letting himself be seen, and then releasing the man, the woman, and the other peasant. When I found out about this, I blew my top, describing it an act of treason, which reduced Benigno to tears. All the peasants have been warned that they will be coming with us to Zitano tomorrow, the settlement where they live, six to eight leagues from here. Aladino and his wife are a bit shifty and it took a lot of effort to convince them to sell us food. The radio is now reporting two suicide attempts by Loyola “for fear of guerrilla reprisals,” as well as the arrest of several teachers who, if they are not involved, are at least sympathetic to us. Apparently a lot of things were taken from Loyola's house, but it would not be strange if everything stemmed from the photos in the cave.

At dusk a small plane and a Mustang aircraft flew over the area in a suspicious way.

Altitude = 800 meters.

We did not leave particularly early because the peasants could not find their animals. Finally, after really giving them a mouthful, we set off with a caravan of prisoners. Moro was walking slowly and when we reached the river we learned that three more prisoners had been taken and that the vanguard had just gone to find a sugarcane plantation two leagues away. These leagues seemed long, as long as the first two had been. Around 9:00 we got to the plantation, which was only a cane field; the rear guard arrived later.

I had a conversation with Inti about some of his weaknesses concerning food and he became very upset, agreeing with what I had said and saying he would make a public self-criticism
when the group was alone again, but he denied some of the accusations. We passed through altitudes of 1,440 meters and are now at 1,000; from here to Lusitano is a three-hour hike—maybe four, the pessimists say. Finally, we ate pork and those with a sweet tooth filled up on
chankaka.

The radio is going on about the Loyola case and the teachers are out on strike; the students of the secondary school where Higueras worked—one of those arrested—are on a hunger strike; and the oil company workers are about to strike because of the creation of an oil company.

A sign of the times: I have run out of ink.

I decided to leave at 15:00 to get to the Lusitano settlement by nightfall, as they said it would only take three good hours to get there, but various mishaps delayed us until 17:00 and total darkness caught us on a hill. Despite lighting a lamp, we only reached Aladino Gutiérrez's house at 23:00, and he had few supplies, although we did get some cigarettes and other trifles, but no clothing. We slept a little before heading off at 3:00 straight to Alto Seco, which is said to be four leagues away. We seized the magistrate's telephone, but it does not work—has not worked for years—and besides, the line is down. The magistrate's name is Vargas and he has only been in the post a short time.

The radio reports nothing important; we passed altitudes of 1,800 meters and Lusitano is at 1,400 meters.

We walked some two leagues to the settlement.

We left at 3:00 under bright moonlight along a trail we had checked out beforehand and walked until about 9:00 without seeing anyone and crossing altitudes of 2,040 meters, the highest we have reached so far. At this time, we ran into a couple of herders who gave us directions to Alto Seco, two leagues away. We had barely covered two leagues during part of the night and the morning. When we came to the first houses at the bottom of the hill, we bought some supplies and went to the mayor's house to cook some food; later we passed a corn mill run by hydraulic power on the banks of the Piraymiri (1,400 meters altitude.) People here are quite afraid and try to avoid us; we have lost a lot of time due to poor mobility. To cover the two leagues to Alto Seco took from 12:35 to 5:00.

When our center group reached Alto Seco, we learned that the magistrate had apparently left yesterday to raise the alarm that we were in the area; in retaliation, we seized everything in his store. Alto Seco is a village of 50 houses, located at an altitude of 1,900 meters, and we were received with a well-seasoned mixture of fear and curiosity. The provisioning machine was set in motion and we soon had a respectable amount of food at our camp, which was an abandoned house next to a water hole. The little truck that was supposed to come from Vallegrande never showed up, confirming the theory that the magistrate went to sound an alert. Nevertheless, I had to bear his wife's tears, who, in the name of God and her children, asked for payment, something I did not accede to. During the evening, Inti gave a talk at the local school (for first and second grades)
to a group of 15 amazed and silent peasants, explaining the scope of our revolution. The teacher was the only person to speak, asking if we were fighting in the towns. He is a mix of the cunning peasant, educated, but with a childlike naivety; he asked a bunch of questions about socialism. An older boy offered to serve as our guide and warned us about the teacher, whom they describe as a bit of a fox. We left at 1:30, heading for Santa Elena, where we arrived at 10:00.