Life in the city of the dead - Urban renewal and social navigation in the Cementerio Central of Bogota

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Urban renewal and social navigation in the

Cementerio Central of Bogota

Anne Kennes

12492191

Supervisor: Dr. Christien Klaufus

Centre for Latin American Research and Documentation (CEDLA) University of Amsterdam (UvA)

CEDLA Master’s Programme 2018-2019 Master Thesis

Word count: 22.782

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Image front-page shows Cementerio Central from above. The ellipse (central area) and the surrounding trapecio are visual. The low-built city of marble statues and mausolea is a welcome contrast with the city center filled with glass towers. Source: Balanta 2019

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Abstract

– This thesis will present the case of the Central Cemetery of Bogota to exemplify how urban renewal processes affect spaces beyond those of the living. It will show that the future presence of the current cemetery users is not certain as the state aims to attract users with a different social profile. By deploying strategies of hyper-security, the state limits the space use of these users to eventually force these users to find solace elsewhere. Nevertheless, despite the precarious socio-spatial configuration of the cemetery, the current users show to be social navigators as they tactically navigate the changing cemetery to secure their presence and relationships established there. The relevance of this thesis is twofold, as it, on the one hand, sheds light on how urban renewal processes affect the public nature of a common good. In the case of the Central Cemetery, the cemetery is envisioned as urban infrastructure instead of a shared public space. On the other hand, the evidence presented in this thesis demonstrates the ability of users to modify and resist these processes as they socially navigate the changing cemetery. Therefore, it is a call for alternative approaches to oppose top-down renewal plans to resist the possible material and symbolic displacement of already marginalized groups.

Resumen

– Esta tesis presentará el caso del Cementerio Central de Bogotá para ejemplificar cómo los procesos de renovación urbana afectan no solo los espacios de los vivos, sino que también los espacios de los muertos. Se mostrará que la futura presencia de los actuales usuarios del cementerio no está asegurada, ya que el Estado apunta a atraer a nuevos usuarios con un perfil social diferente. Al implementar estrategias de hiper-seguridad, el Estado limita el uso del espacio de los actuales usuarios obligándolos a buscar consuelo en otro lugar. Sin embargo, a pesar de la precaria configuración socio espacial del cementerio, los actuales usuarios muestran ser navegadores sociales, pues navegan tácticamente entre los cambios realizados en el cementerio lo que asegura su presencia y las relaciones establecidas allí. La relevancia de esta tesis es doble, ya que, por un lado, ilumina sobre cómo los procesos de renovación urbana afectan el carácter público de un bien común. En el caso del Cementerio Central, el Cementerio se visualiza como una infraestructura urbana en lugar de un espacio público compartido. Por otro lado, la evidencia presentada en esta tesis demuestra la capacidad de los usuarios para modificar y resistir estos procesos de cambio mientras navegan socialmente por el Cementerio. Por lo tanto, es un llamado a perspectivos alternativos para oponerse a los planes top-down diseñados sin participación de los beneficiarios para resistir el posible desplazamiento material y simbólico de los grupos ya marginados.

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Acknowledgements

Primarily, I wish to express my sincere gratitude to the people I have met in the cemetery for guiding me through the cemetery and secondly for sharing their experiences and thoughts with me. Secondly, I wish to express my appreciation to the representatives of the different governing entities for sharing their vision on the cemetery. I want to thank my supervisor Christien Klaufus for the inspiration that eventually led me to the Central Cemetery in Bogota. Without her, my thesis would still be a myriad of thoughts. In addition, I would like to express my appreciation to Valentina Villamarín, who offered me guidance in doing research in a cemetery, one she knew so well, as well as for her patience as we analyzed my notes that were often a mixture of Dutch, Spanish and English. I want to thank Paolo Vignolo for his support and knowledge. I also want to thank John Bernal, who opened my eyes to the processes affecting the neighborhood adjacent to the cemetery every time he invited me for a visit in Santa Fe. Finally, I am grateful to Sam van Waveren and Joep Kennes. To Sam for supporting me throughout this process and to Joep who critically, and often with a lot of frustration, contributed to a better-written piece until the last words.

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List of abbreviations

CMPR Centro de Memoria, Paz y Reconciliación Centre of Memory, Peace and Reconciliation

EDIS

Empresa Distrital de Servicios públicos / de Aseo Municipal Company of Public Services

IDPC Instituto Distrital de Patrimonio Cultural Municipal Institute of Cultural Heritage IDT Instituto Distrital de Turismo

Municipal Institute of Tourism PEMP Plan Especial de Manejo y Protección

Special Management and Protection Plan POT Plan de Ordenamiento Territorial

Territorial Ordening Plan

UAESP Unidad Admnistrativa Especial de Servicios Públicos Special Administrative Unit for Public Services

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List of figures

Figure 1.1 Map location Santa Fe and the Central Cemetery in district 14 Los Mártires

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Figure 2.1 Ñero-spaces Page 35

Figure 3.1 Management structure Central Cemetery Page 40

Figure 3.2 Central Cemetery Globo division Page 44

Figure 3.3 Velero with sign Page 49

Figure I Aerial view Cementerio Central Page 80

Figure II Stratification of Bogota Page 81

Figure III Rincón de las Almas (Monday morning) Page 90 Figure IV Rincón de las Almas (Monday morning) Page 91 Figure V New fines after installment police hotline Page 92

Figure VI Sign announcing surveillance cameras near Rincón Page 92

Figure VII Veleros at Rincón Page 93

Figure VIII Electric candles Page 93

Figure IX Totem with tourist information Central Cemetery Page 94

Figure X Santa Martha (virgencita negrita) Page 95

Figure XI Santa Martha (virgencita negrita) Page 96

Figure XII Flowers and candles at Caracol Page 96

Figure XIII Alicia Mora and placas de agradecimiento (appreciation plaques)

Page 97

Figure XIV Placement flowers at entrance ellipse while under construction

Page 98

Figure XV Statues Festival de la talla en Piedra y la Flor near CMPR

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Figure XVI Festival de la talla en Piedra y la Flor in Renaissance Park

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Chapter 1 Urban renewal in the city of the

dead

One of the women lighted a bundle of candles, explaining that these are also for Garavito and Kopp, to whom she cannot go today because the ellipse is still closed for a high-impact renovation project. Another woman joined the conversation and expressed her frustration: “Today I wanted to bring my cleaning supplies to clean some of the important graves, but the guard wouldn’t let me bring it! Now I cannot clean the grave, it seems like you are not allowed to do anything in here these days…” Even though she was not allowed to bring her cleaning supplies, a few minutes later, she took a small chisel out of her purse and she started scraping remnants of candle wax from the virgin’s statue (Observation diary June 3, 2019).

