The ancient Inca's road

(Part of our Xavante story/Journal 34)

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By Wayra Inti-Wéré'è-Alann (guide and translator)

The proud llama near Ramiro's house

Yesterday we did what I told you we would. We (Kyle and I) were like giving up because I couldn't get in touch with Ramiro, the painter guide who wanted us to see what he wants to commercialize: to follow or discover a ancient Inca road to the highest mountain top around the Cuzco valley from where the Incas, according to the myth, came out of a cave (2 couples) and saw the valley from there and decided that they were going to build Cuzco). It is also said that Manco Capac and his sister Mama Oggle founded the Inca race there and that his golden scepter was buried there on that top. Ramiro lamented about the uneducated campesinos (Indians) that came and cut up the rocks because they hope to find that scepter or gold or a treasure.

Ramiro in his brown poncho (left) with Sandro (curly youngster on the right) and Kyle in the middle

First we took the bus. I had luckily sent him an email to come and pick us up at 5.30. But we nearly thought of forgetting it. The alarm went of at 15 to 5 and Kyle slept on and I went back to sleep to, it was raining tons of water. Anyway the bell rang from Guest House Estrellita and Ramiro waited up in the taxi. Dressed in a nice ochre color poncho and his beautiful Indian hat with blue macaw feather on he took us aboard of the taxi and drove as far as beyond San Sebastian where we got on a local bus where he reserved two seats for us. Before that by taxi we had picked up his friend Sandro a young student painter.

Both of them are good friends and young. There is only one bus a day up and down. It took us about two hours to reach his home. Nicely set, a kind of hacienda but still in repair. He owned horses, llamas and sheep. It was a sight to behold. He had a huge fence in front of his house to keep the cattle in. The whole fence was decorated with horse skulls; some had a ball or rock in it, which looked like they were laughing.

-     I am sure this looks very lugubrious with full moon light, I said. He laughed and agreed.

Ramiro, our local experienced guide

Kyle who is from Florida is not used to walking much and because of the tropical climate he grew up, Ramiro said that it would be harder for him to climb. Anyway his youngest cute sons and the neighbor who helped out greeted us. Ramiro’s wife is a biologist and wasn’t there yet to receive us. We straight went for the llamas. Each one of us got one. Mine was called Poseidon. We were instructed how to lead them. For instance never get near the hind legs because it would kick. They were very alert and moved quickly in a staggering mode as soon as I neared its face or neck or tried to pick or put in items we left in the bags they would carry for us. They had to be pulled at least with the leash one meter and a half of distance between them and us. They were awesome and beautiful.

-     This is going to be part of my excursion with the tourists, Ramiro said. I want to encourage them to pick up the profession of llameros again he said. Unfortunately I have a lot of work to reeducate the campesinos because all of them talk condescendingly about being a llamero. They all want to be shepherd or a cowboy but no one would like to be a llamero, they are ashamed. They rather leave their land behind and go and live in the city begging or get drunk and so on. They drink the awful alcohol mixed with methylane that is brewed in Bolivia. It kills them slowly.

-     It is sad, I said, because the llama is such a noble animal.

-     That is true Alann. I want to raise my kids in the campo (interior) where they will learn from me to be a llamero. The Incas were very proud of this job. We will go up all the way to the Huancaryo Mountain from where we will see the whole valley and other peaks, that is, if the mist pulls up.

Wayra Inti, one of our experienced guides, in Machu Picchu

It had rained all night and we only saw banks of clouds. Kyle and I hadn’t eaten a thing, but some chocolate biscuits and we commenced our slow progression pulling or reigning in the llamas that were stubborn animals at times. Ramiro was leading a new one that was as savage as a bronco. I pulled and jumped. It was young and had to get used to the humans and also it wasn’t carrying any cargo like ours. When Sandro told us that we were the first foreign visitors to this sacred place we glowed with pride.

-    There is so much more than the Inca trail, which has been so much commercialized, Ramiro said. But I will create respect for biodiversity and respect for what we have lost and for what the campesinos don’t even want to follow any more. I call myself a campesino and I am proud of it. I don’t care if they laugh at me when I wear my poncho and campesino hat. I know where I come from. My father told me to start up something; only he doesn’t want to help me in this. He doesn’t want to serve anyone, he said but he wants to be served instead. Some campesinos are really jealous or bitter and come and try to destroy my house and hacienda I am building, take the stones of my walls away or from the roof. But the worst are the comunares.

-     What is the difference between comunares and campesinos, Ramiro?

-     Comunares have cattle and a ranch and get subsidies and help from the government, the campesinos not. I don’t know why, they despise us I guess. I worked sometime for the comunares and I hate them now because they abused me by never paying me for my work.

We saw kind of different species of mushrooms and ate them hoping they were hallucinogens. But they weren’t. After an hour or so we reached a higher level and Kyle panted and lagged behind. He wouldn’t speak any more to save his energy. I waited up for him at times and shared my coca leaves and some chocolate that I brought along.  We’d get quite sweaty and wanted to take off our coats, but Sandro told us not to do so because it gets colder higher up and we could get sick.

