A parisian Bolivia

My brother, who lives in Paris, told me that he came across Bolivian news on local television twice. The first one was about a judge reading judicial sentences on coca leaves, and the second was about a girl who had won a chess competition. In the first case, he felt offended, and in the second, proud; after a few minutes, he realized he didn't know those people and had no reason to feel anything for them. "Who is that man or that little girl? I've never seen them in my life, I don't even know which city they're from."

And, of course, it got me thinking. As long as I can remember, Bolivia has always been at the bottom of indicators for everything. Whether it's about the economy, politics, corruption, drug trafficking, education, or anything else, we're always at the bottom of the country comparison tables. Not a single Olympic medal, never an Oscar, let alone thinking of a Nobel Prize, no wars won. Sometimes it seems like the only achievement is qualifying for a World Cup to not win a single match.

So, when I see fellow countrymen drawing parallels with other countries, saying that we have to strive to move forward; all I can think of is that we have to accept the fact that we simply don't function as a country.

I've always been of the idea that if you're not doing well in something for a long enough time, it's best to leave it behind and do something else before dying, leaving a legacy of failure. So, if Bolivia is doing so poorly as a country, maybe it should become something else, a new entity with a different idea of government, education, freedom, and justice. Even better and easier, let it officially become no man's land; in other words, freedom at the highest level, where we are all nobody and the land is ours.

Still, I remembered a Spanish girl who, at a social event, after asking me where I was from, said with a suspicious tone: "The Bolivian is an honest and hardworking guy." I couldn't help but respond provocatively, "Do you remember that guy's name?"