Gods & vampires: return to Chipaya

9ods & Vampires

Sods & Vampires RETURN TO CHIPAYA

Nathan Wachtel Tr~nslattd by

Carol Volk

Til£ UNIVH"TY OF CttiCACO Pus• CJuc.,go~~J/.<>ndon

NATHAH WActrnLis pnftssorol hinory and the anthropology oiMao-andSoud.AmmcanSocinM::sarthc~okfran.;c. Th~ Unn~ o(Chiup Pnu, Chu4go 6007 Thr Umwnir, o(ChK
Allrigharacrvcd.Publishcdl9!H PrinttdinthcUnittdSu.rnr:JArMrica OJ020100999897969S9-41234S ISBN:(}.2lli-81i71il·l(doch)

Onpnally publithcd in Paris u Dlftl.ll: d vr~mprnJ: RnOIIFoi

Chipay.r, CEdition,duSnlil,l99l.la l.JbrairicduXX•••«
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Ubruy oi Conpas Cal:lllosin&·•n·Publ..:.ollion o .... ~rci,Narh.an.

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God! and vampires : mum to OUpay.a I Nathan Wachtel ; rran•LIIttdbyC.rol\\llk . ~.

lndudesbibliograph•calrdermccsandindex. I. O!ipay;~lndians-SOOallifeand aiStoms. 2. Socu.l Olnlau~Bolivia-O.ip.ay;a.

J. Social chang~:-Bolivia­

O.ipaya. 4. Erhn<>Josy-Bolivia-0\ipaya-Fidd work. S.Qipay.a(Boll'"ia)-Socialcondinons. l.lidc.

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1994

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t.JbPary M4uri:IIJ, ANSI ZJ9.48-1914.

Contents Maps

Yesterday and Today The Day I Was God

lO

The Midnight Confession

Tales of Vampires Gregorio's Troubles Religious Quests

Parties in the Pampa Final Note

IJ6

Notes

Glossary Index

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The Bolivian High Plateau

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Yesterday and
am back in Chipaya. Sixteen years have passed since my 6rst visit. On the horizon, to the west, loom the massive silhouette of the Tata Sabaya volcano and the snowy peaks of the Andes, while around us the vegetation grows thinner and thinner: the bushy tufts vanish once the van passes Escara. Now, with

the sun directly overhead, I can see the bare, white pampa glisten, its flamess broken only by the mossy mounds scattered among the salt patches. In the dis· tance, something golden flashes intennittently-a jeep coming &om the other direction. When we reach the ford of the Lauca river, the vehicle stops. I glance inside: at the wheel is a bearded man I've never met, and in the back, amid all the baggage and parcels, whom should I see but Santiago Condori, surprised and smiling, who has also recognized me, the very Santiago whose story concludes Le Retour des ancitres 1 and who, by a very strange coincidence and without meaning to, has come to meet me! His decision is made in an instant: he collects his bundles, climbs out of the jeep (to the amazement of his driver), and returns to Chipaya with me. As a result, I take up lodgings in the same house as during my previous visit.

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In the late afternoon, I wander through the village, which only vaguely resembles the one I knew in the past. In the 1970s, Chipaya could still be distinguished from the other villages of the high plateaus by its round, straw-covered huts, similar to those in the early-seventeenth-century drawings of the chronicler Guaman Poma de Ayala. lb.ey were grouped in each moiety in seemingly chaotic clusters, and it was difficult to make out the four "streets" that, according to the municipal agent in 1973 (who even then was Santiago Condori), extended from the main square to the four comers. I remember how amused and surprised I felt at the lofty names he used to designate them, pointing with his finger at very vague plots of land. "You sec, this is Bolivar Street, this is Sucre Street!" As I attempt to recall the vanished landscape, I notice that almost all the houses are now built according to a rectangular plan, arranged in docile alignment on either side of wide sandy paths. Some even have corrugated metal roofs. lb.e few round huts that remain, buried among all the new homes, seem to be falling into decay. As everywhere else on the high plateau, a certain modernity has engulfed the village: it's Chipaya and yet it's no longer Chipaya. I discover one innovation that I particularly appreciate: with the help of the CORDEOR (the "Or-

