Putting Your Life in Your Work

This evening we had the honor of being invited to Lucho´s house to see his collection of mate burilado (carved gourds). In the morning over toast and coffee he had joined us, and spoke with knowledge and passion about the crafts of the Mantaro Valley and the history of Sendero Luminoso (¨The Shining Path¨) and Tupac Amaru. (Sendero Luminoso and Tupac Amaru were/are two revolutionary groups labeled by the government as terrorist groups. Sendero Luminoso could reasonably labeled as such, as they resorted to violence and, from what we have read, systematic assasination of community leaders. Tupac Amaru, though it started as a group focused on change through peaceful means, also resorted to kidnapping.) Sendero Luminoso in particular, combined with the government´s response to the group, hurled Peru into a dark era, culminating in the early 1990´s.

Lucho spoke about the history and culture of his country in a way that had us all entranced. Then he offered to show us his collection in the evening, if we wished. Steve and I made sure to take him up on the offer, and others followed.

We climbed the steps to the floor above his restaurant to rooms where tourists learn Spanish, his bedroom off to the side. And he started pulling down gourds. One fell, we gasped. ¨Oh, don´t worry. The good thing about the gourds--they don´t break.¨ And he dropped another on the floor.

¨Now this one, this was a model done by two very talented gourd-carvers. Two brothers, good friends of mine. They made this gourd, and showed it to me and asked, ¨We are thinking of entering this into the national competition. We can reproduce it on a larger gourd. What do you think, do you think we should do it?¨

It was 1991 and the worst year of the violence and terror brought by Sendero Luminoso. The gourd showed the blowing up of electric towers, the Sendero Luminoso flag, Fujimori. It also showed the Gulf War with portraits of Bush and Saddam, tanks and oil fields. (¨You know, we´re not stupid here,¨ Lucho said, ¨We know it was all about oil.¨) It showed also the cultural traditions--festivals, etc. And a bit of Kama Sutra on the bottom. It showed the times, it showed the events of life of 1991.

Lucho said he told them they should enter the competition, that they should create a gourd that came from their hearts and it would be a piece of art.

So they did. And it won. And after it won, it was confiscated by the government as a piece of Sendero Luminoso propaganda. Both brothers went to jail.

Lucho´s friends said, ¨You know, you told them to do it.¨ So they worked to raise money, to get a lawyer, with the goal of getting their friends and the gourd back. While in jail, the artists were apparently forced to carve out an ¨x¨ over the Sendero flag.

After three years, the friends and the gourd were free. Lucho was offered the gourd.

So there it was, a gourd about 1-1/2 feet wide by 1 foot tall, every inch carved and some parts colored. The tanks from the Gulf War, the electric towers falling, the people dancing.

¨And there´s this one, a very special gourd created by a man who started carving at 80 years of age. He began carving because he was partly crippled. He had been a weaver. You can see that the work is not mature, it is like a child made it.¨

¨This one is a very small one that is used for limestone, ground lime, that people chew with coca leaves. The work is very small, very fine, and the dark lines are made by heating a small stick and using the end to burn in a design.¨

¨This one is very special because it shows what the gourds are all about. There is a man, his father was an excellent gourd-carver. And the son grew up by his side. He became really a fantastic gourd carver, very famous, and started exporting his work. He moved to Lima. And now he has a son. When the son was old enough to start, he gave him a gourd to carve. And what do you think he carved? Look. It´s the city, all rectangular buildings. Some day he will come to Cochas and learn to make finer work. But you see? He carved what he knew. That is what is important about the gourds. The people put their lives into them.¨

¨See this one. It is a beautiful piece of artwork. It shows the customs. You can see people carving gourds. Here, you can see them cooking meals. Having babies. Celebrating together. Some learn to carve and make beautiful little llamas. But their heart is not in it. Here, the heart is here, their life is here.¨


[I´m sorry to say we don´t have photos of his gourds, nor are we carrying our computer to post photos of those we´ve purchased. You´ll have to come by and see them when we get home...]

Fiestas, Large and Small

4 March, 2010: Kirsten

It has been a month of slow discoveries. Watching traditional festivities and dances, developing relationships and as a result understanding a bit more of the culture here and there, trying to adapt to a different sense of time. There have been moments of deeper awareness of the cultural differences and language barriers as well as moments of pure joy at the sense of new mutual friendships.

We still have not left Chivay. Actually, I should revamp that: we have left Chivay to visit a few other small towns in the area, but still have not made it to the tourist locales on the opposite end of the canyon. We finally, last weekend, made it to the hot springs in Chivay (the major tourist stop here), which was most definitely worth it. Of course we did do it "our" way—we walked there one Friday afternoon and found the place to be full of tourists, so we decided to go back by collectivo the next morning. We saw only two other tourist couples, but many more locals. And we had an entire pool to ourselves. Steve's conclusion: "I could do this again."

