by J C Ryan
A short conversation with them revealed that they wanted Flo to accompany them so that she could be dressed in similar traditional clothing. It was their thank-you to her for the gifts she’d handed out so generously. The practice, ayni, had to do with sacred reciprocity, or ‘if you give, you will receive, and if you receive, you must give back’. In bringing gifts, Flo had made it imperative for the women to reciprocate.
When Rex explained it, Flo started protesting, but Rex told her gently it would be a grave insult not to accept the reciprocal gifts, not to mention putting their hosts in bad standing with their gods.
Flo sighed, but agreed to comply.
Later, when she reappeared, she was wearing a glassy-eyed smile and clasping her hands together. She wore a red wool skirt with designs of blue, orange, green, yellow, and black zig-zag embellishment woven in, a long-sleeved shirt, and a striped shawl of the same colors, plus pink knotted at her throat. Atop her head was the shallow bowl shape of the traditional hat, covered in wool and flat on top, with more geometrical designs. It stayed on her head only because of a strap that was tied under her chin.
When Barry saw her, he burst into laughter, and the women surrounding Flo laughed with him. Rex gathered from the women’s chatter that they thought Barry’s laughter was because of his delight in his wife’s beauty in her new finery. Rex asked her why her hands were clasped so tightly.
“Because this get-up itches like hell!” she stage-whispered.
Rex couldn’t help but laugh, too, and be glad he hadn’t given the villagers anything. But he thought he’d need to give them something for their hospitality in providing food and shelter. He just hoped they wouldn’t insist he wear an itchy wool hat.
The feast turned out to be both delicious and educational. Alexandro sat beside Rex and explained the meanings attached to some of the happenings. Rex found it interesting that as Inka Mallku, Alexandro was called upon to heal several children with minor sniffles and other ailments by laying hands on them before the feast started.
He then started a ritual offering, which he called haywarisqa, to the deities of the Andes mountains. The villagers all faced the mountains during the ceremony and spoke in a series of ritual gestures acknowledging the power of the mountains and asking for kindness and provision of rain and abundant streams to water their fields, so that they would have overflowing harvests.
Rex knew that he and the Markses were privileged to have been invited to this event, which was usually closed to outsiders.
After that, the villagers began passing dishes around, offering them first to the Markses and Rex, and then to others. It seemed no one ate the food they’d brought themselves, but shared it generously with other families, while they in turn partook of what others had brought.
Rex asked Alexandro about the spiritual practices and listened carefully as the priest lifted the veil on a simple but lovely religion. It seemed enlightenment and a deep appreciation for nature and one’s place in the cosmos was at the heart of it. He also talked of female and male energies, attributing gender even to mountains and other natural elements. Rex was intrigued by the difference in his cultural perception of opposites such as male and female being considered complements in the Inca view of things. Alexandro called it yanantin, meaning the harmonious relationship of different things.
One of the most striking aspects he learned about the gentle Quechua people was their acceptance of nature, all of it, including animals as part of their family. They admired and petted the llamas and were fascinated with Digger. Their experience of dogs was limited to the Inca orchid dog, the same breed that Flo had tried to befriend in the wild. Digger’s heavier build and his black hair were objects of much comment and affection as all of them wanted to touch and pet him. To Rex, this was a welcome change from parts of the world where he and Digger had been where dogs were feared, and in some even viewed with disgust.
That night, he wrote down everything Alexandro had told him before going to sleep. The Markses were both snoring in another room in the tiny house. Digger was already asleep in the middle of the sleeping bag.
Chapter Ten
REX HAD ONLY a passing interest in the ruins the Markses were interested in. His true interest was in the history of the people he hoped to gather from the older residents of the village. Peruvian history was more ancient than the Inca civilization for which it was so well-known. He hoped to hear some pre-Inca history from the oral traditions of the villagers.
The next day, the Markses were determined to see the ruins, but no one knew when Junior would return. On their way to the village, they’d passed the tree line at around twelve-thousand feet and entered the environmental realm that Spanish-speaking Peruvians called tierra helada – the frozen zone. Arriving in summer as they had, the daytime temperatures were in the mid-fifties – chilly but livable, even without the warm clothing the locals wore.
Rex spoke with Alexandro at length about any dangers that might be lurking for the old couple on a trip to the ruins. Alexandro assured him that there were no large predators here or higher, and that included bad men.
Rex concluded that the Markses would be safe in Alexandro’s company, and he was free to gather the tales he’d been anticipating ever since Junior had told him about the village. He saw them off after a hearty breakfast, and then he wandered about the village, speaking to anyone he saw.
He couldn’t help but be enthralled by the villagers’ friendly, warm, and personable manner wherever he encountered them. Before long, he’d been introduced to a handful of very old men who sat sunning themselves on the east side of the adobe and stone walls that soaked up the sun and reflected the heat back to them. He heard a few folktales, mostly gruesome stories of monsters and gargantuan snakes that guarded lakes and high peaks from human predation.
