Fiesta del Espíritu | Potosi, Bolivia

What began with a tour guide casually mentioning that we’d be missing out on a great party by two days, turned into me sticking around (flexible plans ftw!) said two days to head to Cerro Rico again to get festive at the Fiesta del Espíritu.

The Fiesta del Espíritu takes place in May/June, with different groups of miners hosting their party on different weekends. It’s an annual event where mining Co-ops on Cerro Rico gather for a llama sacrifice and feast at the entrance to their mine shaft in honor of Pachamama, so that she brings good luck, safety, and fortune to everyone there.

After checking out of my hostel and locking my bag up, I met Sol (and her van so full of tourists heading up for a mine tour that I had to sit on the floor) at 9 am on a Saturday. After stopping by for gifts for the miners (20 Bs) and getting everyone besides me geared up to enter the mine, we got to the Rosario mine entrance.

What we walked up to at around 10:30 was definitely different from what I’d seen at the the same spot two days earlier, when the few people outside were in work mode.

Music blasting, 60 or so people (miners, their wives, and a few kids) sitting around on either side of the mine entrance, smiling, chatting, chewing coca leaves and drinking, plus 10 llamas tied up nearby. Good times!

Shortly after arriving, saying hello, identifying myself as a Mexican, and distancing myself from the tour group, I was handed a can of Potosina, started talking with a few of the guys (some of whom were pretty plastered already; the partying had started for some when their shift had ended the previous night/that morning), and was officially welcomed to the Fiesta del Espíritu.

Sol, bless her heart, wanted to make sure I’d be ok before she disappeared into the mine for the next few hours, so she took me to a different spot in the party to introduce me to Carlos, one of the mine leaders, who was quick to tell me to sit down and join his crew. So I did.

Before long, I was given coca leaves (gotta accept with both hands, I learned), powdered quinoa and stevia, which at first I declined because I thought it was cocaine, and the party was in full effect. It was clear I wasn’t local when I bust out the sunscreen and repositioned my chair so that I wouldn’t be blinded and wrinkled by the sun, as my nice prescription sunglasses were stolen on the bus from Uyuni to Potosí.

Next (and this happened a lot until 7 pm, when darkness fell), the 1L Potosinas were being shared in cups. You’d pour out a small amount thrice on the ground, or on the llamas, for Pachamama, drank the rest, then gave the empty cup back to whomever was pouring, who’d fill it up and hand it to someone else. That unsanitary, communal drinking and intercultural conversation was one of the best parts of the party. Until the llamas took center stage.

If you’re a vegetarian, PETA activist, or simply not open to cultural traditions outside of your own, I suggest you stop scrolling here.

At 11:45, in the spirit of Inca tradition, the llamas started to be sacrificed in pairs to Pachamama.

They were brought to the ground, their legs and head being held by a few men, and jugulars quickly sliced. The blood that emanated from their necks was used to fill large pans, pots, and plates, and then splashed all around the mine entry.

 

Once the ten llamas has gone though the sacrifice, the men gathered around and started to skin and gut them. It was then that I was handed a knife, smeared with llama blood on my face, given some guidance, and invited to partake, getting a chance to truly experience the Fiesta del Espíritu. All the internal organs, head, and lower legs were collected on wheelbarrows, later to be buried as an offering. I’d never severed a pair of llama legs at the knee before or helped skin one, that’s for sure.

 

The rest of the meat was cut up and roasted over coals on mine carts by the women, and would be feasted on three hours later. Of course, the communal drinking continued throughout those three hours, with singani (a Bolivian grape liquor) being added to the mix in pairs of small shots. Robert and Gonzalo, two of the miners invited me to one of the mud brick buildings to get out of the sun and continue drinking. Beer before liquor…

 

Eventually, Sol’s 2nd tour of the day ended and she said it was time to go if I wanted a ride to town. But there was no way I was leaving the Fiesta del Espíritu prematurely and missing out on my first taste of llama meat.

I stuck around until nightfall, trading coats a la soccer jerseys, avoiding getting too Buzzy the Bear by slyly discarding my drinks towards the end of the night, and getting to help bury the llama innards and dance on top of them. Robert then invited me to the after party and said I could stay the night at an empty bedroom there.

So off we went, ushered into minivans that swept us away from Cerro Rico and into at a small, humble, multi-story, red brick complex, where he lives with his wife, child, and five other mining families. The party continued there with more Potosinas & catchy Caral songs that will always remind me of that night (and have now become some of my favorite videos. Just watch and enjoy the music, mullets, and moves).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmLqLkiFNEU

I’m not sure what time I called it a night since my phone was dead, but I slept ok and was up for a cold sunrise at the top the complex, hungry (the only thing I ate Saturday was a single piece of llama meat, sadly) and with a pounding headache.

Eventually, everyone else woke up, coffee and yogurt was had, and Robert and Gonzalo each gave me one of their Atletico Nivel 70 (their Botis mining group soccer team) jerseys, which was flattering.

But the Fiesta del Espíritu was not over. The elders in the complex had to whip everyone younger than them with a belt three times to ward off bad spirits and punish any bad behavior. And all of those who got that belt across the back were given 5 bolivianos, too.

After that I said goodbye to my new friends, who had truly gone above and beyond welcoming me to their party and their home, and walked back to the hostel, where my bloody pants and shoes drew some looks.

All in all, despite Sunday being a complete waste of a day spent recovering, not moving on to Sucre and sticking around for the Fiesta del Espíritu in Potosí was a damn good decision. I spent 40 Bs all day had an absolutely unforgettable experience thanks to the great bunch of people I met Potosí, like Robert and Gonzalo.