We have been spending many rainy afternoons over cafécita con leche and chocolate caliente at Carlito's Restaurant, designing a menu for the restaurant, taking photos of various prepared dishes, and getting to know Carlos, Ingrid, Carmen, Danny and Lusero (now talking in her own language and very interested in seeing the world around her). The times with Carlos and Ingrid have been the backbone of our month. Waiting for events they say will soon happen has taken a good part of those times.

We have come to understand that along with anything good in Peru comes the necessity for a bit of patience: the dancing, the fiestas, plans, and everyday life. We were invited by Carmen the first week in February to go with her to Uscallakta, an ancient Incan pueblo now in ruins. We got there three weeks later. Mid-month when the festival of Solteros and Solteras began and folks started striking blows at the first tree, we stood there for two hours (starting two hours after they began) before the tree finally fell. Many an invitation from Carlos and Ingrid has been delayed by two hours to two weeks. And so we have spent the interim reading, watching, drinking cafécita and chocolate, and waiting. The people here are imbued with an incredible amount of patience. Dance steps are simple and go for hours. Plans happen when they happen. If they don't happen when you think they will, too bad. Better have a back-up plan. Or a warm place to stay and wait (preferably with said beverages).

Steve is talking about the larger festivals in the area: let me talk a bit about our own, smaller fiestas.

On February 12^th we celebrated our 3^rd wedding anniversary (the date we actually got married and then took our cat's pee to the vet, not the date we had a party). We thought it would be a quiet day, celebrated by baking macaroons with Ingrid. But two of Carlos' friends from Cuzco were in town; folks who bring the party with them wherever they go. Mateo, from England, who opens his mouth and fills the room with sound—usually boisterous laughter, along with whatever he might be saying. And Laura, of Peru, who turns out to be a tour guide who worked in the main Archeological Museum in Lima.

By 5:30 Ingrid and I were finally in the kitchen, with Laura, concocting macaroons. Only there isn't an oven in the kitchen of the restaurant. Instead, most of the folks in Chivay go to one of the handful of ovens that bake loads of bread everyday. The ovens are fueled by a peat-like material from the hills, and are working I don't know how many hours per day…possibly 24. So in the pouring rain, the two of us headed out in a moto-taxi (a small motorcycle with built-in cart in back to hold people, all covered with a plastic roof). These things have no windshield wipers, so I have no idea how the driver could tell where we were going, but we got there. And, 15 or so minutes later, we left, with perfect, lightly-browned coconut delights.

The night continued with dipping the buggers in chocolate, then dancing lessons from Laura and Mateo, some dinner, and all 7 of us gobbling up the entire batch of macaroons.

We had been invited, in a round-about sort of way, to join Danny in traveling to his home-town of Ichumpampa for another festival of the harvest two days later. At 7:30 am sharp, Danny was outside our Hostel waiting. We all jumped into a collective for Yanque, as there were no collectivos running to Ichumpampa that day. Once in Yanque, it was another hour on foot to Ichupampa. Another thing to mention about the folks here: hardly anyone has a car, taxis are too expensive for longer trips, and collectivos only run to certain places and not everyday. So most folks are used to walking, often up and down mountainsides, often with heavy bundles on their backs, and often for miles. It's just the way life is here, in particular involving the numerous terraced charkas, or small individual farm plots. The only way to get there is to walk.

By the time we've arrived in Ichupampa, we have realized that the festival we're about to take part in is not a public one. We're invited into Danny's home, we're given two chairs of honor to sit in, and chicha (a corn drink that is also fermented into a beer) to try. We meet his father, mother, sisters, a brother-in-law, and nephews and nieces as we wait for folks to get ready to go to the chakra. The festival this day is about celebrating the harvest to come. It's a day to go to the chakra, harvest a few potatoes and ears of corn, and cook them at the chakra—a kind of picnic.

When the time comes, we head out with a pack of 3 adults, two children and 3 donkeys. Danny's parents have remained at the house to prep food and drink chichi. It's another 30-40 minutes' walk to the farm, slow-going with the donkeys. Once there it's a lovely day for a picnic. We help harvest a few potato plants and some choclo, or corn. Kindling is gathered from the dead stalks of wildflowers. While the food cooks, we all take part in gathering cherries from a tree nearby. Steve is particularly helpful given his reach! It's a lazy afternoon, and by the time the food is ready we're quite ready to eat it…simply boiled potatoes and corn with cheese. But delicious! As the thunder clouds start rolling in, we head back to the house just in time.