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Chapter 1 – Urban renewal in the city of the dead

In this thesis, the case of the Cementerio Central (Central Cemetery) of Bogota will be used to demonstrate how marginalized groups are gradually being displaced from public space through processes of urban renewal. The urban renewal processes that transform the Central Cemetery are driven by the state’s desire to turn the cemetery into a museum and aims at the attraction of users with a more prestigious social profile as opposed to the marginalized low-class profile of the current users. The different strategies deployed by the state to complete this transition seem to focus on the relegation of these current users from the cemetery. The seemingly exclusion of particular users questions the public nature of the Central Cemetery. This case study can therefore be linked to debates about public space and the common good, as it highlights the tensions that arise when a cemetery is envisioned and approached as urban infrastructure rather than as a shared public space and common good(Klaufus 2018a). The evidence presented in this thesis shows how urban renewal processes affect spaces beyond those of the living.

The presented fragment from my observation diary demonstrates how the Central Cemetery is changing not only in terms of its material environment (e.g. renovation projects), but also in terms of new norms and restrictions which both influence the practices of frequent users. Nevertheless, despite these implementations, frequent users creatively find ways to deal with these limitations and continue their routine. Therefore, even though the interventions as intended in the urban renewal plans change the socio-spatial configuration of the Central Cemetery, it appears that the current users continue to find new ways to navigate the cemetery in terms of space and time, thereby securing their future presence.

The relevance of this thesis is twofold. First of all, it contributes to the current knowledge hiatus on the effects of urban renewal projects on common goods and shared public spaces. Secondly, it contributes to an understanding of how urban renewal processes affect certain users and how these users find ways to resist and modify these processes. The meaning of the Central Cemetery for these users enables them to socially navigate the precarious socio-spatial environment. Therefore, this thesis is not only a scholarly endeavor to present evidence how urban renewal processes affect the everyday life of users, it also offers a bottom-up perspective to the top down interventions as a call for alternatives, to oppose or modify urban renewal policies that could materially and symbolically displace already marginalized groups.

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1.1 The case of the Central Cemetery

In 1836, the Central Cemetery of Bogota was constructed. Originally, it was built on the outskirts of the city to function as a place for dead disposal according to the new norms of medical hygiene. Many high-class inhabitants were reluctant to bury their beloved ones outside the church, which would diminish the connection to heaven and did not want to do so in a poor man’s land in the city’s periphery. Nevertheless, after the late president Francisco de Paula Santander chose to be buried in the Central Cemetery, the cemetery became the most prestigious post-mortem destination of Colombia (Vignolo 2013, 126-127). The Central Cemetery became a landmark for the elites for almost a century.

Between the nineteenth and twentieth century, the cemetery reflected the social hierarchies of the city of the living, whereby class differences were reproduced in the materiality of the cemetery. The inner-part of the cemetery – known as the ellipse – was slowly enriched with chapels, statues, family mausolea and marble decorations, while the ‘less well-of’ tombs became gradually more invisible as these moved to the adjacent lands outside the monumental area known as the trapecio (trapezium)1 (Vignolo 2013).

Nowadays, the Central Cemetery is located in the heart of the metropolis. Due to rapid urbanization, the cemetery was absorbed into the city center as the city expanded beyond the cemetery. This urbanization led to the emergence of the cemetery’s adjacent neighborhood Santa Fe, which is part of district 14 Los Mártires (see figure 1.1). In the 1940s and 1950s, the former inhabitants and users deserted this neighborhood and the cemetery due to the 1948 Bogotazo. The Bogotazo refers to a period of massive riots and violent outburst in Bogota’s city center, forcing people to abandon the inner city and relocate to the periphery (Donovan 2008, 34).

The 1948 Bogotazo marked the beginning of many years of loss and violent conflict to come. During these years, the internal conflict dispossessed many Colombians of their land – a number that eventually would run up to over 7 million internally displaced people (UNCHR 2018). As these people lost their lands and homes, many of them fled to the capital city, turning Bogota into a home for over 9 million people today (Berney 2017; Yuhas 2016). These new inhabitants appropriated the formerly abandoned parts of the city, like Santa Fe, thereby turning the cemetery into a place for pilgrimage and support. Presently, Santa Fe is considered a dangerous neighborhood in Bogota, as it is afflicted by a multitude of problems like trafficking

1_{See appendix B for an aerial view of the Central Cemetery with ellipse and trapezium} outlined

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and prostitution. In 2004, the municipal government officially designated Santa Fe as a zone of ‘zero-tolerance’2_{because of these activities (El Tiempo 2018a; El Tiempo} 2019).

Figure 1.1 Map location Santa Fe and the Central Cemetery in district 14 Los Mártires. Source:

Google Maps 2019. Los Mártires is outlined in red, Santa Fe in blue and the Central Cemetery in black. Own editing.

In addition to this classification as a zero-tolerance neighborhood, Santa Fe is also classified as a low-stratified neighborhood. In Colombia, the state applies a spatial stratification system that divides parts of the city in poor, middle class and rich

2 _{Zones of ‘zero-tolerance’ are zones allocated according the Territorial Ordering Plan (POT),} as zones for “services linked to activities related to uses like sex work, recreation and amusement and to other commerce and services that determine the normative use” (El Tiempo 2018). Although the spatial use of this area officially is allocated to brothels, bars and other activity, controlling these zones seems to be complex. Due to the lack of control, marginal and vulnerable status of the neighborhood and its informal infrastructure, many more activities are performed underground.

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neighborhoods. This system classifies the neighborhoods of Bogota ranging from 1 (being the lowest) to 6 (highest) based on one’s ability to pay for services like electricity, water and rent and based on the quality of one’s home. Someone living in strata 1 to 3 pays less for services than someone does from strata 4 to 6. Santa Fe is classified as a neighborhood of strata 1 to 2, which means that most inhabitants are dependent on state subsidies, as they cannot afford to pay for services themselves (Dávila 2016; DANE n.d.)3_{. It is to say, that many of the inhabitants of Santa Fe have} a marginal and vulnerable position.

These marginalized and vulnerable residents of Santa Fe found their salvation in the cemetery, turning the cemetery into a space where they “exercise active citizenship and … reassert ethnic, political and cultural meanings” (Vignolo 2016, 219). The groups that engage in these activities consist of prostitutes, transgenders, petty thieves and drug-users (Klaufus 2018b, 215). On the one hand, the cemetery serves as a place for refuge and, on the other hand, the cemetery generates a source of income for a group of informal service providers (e.g. marble cutters, priests, step ladder renters, flower and candle vendors) who contribute to life in the cemetery. Every week, especially on Sunday and Monday, these groups bring life and color to the cemetery. In this thesis, I will focus on both these groups as frequent users, categorizing them as devotional users and informal service providers (further elaborated in chapter 2).

