meish dot org: life, unfolding

In February 1996, I was visiting my friend Richard in La Paz for a few days over a weekend, when the government suddenly declared a state of emergency because of widespread civil unrest in the country.

A state of emergency meant complete paralysis for a few days – no buses or trains, roads closed, shops and markets shut up for the duration, and a curfew – although there was little point in going out of the house anyway, because a) there was nothing open and b) there was a very real possibility of getting caught up in a pitched battle or riot, ending up running back to the house choking on tear gas, eyes streaming. I discovered this the hard way.

Richard’s girlfriend and children from her first marriage had unfortunately been out of the city on a daytrip to Lake Titicaca when the state of emergency was declared, and so they were stuck there for the duration, just as we were stuck in their home overlooking the city, with nothing to do, and no way for me to get back to my fieldwork site in the countryside, with all the roads closed.

So what did we do? We did what any reasonable person would do under siege conditions. We played Nintendo.

For three and a half days, and all the intervening nights, we played Super Mario World on the SNES – a present to the son of the family from some American missionaries. I’d never played before – my most recent computer gaming experience had been Frogger for the Spectrum – but I learnt fast and played all night.

There way nothing to eat in the house except for cream crackers, jam and philedelphia cream cheese. We ran out of beer on the first night, cigarettes on the second and coke on the third. And still we played.

We found every hidden world, every secret level, every power-up and skill there was to be found. We racked up hundred of lives, thousands of points, millions of milliseconds staring at the screen. We listened to Deep Forest on repeat, because the only other CDs were Michael Jackson and infernal pan-pipes.

Our thumbs ached, gloriously, every moment. And still we played.

When the state of emergency lifted, and the roads re-opened, I emerged blinking into the bright sunlight, and made my way back home.

Funny the things your mind throws up, isn’t it? Your body remembers things that your brain forgets – like how an aching thumb is related to the taste of jam and cheese on the roof of the world, and the sound of Deep Forest, five and a half years ago. How odd.