Bolivian folklore. Right here.
A dance group from the heart of Bolivia — now at home in NRW.
Drum Memory Motion
about us
We're not a troupe. We're a family — who happen to come from different valleys of Bolivia, and who found each other again here in NRW.
Bolivia is far, but every day it's close. When the bombo kicks in, we're back in La Paz, in Oruro, on the high plains of Potosí — even if we happen to be standing in Duisburg, Düsseldorf, or Essen.
We don't dance just to perform. We dance because we can't help it. Nobody taught us these steps in a classroom — we picked them up through the eyes of our grandmothers, in the rhythm of the Carnival drums every February, in the pride that rolls down from the Andes.
Flow Andino is how we keep this going. For us. For our children, born here. And for a German audience that can sense something real pulsing through.
Bolivia isn't far. Bolivia dances with us.
our repertoire
Three dances, three stories — from the streets of La Paz to the oldest ayllus of Potosí. This is what we bring to the stage.
◆ Dance 01 La Paz · Bolivia the proud dance of liberation
Born in La Paz in 1969 — the Estrada brothers created it, and it debuted at the Gran Poder festival in 1972. Heavy bells on tall leather boots, long leaps, acrobatic turns — the dance of the caporal, the mestizo overseer who supervised enslaved Africans in the colonial Yungas. Today we dance it as a tribute to those who, over time, flipped that history and turned it into pride.
◆ Dance 02 Oruro · Bolivia dignity in every step
The most majestic dance of Oruro's Carnival — the carnival as a whole is recognised by UNESCO as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. Heavy masked costumes, a slow, unrelenting beat. A procession that doesn't ask for attention — it commands it.
◆ Dance 03 Potosí · Bolivia the dance of the encounter
From the highlands of northern Potosí — a ritual dance that was once a real confrontation between ayllus. Today it's memory: a stomped prayer to Pachamama, with drum and bare fists. Raw, honest, unadorned.
vestuario
Every costume carries its own story. Woven, embroidered, passed down — the visible heritage of what we dance.
◆ Costume 01 Caporales · Man Knee-high leather boots with bronze bells — an echo of the chains the caporal once drove the slaves with. Then the short jacket embroidered in gold thread, the wide-brim hat, and the leather whip, his symbol of authority. Every detail carries its history.
◆ Costume 02 Caporales · Woman A pleated mini-pollera in vivid colours, an embroidered blouse with puffed sleeves and beadwork, knee-high boots with bells, and a low top hat with colourful ribbons, pinned high on her head. The caporala dances with the same drive and a different pride — strength and grace in every step.
◆ Costume 03 Morenada · Woman Multi-layered silk polleras in bold colours, an embroidered manta shawl across the shoulders, a Borsalino bowler hat ringed with silk ribbon, and two long braids. The elegance of the Andean cholita — composed, dignified, alive in every swing of the skirt.
◆ Costume 04 Morenada · Man A plaster mask with bulging eyes and protruding tongue, a barrel-shaped turril chest piece densely embroidered with sequins, pearls and small mirrors, a tall feathered plume, and a wooden matraca rattle in hand. The barrel shape carries centuries of remembrance — that of enslaved Africans in Bolivia, treading grapes in the vineyards of Oruro or bearing the weight of the mines of Potosí.
◆ Costume 05 Tinkus A thick leather montera — a helmet inherited from the conquistadors, which once protected dancers in the ritual encounter — an embroidered tunic in deep earth tones, and a wide chumpi belt woven from sheep's wool with the patterns of the dancer's own ayllu. The austere, rooted, powerful dress of northern Potosí.
the ensemble
We come from different corners of Bolivia — and met again here in NRW. Three to begin, with more on the way.
La Paz Duisburg
The day he landed in Duisburg, he asked where the Bolivian neighbourhood was. There wasn't one. So he built it.
Cochabamba Essen
Her peanut soup is the stuff of legend. If she invites you over, you're already family.
Potosí Düsseldorf
Laughs before you finish the joke. He already knows where the story's going.
Sucre Köln
Only 24, but we all call her 'la Awicha' — the grandmother. Because she's always right.
Tarija Bonn
Learns a step today, brings it to rehearsal tomorrow like she's been dancing it her whole life.
contact
Festival, company event, cultural gathering — whatever it is. Tell us briefly what you're planning. We reply within 48 hours.