Especially intriguing was the tale of El Jarjacha, which they pronounced har-ha-cha. They explained that people who committed the sin of incest were turned into Jarjachas, the demon of incest; werewolf of the Andes, terrifying creatures, half man, half llama, condemned to stalk around at night.
Rex had always been interested in how such folktales originated, even though it wasn’t exactly history. He felt there were hints about conditions in the past that caused the first person to make up such a tale and then caused it to persist. His take on this one was that as higher civilizations made inroads into the remote regions of the Andes, the indigenous people were warned in this way, through fear rather than reason.
As he wandered the village that day, he also observed there were few young men present. He’d seen plenty the evening before, so he eventually asked where they had gone, assuming it was to work in the fields. But to his surprise, someone told him many were at work in the mines.
It was the first he’d heard of mines in these mountains and learned there were, according to them, still rich veins of gold, silver, zinc, copper, and other minerals. The men trekked to the mines early in the morning, and usually returned late at night.
And that led to another tale Rex recognized as one of miners’ superstitions around the world. He knew them from his mother’s knee as kobolds, tiny human-like imps, hunched and ugly from working in mine shafts. The Quechuan equivalent was Muki, a small humanoid, less than half the size of an adult human. Muki was said to have long blonde hair, a white beard, and piercing eyes, and to waddle like a duck. And it made a bargain with the miners. Bring it the sacred coca leaves, and it would allow the miner who brought it to find rich ore. There was however one condition to this bargain—the miner was not allowed to speak of it. If he did, he ran the risk of dying in a shaft cave-in.
One old man sent Rex a sidelong glance. “Muki has been known to inhabit the places of the old ones,” he intoned.
Rex was amused at the tale, but disappointed in the age of it. It had to have originated no earlier than the Inca civilization, which made extensive use of precious metals in its art and ceremonial observations. Not pre-historical at all, maybe not even pre-Columbian.<
br />
“Do you know any older tales?” he asked. “Something about the people who were here before the Incas came?”
The old man’s demeanour suddenly changed, and he muttered something in a language Rex didn’t recognize. It was neither Spanish nor Quechuan. He asked the old man to say it again, in Quechuan.
“Young people are all alike,” the old man replied tersely. “They cannot see what is laid before them. You must pay more attention to the Muki.”
Confused, Rex asked him to explain. “Do you mean there is more to the story, and I don’t yet understand?”
The old man rose and walked away without answering. When Rex asked those who remained if he’d said something to offend the man, they all looked away. He decided not to prod them further and rather ask Alexandro when he and the Markses returned.
When the conversation with the men dried up, Rex left them thinking he might be able to talk to the old women, but they only stared at him as if they didn’t understand. A few of the younger women, some with babies carried on their hips or backs in a sling made of the colorful shawls, only giggled when he tried to talk to them.
When he’d exhausted his options for talking with the villagers, he retreated into the house and wrote up what he’d learned on his laptop. As he typed the story of the Muki, he searched each phrase for some deeper meaning. Of course, the meaning of the tale as a whole was that those who work for it will be rewarded, while those who take shortcuts will be punished by losing their riches. He understood that, but had he missed something more profound? It was puzzling.
Digger was showing signs of restlessness, so Rex took him outside for a walk and a play. He took out the kong and stuffed it with dried meat while Digger watched with ecstatic anticipation. It was an oddly-shaped item, made from tough rubber, part cylinder, part cone, with indentations that made it look like a hard-plastic snowman, with a hole running through it from top to bottom. The kong was a special treat, reserved for times when Digger had done especially well, and given sparingly. Digger worked for praise, not treats.
It had been a while since they’d had the leisure to practice his commands. They started with voice commands. Rex commanded, “Scout”, and Digger dutifully trotted silently through the nearby area, stopping and lying down on his haunches when he saw anyone. Rex had been trying to teach him a hand signal for the same command, but he was having a hard time coming up with one that would make sense and wouldn’t confuse Digger, who knew the circling finger as the command “Circle and return”. The difference was vague even to Rex, except for the ‘return’ part. Digger didn’t return when he scouted – he lay down.
Before they’d been at it very long, the children had noticed the activity and correctly deduced what Digger was doing. So, they began to make a game of hide and seek of it. It probably wasn’t good for discipline, but Rex was amused when the same child would sneak away after Digger had signaled on him and appear in another place just before Digger got there. At first, Digger seemed confused by it. But after it had happened a few times, the dog let his wide grin tell Rex he was enjoying the game.
Rex teased the children by changing the command. This time he called out, “Run and hide.” Digger shot out from between two small stone structures and away from the kids, who all ran after him. In a few minutes, the children ran back toward Rex, all shouting in piping, excited voices that the dog had disappeared.