Over the last decades, life in the city of the dead has developed into an organic informal system of co-dependence turning the cemetery into a safe space where frequent users find solace. A delicate balance seems to exist in the cemetery, because the frequent users produce a multitude of use patterns at different times and in different spaces. This becomes particularly visible every Monday, which is the day of the souls (día de las ánimas). This day, frequent users seem to visit the cemetery at different moments in time, to visit the spaces that they render meaningful. This results in the separation of use patterns, which seems necessary to prevent the rise of tensions between users. The separation of patterns thus maintains the coexistence of life in the cemetery, whereby groups share the cemetery, but not at the same time or in the same space.

Currently, the future presence of these groups in the cemetery is uncertain, as urban renewal processes seem to transform the cemetery to serve other users (e.g. middle- to high-class citizens and tourists). The cemetery’s governing entities (on which I will elaborate in chapter 3) are promoting the cemetery as a museum that

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portrays Colombian heritage according to the illustrious figures buried there (Alcaldía Mayor de Bogotá DC 2014). Although the cemetery gained an official monumental status in 19844_{, it is not until recently that the governing entities began attempting to} treat and to administrate the cemetery as such. Transforming the Central Cemetery into a respectable museum has become a topic of interest on the political agenda. Not only for its heritage, also for its location along Avenue el Dorado (26th_{street), which} connects downtown Bogota with the airport and is a prime location in the heart of the city.

To upgrade the material setting and the image of the cemetery, the governing entities have implemented changes that seem to aim to attract users with a different social profile. To relegate the current unwanted users from the cemetery, the governing entities deploy different strategies of securitization. Nonetheless, even with the new limitations in place, the frequent users do find new ways of using and connecting to the cemetery, as they creatively navigate the changing situation. Whereas the devotional users find comfort in new spaces and search for a spiritual connection through different means, the informal service providers diversify their services to secure their income.

1.2 Urban renewal and social navigation

Scholars distinguish two waves of urban renewal processes. The first wave of urban started in the early 1970s and characterized the urban agendas of North American and European cities. These projects were often associated with inner city redevelopment to serve as a means to reduce urban poverty (Karaman 2013; 2014; Samara 2010). Nevertheless, many of these urban renewal projects led to the forced eviction and displacement of former inhabitants (Karaman 2014, 291). From the 1980s onwards, urban renewal gradually disappeared from urban agendas of these cities, whereby the disruptive large-scale redevelopment projects were replaced by projects in an attempt to involve consensus-based participatory planning practices (ibid.). Today, the rapidly urbanizing countries of the global south experience their own wave of urban renewal (ibid.; Weinstein & Ren 2009). This second wave of urban renewal is associated with social control, neoliberalism and crime, and often leads to the forced eviction and displacement of marginalized groups, deepening the social inequality through the social and spatial organization of the city (Samara 2010, 200).

Also in Latin America, which is one of the most urbanized regions in the world today (Klaufus 2016a, 74), urban renewal processes largely shape inner city landscapes

4_{In 1984, the Central Cemetery was officially declared a national monument, according to the} General Law of Culture (La Ley General de Cultura) decree 2390 (Alcaldía Mayor de Bogotá DC n.d.).

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(Betancur 2014; Inzulza-Contardo 2016). In this region, urban renewal processes are typically known as large or mega projects to renew and revitalize spaces in the city to bolster the image of the city in aesthetic and in humanitarian terms. These projects often involve a large clearance, leading to forced evictions of current marginalized users to further execute the project (Betancur 2014, 2; Delgadillo 2016, 1159).

In the Latin American context, many scholars point out that urban renewal is often a means for state-led gentrification (Becker & Müller 2015; Betancur 2014; Inzulza-Contardo 2016; Janoschka et al. 2014; Rodríguez & Di Virgilio 2016). Urban renewal is seen as a key component of gentrification processes (Rodríguez & Di Virgilio 2016, 1217). If gentrification is understood according to Ruth Glass, who first coined the term in 1964, gentrification entails the social, economic and visual upgrading of a working-class neighborhood resulting in the displacement of the original inhabitants. However, according to Delgadillo, gentrification in the Latin American context undergoes a “mutation” with respect to Glass’ description, as it takes shape differently (Delgadillo 2016; Inzulza-Contardo 2016; López-Morales et al. 2016). In many Latin American cases, it does not always lead to the occupation of renovated properties by a new residential group, yet, more often it involves the revitalization of deteriorated properties and the change of the social group using the property (Janoschka et al. 2014, 1252; Jones & Varley 1999, 1548). This shift of focus on users, instead of residents, makes gentrification more applicable to understand the changing nature of public spaces and urban infrastructures under urban renewal processes.

The mutation of the concept is necessary if we consider gentrification as one of the possible outcomes of the urban renewal project in the Central Cemetery, because this is a common good and not a residential space. The Central Cemetery is publicly accessible at fixed opening hours (from 8.00 in the morning until 16.00 in the afternoon), obliging the visitors to leave the cemetery at a certain time. Therefore, we can only understand displacement and eviction from the cemetery as a public space and common good if we focus on this dispute about who is the appropriate user formulated in the urban renewal plans. Although we cannot predict if the urban renewal project will eventually lead to gentrification, the preconditions and discourses that are reproduced in the cemetery today do point at gentrification as a possible outcome. Therefore, I will continue to use case studies on urban renewal and gentrification to indicate these preconditions and discourses.

The urban renewal projects in Latin America frequently reinforce the reproduction of a “dignifying” discourse, expressing the sentiment of the ‘rightful’ users (and uses) who return to rescue the inner city from unacceptable users (and uses) (Jones & Varley 1999, 1559; Inzulza-Contardo 2016; Rodríguez & Di Virgilio 2016).

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A moral dimension exists in this discourse and stresses the need to combat the physical and social degradation of the city center through the conservation of the deteriorated physical environment and the removal of the socially unacceptable users (and uses) (Jones & Varley 1999, 1151; 1558)5_{. Urban renewal projects are thus reinforced by an} increased polarization along economic and cultural lines, whereby the ‘rightful’ wealthier classes socially distance themselves from the unacceptable users, in order to reclaim the valuable urban spaces of the city that have been taken over by the lower classes (Betancur 2014, 5; Jou et al. 2016, 563; Swanson 2007, 714). Following this line of thinking, urban renewal can cause a symbolic eviction prior to a spatial eviction, as a cultural shift takes place to reinstate the moral authority of urban spaces by middle- to high-class groups (Janoschka & Sequera 2016; Jones & Varley, 1999, 1548). This moral authority invokes a feeling of entitlement to judge and decide who and which practices are acceptable.