…And at the house another feast awaits. We are this time ushered into a room with two chairs and a table, and wait to see what happens. Two plates of food arrive: a very stew of potatoes, carrots, and other veggies with rice. A beautiful meal. Only we're the only ones in the room. Do we start? Is anyone going to join us? Not sure, after several minutes we figure we're just supposed to eat, so we do. Then Danny's father comes to join us, without food, and we proceed to have a great conversation (of broken-Spanish and slightly compromised understanding) about farming in the area. I'm completely absorbed. Chicha (beer this time) arrives and the conversation continues. And before we're finished, Danny comes in to say there's a collective waiting outside for us. With hurried but overwhelming thanks, we rush out…only to have the collective break down just down the road. Still, we don't return to the house, just wait for another collective to come by. It has been an exhausting and surprisingly beautiful day. Not at all what we thought we were getting into, we left feeling so honored to have been welcomed into it.

Photos:

1. La Danza Wititi

2. Roasting coffee beans with Carlos

3. More coffee beans, well-roasted

4. On the way to Ichupampa

Candelaria, Yunsa y Wititi

22 febrero: Steve

February is a month of fiestas in Chivay. It begins with the celebrations of the Virgin de la Candelaria, with her image and pedestal carried about town and poles of fruits and vegetables on the flanks hoisted by some brave men. The poles are 15 to 20 feet long and well decorated with the wealth of pacha mama---clearly heavy! It seemed to be a Catholic holiday mostly, but with clear indigenous overtones. That night there was the processions of the pacha mama poles with band and dancing. The virgin was nowhere in sight.

As the month progressed the energy of "tiempo de fiesta" increased little by little with globos (water balloons), white spray, and colorful powder. A couple of weeks ago girls were targeted by boys and then the girls organized to retaliate. These were the opening salvos of "carnival" that culminated this past weekend with the Festival of Yunsa and the nights of dancing the Wititi and a neighborhood competition that is sponsored by the town with cash prizes.

Yunsa features dancing, music and the cutting down of a eucalyptus trees that are festooned with prizes. These celebrations took place three different nights, Saturday, 13^th of February, this past Thursday the 18^th and Friday the 19^th.

The Yunsa celebration has various parts:1) men go out and cut down the eucalyptus and bring it into town. Folks, mostly men, "plant" the tree in the holes in the cement. But, before placing it in the hole place offering of coca, potato, herbs, alcohol, etc., in the bottom of the hole. Some groups decorate the tree with balloons and prizes before it goes up, while others put the prizes on after the tree is raised. 3) The tree is again cut down but in a much more festive manner. Shots of liquor, mostly cerveza, are handed around while people, mostly women, hold hands or a garland while dancing around the tree. Meanwhile, a group of musicians, drummers and quena (recorder-type flute) players, play and drink to the side of the festivities. Next to the tree were five or six cases of beer, large bottles that is, and two "facilitators" who handed out the shot glass—perhaps a two ounce glass—and the axe to each person taking their turn. They would take three swings usually, then another shot and pass the axe on. The tree had a six to eight inch diameter and it took two to four hours for it to be chopped down. The eucalyptus tree with its goods is a variation on a piñata, although there is no candy. It had blankets, plastic basins, kitchen supplies, clothing, table cloths, jackets, scarves, indigenous cloth, etc.

The different nights of this festival have variations; the first night seemed to be the total community, with a band on a stage, which played rock music after the tree was cut down. The other two nights were organized by neighborhood, where each neighborhood would take a corner of the plaza principal. One corner had one tree, another two or three. A bit of friendly competition. In fact, at least on one occasion, when one neighborhood finished cutting down their tree they paraded it around the plaza, crimping the ongoing party of another group—at least, when they were passing through.

The first of the two night cycle seemed to be the night dedicated to the solteras (single women) who would sing:

Pichutanca malguero porque cantas tan temprano,

Si yo quiero ver a mi amado.

¡Pucllay! (juga Quechua)
Espejo necesito yo, para ver mi linda cara,

Machete necesito yo, para romper mi arbol.
¡Puclluy!

Yo soy soltera, como una manzana madura

Rough translation:

Pichutanca malguero (a bird) sings very early in the morning

If I want to see my love.

Pucllay! (a Quechua cheer--- is yelled out)

I need a mirror to see my pretty face

I need a machete to cut down my tree

Pucllay! (is yelled out)

I am single, like a ripe apple

There is more to the song, but this is all we got.

