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Mi padre a los seis años de edad. La Paz, Bolivia. (1925)/ My father at six years of age.

Foto de mi madre a sus cuatro años de edad. Sucre, Bolivia. (1929)/ Photo of my mother at the age of four.

My parents. San Francisco, California. (1965)/ Mis Padres.

The night we left our home to go live in the US, top glass panel of a vertical triptich window design was shattered by the blunt force of a red, black and white Duncan, Coca-Cola yo-yo, profusely sending glass shards everywhere with a shrill sounding llke a cacophony of bells as they impacted the granite floor below.

I stood on the second floor, left arm fully extended, white cotton string dangling freely from tight knot wrapped around my middle finger. Yo-yo flew out of sight into the rarefied evening atmosphere of La Paz. The only witness to unforgettable accident was my aunt, my mother’s sister, making a non-chalant comment: “es hora de ir” / “it is time to go.”

Suitcases were packed and loaded in back of aunt Kitty’s beige-green Opel station wagon in route to her home to rest for the night. Next day we were flying on a Douglas DC-6 four propeller airplane headed to the US.

Coup d’état

On November the fourth 1964, Bolivia’s military junta launched an effective coup against the government of president Victor Paz Estenssoro, summarily escorted to El Alto Airport in La Paz at gunpoint. Show of force was executed and planned in advance, securing political control through fear and intimidation.

The same day in a separate event, P-51 Mustang fighter planes made a low pass over our home, strafing machine gun fire in the direction of nearby Laicakota, a small mountain in La Paz where garrisons of “milicianos”/ militiamen hid from the army and police.

Radio announced de facto military junta was in charge following orders from above.

From the beginning of the Cold War (1953), the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States (CIA), trained and educated military officers to overthrow Bolivia’s democratically elected civilian president in 1964. The number of coups, coup d’etats, and revolutions Bolivia has experienced in 200 years since it’s creation (1825) is an unphanthomable 190 in total.

US Monroe Doctrine

American foreign policy towards Latin America dates back to 1823 beginning with The Monroe Doctrine. Articulating strategic US responsibilities to free the Western Hemisphere from European colonial influence, asserting control over political affairs of evolving democracies in Latin America.

Andrew Jackson, seventh US President “viewed the Americas as a target for US territorial ambitions, particularly in regions that could be used for the expansion of slavery.” – Google AI Overview.

In 1847, with James Polk as president, war against Mexico (Mexican-American War), takeover of California, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, most of Arizona and Colorado for $15 million ceded territory with the signing of the Guadalupe Hidalgo Treaty.

In the 20th Century, a belligerent form of foreign policy under President Theodore Roosevelt amended the Monroe Doctrine to fit new strategic advantage in focus.

The Roosevelt Corollary (1904) made it possible for the US to militarily interfere in the politics of Latin American countries directly with boots on the ground. US business interests had to be protected, even if it meant going to war. Nicaragua, Haiti and the Dominican Republic were invaded 1912, 1915, and 1916, respectively.

A far cry from the initial practice of isolationism, first practiced by George Washington, believing his newly created country should not meddle in the affairs of Europeans with colonial interests not just in North America but also in Central and South America.

President Thomas Jefferson (1801-1809) lifelong slave owner, advanced the concept of covert military action necessary to circumvent foreign threats or invasions jeopardizing US interests. Over time, US presidents established rhetorical ideas of turning Latin America into their own backyard.

Ownership of slaves may correspond directly to policies and decisions made by US Presidents, with the exception of 2nd President, John Adams (1797-1801) and 6th President, John Quincy Adams: “…the only two presidents among the first twelve [that] did not own enslaved people.” -Google AI Overview.

2nd Scene: Preferential Treatment

Time frame of events leading to our departure from Bolivia were quick and to the point. No one was safe from prosecution. All mediums of communication: newspapers, radio stations, and police were under military control. The entire ex-cabinet of Victor Paz was either exiled or incarcerated.

Our Home in La Paz

My father built our home in La Paz in 1954. It was a modern style, two story home, inspired by the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright. The house faced the Illimani, 21,102 ft. mountain located on the Cordillera Real of the Andes at the eastern edge of the Altiplano of La Paz. To stabilize the design, iron railroad tracks were used in a poured concrete foundation. Greatest of all was the roof design harnessing energy from the sun through a thick, layered surface, made of poured cement with a deep cover of black tar to capture radiation from the sun in the high altitude of La Paz: 11,975 ft. above sea level. The house was always warm at night.

Mi padre con mi hermana. 1960

La Paz, Bolivia.