The symbolic exclusion and displacement of particular groups from public spaces is often a precondition for the forthcoming material eviction, according to Janoschka and Sequera (2016, 1181). This symbolic exclusion is realized through a selective institutionalized production of culture, whereby for instance, public administrations actively promote cultural activities (e.g. tours) to construct an “artificially new … identity” that speaks to a different clientele, namely, tourists and middle- to high-class citizens (Janoschka et al. 2014, 1241-1242). The cultural production of this new tourism identity of space is reproduced via a selective display of, for example, heritage, leaving the unacceptable users out of this display (Betancur 2014; Janoschka et al. 2014). This recounts the moral authority Jones and Varley describe, whereby certain social and cultural practices are accepted, while others are criminalized. The eviction caused by urban renewal processes in Latin America is enacted by both physical and symbolic violence (Janoschka et al. 2014).

This symbolic eviction, enforced by moral authority, inherently relates to stigmatization and the reproduction of social hierarchies, which are exacerbated by the subsequent material displacement (Janoschka & Sequera 2016, 1188). Hereby, stigmatization is used as a tool to justify the further enclosure of public space. To protect, save, or rescue spaces from the ‘bad users’, urban renewal often involves securitization strategies that gradually secure spaces from marginal users. Janoschka and Sequera (2016) identify three strategies to achieve this. A first strategy they discern

5_{This moral dimension draws close to the Revanchist city by Neil Smith (1996). He defined} revanchist urbanism as the development of the city, while rendering a “vengeful right-wing reaction against the poor, as the dominant classes attempt to ‘tame the wild city’ and bring it under their control” (Smith 1996; Smith 2002; Swanson 2007, 709).

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is social cleansing, which refers to the increased invisibility of unacceptable users by diminishing the range of possibilities for them to enter or use the space. Followed by a strategy of hyper-security, that entails the increased securitization of space through policies of zero-tolerance, surveillance cameras and increased police presence. The final strategy they identify is the use of exclusive renovations to enhance attractiveness in order to change the social profile of the users, endorsing a symbolic eviction (Janoschka & Sequera 2016, 1282-1183). In chapter 3, I will further elaborate on the strategy of hyper-security in the case of the Central Cemetery.

In Bogota and other Latin American cities, stigmatization and the reproduction of social hierarchies through spatial order has frequently been a subject of study (Hunt 2006; Janoschka & Sequera 2016; Munoz 2018; Swanson 2007; Zeiderman 2018). In many of these cases, processes to revitalize, rescue and recover public space under the name of urban renewal in the inner city focus on the eviction of the informal users. Swanson (2007) demonstrates this in her case study, presenting how the social reconstruction of the city is reasserted through sentiments of beauty, alluding to the informal vendors as the supposed ‘contamination’ of this beauty (2007, 714). The re-orientation of public squares is justified by this dichotomy of beauty/contamination, resulting in the municipal government “sanitizing” and “purifying” the city from this contamination identified as the informal vendors (ibid.). The reproduction of the dichotomy beauty/contamination might as well be discerned as formal/informal.

This discourse has also been studied in the context of Bogota by Hunt and Munoz, who both describe public space revitalization projects that resulted in the removal of informal vendors who are conceived as the invaders of public space. In both their studies, the municipal government aimed at the revitalization of public space to attract foreign investments and tourists resulting in the eviction of ambulant street vendors (Hunt 2006; Munoz 2018). Hunt’s case study presents the stigmatization of ambulant vendors, who are ascribed as the responsible ones for the “violent, filthy and illegal invasion” of public space (2006, 337). A similar development is presented by Munoz (2018), who describes how public space is thought to be saved from “illicit use, criminality and violence”, a danger that the informal street vendors supposedly impose (2018, 584). In her study, Munoz goes beyond the connection between unacceptable uses and informality by showing how race becomes an extra source for stigmatization. She argues that the constant depiction of Afro-Colombian street vendors as criminals creates a relationship between crime, race and informality. The relationship produces a common sense of Afro-Colombians not belonging in spaces, “dislocating their bodies from the urban landscape, further marginalizing and disfranchising black people living … in the urban centers” (Munoz 2018, 584).

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The saving and recuperation of public space characterizes a new era of administrative politics in Bogota. From the 1990s onwards, two mayors – Antanas Mockus (1995-1997; 2001-2003) and Enrique Peñalosa (1998-2000; 2016-2019) – focused at the revival of Bogota’s public space (Berney 2010, 541; Berney 2017, 20-21). Both administrations combined anti-crime and pro-public space policies to improve public space use (Donovan 2008, 36). Where Mockus’ administrations focused on creating spaces that would compel “better behavior” (cultura ciudadana), Peñalosa’s administration aimed at expanding and securing public space for recreation (Donovan 2008; Galvis 2013). This supposed recovery and expansion was articulated through the removal of everybody that was considered not to belong there, as they were either perceived as dirty or dangerous, based on the marginal and transitional spaces they occupy (Hunt 2006). The state’s spatial planning to recover spaces from unacceptable users simultaneously naturalizes marginal groups as responsible for insecurity and contamination (ibid., 346).

The stigmatization and criminalization of unacceptable users legitimizes the act of evicting them. As this thesis will demonstrate, the frequent users of the Central Cemetery face a similar faith. The marginal and informal users that occupy the cemetery are stigmatized and criminalized by representatives of the governing entities, who are constantly describing them as dangerous, criminal or non-belonging. These prejudicial and stereotypical assumptions emerge from people judging someone on the way he/she looks, moves and talks. In the cemetery, the unacceptable user is often identified as a ñero. According to López and Rueda (2016), the ñero is characterized as a youngster, who is part of a group and wears a particular style of clothing and accessories, like baggy clothing, neon-colored tracksuits and baseball caps (López & Rueda 2016). The ñeros are often related to violence and drug- and alcohol consumption. They live in the popular neighborhoods and often have a marginal social status (Pabón Suárez 2017, 98). In Colombia, the term ñero has a negative connotation as people use it to describe someone delinquent or without an education.

This classification of the ñero correlates to what Julienne Weegels outlines in her research on the Nicaraguan pinta (2018). Like the ñero, the pinta is used to describe someone who has a ‘delinquent look’. Because of this look, the pinta is routinely portrayed as the immoral criminal other. Through consistent media coverage of these youths portrayed as such, a relationship is fostered and naturalized between delinquency, youths, drugs and law enforcement. The spread of stereotypical images of the pinta results in the categorization as such of all youths that fit the description (ibid., 871). The identification of the pinta is attributed to a stereotypical physical appearance that links the person to the delinquent realm through “tattoos, scars, haircut,

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clothing, style [and body language] …” (2018, 875). In the Central Cemetery, as this thesis will point out, certain practices and spatial relations strengthen the imaginary of the ñero, in addition to this physical appearance.