They sang this while holding hands and circling the tree. The solteros appeared to be the musicians or other male merrymakers. I don't know if they hand a song.

Anyway, when the eucalyptus was close to coming down the crowd came closer in order to position themselves for their desired prize. Once it fell there was the expected mayhem for a minute, then the glorious smiles of those with their gifts in hand.

So on Thursday I helped with putting up two of the trees for "our" neighborhood. In brief, it was not well organized. And the two or three drunks and the general drinking were not much help. But there was a great deal of cheer and patience.

The first tree was smaller and it wasn't raining yet. Yes it is the rainy season, so most of this merrymaking is accompanied by a good deal of rainfall—at times downpours—but the fiesta continua! What I found odd, besides the general disorganization after years of doing this, was that most of the gifts that would be attached to the tree were not by my group, when the tree was on the ground, whereas another neighborhood did this, saving the effort of one brave soul who climbed the tree to attach things after the "planting."

The second larger tree was more frustrating in the rain, and it embraced gravity quite well, coming down twice off the supports we put under it. Meanwhile, we were getting soaked. Ultimately, a truck was called into action to first attempt pulling it up, which failed when ropes broke, but succeeded in pushing it up and into the hole while breaking a couple of branches in the process.

Danza Wititi festival began Saturday, February 20 with the three barrios parading around the plaza, then dancing on their respective corners till midnight. Young single men dress in the local indigenous ankle-length embroidered skirts, usually worn by women. Their white shirts are overplayed with locally woven textiles rolled and tied diagonally from their shoulders to their waists. Their hats are roundish with three levels, the last with tassels to hide their faces. The origin of this was to disguise themselves from protective fathers who may disapprove of their daughters dancing with young men.

The music is different from Yunsa with a brass section, trumpets and small tubas, taking the place of the quenas. The dancers, mostly women, dance either alone, as couples, or, at times, as triplets. They take several steps then swing around twice to the left, then a couple of more steps before swinging once to the right, then repeat the cycle. They do this either in a small circle of less than ten people or large group of hundreds.

The following day, Sunday, the barrio competition was conducted in front of the town hall, where judges determined who had the best presentation and awarded money to the neighborhoods. It appeared that every neighborhood received some money.

We were invited to march in one of the processions but declined. In doing so, we were able to watch all the presentations, which was much better. After the official processions, the town party ensued and merriment embraced cerveza till ten or eleven at night.

Our hotel owner, Sebastian, says that everyone loves a party but then everyone is broke: "no hay plata."

Apparently, we have been told, the fiestas in December are even bigger.

Photos:

1. Pacha Mama poles for Virgen de la Candelaria
2. Pulling on the damn tree (note Steve in green)
3. Yunsa festival
4. Mujeres y hombres dancing Wititi

Mercado Life

1 March, 2010: Kirsten

I know I write a lot about food. Apparently I'm not about to stop now.

What I want to say is that outdoor mercados are so much more fun, interesting and interactive than supermarkets. We've been living on the street where the market is, with a row of vegetable and fruit sellers below our window. All day long they are busy setting up, selling their wares, talking with patrons when there is a chance, adjusting canopies and tents as the sun appears, then disappears, then wind begins, then the rains…It is an exciting place to shop, and each morning I envy the women with children strapped to their backs, buying up loads of potatoes (maybe envy is a strong word—knowing how heavy those bundles must be), carrots, squash, onions, herbs, tomatoes, fruits…for who knows what kinds of meals.

We spend a good amount of time in front of our window, watching the heart of the market throb with energy. Not only is it a place of business and news gathering, it's also a day care center for all those little ones connected to the vendors (and possibly others as well!). One activity that takes place throughout the month as part of Carnival is the act of getting the others wet or dirty, boys against girls. The main implements for this endeavor are water balloons, called globos (for the older jovenes, not so much the younger ninos), water guns, and cans of spray foam. We watched as the month geared up and the girls started taking revenge on the boys. The market was the perfect spot to see this change in the trend, since the girls had a few different outposts of parental aid in the market: several women market vendors had a stockpile of water balloons ready for the girls to use. Soon, the boys would only do run-by attempts at getting the girls….they knew they were in enemy territory.

But aside from Carnival, when the mayhem tones down, we regularly see little ones (from 3-7 years old, some still new-ish in their walking shoes) running in packs through the market, pausing to get a change in clothes from their mom and then taking off again to find buddies…or some little one upset about something finds the hand of the nearest substitute-mother to console him.

Some folks think it's dangerous to travel in South America. That's certainly true of some places, but here? Would you let your child run free like that in the U.S.? (Would others be miffed if you did?) In either country, where is the boundary between real and perceived danger?