Lake Poopó’s Disappearance
The Uru Community’s Tale of Resilience
“The lake was our mother and father. Now, we are orphans,” said Don Rufino Choque, whose words echo through the desolate, windswept salt flat that had once been the thriving shore of Lake Poopó, Bolivia. The Uru community of Puñaca Tinta Mariá, to which Rufino and his earliest known ancestors belonged, had lived in harmony with the waters of this ancient lake nurturing a profound bond that sustained their lives and preserving their unique ethno-cultural identity since well before the establishment of the Inca Empire. But today, the Uru way of life is marked by profound transformation, shaped by climate change-induced droughts and an extractivist regional economy that have caused the waters of Lake Poopó to disappear entirely by 2016.
One of the three Uru towns that once flourished along the shores of Lake Poopó, Uru Murata Puñaca Tinta María finds itself at a crossroads of unparalleled challenge and adaptability; located just a few miles from the town of Poopó, their history and subsistence are intricately intertwined with the ebb and flow of the lake’s waters.
Historically, the Urus were a hunting and fishing people, their lives intricately woven into the rhythms of Lake Poopó. They resided on ingenious floating islands that allowed them to harness the lake’s resources and navigate its ever-changing landscape. Over time, as the lake began to dry, the Urus were compelled to make the difficult transition to life on solid ground. However, this shift was gradual, and the lake continued to serve as a vital source of sustenance and cultural significance.
As the years passed, the lake’s waters decreased at an alarming rate. By 2016, the unimaginable had become a stark reality – the water, the lifeblood of the Uru community, had vanished entirely, taking with it not just their livelihoods but also their deeply ingrained cultural traditions and cherished memories. The lake, which once teemed with diverse fish, vibrant birdlife, and lush aquatic flora, had transformed into a barren desert, forcing the Uru people to profoundly shift their way of life
Faced with this reality, the Uru community has displayed remarkable resilience and adaptability, forging a new path in an environment forever altered by human actions and the relentless march of climate change. While their ancestors’ lives revolved around hunting and fishing, today they have embraced crafts as a means of economic survival, creating intricate works of art that find their way to nearby towns. The Urus of Puñaca Tinta María, Vilañeque, and Llapallapani, call upon ancestral knowledges and traditions even as they adapt to life without a lake; the primary material of their artisan craftsmanship are Totora reeds—the roots of a native plant that had been used by prior generations to build boats and other buoyant structures for life on the lake.
Desaparición del Lago Poopó
La Historia de Resiliencia de la Comunidad Uru
Por Gastón Zilberman
“El lago era nuestra madre y padre. Ahora, somos huérfanos“, dijo Don Rufino Choque, cuyas palabras resuenan en el desolado salar que alguna vez fue la orilla del Lago Poopó, en Bolivia. La comunidad Uru de Puñaca Tinta Mariá, a la que pertenecían Rufino y sus ancestros, había vivido en armonía con las aguas de este antiguo lago, con un profundo vínculo que sostenía sus vidas y preservaba su identidad etnocultural única desde mucho antes de la fundación del Imperio Inca. Pero hoy en día, el modo de vida de los Uru está marcado por una profunda transformación, moldeada por sequías inducidas por el cambio climático y una economía regional extractivista que llevaron a la desaparición completa de las aguas del Lago Poopó en 2016.
Puñaca Tinta María, una de los tres pueblos Uru que una vez florecieron a lo largo de las orillas del Lago Poopó, se encuentra con un desafío sin igual de adaptabilidad; ubicada a solo unos kilómetros de la ciudad de Poopó, su historia y subsistencia están intrincadamente entrelazadas con las aguas del lago.
Históricamente, los Urus eran un pueblo de cazadores y pescadores, sus vidas estaban profundamente entrelazadas con el Lago Poopó. Residían en islas flotantes que les permitían aprovechar los recursos del lago y navegar por él. Con el tiempo, a medida que el lago comenzó a secarse, los Urus se vieron obligados a realizar la difícil transición a la vida en tierra firme. Sin embargo, este cambio fue gradual, y el lago siguió siendo una fuente vital de sustento y significado cultural.
Con el paso de los años, las aguas del lago disminuyeron a un ritmo alarmante. Para 2016, lo inimaginable se había convertido en una cruda realidad: el agua, la sangre vital de la comunidad Uru, había desaparecido por completo, llevándose consigo no sólo sus medios de vida, sino también sus tradiciones culturales profundamente arraigadas y queridos recuerdos. El lago, que alguna vez estuvo repleto de peces diversos, una vibrante fauna y flora acuática, se había transformado en un desierto, obligando al pueblo Uru a cambiar profundamente su forma de vida.
Frente a esta realidad, la comunidad Uru ha mostrado una notable resiliencia y adaptabilidad, creando un nuevo camino en un entorno para siempre alterado por las acciones humanas y el implacable avance del cambio climático. Mientras que la vida de sus antepasados giraba en torno a la caza y la pesca, hoy han tomado las artesanías como medio de supervivencia económica, creando obras de arte intrincadas que llevan a vender a las ciudades cercanas. Los Urus de Puñaca Tinta María, Vilañeque y Llapallapani recurren a conocimientos y tradiciones ancestrales incluso mientras se adaptan a la vida sin un lago; el material principal de su artesanía es el totora, las raíces de una planta nativa que habían sido utilizadas por generaciones anteriores para construir botes y otras estructuras flotantes para la vida en el lago.
Gastón Zilberman is a social and environmental audiovisual producer and student at Torcuato Di Tella University, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Along with his companion Michael Salama, a writer and undergraduate student at Princeton, we went to the Poopó Lake to film a short documentary in order to portray how climate change affects this community and their daily life challenges.
Gastón Zilberman es un productor audiovisual social y ambiental y estudiante de la carrera de diseño en la Universidad Torcuato Di Tella en Buenos Aires, Argentina. Junto con su compañero Michael Salama, escritor y estudiante universitario en Princeton University, fueron al Lago Poopó para filmar un cortometraje documental con el fin de retratar cómo el cambio climático y la sequía del lago afecta a esta comunidad.
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