The criminalization of unacceptable users as a means prior to the material eviction of these users, is also evident in the case of the Bronx of Bogota. In the entire block surrounding the Bronx, where an urban renewal project resulted in gentrification, the entire neighborhood population is evicted (The Bogotá Post 2016; El Espectador 2018a). The Bronx is a small block6_{located in the district of Los Mártires, wherein the} cemetery is situated as well. This block was afflicted by a multitude of illicit activities, which was problematic and needed an urgent solution because of its close proximity to the historical city center. When Enrique Peñalosa was re-elected as mayor in 2016 (-2019), his administration propagated the reputation of this block as if it was the reputation of the whole neighborhood. After constant media coverage focusing on the immoral and illegal character of, thus, the entire neighborhood, the national police and military invaded the block. Now, after the clearance of the entire area, it is being gentrified to become a commercial and creative area, named the Economía Naranja (Orange Economy) (El Espectador 2018b; La Semana 2016). Although the whole neighborhood was portrayed as the dangerous Bronx, only one block was known for the abovementioned activities. Due to the constant display of the whole neighborhood as criminal, an unsubstantiated eviction of long-time residents and informal commercial activity was legitimized. The municipal government used the reputation of the Bronx as a pretext to re-orientate the whole neighborhood (similar to what happened in 1998 in El Cartucho, see Morris 2011; James 2015).

Altogether, it seems that the tools for and consequences of urban renewal are altering spaces in the city to the detriment of marginalized users. Even though all the odds seem to be stacked against these users, in many instances they seem to find ways to resist and modify processes of urban renewal and gentrification (López-Morales et al. 2016; Karaman 2014). This is also the case in the Central Cemetery, where frequent users navigate their way through the changing socio-spatial configuration by deploying various adaptation strategies. The frequent users, while facing the treat of displacement, navigate the material and social environment to secure their future place in the Central Cemetery.

Therefore, one of the core concepts of this thesis is Henrik Vigh’s concept of

social navigation, to describe these coping strategies in the cemetery (Vigh 2003).

6_{In Colombia, ‘manzana’ is the urbanistic term used to describe a city-block, where four streets} make a manzana (as a square).

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According to Vigh’s proposition “[the concept] is used when referring to how people act in difficult or uncertain circumstances and in describing how they disentangle themselves from confining structures, plot their escape and move forwards a better position” (Vigh 2009, 418). Vigh describes social navigation as a strategy and process of demarcating space and the devices to navigate those spaces (Utas 2005, 408). Furthermore, the concept of social navigation encompasses a double meaning of movement, in the literal and in the figurative sense. In the literal sense, it relates to the steps one takes in the demarcating space. The figurative dimension of social navigations refers to the temporal parameters of social navigation. These parameters stretch beyond the navigation of the everyday life, as people, while navigating, anticipate and ‘plot’ their next steps in order to secure their future presence in the changing environment.

Furthermore, social navigation entails a motion in motion, as it recognizes someone’s movement in a constantly changing environment. It affords a view of the fluidity of the movements and decisions of actors as well as of forces that shape the social environment. Especially in precarious situations, people tend to use strategies to cope with the changing social and physical environment, seeking to direct and navigate their lives in the most advantageous direction (ibid., 423). For this reason, social navigation goes beyond the idea that people’s lives are set in a stable and solidified social setting, as it recognizes the constant reconfiguration of the socially produced environment (Vigh 2009, 431).

1.3 Methodology and chapter outline

I conducted my fieldwork in the Central Cemetery from May until August 2019. In the Central Cemetery, I spoke with the different cemetery users – saint devotees, mass visitors, informal service providers and other frequent visitors – in order to discover how they navigate the changing socio-spatial configuration. Based on this objective, I formulated the following research question:

How do frequent users socially navigate the changes in the Central Cemetery

due to the urban renewal plans?

This question can be divided into the following sub-questions:

1) Which use patterns are produced throughout the week, month and year? 2) How do the different institutions that are engaged in the governance of the

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3) How do frequent users of the cemetery experience the effects of urban renewal and how do they deal with these effects?

Throughout this thesis, I use quotes from my interviews and fragments of my observation diary. To not cause my respondents any harm, I use pseudonyms instead of their real names. The respondents that gave me permission to use their real names are still kept anonymous only when I considered the statement to be sensitive.

My data-collection, to answer to abovementioned questions, was structured according to Setha Low’s (1996) double notion of the social production and the social construction of space in order to analyze the spatial realities and the way people (re)act in them. Low argues that an effective theory of the spatialization of culture must integrate these two lenses (1996, 862). By deploying these perspectives, I was able to discover what motivated the governing entities to implement certain changes and restrictions, how frequent users see the cemetery and how meaning is attached to certain spaces. These two perspectives enabled me to discover the existence of a gap between the social production of space and the social construction of space as the governing entities implement restrictions to modify the cemetery, without recognizing how the cemetery is embedded in the everyday life of its users (Low 2017, 7).

This double notion builds on the space/place theory, which derives from the idea that the physical, material background should be considered as an entity separate from the meanings and values people attach to it. Low, following Lefebvre’s line of thinking, distinguishes space as the social and physical landscape, in which people undertake place-bound practices of meaning-making (2017, 17-20). Crucial in this definition is the diversity of the space/place perspective across spatial and temporal scales (ibid.). Low uses the social production and social construction of space as methodological tools to uncover hidden and/or naturalized mechanisms of exclusion in place (Low 2011, 391). Furthermore, the double notion of the social construction and social production of space corresponds to Vigh’s social navigation. By deploying this double notion in combination with social navigation, one recognizes the volatility of agents as they fluidly move through space while it is constantly (re)produced and (re)constructed. Therefore, agents are not considered to be mere passive victims devoid of agency, nor as fully free actors (Utas 2005, 424). Yet, the agents are understood as social navigators changing their directions in a constantly changing environment. Nonetheless, I only use social navigation in a pragmatic way, namely, to describe the flexibility of the users as they cope and adapt to the changing configuration of the cemetery. In this thesis, I thus use social navigation as an empirical tool, limiting Vigh’s philosophical approach.

