Everything I Know & Love About Chile

Let’s get a few things straight, Latin America is not one single nation of thick-moustached men dancing along to Salsa and Peruvian pan-pipes.

Despite popular belief, ‘Chile’ is not pronounced ‘chilli’ as most foreigners seem to only be able to say it. Its beaches are not like Brazil’s. And it is not famous for tacos or the Tequila Sunrise.

Also — Ayahuasca is not a party drug. Sorry.

Spending two months in Chile with my lady’s family has given me a deeper look, albeit still a snapshot, into a world so simplified in the minds of the West that it should be suffocating under clichés and identity crises. But it’s not. Much like my own home of Australia, constantly over-aware of its position and posturing next to big brothers Great Britain and the U.S. of A., Chile might be ashamed of its difference when compared against its more famous counterparts, while always fearing that it’s just not ‘Latino’ enough for the crowd.

Thriving and surviving

But the truth is, Chile doesn’t really give a fuck what everyone else is doing, Chile is busy dealing with earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis and floods, recovering from a military coup and having one of the strongest economies in Central and South America. And all the time laughing with the twisted linguistic slang they have become famous for (Huevon is a family favourite).

With the rich writing tradition of famous Chileans like Isabel Allende and Nobel Prize winners Pablo Neruda and Gabriela Mistral, Chile seems to have the symptoms of a deep love for poetry and literature in a country full of diverse dialects and languages. Chile’s own Indigenous language of Mapudungun, although under threat, is today being fluently spoken by an estimated 200,000 people. And with 600,000 Mapuche in the state of Araucania alone, these numbers are a testament to the people who have fought hard to protect territory, culture and language in what is widely known as the greatest defence against colonisation from Indigenous people in history.

Still today Mapuche people who occupy, in varying degrees, most of the southern half of the nation, refuse to accept the identity of the ‘Chilean’ as their own and continue to thrive in closed communities and in large numbers. However, thriving and surviving are relative when talking about Chilean politics and Indigenous representation. Like in most countries with large or prominent Indigenous populations, the identity of original peoples is often used for the benefit of the nation-state when it is most profitable and then ignored when seen to be ‘getting in the way’ of progress. So while the ‘native dolls’ are sold in the tourist shops, Native people are silenced when opposed to damming local lakes and destroying natural habitats. The usual, horrifying story.

Although Chile has a regal history of literature and international recognition for her authors, the gap between the educated and non-educated has become so large that it now looks like a chasm unable to be crossed. In 2015 this BBC report showed that Chile had the highest gap between rich and poor among the 34 OECD member nations, more than that of Mexico. Coupled with the fact that rich Chileans and poor Chileans also share a gap between Spanish/European and various Indigenous backgrounds, and the fact that University degrees in Chile cost almost as much as their United States counterparts, then we start to see a disparity indicative of structural racism and control.

A different kind of battle for students

The battle for free education came to a head when Chilean rapper Anita Tijioux (of Mapuche and French ancestry), collaborated with student activists to make her 2011 track, ‘Shock’.

Beyond its international reputation and the strength of the artist and students involved, the success of this campaign can be seen in bookstores all over Chile, where a ‘luxury item’ tax still makes sure that most people cannot afford even a paperback novel, which cost upwards from $35-$45 AUD. When the minimum wage (you can ignore online government sanctioned data) hits as low as 1000 Chilean Pesos ($2 AUD) an hour, the chances of affording the books necessary for a university education, let alone the tuition fees themselves, is out of the question for most families.

The government does not seem to be listening, even if it is Left-leaning and headed by arguably South America’s most successful female President, Michelle Bachelet. Although changes in the tertiary education system have been pending since her re-election, they have been slow and too complex in their application for many of those students affected to completely understand. Chile is still waiting for real-life efforts to bridge the gap between rich and poor, and solve the problems of a racialised economy.

Despite the bad news, or maybe because of it, Chile is a melting pot of incredible talent and immense camaraderie. Although it seems to be a little lower on the list for foreigners visiting South America, possibly because of the psychological barrier the Andes and the Pacific seem to have on the world, it is not a country that should be waved off as nothing more than Argentina’s younger sibling. The natural borders of Chile seem to be keeping the goodness in rather than suffocating the masses or breeding ignorance like that in Australia which is cushioned and protected by its oceanic border.

How a place like Chile changes the way people connect

The great length of Chile’s shape and size gives it the latitude of 5 other countries combined, forever followed on either side by iced-capped mountains or dark oceans, you are always easily brought back to the reality of your position and minuscule importance in the scheme of things. The landscape is humbling, and from the campesinos to the city-dwellers, the love and willingness to help one another was palpable.

I came to Chile to spend time with my Lady’s family and stop the world for a moment. To simply let go of being a poet, of writing and touring, to live simply and do nothing but hang out. I’ve come out the other side with a new language under my belt, and a new appreciation for slowing down the rapid pace of life in Australia. We think we’re all chilled out, but compared to South America it feels like another competition in a world of running around and proving we can be as cool as each other, even in our spirituality and ability to spend ridiculous amounts of money on ‘relaxing’. Don’t get me wrong, people in Chile also work extremely hard, but only in the West can we justify working ourselves to the bone just to buy a window of temporary peace, even when we don’t really need to. I feel as if Australia is still far from learning how to balance the ups and downs, the work and play: the infinite joys and struggles of this tussle with existence we call life.

Although I’m not fluent in Spanish as of yet, I’m speaking and being understood for the first time and it feels truly natural and a great rest from the English poems and raps I’ve always got rolling around in my head. And I feel like Chile and South America as a whole really makes time bend. The way it seems to hang and the days seem to go on forever, and yet pass way too soon. It really does change the way people connect. Expectation gets dropped, love finds some way in to make it all work, and the ‘buena onda’ — good vibe — hangs over every corner. Even in my naïve, starry-eyed and rose-coloured glasses, I know there is something here that I wish we could adopt more of back home. There is simultaneously a sense of urgency and chill. It’s hard to explain without poetry, so I have started writing again. But to quote one of the more unsung poetic heroes of the nation, Nicanor Parra, and his poem ‘Chronos’ — ‘Time’:

In Santiago, Chile

The days are interminably long:

Several eternities in a day.

Like the vendors of seaweed

Travelling on the backs of mules:

You yawn — you yawn again.

Yet the weeks are short

The months go racing by

And the years have wings.

And I hope it isn’t years before I return, or that they at least pass as fast as a typically slow Santiago summer. For now it is back to work, with a new philosophy on the whole reason why I bother: not because I’m trying to get somewhere else — but because I’m lucky to be who and where I am, and to love what I do, and to be able to have my perspective constantly expanded by places like Chile and the people who make them.

Muchas gracias a todos los que me recibieron… ya po, listo, chao. x