Thud! My head banged against the back window as the little Luv truck hit a pothole. Thud! Another pothole. My eyelids fluttered open. Sitting up with a sigh, I looked out at the bright Andean landscape. The vastness of the Peruvian Altiplano stretched to the horizon in all directions. I exchanged glances with my son, Lucas, whose 6'2" frame was accordion-pleated among the backpacks, bags and cameras on the tiny back seat we shared.
In the drivers seat, the owner of the truck, Duffy, was straining to avoid the pits and grooves. There was no real road. Only a series of holes connected by ruts like a child’s dot-to-dot drawing. When driving through the Peruvian Altiplano, it is wise to have a driver who is also a mechanic. A breakdown on those desolate roads could be dangerous and deadly. Duffy’s skills as both driver and mechanic were as necessary as they were appreciated. Sitting in the passenger seat, our guide, José, searched the open ground for alpacas and vicunas.
That is why I had come to Peru, to learn more about alpacas and to go into the region where they are raised and have been part of the culture for thousands of years. I wanted to learn about the history and the traditions of these wonderful animals from those who breed them, the compesinos. As I stared out the window of the truck, the image of the barren terrain mingled with the memories of the past few days . . .
Our trip had started in the beautiful city of Arequipa. Located in southern Peru, the city is built from white volcanic stone. Old Spanish style churches, convents and monasteries grace the city, and the central square is still the focal point of all civic activity. The cathedral with twin steeples stands along one side of the square while storefronts tucked under palazzo walkways make up the other three. Home to the two largest alpaca fiber processors in the world, it is the center of the alpaca industry. As host city for the 2000 International Fiesta of the Alpaca, Arequipa had welcomed international attendees to a sophisticated conference and huge alpaca show. We listened to seminars by top scientists on the latest advances in alpaca husbandry, were treated to elaborate dinners and awed by a chic fashion show of designer garments all made from alpaca fiber, but I knew there was more to raising alpacas than this glitz and glamour. There was the vast Altiplano, and there was the legacy that had been passed down from before the time of the Spanish conquests.
We left Arequipa early on the morning following the conference. Lucas had joined me the night before. Since he had never been to South America, his school agreed that our trip would be a valuable educational experience. Travel inside Peru is very regulated and requires both a guide and an approved driver or public transportation. Friends in the alpaca community had provided me with both. José was of Quechua Indian descent and spoke Quechua as well as Spanish and English. Duffy had a tough little Chevy Luv truck capable of navigating the dirt track roads.
As we left the city behind, the beautiful old buildings gave way to shanties built of mud bricks, and the countryside glittered with the sparkle of tin and aluminum cans. There are no sanitary landfills. Trash is simply dumped at random, and herdsmen take their pigs to root through the garbage. Consuming everything edible, the pigs leave behind only the cans and plastic bottles. It is recommended that travelers in Peru do not eat pork.
The paved roads turned into dirt as we wove around the ancient lava flows that formed the hills beyond the city. The snow capped peaks of the volcanoes stood starkly against the crisp blue sky. The road continued to degenerate, and as white lava hills were succeeded by rugged folds of black lava, signs of modern civilization slipped away. After driving further into the barren realm of the Altiplano, we stopped at a roadside station consisting of a tiny lunchroom in an old wooden building with a newly constructed public facility (aka outhouse). The owner of this establishment supplemented his income by showing off two hawks that sat on a ledge in the lunch room. Outside on the wooden porch, a woman sold hand made goods, alpaca scarves and Andean hats for $5.00. A child of about four or five peeked at us from behind a half closed door. The dusty floor had been swept and the vinyl-covered tables were wiped clean. Because there was no other stop on the drive to our destination, we purchased chicken soup and cheese sandwiches.
