In Bolivia, where in some communities the wiphala -- a rainbow-hued banner celebrating indigenous culture -- is more common than the national flag, men in woven ponchos and women with long skirts and black braids are drafting a list of rights they expect from the country's first indigenous president.

And in Ecuador, Amerindian demonstrators paralyzed half the country for several days last month to protest a free-trade agreement with the United States.

After being marginalized for centuries, indigenous citizens across Latin America are organizing in unprecedented ways to demand -- and sometimes obtain -- a role in government and a share of resources from a European-dominated ruling class.

"Indigenous people are coming to power," said Riordan Roett, director of Latin American studies at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. "The elites who had a couple of centuries to end discrimination against indigenous people and didn't do so are now going to pay for it."

Domino effect

Though the movements often have disparate goals, they feed off each other through the Internet and international forums. They got a remarkable boost in December when Bolivians elected Evo Morales, an Aymara Indian who herded llamas as a child, as their first indigenous president.

Morales is only Latin America's third democratically elected Latin indigenous leader in modern history. He's also the first to have retained his humble roots, dropping out of high school to help support his family. A political activist, he helped lead street protests by Amerindian activists that have toppled two presidents since 2003.

In Bolivia, where 71 percent of citizens are Amerindian, many spectators wept with joy during Morales' inauguration celebrations in January in a pre-Incan temple and in a plaza that Amerindians were barred from entering until the 1950s.

"Finally, we have a president who will end the injustices and represent all the people, not just the elite," said Wilson Quinteros, a flower-seller in a traditional woolen hat with a pointed tip who traveled eight hours by bus from the country's interior to witness the inauguration.

Indigenous representatives from across Latin America are equally jubilant.

"Evo's election has revitalized our movement," Pablo Ceto, a prominent Mayan activist from Guatemala, said in an interview earlier this year. "We will plant the seed of his victory across the region."

Years of repression

Millions of indigenous Latin Americans were killed in battle, wiped out by European diseases or worked to death in gold and silver mines after the Spaniards conquered the New World in the 1500s. Today's Amerindians, who account for 12 percent of the population, continue to face widespread discrimination. They also dramatically trail European-descended and mixed-race nationals in education, income and access to basic services, according to studies by the World Bank and the United Nations Development Program.

And they are vastly under-represented in political office. In Guatemala, two-thirds of the population is indigenous but only one-third of mayors and almost no politicians in higher office are Amerindians.

Many indigenous movements overlap with Latin America's so-called "lurch to the left," in which socialists or social-democrats have won power in Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Bolivia and Chile in recent years. Many of those movements reject U.S.-backed, free-market policies that have failed to reduce Latin America's yawning gap between rich and poor.

In Peru, retired Lt. Col. Ollanta Humala, who won nearly one-third of the vote in a 20-way presidential race on April 9, says his role model is Venezuela's firebrand socialist President Hugo Chávez. Humala, who will face off against his closest rival in a second vote next month or in June, has sparked controversy because of his strongly nationalist rhetoric and rumors of human rights abuses in the military.

Lack of representation

But in a country where indigenous citizens represent nearly half the population but remain at the bottom of the social ladder, many voters see Humala, who calls himself "pro-indigenous," as the candidate who will right historic wrongs.

"Toledo is a Cholo but he has done nothing for us," said Eulogio Taipe, 53, an indigenous street vendor in Lima, referring to outgoing president Alejandro Toledo. A Cholo is a Peruvian of Amerindian descent who migrates to the city.

"He turned his back on his heritage and gave Peru to the foreigners," Taipe said of Toledo. "Humala will take it back for us."

Like Humala did this year, Toledo campaigned five years ago dressed in the tunic and headdress of the 15th-century Pachacutec, the most powerful Incan emperor before the Spanish Conquest.

But Toledo also attended Harvard University, worked for the World Bank, and, as president, failed to improve conditions for the indigenous population.

The region's Amerindian voters also are being courted by non-indigenous politicians -- but so far with disappointing results.

In Ecuador, retired Col. Lucio Gutierrez won the presidency in 2002, thanks to backing from powerful Amerindian groups. He appointed four Amerindian cabinet ministers but reneged on other promises to indigenous supporters.

"Gutierrez betrayed us," said Humberto Cholango, an Ecuadorian indigenous leader. "Next time, we'll be more vigilant." Gutierrez was ousted last year, but nonindigenous social forces such as students and political elites provided the main push.

Ecuador's indigenous protesters also scored only a partial victory with roadblocks last month that paralyzed half the country, drawing government promises of more social spending but failing to stop talks on a trade pact with the United States that Amerindians fear will harm subsistence farmers.

Holding him to his word

In Bolivia, however, most political analysts believe powerful indigenous movements could handily oust Morales if he fails to deliver.

Morales has promised to nationalize Bolivia's vast natural gas reserves and other key industries to pump more revenues into social programs for indigenous populations. He also has signed a law that paves the way for a new constitution to expand indigenous rights. Many indigenous Bolivians hope the changes will allow more communities to function like the towns dotting the Altiplano, the windswept highlands above the capital of La Paz.

There, in customs predating the Spanish Conquest, staples such as water often are distributed through indigenous cooperatives. Communal indigenous councils resolve local disputes. Towns are patrolled by indigenous police clad in striped ponchos and armed with ornate, Amerindian batons tipped with leather whips.

Many of these communities kicked out government officials and police in the early 2000s during clashes over scarce federal funding, and water and gas rights. Since venturing back in 2004, the government officials and police stay on the sidelines. Some indigenous leaders in Bolivia have even called for a separate state. But many say they just want equal rights and respect for their way of life.

"We want an end to discrimination," said Eugenio Rojas, an indigenous mayor in the Altiplano. If Morales doesn't make that happen, Rojas warned, "we'll be back on the streets."

Special correspondent Clifford Schexnayder contributed to this article from Lima, Peru.