Kyle and Ramiro in front of his house

Finally we reached the peak and saw a few rocks and collected debris of it, which had been used to make a fire over it. We’d do a ritual and for the first time in my whole trip I was asked to take the honor of leading the ceremony of talking to Pachamama and the Apus. I was honored and proud. Because I was the eldest of all I had led the ritual. I gave each and one of them three leaves of coca. They had to be intact, then we prayed silently for ourselves, and then I gathered them all together and made a prayer like this:

I offer these leaves to the four corners of the world, to tall Tawantinsuyos, to Pachamama, Tayta Inti, Mama Quille, the grandfathers rain, thunder and all the grandfathers seas. May they bring more independence for the campesinos and gain their pride back and see their children grow in prosperity. May the Apus bless them and us.

Then I placed the leaves under a small stone a few meters away as a gift to the Pachamama. We didn’t see the valley at all; it was all covered in mist. The air was damp. My shoes and feet soaked wet because of the grasses and rivers we crossed.

We reached Ramiro’s home and continued to the other side of the road up the slope of another formation of intriguing rocks. At one point we were walking flanked by rocks as if we were entering the walls of an ancient palace that had fallen prey to erosion. We recognized a few faces or profiles of faces that looked like they had come from the Easter Island. Our fantasy ran amok. On a higher rock Ramiro pointed out a falcon silhouette. It was a live one. Falcons are very important in this country more important than eagle. Eagles don’t exist here.  All the way up Ramiro showed us some rupestrial fading art.

Kyle with the llama and the house of Ramiro in the background

A few crosses like the feminine symbol, only the cross stood upright on the circle attached to it. There was also a head of llama. This was painted on flat rock covered with moss and a roof as someone had chiseled it out. It had to have a meaning. Ramiro believed some people had lived here and then pointed out the axis from the cave to the place where we had stood. In the distance we saw where we had prayed. It looked too far and totally out of the direction. I thought we had walked to. But there we noticed the three mountaintops, the highest one was in the middle, the one where we had prayed to the extreme left was the smallest top.

Unfortunately we had to go as we had to catch the same bus back. We got a hot vegetable soup and met with Ramiro’s wife and his youngest baby of 7 months old.

-     He will be good llamero, Ramiro said; I feel it and we are always together.

It was true as the baby always cried when he had to leave his dad with his mum. The kids got my chocolate and Ramiro my Swiss cheese which I got from padre Caetano in Lars a few weeks ago. Ramiro’s house was a true Indian house, an earthen floor with some stones planted in it. It is only cold outside. But when we close the door we are ok.

Ramiro's family inside their house

Sandro told me that there are laws for creating Vicuñas or llamas. You need special permission for llamas. Vicuñas are protected species and can only be bred by the government, unlike in Bolivia where they can roam free in el Salar. I got myself a horse skull to paint on and we got on the bus with it I got all the staring eyes from Indian children and adult who looked at us as if they had never seen any whites in this area.

Ramiro said he would see to it that if he brought tourist here that they would take back the inorganic garbage back to Cuzco and he would love to have a private bust to take like ten or so tourists on this trip. This could be a program for three days he said. When we sat at the cave he pointed out the mountain ranges in left of his house. Behind that, he said there is another biodiverse climate with millions of humming birds to see. We need to protect all this and make the campesinos aware how important it is what we have as a heritage. My kids go to school in the city but I want to be proud of who they are.

The bus nearly got us asleep. We got out in San Sebastian, I think, took a taxi back and said goodbye to Ramiro and Sandro.

-    Please don’t forget about this. The one-day trip is 25 US$, 5 dollar commission for the agency and 20 for me.

-     I will try to make it public I said.

In the hostel we took a break for half an hour, changed clothes and showered. My feet were black from the dye of my socks. We still wanted to go and see the last day of the San Sebastian festival. And we did. Coming into San Sebastian we are met by a giant sculpture of a condor flying into the city from a column in the middle of the road.
Again I met with my compadre and the film crew who told us that the masked men were still at the patio like two days ago.

-     I said hi to everyone and asked for the pallaço (clown).

-     Don’t call him clown, Wayra Inti, the man said, he is your compadre isn’t he?

-     Yes, I said but he made many jokes and it is difficult to do that he is a good clown and to me that is not meant as an insult.

-     Ok, but just call him compadre (something like brother).

I met with all the kids and dancers and joined the streets again. At a plaza my compadre pulled me by my sleeve and made me dance like hell after which he asked me to pay him a beer. The people just loved it! It went deep into the night and the apotheosis was people climbing a tree and ripping off buckets and bowls from branches as a token of good luck.

Buckets and bowls from branches

Back in the hostel we were knackered and couldn’t go to sleep because an invasion of Argentinean youngsters who had arrived 4 days ago wouldn’t let us sleep till midnight. I had a very heavy debate with them as they were barbecuing right in front of our door. They behave like rowdy noisy Israelis in India and believed we should adapt ourselves to their way of living because 11 in the night was still early to South American customs.

Kid's dancing and Kyle seen vaguely at the back

When I pointed out that they had totally taken over the place and that Peruvians and Bolivians were much more subtle and humble and that as long as I had been staying I had never had to worry about noise in the night, they just laughed at me. Actually Kyle had run away from his hostel because of Argentineans who don’t let him sleep either. Now he moved in with me in my room. There wasn’t much we could do; they didn’t give a shit about others until I told them my ultimatum. If they wouldn’t stop talking loud and shouting at midnight I’d call the tourist police. That seemed to work… at last we could close our eyes.