CallalliOur journey was to take us to a small town high in the Altiplano called Callalli. It sits at about 13,500 feet above sea level, nestled among the peaks above a river. Callalli consists of typical mud brick buildings strung together along dusty streets. The houses have no plumbing. In some, chamber pots serve as toilets, in others, the bathroom is a partitioned area open to the sky; a cement slab has a conveniently placed hole and foot markers. Electricity sometimes comes on about eight at night, but only the more affluent homes have the luxury of bare light bulb illumination. Those same homes may also be fortunate enough to have an outside water faucet. There is no mail delivery. One telephone sits somewhere in the village but does not work.
IntroductionsJosé had made arrangements for us to stay with Sebastian Panibra Taco and his family who live at the edge of town. They raise both llamas and alpacas and practice many of the ancient customs. Surrounded by a walled area for the animals, the home is composed of five little huts. As we entered the compound through a make-shift gate, we were all presented with traditional Andean clothing to wear while we were there. I put on a brightly colored circular skirt, a bowler style hat, and a phullo or shawl that, for the native women, serves as a purse, backpack and baby carrier. Laughing at my clumsy attempts to fasten the shawl, the children tied it to look like theirs. The men were offered ponchos and a chullo, a knit hat. After dressing appropriately, we all lined up, and formal introductions were made for the extended family which included Sebastian and Lucy, his wife, Adriana, the matriarch of the family, Timoteo, the wizard who would be overseeing all ceremonies, the children, cousins and in-laws. There were approximately twelve adults and numerous children.
Adrianna in her kitchenWe were the first North Americans to ever visit a family in Callalli, the first to participate in the real traditions surrounding the alpacas. To celebrate this occasion, a special mid-day meal had been cooked for us. Sebastian invited us into the kitchen, a 8' X 10' hut with a ledge along one side for pots and pans, a larger ledge along the opposite side where the men sat during a meal, and a fire pit in the middle of the room. There was only one opening, the small door, and the walls were as dark as the night sky from years of cooking smoke. Adriana was stirring the cooking pot full of specially prepared alpaca head and potato soup.
Packing the LlamaAfter sharing this first meal, the family took us outside to show us more about their way of life. First, Sebastian demonstrated how he packed his llamas, the pick-up trucks of the Andes. There is formality surrounding all activities with the llamas and alpacas. The family gathers, one of the women beats a drum, herbs are burned, and a blessing requested from the mountain god who protects the village. The llamas are packed following a precise procedure. Llamas are still used regularly to transport hand made goods and homegrown produce to towns for barter and trade. Often the husbands are away from home for over two weeks. While they are traveling, the husband will make a new rope or slingshot out of llama or alpaca fiber, and the wife will weave a blanket or knit a cap. These items should be completed before the husband returns, so the women work quickly.
Traditional ShearingNext we were shown the customary ways of shearing and slaughtering alpacas. Alpacas are not eaten in North America, but in the Altiplano, alpacas are a source of food as well as fiber. Nothing is wasted. While more modern tools may now be used for these activities, the methods have remained the same for centuries, and the traditional obsidian glass knife with its sharp edges is kept for back up. Again, all activities are wrapped in ceremony to insure a positive outcome.
The Procession Begins...Later in the afternoon, we left the family compound, and in procession, headed up the mountain behind the village. We were going to a tiny stone hut high on the mountainside that was reserved for the most reverent of ceremonies, the ritual sacrifice of a live alpaca. The men must follow one prescribed trail, the women another. Everyone carries assigned items: ceremonial jugs, sacred artifacts, herbs, bottles of wine and grain alcohol and the ever-present pouches of coca leaves. The children dance ahead laughing and playing in anticipation of the celebration to come.
Timoteo the WizardThe sacrifice is an elaborate and time consuming ritual, and each individual act is rooted in tradition and has special meaning. "Tables" of sacred items are carefully prepared on ceremonial cloths; special herbs are burned in offering to the mountain, the earth, and St.James, who they believe is the keeper of lightning. Corn beer or chicha, red wine and grain alcohol are shared in hand carved wooden goblets. All activities are performed under the direction of the wizard.
