No Lenin's Tomb

We have learnt to pace ourselves, to conserve our energy in this heat, to move slowly like the giant iguanas that pad along the lawns at La Quinta San Pedro Alejandrino, a vast, lush tropical property where Simon Bolivar died in 1830.

It is a hot afternoon in Santa Marta on the Northern Caribbean coast of Colombia; the weather better suited to a good, long siesta than homage to South America's greatest son.

Tamarinds and ceiba trees create huge islands of protective shade. We catch sight of hummingbirds amongst vivid orchids. A line of school children emerge out of nowhere and make their away across the avenue of honour lined on either side with the sun bleached flags of the continent's nations.

Considering the reverential esteem in which Simon Bolivar is held throughout South America nowadays, it is amazing to think El Liberatador ended his rule largely reviled by the population.

Bolivar had decided to leave for Europe, disillusioned by the anarchic direction the liberated countries were moving in and stunned by the public's open hostility to his Bolivarian Constitution - which admittedly (and worringly?) enshrined his Presidency for life. His exile was interrupted by illness and sudden death. Bolivar is is quoted as saying on his death-bed:

"Let's go! Let's go! People in this land do not want me. Come boys! Take my luggage on board the frigate."

We pass one or two other visitors walking through this vast property of palms and tropical flowers bursting through lush greenery. Along the labyrinth of pathways you come across the occasional bust or plaque paying tribute to notable figures from Bolivar's life and battles -- his comrades: Sucre, Girardot, O'Leary, Narino, Miranda, Santander. But these busts and portraits are not altars to saints. Bolivar had complicated, tempestuous relationships with most of them, fell out quite dramatically with his successor, Santander, and made the tragic mistake of allowing Miranda (the victim of a political set up) to be executed. Bolivar was tormented by the decision for the rest of his life.

Simon Bolivar was no God -- and this is no Lenin's tomb. El Liberatador had feet of clay.

The heart of La Quinta is the actual hacienda in which Bolivar died. At first I am surprised by the hacienda's Le Corbussier-like appearance : simple, smooth and clean lined. I think it must be some sort of relatively modern exhibition space, library or administration block.

Joaquin de Mier, a very wealthy Spaniard had invited Bolivar to stay at this handsome country house before the latter set out for Europe. When Bolivar arrived in Santa Marta, he was diagnosed by a US navy surgeon and his own personal doctor as having a serious lung condition (most probably tuberculosis).

Bolivar's journey down the steamy, malarial Magdelena River during his self impose exile is described with great humour by Garcia Marquez whom I have discovered titled his fictional account on Bolivar's own words.

When learning he was so sick and asked whether he wished to receive the last rites, a delerious Bolivar is quoted as asking:

"Am I so ill? How will I get out of this labyrinth?"

The descent into sickness and sudden slide toward death seemed to have greatly shocked Bolivar. It is this very typical human reaction which I find touching. It is Simon Bolivar, the man, and not Simon Bolivar, El Liberatador, who fascinates me (as he obviously did Marguez).

...Want to read the remainder of this story? It is available in my book, 'The House on Lopez Cotilla - A Journey through Latin America' (Kindle Direct Publising, 2012)


*** Simon Bolivar: A Life, John Lynch, Yale University Press, 2007

The direct quotes are taken from Professor Lynch's biography of Bolivar which is highly recommended. The book has been a very enjoyble read and useful resource throughout this journey.