El Prado in La Paz, 1965

In preparation for leaving La Paz, passport picture was taken of my brothers and sister in 1965.

San Francisco, California, 1965

Political environment experienced in Bolivia, prior to my family’s arrival in San Francisco, will hopefully serve as a template for understanding emotional and psychological factors influencing cultural assimilation to the United States. The behavior of a dysfunctional government, guided by repressive policies to eliminate political opposition through fear and intimidation is perplexing.

Truth or Fiction?

In 1962, my sister and I had our tonsils removed (tonsillectomy) the same day at Clinica Alemana/German Clinic in La Paz. I was six years old, my sister was twelve. A well-known and respected doctor selected my sister to be first on the operating table. A couple of hours later, she was back in bed under the effect of anesthesia.

I was carried on a stretcher down a narrow corridor to the operating room where the anesthesiologist asked me to count backwards from one hundred. Lights went out when I got to ninety-eight.

After the operation, I remember waking up in a room screaming. A week later, sepsis infection began to develop with hallucinations of being in an overwhelming, pulsating beam of light, suspended in the air in an out-of-the-body experience. I would wake up in the middle of the night with visions of seeing Superman, the super-hero in his blue outfit, big yellow “S” on his chest, red cape floating above me. Whenever we stayed home from school with a cold or the flue, my father would always bring us comicbooks to read.

The image of Superman could have been a sign I was being protected. The throbbing, pulsating light hallucinations lasted over a week. They would begin as a dot of light, gradually it grew larger and larger to produce in the end, an out of my body experience:

“…sepsis infection commonly causes hallucinations, primarily through a condition called Sepsis-Associated Delirium (SAD), a severe confusion and altered mental state from the body’s overwhelming response to infection, leading to dream-like states, vivid hallucinations (visual/auditory), paranoia, and profound cognitive issues like memory loss, which can occur during the illness and persist long after. This brain dysfunction results from neuroinflammation, disrupted blood flow, and metabolic changes, making hallucinations a key indicator of serious brain involvement in sepsis, requiring prompt medical attention.” – Google AI Overview.

Family doctor made a home visit to confirm, in disbelief, that my tonsils had not been removed. One of them showing multiple surgical blade cuts.

My father went to see the operating doctor. When faced with accusations of malpractice, he admitted having panicked in the operating room. The anesthesiologist had noticed oxygen supply would not last thru the operation. In the process of bringing me back to consciousness, my had heart stopped. They slapped my back repeatedly with large wet rags. When my heartbeat was restored, they shuffled me back upstairs as if nothing happened. An unthinkable and incomprehensible decision was reached. He would operate again on me under the supervision of three doctors.

1961 Family photo with “abuelita”, my mother’s mother. Photographed by my father.

EPILOG: Boots on the ground.

As soon as we arrived in San Francisco with suitcases to unload, I ran up the stairs of our home on Cabillo Avenue to watch anything on TV. We didn’t have TV in Bolivia. First program we watched was “Lost in Space,” on the CBS television network. It was about a family lost in space from the planet Earth. We would wrap ourselves around a black and white TV and ask our father to translate. He was the only English speaking member in our family. “Traduce por favor, papá. Please translate!”

It was nothing out of the ordinary to walk around the neighborhood on Cabrillo Avenue. One sunny afternoon, I went further than expected and ventured onto Fulton Avenue to Golden Gate Park, three long blocks from home. It looked much like La Paz with Eucalyptus trees near our home. Seeing them so close, their aroma reminded me of a Eucalyptus Forrest where we would build forts with fallen branches and imagine living on our own.

Making my way over thick ground cover, a marvel of nature suddenly revealed itself. Meticulously cut grass slopes, like velvet, forever expanding into the far distance.

I spotted a white rock in a rough patch of grass under my feet. It wasn’t a normal, everyday rock like the one’s in La Paz, this one had hundreds of indented dimples covering the entire surface.

Few minutes later, I saw a man coming in my direction, screaming at the top ofhis lungs: “Put it down…put it down!”, he shouted. He kept coming closer and closer, waving a stick over his head. I threw the rock deep into the woods and took off running under canopy of tall trees. I could hear the man saying: “NOT THERE!!!” Months went by without saying a word about it to anyone. In time, perfect white rock turned out to be a golf ball shanked out of play into the rough. I had no idea what golf was until much later when golf legends: Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, and Lee Trevino were featured on ABC Wide World of Sports playing together at the 1972 US Open Golf Championship at Pebble Beach five years after immigrating to the US in December, 1967. ⛳