“Where is he? Where is he?” they called to each other and to Rex. To make it even more fun, Rex yelled, “Up!” The challenge to Digger was, there were no trees. They were above the tree line, and they hadn’t seen a tree in two days. Digger would have to find something else to climb to get on top of a house. When he appeared, and Rex pointed at him, the children all screamed with joy and pointed too, laughing. Digger sat down at the edge of the roof and offered his doggy smile. The kids clapped and called to their mothers to come and see the clever dog.
Rex and Digger were still entertaining the village children with Digger’s tricks when the Markses and Alexandro returned. The kids immediately abandoned Rex and surrounded Flo, hands out, faces smiling. She smiled back and reached into her pockets.
Barry and Alexandro continued through the street until they met up with Rex, who’d started walking their way as well. Barry was as animated as Rex had ever seen him.
Chapter Eleven
THEY MET IN the center of the village, in the small square where the feast had been held the night before. Barry’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Rex found himself smiling broadly before he even knew about the reason.
“You won’t believe it!” Barry exclaimed. “There are priceless artifacts lying in plain view! No wonder Junior didn’t think the site had been excavated. If it had, those artifacts would be long gone.”
“Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen now? Archaeologists are supposed to leave things where they find them, right?” Rex asked.
“Not exactly. Well, it depends on the country. If they’ll be damaged by exposure or are in a place where looters can get at them, the scientists will map them to a grid, for provenance, and then remove them for protection. They wind up in the country’s museums now. Or that’s what’s supposed to happen. Previously, they’d wind up in some other country’s museums, usually a first-world country like the US or UK, somewhere in Europe.”
“So, now that the site is known, is it in danger of being looted?”
“That depends on who knows about it. Therefore, we’ll have to ask you to not write about it.”
Flo must have told him about my travel blog idea.
“No worries. I won’t, if it endangers the site. So, are you going to fund the kid’s dig?”
“We have to work out the details, but I think so. We more or less promised him we would if the site turned out to be what he told us. Now that I’ve seen it, I’m happy that he didn’t exaggerate. However, I’m thinking it’s going to take more funding than we can swing on our own, but I do have some contacts.” Barry looked pleased with himself.
“What else has to happen? Permits? Importing workers?”
“There will be a permit process to go through. For that we’ll have to go to Cuzco when Junior returns. As for workers, I think we’ll be able to use the locals. It will improve their economy.”
That last statement made Rex look around. What he had observed so far didn’t convince him that these people wanted or needed to improve the economy. The children he could see trying to tease Digger into playing some more looked healthy and well-fed. He hadn’t seen anyone in the village who looked like they didn’t get enough to eat, for that matter.
What he’d learned from Alexandro about their spiritual beliefs struck him as nearly ideal. It was basically the Golden Rule, and since they didn’t have much to do with outsiders, they had no personal experience of war, except perhaps the oral histories of tribal strife. That had come to an end as far as he could tell. This was a peaceful and contented community working together for their food, shelter, and clothing. No one had more than the other, therefore materialism was not really a factor for them, unless he counted the ancient CB equipment in Alexandro’s home. And the village was small enough for self-enforcement of community mores. No one could step out of line and get away with it. What about any of that needed improvement?
These people seem happy to me as they are.
But he withheld his opinion. Being independent, with no fixed address and no specific end destination in mind, having the world as his home, he probably had a very different view of the things that matter in life than most people, including the villagers and the Markses.
Flo joined them, her pockets now empty of candy and whatever other trinkets she’d stowed there. Rex could see she was now mother or grandmother to the entire village, a saint bearing sweets and gifts. And their goodwill extended to Barry as well.
“You’ve spoiled those children,” Rex teased her. “What will they do for candy when you’re gone?”
“To be honest, they shouldn’
t have it, but who can resist those beautiful little joyful faces? But I think they’ll be okay when I leave. It’s like when your grandmother came to visit when you were a child. Didn’t she bring treats that you didn’t normally get?”
Rex continued to smile, though he didn’t want to discuss his childhood, including the lack of grandparents who’d died before he was born. He nodded, content to let Flo think her point was something familiar to him. He knew very little about children, so he had to trust her judgement.
“I was just telling Ray about how rich a find that site is,” Barry said to her.
“Oh, yes! Ray, it’s incredible! Some of those pieces are gold, I’m sure.”
Rex didn’t even try to conceal his disbelief. “Gold, just lying around on the ground?”
“Well, sculptures and masks, funerary objects, that sort of thing. Not solid gold, probably, but at least decorated with gold and precious gems.”
“Lying on the ground.” Rex’s tone swooped downward with his last word, again conveying his skepticism.
“Not precisely. Half-buried, or inside structures that have partially collapsed, so we could see very little inside, but enough to get a peek.”
Still aware of his lack of expertise on the subject, Rex nevertheless couldn’t help but think there was something very wrong with the picture he was getting. Why would the locals trust someone like Junior enough to show him such treasures?
“We’d like to ask you a favor,” Flo was continuing. Barry nodded his head.
Rex turned his attention back to her. “What’s that?” he asked.
“We’d like you to come and see for yourself. It would be good to have an unbiased opinion.”
