Crime and (No) Punishment
Statistics lately have suggested that 85% of all crime victims in Bolivia refuse to go to the police.
Although the figure itself may appear surprising, it is hardly shocking.
Luckily, I have yet to be the victim of any serious crime here in La Paz. The worst that's happened was a bottle of cologne that was lifted out of the gym shower after I had left it there. Annoying, yes, considering this bottle cost me money and would take a little doing to replace, but compared to other crimes committed around here, it's chump change and small peanuts. Other than that, I live near the Ambassador's house, which would discourage any burglar, due to a heightened security awareness in general, not to mention that our house has a security system and plenty of neighbors who probably see and hear everything within a half mile radius. Wait a minute, I actually forgot another crime: my dog was kidnapped and never to be returned, although we are convinced this was the result of an insider job. Come to think of it, that mutt was a pain in the rear anyway, so the kidnappers might have performed a valuable service by removing it.
The 85% stat is very telling in that people have more faith in Alasitas fulfilling their pie in the sky wishes than the police following up on any crime report that does not involve immediate family members, friends, or the rich and famous. Hard to blame the lack of law enforcement motivation, considering each of the fuzzies here makes less than my cleaning lady or my gardener.
Even more disheartening is the fact that crimes against women, in particular rape or domestic violence are rarely reported, which shows you that, wired and technologically advanced or not, the old gender norms still remain firmly entrenched, meaning don't rock the boat, save yourself any public humiliation, and bow down to the will of the master. Although the efforts of several women's self-help groups are commendable, all the nonprofit groups and even education in schools will remain futile if there is not a serious shakeup within the legal system itself.
Another shocking example of the frustration and helplessness people feel here was exemplified by a case that hit a little closer to home. Here at work, Jimena is a lady who runs the cafeteria. Hers is pretty much a one (wo-)man business, as she provides for the breakfast and lunch needs of about one hundred people. A serious woman by nature, she will often take various barbs by most of her male customers for everything, from how much salt is in the soup to the length of her hair, chauvinistic conduct that has long been deemed unacceptable in the west.
Jimena recently took a leave of absence when she learned that her 25 year old daughter had been murdered. That's right. Murdered. Right there in broad daylight, at her house. While I don't want to begin to imagine what it feels like losing a child, it must be even more painful knowing that this crime will very likely remain unsolved. Even the six hundred or so dollars we collect for her may suffice to pay for her funeral and buy a cop or two for a few weeks who might open a few files for her. But Jimena will be holding her breath like a deep sea diver without an oxygen task if she expects this to be solved anytime soon, if at all.
So far, I have only mentioned crime in terms of car burglary (the most common crime in Bolivia), but lift the covers a little bit, and there are ugly and yet unread chapters in the criminal history of both Bolivia and its capital, chapters that are destined to never make it to print.
Although the figure itself may appear surprising, it is hardly shocking.
Luckily, I have yet to be the victim of any serious crime here in La Paz. The worst that's happened was a bottle of cologne that was lifted out of the gym shower after I had left it there. Annoying, yes, considering this bottle cost me money and would take a little doing to replace, but compared to other crimes committed around here, it's chump change and small peanuts. Other than that, I live near the Ambassador's house, which would discourage any burglar, due to a heightened security awareness in general, not to mention that our house has a security system and plenty of neighbors who probably see and hear everything within a half mile radius. Wait a minute, I actually forgot another crime: my dog was kidnapped and never to be returned, although we are convinced this was the result of an insider job. Come to think of it, that mutt was a pain in the rear anyway, so the kidnappers might have performed a valuable service by removing it.
The 85% stat is very telling in that people have more faith in Alasitas fulfilling their pie in the sky wishes than the police following up on any crime report that does not involve immediate family members, friends, or the rich and famous. Hard to blame the lack of law enforcement motivation, considering each of the fuzzies here makes less than my cleaning lady or my gardener.
Even more disheartening is the fact that crimes against women, in particular rape or domestic violence are rarely reported, which shows you that, wired and technologically advanced or not, the old gender norms still remain firmly entrenched, meaning don't rock the boat, save yourself any public humiliation, and bow down to the will of the master. Although the efforts of several women's self-help groups are commendable, all the nonprofit groups and even education in schools will remain futile if there is not a serious shakeup within the legal system itself.
Another shocking example of the frustration and helplessness people feel here was exemplified by a case that hit a little closer to home. Here at work, Jimena is a lady who runs the cafeteria. Hers is pretty much a one (wo-)man business, as she provides for the breakfast and lunch needs of about one hundred people. A serious woman by nature, she will often take various barbs by most of her male customers for everything, from how much salt is in the soup to the length of her hair, chauvinistic conduct that has long been deemed unacceptable in the west.
Jimena recently took a leave of absence when she learned that her 25 year old daughter had been murdered. That's right. Murdered. Right there in broad daylight, at her house. While I don't want to begin to imagine what it feels like losing a child, it must be even more painful knowing that this crime will very likely remain unsolved. Even the six hundred or so dollars we collect for her may suffice to pay for her funeral and buy a cop or two for a few weeks who might open a few files for her. But Jimena will be holding her breath like a deep sea diver without an oxygen task if she expects this to be solved anytime soon, if at all.
So far, I have only mentioned crime in terms of car burglary (the most common crime in Bolivia), but lift the covers a little bit, and there are ugly and yet unread chapters in the criminal history of both Bolivia and its capital, chapters that are destined to never make it to print.
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