Preparing the TableThe herd of alpacas is corralled into a nearby stone enclosure, and one is chosen as the sacrificial offering. Great care is taken to assure the alpaca suffers minimal pain, and the sacrifice is conducted swiftly. While to us it may seem unnecessary and brutal, to the Quetchua, this is the most hallowed ritual. The chosen alpaca is honored. Blessings are again asked of the mountain god, and Mother Earth is "fed" with care and gratitude. The Quechua believe llamas and alpacas have been provided to assure man’s survival in the harsh Andean environment, but they also believe that they have an obligation to care for and honor these animals and to feed Mother Earth as she feeds them. The sacrificed alpaca will be eaten; its bones will be carefully buried by the wizard. The ceremony, which lasts for several hours, ends when the last "table" is burned in a fire of sacred herbs. According to the way in which the flames leap and dance, the wizard will declare the sacrifice a success or failure. The flames of this sacrifice told us that Mother Earth had been very hungry and was thankful that her children had fed and honored her.
Traditional Andean ClothingAs the ceremony ends, the celebration begins. All participants decorate each other with colored talc, confetti and bright paper streamers; the remaining alpacas are decorated with red yarn; challenges are offered to see who can chug the biggest goblets of wine without stopping. After a final prayer, everyone holds hands and dances back down the mountain, chanting and singing ancient verses. The dancing continues long into the night. The alpaca is cooked in a pot with only water, and family and guests share the feast. The meal concludes with jokes and much merriment. The bones are collected for burial. Then all say goodnight and go off to bed.
The next morning, we offered the family gifts and the children were given school supplies.* We visited the church where the children of the village gathered for breakfast before classes and left more supplies with the Franciscan Friar. Returning to Sebastian’s family for a final farewell, Lucas and I were presented gifts hand made by Lucy and Adriana. Then amid a sea of waving hands and a multilingual chorus of good-by, we drove away from the Callalli.
Ancient PictographJust "around the bend" from the village, we stopped briefly at nearby caves. There, ancient pictographs tell of the domestication of the llama and alpaca. Deep in the dusky light, we traced the crude drawings with our fingers and thought about those who, a thousand years before, had first performed the rituals Sebastian and his family carry on today. Then, climbing back into the truck, we headed out across the Altiplano toward our next destination, the town of Juliaca. It was eight hours away at the other end of a long, rutted dirt road . . .
As we bounced along, I felt so grateful for being able to sample life in a place so far away from my own home, for the glimpse of the culture that both honored and depended upon the alpaca. Eager to reveal their traditions to the outside world, Sebastian and his family had welcomed us, total strangers, into their home. We had participated in the ceremonies, eaten their food and slept on pelts from their alpacas. Theirs is a very humble existence, but it is also one of dignity and grace. They are, in their own way, caring stewards of the earth, cautious guardians of their ancient culture. They face a delicate balancing act as they seek to move into the modern world while preserving their traditions.
I thank Sebastian and the entire family for their warm reception, their generosity, their willingness to share all they had with my son and me. As a North American alpaca breeder, I now have a better understanding and appreciation of the culture that has brought us these wonderful animals. Thanks too to Duffy and José who transported us safely and who showed us parts of their country that tourists rarely get to see. The road may have been rough, but for me, the journey was extraordinary.
*Special Note: Due to the generosity of the students and faculty of St. Timothy’s School in Stevenson, MD, Lucas and I were able to distribute over 60 pounds of much needed school supplies to children and schools across the Altiplano. Many thanks for their donations.
Postscript: August 2002. I have told the story of my trip to Callalli at assemblies in local schools. At the urging of others, I now share it with you. In consideration of the younger and more sensitive readers, specific details of the sacrifice have been deliberately omitted. I have kept in touch with Sebastian and his family through Jose. This past winter was very difficult for the people of the Altiplano, and although the family suffered from severe bouts of the flu and lost some of their cherished alpacas, they are surviving. Items of warm clothing and some medical supplies have been sent to help them through the difficult weather. It is my sincere hope that I will someday return to Callalli.