Highway hostility
The drone of the motor bus which rocked my senses for the last three hours was shattered by the crash of broken glass. A large rock, hurled from the side of the road before coming to rest on the floor beside me. Several other crashed against the metal exterior of the bus sending a wave of fear in the driveway. The man whose head was pressed against the window when he was visibly broken shaken.The pilot immediately responded by closing all the lights on board. Only the headlights shone to guide us along the road dark jungle. Wizard shot the aisle quietly but firmly urging passengers to close the curtain on the window and sit low in the reaction seat.My first was taking my traveling companion from the back of the head and push his face on my knees. covering it with my chest, I leaned closer to keep low in the seat. We waited ... waited for the rock next to crash through a window, but it never came. It seemed like forever, but was more likely a few minutes before people started talking. I looked the man in the alley and saw that, despite scattered glass all over it was free. Miraculously, nobody was injured.Bolivia, February 2002: cocaleros - families who have cultivated coca for centuries - have protested. The U.S. government has been withholding aid money until the Bolivian government to eradicate the plantations. The Bolivian army has been struggling with the duty and the people rebelled. Nationwide, roads and streets were blocked. The road between Santa Cruz de la Sierra, in the eastern plains, and Cochabamba, on the eastern side of the Andes, was closed for four days. As the only road connecting the plains and highlands of Bolivia, the bus simply waited.Earlier this afternoon, the coca growers said the road would be open for 24 hours. Hundreds of people blocked rushed to the bus station to take advantage of this window of opportunity. The railway station of Santa Cruz bus was a madhouse. In the time it took to wade through the sea of humanity and reach the counter, a dozen buses had left. An overloaded bus left every three to five minutes. However, there was a one hour wait for the next available bus with seats on the bus we were monitoring dozens who had already left and was well ahead of several tens to follow. Our bus, that fate would have it, was the first bus westbound to be attacked. Within minutes of the rock breaking the window, the driver pulled into a village lit by two lamps Sun He informed the passengers that we would wait until it is safe to continue. I spoke with the agent, who says he might not be safe to go until dawn. I told my traveling companion, who merely shrugged, said "okay" and lit a cigarette.Buses pulled in both directions. As information filtered through the crowd, it became clear that some protesters had breached their promise to open the road. The bus from the opposite direction reported that rocks were thrown at them to another bridge at the west again. The village where we were stopped was between the two buses were bridges.Most dented, broken windows or both. The drivers were angry. They had followed the closure by not trying to run the blockade. In return, the coca growers to meet the drivers, many of whom were carrying their friends and family. This was strange to give and receive this protest.We quickly learned the bus drivers are not the only party in anger. The Bolivian army ran into the village half an hour. Two troop carriers complete with enough weapons to stop a coup has occurred. Nobody knew how they got so fast, but people were reassured by their presence.Following a brief discussion with the pilots, the military took over. The first truck led the convoy of buses to the east toward Santa Cruz. As they finally relaxed out of town, we were asked to board our bus and prepare to leave. Our bus was behind the truck of Western troops as it had tied a bright spot with enough wire to run the length of a football field.Just before the bridge, the carrier has ceased and five dozen soldiers in combat gear ashore. They range quickly and quietly on both sides of the road. Some stayed in the truck while the other advances. After securing the bridge, began removing rocks and logs to block the protesters used the highway.With this task is completed, the carrier peak. One of the officers in light of our bus and it shone in the dark. As we slid forward, the apprehension filled the air. Just across the bridge, there was a flurry of screams. Without hesitation, the men on both sides of the road going to unload their weapons in the jungle! Glued to our seats with jaws agape, we watched as children in front-row seats at an action movie in 3D. "Uh, should we worry?" My friend asked Guns against the rocks, I think we win, I replied. After what seemed an eternity, the shooting tapered off. It's not every night that you see a program of liberalization of ammunition and the passengers were clearly upset. The buses have increased slightly. After 800 m the troops aboard the carrier, beckoning us to follow and we started moving again.Ten km distant, the convoy stopped at another bridge. This too was covered with debris. The troops on foot and repeated the routine bridge. As before, they walked alongside and in front of the bus, covering both sides of the jungle highway.Once more strangely dark, the bus was crawling next to the agent with the light. Shining in this way and that it fulfills all the jungle, with more light than the midday sun. Without warning, the troops began to flare balls into the jungle again. A narrow path was illuminated and the convoy stopped. With a quick hand signal, the bullets stop instantly and four men rushed into the jungle along the trail. The man in the head opened the door to a barrage of automatic gunfire. The second and third covered the left and right flanks respectively while the fourth covered the back. It was as if we were in a scene from a movie, even if the lighting was poor.Suddenly, the firing stopped and the men returned. We were once again reported to proceed with the advance of troops to the sides. Another thousand feet and they went up the carrier and lead us onward. The bus driver has been closely monitoring the carrier for the next 30 km before receiving the all clear signal and continued to our destination.Although he was a restless night, we arrived without further incident. As the first rays of dawn, the bus stopped on the road near Cochabamba. When exiting the bus to stretch, the mountain air net raised goosebumps on my arms. These were definitely the spooky ones I lived only a few hours earlier in the heat of the jungle.Cochabamba is the heart of the coca cultivation. A few days earlier, television news images showed how the protesters brought the city to a standstill. There were pictures of flaming barrels in the downtown and cars turned over and burned. We were not sure what to expect. Fortunately, the protest was over - for now. That day, however, Cochabamba was peaceful and welcoming.
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