Amy Booth visits an event of festive solidarity in support of a desperate cause.
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m cycling to a fundraiser fair. I’m worried about finding it: the address is a nondescript corner in the suburbs, and Bolivians are not in the habit of putting up signs for anything. It turns out my concern is unfounded.
I had been envisaging a quiet affair in a community hall. When I get there, I find half of the road has been closed for several blocks. There is a stage, pounding music, and several hundred people.
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