And Now for Something Completely Different — The Festival of Alasitas

Sometimes life gives you a treat, completely unexpected and unsolicited. Yesterday was such a day for me; I got to take part in the annual Bolivian Alasitas festival. As I understand it, Alasitas is based upon an ancient Tihuanaco tradition, one that was carried on during Incan times and lives on as an Aymaran custom. More recently (as in several hundred years ago) the festival was infused with some trappings of Catholocism, and today it remains a thriving cultural institution.

The festival revolves around a character by the name of Ekeko, the God of Abundance. Starting on January 24th, artisans from around the country open up shop, and Bolivians flock to snap up coveted items. Virtually everything is for sale, but there’s a catch: it’s all in miniature. From miniature money, to miniature cars, to miniature houses… even miniature paperwork is for sale. There are deeds to houses, academic degrees, marriage certificates, and divorce certificates available, along with symbols for items even more difficult (though admittedly not always impossible) to buy, such as love, a new mate, or a new baby.

Essentially, anything your heart might desire is up for grabs. According to tradition, once the miniatures are purchased, blessed and — this is a key point — given to someone your care about, that person will receive the item in reality in the coming year.

Blessings are normally a two-step process. The first blessing comes from an Aymara shaman, known as a yatiri. She bundles up the proferred items, anoints them with flowers, wine, and more alcohol, and then blows plumes of incense across them. Once complete, the short ceremony confers the blessing of Pachamama, the earth mother, upon the miniatures.

The second step, which I didn’t get a chance to do, takes place at the local Catholic church. (I suppose it’s good to cover your bases.)

Here are some photos of the vendors…

the miniatures…

the fun and frantic shopping…

and the yatiri’s blessing.

I think there’s a message in here somewhere, though I’m not quite sure what it is. The metaphor of cutting consumerism down to size is certainly appealing. More likely though, I think it is based on the fact that most of the miniatures have to do with elements of a life well lived. Food, shelter, education, travel, love and marriage, a family — it seems that the festival is less an outpouring of collective greed than an expression of a collective desire for a good and fulfilling life. What better thing could you hope to give to those you care about most?