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The social production of space consists of the conditions that create the physical and material setting, like social, economic, ideological and technological conditions (Low 2000, 125). This lens enables the researcher to discover how space and place are produced focusing on political, economic and historical motives of its planning and design (Low 2017, 34). Using this concept, one recognizes that the production of space is neither neutral, nor that it is self-evident. To discover how the physical reality of the cemetery was (re)designed, and for what reasons, I did 31 semi-structured interviews with key actors and representatives of the governing institutions, different cemetery users and cemetery experts (e.g. researchers on the topic)7_{. To shed} light on the social production of space the topics of these interviews ranged from the security of the cemetery, the significance of the cemetery, relationships between different stakeholders and how the cemetery was envisioned by users and the administrative planners. I was able to plan most interviews without problems. In most instances, especially with officials from the governing entities, I could position myself as the foreign researcher, which facilitated the arrangement for the interview. I was able to speak with representatives and officials from all involved entities, some of which were unapproachable for Colombian researchers I spoke with. The fact that I as a young Dutch student was able to conduct an interview while the Colombian researcher was not indicates the existence of unequal power relations when it comes to the foreign and the local.

Whereas the social production of space refers to the material landscape, the

social construction of space pertains to space as abstract. The social construction of

space “is made up of shared understandings and social structural differences such as race, class and gender” (Low 2017, 68). It can uncover how social hierarchies of the everyday are reproduced in space. Furthermore, the social construction of space perspective entails how people daily ascribe meaning to space through memories, images, activities, symbols and feelings (ibid., 69). The way people use the space of the cemetery yields insights in the meaning they ascribe to particular spaces. Therefore, to operationalize the social construction of space, I chose to observe the use patterns frequent users produced in the Central Cemetery. A pattern refers to a discernible regular and intelligible sequence. Its frequency reveals that there is meaning attached to spaces that people cross in their patterns. These patterns are not only produced in a spatial sense, but also in a temporal sense. The separation of patterns and the interaction of patterns uncovers the relations between different users. To complement these observations, to reveal what these patterns meant, I engaged in small talk and informal

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conversations with frequent users. In my research, observation served as my main research-tool, whereby I situated myself alternately as participant and passive observer.

Beforehand, I expected to conduct 30-minute observation sessions, every week on the same day at the same time. However, at arrival I encountered the cemetery ellipse being closed, hampering structural observation in this area. As a solution, I chose to follow the activities that occurred in newly appropriated spaces, which made my observations rather spontaneous. Nevertheless, I was able to structure my observation sessions in the cemetery by going every Sunday and Monday8_{. Sometimes my presence} would even lead to a walking-transect interview, whereby the informant and I would walk through the cemetery to empower his answers with visual aid.

Just being ‘there’ and taking in all that was happening in the cemetery became the most useful research-tool I have employed. My consistent presence enabled me to discover which spaces were most visited, when and why (through informal conversations); in what kind of rituals people partook (what material did they bring to do so); how power relations became visible when an authoritative figure would enter (e.g. police, security); and, if and how relations between groups were sustained or avoided. This tool allowed me to discover how people made sense of the space around them and how they navigated the socio-spatial configuration of the cemetery.

The combination of the social production and the social construction of space enables the researcher to contextualize the forces that produce the space, while at the same time perceive the people as agents who construct their own social realities within this space (Low 2000, 124). This double lens includes space and time as factors shaping the environment and the actors’ decisions. A spatial and temporal perspective includes people’s space use in the past, present and future. Because of this spatial and temporal dimension, I ordered my data accordingly – visualizing everything in maps – based on the reality in the cemetery at a given time and a given space.

To not only visualize my own interpretations of the cemetery, I did three mapping-sessions with three different service providers (a priest, an escalerista and a combined map with a guard and a Monte Sacro maintenance employee)9_{. During these} sessions, I asked the informants to draw their cemetery to contribute to my visual understanding of the cemetery and furthermore to contrast the technocratic version of official planning maps, wherein the cemetery is portrayed emptied of human activity (Reinders 2015, 125). In the process of making the maps, I would ask the service providers to indicate which places were rarely visited and which were most occupied

8_{See appendix E for an example of my data-collection of one week of observation} 9_{See appendix F for the maps from the mapping-method}

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and by whom; what places, where according to them, least and most religious; which parts were least and most important; and their perception of security in the cemetery. These sessions emphasized how the (in)security of the cemetery shaped the everyday perceptions of these service providers.

During my time in the cemetery, my informants would constantly reflect on my positionality in terms of safety. They would mirror these issues of insecurity onto me as a Dutch young woman, with regard to whether I would be safe (from robbery, unpredictable drug users etc.) in the cemetery. Although I did not intend this to become the leading subject of these sessions, the service providers restarted this discussion in light of my safety in the cemetery repeatedly. Not only because I was the only tourist-like foreigner in the cemetery, but also because of my position as nosy researcher. Because this was a recurring subject, I became reluctant to approach certain groups in the cemetery. This happened especially on Monday afternoons due to the groups of youngsters that entered the cemetery. Although I am not supposed to categorize these groups as anything, I could not prevent myself from being cautious keeping the foregoing warnings in mind. For instance, during my first week one of the guards warned me not to walk in the direction of Avenue Caracas (downtown Bogota) or Santa Fe because this was “tierra caliente” (hot ground) referring to these areas as insecure and dangerous. Another time, when the cemetery had just closed, one respondent wanted to accompany me to the other side of the street, passing the Transmilenio bus station, because “¡nunca se sabe!” (you never know!). At other moments, my sexuality and position as a foreign woman would be juxtaposed to the position of my respondents. Male cemetery-users for example would address me with questions about my relationships, if I would consider a ‘Colombian boyfriend’, or if they could return to the Netherlands with me.

To answer the research question and the sub-questions, the thesis will be divided into the following chapters: In chapter 2, the multitude of use patterns of frequent cemetery users will be outlined through the lens of the social construction of space. This lens uncovers how the social construction of space in the cemetery includes the inscription of race, class, (claims to) heritage and invented traditions (Low 2017, 207). This chapter will attempt to show how use patters produced in the cemetery seem to be reflections of the social hierarchies that exist in the city of the living. In chapter 3, the governing entities will be introduced and identified, followed by how they envision the cemetery and how they implement this vision. This chapter will show how the social production of the cemetery comes into being and how these implementations are to be understood as gentrification processes aiming at the displacement of supposedly dangerous users. In contrast to what the governing entities would like to

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achieve, chapter 4 will demonstrate how despite these top-down interventions, frequent users continue to establish their place in the cemetery by deploying different adaptation strategies. Finally, chapter 5 will conclude this thesis.

