THE MOUTH OF THE GODS - a view from the Chiqutania

This is a guest post by Ximena Purita Banegas Zallio, one of the dancers from THE MOUTH OF THE GODS, who herself comes from the Chiqutania in Bolivia. Ximena delivered this speech at the premier screening of the project film, at Hoxton Hall on April 12th.

Ximena in THE MOUTH OF THE GODS

Good evening, everyone.

Tonight, we will experience the documentary of THE MOUTH OF THE GODS—a project by Border Crossings that took us deep into the soul of Latin America, weaving ancestral dance, embroidery, shamanic ritual, and the extraordinary fusion of Baroque music and Indigenous tradition. At the heart of this experience was a rediscovered opera: San Francisco Xavier, written in the Chiquitano language by an unknown Indigenous composer. This performance was not only a tribute to the past—it was a call to recognize the living, breathing cultures that continue to shape our world today.

Tonight, I come to you not just to reflect, but to connect—to give voice to a region where this music, culture, and history are still very much alive. I want to take you to this place, my home, one that many have never heard of before, but that holds a piece of the world's soul—the Chiqutania and the Chiquitano Dry Forest, in the heart of eastern Bolivia.

Es un honor hoy representar a mi país y, en especial, a Santa Cruz, para compartirles sobre el secreto y tesoro mejor guardado y custodiado que tenemos: las Misiones Jesuíticas de Chiquitos y Moxos.

Imagine a nearly utopian route of over 3,000 kilometers, where more than 300 years ago, Jesuit missionaries established missions deep in the plains and forests of Beni and Santa Cruz—in the heart of the Chiquitania and the Amazon. It was here that one of the greatest cultural discoveries of the 20th century occurred: the recovery of over 10,000 sheets of Baroque music—written more than 300 years ago, and still played today by local children and youth in music schools. These aren’t just notes on paper—they are threads of memory and identity, carried forward with pride and dedication.

The Chiquitania is a region where the threads of history, music, and nature are woven together in a harmony as intricate as the Baroque compositions that echo through its Jesuit missions. This is not just a forest. It is home to the chiquitano people whose heritage is preserved through centuries-old traditions. It is a living archive of sacred music—compositions passed down orally, preserved by communities who have made music not just an art, but a way of life.

Imagine a place where history is not locked in a museum, but lives in every carved log, every child’s violin, every note sung at dusk. That is Chiquitos and Moxos. These are not ruins. These are living cultures. Seven UNESCO World Heritage churches still stand—not as silent witnesses, but as vibrant stages where the largest collection of Baroque sheet music in the Americas continues to echo through the hands and hearts of its people.

But this harmony is under threat.

In recent years, devastating fires—driven by deforestation, commercial interests, and climate inaction—have scorched millions of hectares of the Chiquitano Dry Forest. In 2024, Bolivia experienced its most catastrophic wildfire season on record. Over 10 million hectares—an area larger than Portugal—were consumed by flames, with the eastern department of Santa Cruz suffering the most, losing nearly 7 million hectares. The Chiquitano Dry Forest, one of the largest intact tropical dry forests on Earth, was among the hardest hit. These fires are not only destroying a unique and biodiverse ecosystem—one of the largest and best-conserved tropical dry forests in the world—but also silencing the voices of communities who have protected it for generations.

These fires were not merely natural disasters—they were the result of deliberate policy decisions and political agendas. The use of land in Bolivia has become a tool for political gain. Forests are cleared under the guise of "development," often in exchange for short-term economic or electoral favors. Protected areas are sacrificed to satisfy powerful agricultural interests. Land is handed out, not with the intention of sustainability, but as a political currency—fueling deforestation, deepening inequality, and placing Indigenous territories in jeopardy. Large-scale slash-and-burn agricultural practices—tolerated, and at times even encouraged by government decrees—have made the land more vulnerable than ever. The consequences are devastating: critical ecosystems destroyed, thousands of families displaced, and the loss of biodiversity that affects not just Bolivia, but the planet.

When we lose forests like the Chiquitano, we don’t just lose trees—we lose memory, culture, and connection. We lose medicinal plants unknown to science, we lose wildlife that exists nowhere else, and we lose a vital shield against the climate crisis. 

But the Bolivian people have not given up—and that’s why there is still hope and sharing their stories is as important now than ever. In the Chiquitania, local communities have risen. Musicians, elders, farmers, and youth have come together to protect their land, their music, and their future. And it’s time the world stood with them—not out of charity, but out of recognition. Because what is at stake is not just Bolivia’s heritage, but humanity’s.

So tonight, as we celebrate culture and representation, let us remember that true representation means listening to the voices at the margins. It means honouring Indigenous knowledge, protecting ancestral lands, and valuing the music, language, and lives of the people who have long been guardians of our planet’s most sacred places.

It is a deep honour to speak to you tonight on behalf of the Bolivian people—a people whose voices, culture, and land deserve to be seen, heard, and cherished on a more global stage.

Thank you Border Crossings for this opportunity.

Alastair in Athens

This photo was taken in Athens, on an August evening in 2021. The three people are sitting just outside the entrance to the Theatre of Dionysus, and beyond the theatre is the Acropolis. It's a space that is sacred to our organisation and our profession: the cradle of European drama, and of European democracy. The space where both of these things were invented. Even today, this is the model that we strive to follow. In 5th century Athens, the theatre was an integral part of the city's political and spiritual practice. At the sacred festival, the citizens gathered, and they watched plays. The performances worked through mythology to address the present moment. They tackled the great themes of war, migration, plague and justice. The stage offered the citizens (who were all adult, male and Greek) an insight into the minds of others. So often the protagonist was female. So often the Chorus represented foreigners, migrants, children, older people, even frogs and flies. Always the theatre was about including those who were excluded, and the citizens watched and absorbed these performances as they prepared to act as legislators and jurors.

On that August evening, these three people walked into the sacred auditorium, and were meaningfully together in spite of all their apparent differences. The young woman in the yellow dress is Alicia Wiseman, and she was 17 at the time. She's a very talented violinist, and has a highly developed social consciousness. The other young woman is Aisha Tambajang, who worked with a Danish organisation that was partnering with us on a European project: it's called Crossing Borders - you can see there might be synergy! Her role was to assist young people, particularly Muslim women and girls, who had migrated to Denmark.

What I love about this picture is how deeply these two young women are engaged in conversation with the older man. He's British, from the generation that grew up straight after the war. To look at him in another context, you might think he was someone with a rather conservative view of the world, someone suspicious of change, wary of the perceived other. But, as this photo shows so clearly, he was actually incredibly open to everyone, to the cultures they carry and the ideas they bring. In old age, he was eager to learn, forward-thinking and positive in his outlook. This warm and hopeful man, who was the first Chair of the Border Crossings board, embodied the spirit of the great Athenian theatre and democracy in his work and in his life.

Alastair Niven passed away on March 26th, aged 81. I will miss him more than I can say.