May 3, 2017 - La Coronilla

La Coronilla

Several hundred Cholitas from the market gathered on San Sebastian Hill, just outside of what was then Cochabamba, armed with clubs, machetes, mallets, and only three guns.  The army of Goyeneche was advancing on the city.  Governor Antezana had surrendered out of fear.  But Manuela Gandarillas, an old blind woman, was not ready to see her city pillaged and raped by the loyalist army.

My friend Anna insisted I visit La Coronilla in Cochabamba.  When she told me that was the last stand of the women, I remembered one of my favorite statues in Santa Cruz, the Madre India, dedicated to the fight of these women.  So I had to see it!

After lunch, I found a taxi that agreed to take me to a few places.  He said he could wait in the car for me.  His cost was $3 (25 Bs.).  It would have been double that in Santa Cruz.  He parked at the foot of a San Sebastian Hill.  I had to walk that hill.

The walk is not so bad, but I was not accustomed to the altitude, so it was a struggle.  The first two-thirds of the way was paved, but was dirty.  There were bottle caps, gum wrappers, and even bones littering the road.  A few sketchy guys watched me go up the hill, but the shade was too comfortable for them to leave it.  The last third was clean, as if someone had gone across the road picking up all the trash.

At the top were a dozen busts of the heroes of the war of independence.  I figured I could google their names, but I was mistaken.  I only remember two, Coronilla, who the hill is named after, and Mendez, who Mariela wants me to write a blog about.  At the top was a well-built monument.  It would be beautiful anywhere – Paris, London, Los Angeles, Dallas, or Cochabamba.  The statue at the top of the monument is Christ blessing the city.  The views were gorgeous.

The women knew their husbands and sons were dying.  The revolution had not been going well.  The freedom fighters were being crushed by the Spanish loyalist armies.  What should they do?  Surrender and see their homes pillaged?  Their daughters raped?  Their sons mocked?  Not these women.  They made a stand behind Blind Manuela, with their meager weapons.  None had any foolish notion that they could defeat Spain’s professional army.  They knew they would die.

I cannot imagine what was in the minds of the soldiers.  Who gave the order to attack a group of women?  How do you kill a woman with a saucepan and stick for defense?  How do you use your lance on the little girl standing beside her mother?  I would be tormented with the image for the rest of my life.

The Spanish could not defend their empire forever.  It was too large.  There was revolution in every corner of Spanish America, from Mexico to Argentina.  There were millions who wanted freedom.  By 1824, the Spanish American Empire was dead.  Bolivia was free.

I look at these Cholitas as I walk around Cochabamba.  They show no fear.  They smile with confidence.  They love their children with the ferocity of a lion.  They have the blood of the women of San Sebastian Hill in their veins.  This is Cochabamba.

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