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Chapter 2 A multitude of use patterns

When a woman came close to talk to the ex-president’s grave, Luis joked: “Don’t ask too much! I already requested him [the ex-president] if I could become the new president of Colombia after Duque!” He then continued explaining that many people now visit the grave of Alicia Mora and this virgencita here [while he points to the virgin]. Luis showed me two cans of paint, gifted by a devotee, which he is supposed to use in order to paint the statue of the black virgin: ‘the virgin will be very pleased, but the other saints will also enjoy the repainted statue’. He will not paint her today because of the weather, maybe next week. Later he went to visit Alicia Mora, who he visits every week at the same time with the same group. While he walked in the direction of the grave of Alicia Mora, he waved and shouted: “¡Alicia Mora no se demora!” [Alicia Mora does not delay!] (Observation diary July 8 2019).

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Chapter 2 – A multitude of use patterns

Life in the Central Cemetery has developed into an informal and self-sustaining system where different frequent user groups occupy spaces to engage in practices of meaning-making or to generate an income. I define the different paths produced by the frequent users as use patterns, which spatialize the use of the cemetery while including the meaning of this usage at the same time. In the cemetery, a multitude of use patterns exists that intersect and disjoin in time and space. However, instead of these patterns coexisting in the cemetery, there seems to exist a delicate balance whereby groups produce patterns at specific times and in specific spaces often separated from others. In other words, groups share the space of the cemetery, yet do so separately.

In this chapter, I will use the social construction of space to unravel this delicate balance, as well as why these patterns are produced separately. The social construction of space perspective helps to understand how patterns are shaped by social, economic and historical assumptions, whereby language, social interaction, memory and representation convey meaning (Low 2017, 7). The social construction of space uncovers obscured prejudices and underlying exclusionary practices (ibid. 80). The production of use patterns through this lens of the social construction of space enables us to understand how social structural differences are spatialized and reproduce “the implacable hierarchies of the city of the living” (Vignolo 2016, 219).

In order to do so, I will first identify the most visible use patterns produced in the cemetery, which I describe as devotional use patterns and as informal service use patterns (e.g. of the informal service providers). These patterns are produced every Sunday and Monday, the busiest days in the cemetery, and are evidently under siege by the changing social and material environment of the cemetery. In the first section, I will also describe the emergence of new tourism use patterns encouraged by urban renewal processes. I will often describe the devotional use patterns and the use patterns of informal service providers together as frequent use patterns, but it is important to take into account that these use patterns are diverse. Secondly, the explanation for the separateness of the use patterns will be uncovered, using the social construction of space.

2.1 Identifying the use patterns

As mentioned, Sundays and Mondays are the busiest days in the cemetery. These days are visited according to the Roman Catholic tradition, whereby Sunday is considered the most important day and Monday is known as the day of the souls in purgatory (Klaufus 2018b, 216-217). Every Sunday, families visit the graves of their beloved ones

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and the masses in the chapel are held throughout the day. The morning is characterized by people dressed in sportswear passing through the cemetery during Bogota’s

ciclovía10_{(VOX 2016). Monday, on the other hand, is known as the day of the souls –}

día de las ánimas – and is considered the most appropriate day to make requests to the

powerful souls that reside in the cemetery (Klaufus 2018b, 216). In the morning, people dressed in work-uniforms or suits quickly pass through the cemetery to pay homage to these souls before having to go to work. Later on, families enter and mostly the elderly visit the masses in the chapel. In the afternoon, these visitors seem to transmit the cemetery to other groups who are often perceived as dangerous. Both Sunday and Monday, like most of the other days throughout the week, different service providers are present in the Central Cemetery. These service providers can appear both formal as informal; the contracted formal service providers being guards and maintenance employees and the informal service providers generate income selling flowers and candles for instance.

Devotional use patterns

The use patterns produced every Monday are motivated by people’s belief in the powerful souls. This day, the Central Cemetery becomes much more than a site for burial as it transforms into a meaningful space wherein relations between the living and the dead are established. These relationships become visible through the materiality of the devotees’ acts of veneration, as they place colorful flowers and candles, and leave small notes with requests near the tombs of these souls. The powerful souls are thought of as lost souls in purgatory or as popular saints. The lost souls in purgatory are often seen as anonymous victims of the violent conflict. Whereas these souls in purgatory are thought of as anonymous, the popular saint, or folk saint, has a story and sometimes even a face. The popular saints are not part of the official catholic repertoire, nonetheless, are sanctified because of their life stories and their persistent presence in life after death (González Pucetti 2009; Losonczy 2001; Klaufus 2018b). The popular saints attend to the needs of many devotees, who make different requests. Most of the saints do not have one singular life story, instead, there are multiple, as the devotees customize the saints’ story to correspond to the specific problems they encounter in life.

10_{The ciclovía is held from 7.00 in the morning till 14.00 in the afternoon every Sunday and on} holidays. Every other road is closed, and the municipal government organizes all kinds of leisure and sports activities along these closed roads (VOX 2016). The Avenue el Dorado (26th_street), along which the cemetery is located, is also closed during the ciclovía.

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A devotee who wishes to establish a relationship with one of these powerful souls visits the cemetery regularly, sustaining the existence and reproduction of the devotional use patterns. Every Monday, specific places in the cemetery where these souls are believed to reside turn into popular shrines and become social hubs where different devotional patterns intersect. At these social hubs, people do not only establish a relationship with the dead but also with the living.

The existence of the devotional use patterns exposes the hardship the devotees’ experience in their daily lives. Marginalized groups like prostitutes, transgenders, homosexuals and criminals often partake in acts of veneration and for a large part produce these patterns. They believe that the powerful souls can help them move forward in life, to seguir adelante. Christien Klaufus suggests that the cemetery serves as a space to find solace, unlike other spaces in the city:

“Those religious customs express the urgent socioeconomic needs of vulnerable citizens in a ritualized form. In their struggle for the right to the city of the living, they negotiate their needs in the city of the dead” (Klaufus 2015, 2).

According to Klaufus, the “sanctified practices” can be understood as survival strategies of the marginalized groups (2018b, 211). These groups engage in place-making practices to be able to feel emotionally and socially connected to a location like the Central Cemetery in this case. Following Giddens’ work on ontological security (1991), Klaufus argues that these meaning-making practices create a sense of belonging, security and confidence. The confidence that their social and material environment is one they can identify with and rely on (Klaufus 2018b, 212). By attaching meaning to a place through these practices, the cemetery becomes a space wherein feelings of citizenship and belonging are produced and materialized.

These meaning-making practices connect to Low’s suggestion on the social construction of space. Whereby the cemetery serves as a “public forum”, permitting groups to negotiate their needs publicly, yet in a safe environment (Low 2000, 863). The material environment becomes a subject to symbolic interpretation and manipulation by the users, to work out larger conflicts stemming from their struggles in the city of the living (ibid., 874).

The use patterns of informal service providers

The produced use patterns by the devotees provide support for and are maintained by the use patterns of the informal service providers, who offer complementary services

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additional to the formal services offered by the state. The informal service providers consist of flower and candle vendors, popular priests, stepladder renters (escaleristas) and marble cutters (marmoleros). In and around the cemetery, these informal service providers sustain life in the Central Cemetery. These groups have gradually appropriated their spaces in the cemetery over generations and in the process made themselves indispensable from life in the city of the dead.

Each group of informal service providers produces use patterns, which intersect with others on a regular basis. The production of these informal use patterns seems to reproduce a hierarchy. The flower vendors and the marmoleros inhabit the ‘periphery’ of the cemetery, as they occupy spaces outside its walls. Along 19th_{and 26}th_{street, most} of these flower vendors and marmoleros have small workshops and some of the flower vendors rebuild their self-constructed stall every morning. The stepladder renters and the priests, on the other hand, occupy the ‘center’ of the cemetery to offer their services. The stepladder renters have appropriated abandoned mausolea to store their belongings. Near every entrance, a few renters wait whilst sitting on their ladders for possible clients. Whereas the stepladder renters occupy the areas close to the entrances, the priests occupy one of the vital paths in the cemetery. In this path, the priests sit behind their foldable table, protected against rain and sun by a colorful umbrella, some accompanied by an assistant and/or guitarist.

Especially the priests seem to enjoy a superior position as opposed to the other informal service providers. The popular priests, whose status as ‘official’ representatives are open for debate, occupy a superior position because of the image they represent; that of the Catholic church. Each priests represents a different ‘branch’ of the church and serves as a replacement of the official catholic church for marginalized groups, who are often not able to negotiate their needs in the official catholic institutions because of their sexuality or occupation (e.g. transgenders, prostitutes, homosexuals). These marginalized groups normally occupy space around specific tombs in the ellipse. Especially the tombs of Garavito, Leo Kopp, Salomé and the Bodmer sisters turn into popular shrines as these groups gather here to place flowers, candles and to recite petitions (Villamarín 2015).

The cemetery is constructed through use patterns and attributed meanings, whereby the use patterns of the priests at a first glance seem similar to the other use patterns, nevertheless, are fundamentally different. The role of these priests as active participants in the meaning-making practices of others shows how social constructions of religion are inscribed in space. With the patterns these priests produce, they symbolically contest the religious hegemony of the Catholic chapel near the ellipse. The variation of the catholic religion in the Central Cemetery, or as priest Jairo calls it,

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the poli-religiosidad (poly-religiosity), transformed the cemetery into a “broadly defined religious heterodoxy” which openly challenges state Catholicism (Low 1996, 870). The social construction of the poly-religiosity in the cemetery reveals the exclusionary mechanisms of the city of the living (Low 2017, 80).

The emergence of new use patterns: guides and tourists

The priests and the other informal service providers are evidence of the informal character of life in the Central Cemetery. Their future presence is not secured, as other use patterns are produced to relegate them to other areas, preferably outside the cemetery. The urban renewal processes and the promotion of the cemetery as tourist destination encourage the use patterns produced by guides and tourists. Cemetery tourism is relatively new and often associated with either heritage-tourism, dark-tourism or necro-dark-tourism. In Latin America, this phenomenon has been growing given the number of cases of cemetery tourism that surfaced over the last decade (see El País 2012; El Mundo Chapin 2016; Soy Chile 2013). These types of cemetery tours were also organized in the Central Cemetery.

During my fieldwork, I was not able to observe the tourism use patterns first hand, because these mainly pass through the ellipse, which has been closed for over a year (since June 2018)11_{. When the ellipse is accessible, as per usual, tours are offered} during the day and night to educate groups of tourists of the cemetery’s history, heritage and architecture. The tours in the Central Cemetery are partly organized by the Municipal Institute of Cultural Heritage (IDPC) and the Municipal Institute of Tourism (IDT) and partly executed by a private tour company. The tourism use patterns sometimes intersect with other produced use patterns, which can cause the frequent users to be relegated to the periphery in the cemetery, because the tourists and guides, accompanied by guards or the police, occupy the ellipse (Klaufus 2016b). In the future, it is possible that these use patterns become the dominant patterns in the cemetery.

To prevent conflicts, avoidance of frequent use patterns often is necessary. Paula, one of the guides working for a private tour-company, explained that she would carefully guide her tourists through the cemetery:

“You know that here you have the cemetery [pointing to the map] and you see it is surrounded by the neighborhood of Santa Fe, right? This neighborhood is bound to the cemetery … and there are many people

11_{Although the ellipse was closed during my fieldwork, I was still able to conduct several} interviews with different tour guides and to study secondary sources that enabled me to outline the tourism use patterns as much as possible

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who actually go to the cemetery to do not so cool things. But honestly, I never had any problems in the cemetery … There are areas where I know you should be careful, and parts where I know I have to look first who is there and then decide to pass or not to pass.” (Interview Paula June 1, 2019).

The statement of Paula demonstrates how she is cautious when it comes to guiding her tourists through the cemetery and that she rather avoids the other user, mainly the ones from Santa Fe. This shows how users share the cemetery, but do not coexist in space and time. Her statement also indicates how Paula’s use pattern is produced according to her perception of the other. The perception of the other is an important factor that shapes the social production and the social construction of the cemetery, which I will reveal in the following section.

2.2 The separation of use patterns

This section will deploy the social construction of space lens to yield insights into hierarchies, prejudices and inequalities that are inscribed in spatial formations and relationships (Low 2017, 68-69). I will argue how, even though the Central Cemetery seems a safe haven for marginalized groups, social inequalities and hierarchies of the city of the living are reproduced in the city of the dead to the detriment of the most vulnerable users.

Applying a social construction of space lens helps to uncover how meaning is attached through shared understandings and social structural differences like race, class and gender. According to Low, it is, therefore, that through “people’s social interactions, memories, feelings, imaginings and daily use – or lack thereof - that are made into places, scenes and actions that convey particular meaning (Low 2017, 68-69). When we think about the statement of Paula, we can see how the lack of social interactions shapes her actions. Even though she never had any bad encounters, the lack of social interaction with the other shaped her imagination and therefore her actions.

Throughout my fieldwork, the most pressing theme shaping the imaginations of frequent users seemed to be the insecurity in the cemetery. Many instances, frequent users would connect the insecurity of the cemetery to the other users, even though they never had any bad interactions with them, just like Paula. This reflection on insecurity is most apparent Mondays because of the many different use patterns that are produced this day. For example, on a Monday morning, Jose, a flower vendor, warned me for the ‘dangers’ of the afternoon. He identified this danger as “the boys and girls of Santa Fe that would enter” (“entran los chicos y las chicas del barrio Santa Fe”). While Jose