uro Dev~lopm~nt Corporation"), th~ Chipaya have channeled th~ Lauca riv~r and for th~ past year hav~ had running wat~r. No more lugging muddy, brackish wat~r from th~ wells! Now ~ach patio is ~quipped with that miracl~ of civilization, a fauc~t. To th~ ~ast of th~ villag~. facing Manasaya, stands a hideous littl~ c~ment tower that maintains a rcser· voir and houses a motor; although in a contrasting sryl~. it provid~s a kind of balance to th~ church st«ple. The evening of my arrival, some friends who cam~ to visit recount with prid~ and amusement the vicissitudes of the tower's construction: armed with their scientific knowledge, the engineers from the CORDEOR at first ignored the advice of the Chipayas, which cost th~m repeated failures. Only wh~n they finally followed th~ advia: of the indigenous people did their work meet with succ~ss. Among my visitors, ( have th~ pl~asurc of seeing Marrin, my best informant and friend, who for many years has shared wirh me his prodigious knowledg~ in matt~rs of customs and oral traditions. Reserved and a littl~ awkward, h~ speaks in carefully balanc~d phrases infused with subd~ humor. He is wearint; what seems to be the style among many Chipayas: an ugly Korean-made cap. with a wid~, brighr-red visor. Sine~ h~ speaks with his head down, his face immersed in the shadow of

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., the dim candlelight, only his thin, nasal voice emerges from the visor. With him is his brother OIIC' Juan, who looks emaciated: he explains that he has just returned from the lowlands of Chapari, where he attempted to establish himself as a colonist farmer; he couldn't stand the tropical climate and decided to return to the village. That same evening, a minor event teaches me that I have to relearn certain small differences. Knowing Marrin'slove of dictionaries, I have brought him a handsome encyclopedia as a present. Without thinking, following our own customs, I have brought it gift-wrapped, tied with a beautiful ribbon. This was tactless of me: Martin Nms the object over and over in his hands, disconcerted. No matter how strongly I urge him, he doesn't dare open it. Finally I open it myself. De· lighted and intimidated, he leafs through the glossy pages of the book. After my friends leave, I allow myself to wander through the village one more rime: under the starry sky, in the diffused light of the crescent moon, it begins to look just as strange and eerie as it did years ago. The recent transformations art erased, the most distant past now seems to overpower the present. The reflections of pale patches of wall cut through the formless mass of areas submerged in blackness, while the extraordinary sharpness of my

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shadow on the ground makes me feel like a chullpo s myself, walking silently through this village of lt>lmliry chullp4S, beings who, according to the creation """'litJDr myth, inhabited the earth before the appearance of the sun. When the sun came out, all the chullpas were destroyed, consumed by the celestial fire, ex· cept for the few who took refuge in lakes; the Chipayas, along with the other Urus, are the descendants of these survivors of the first "judgment... They are the last witnesses in this world to a primeval humanity. Hence the disdain of their neighbors, the Aymara Indians, who call them chullpo-puchu or "rejects" from the pre-solar age, excluded from mankind today. Over the next few days I continue my exploration, struggling to relearn the layout of the village. For although I was 3ble to find almost all of my friends, many of them h3ve built new homes and I don't know where they live anymore. Families continue to cluster in the S3me neighborhoods, but so many changes have occurred in the distribution of dwellings {in panicular, young couples settling in) that I am forced to establish new rderence points as if I were in a city where I'd never been before. In Aransaya, for instance, I search in vain for the chapel of the moiety, which is dedicaw! to Santi3go. What surprises me is not so much that I can't find it, but

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that I can't even identify its former location. The same thing happens in Manasaya, with the chapel of San Ger6nimo. I wait several days before asking friends to direct me, only to discover that greenhouses have replaced the old chapels; onions and carrots are now being cultivated there. This innovation was introduced recently with the help of the official CORDEOR. But why did the Chipayas choose these sites, which in theory are sacred, for this entirely prosaic garden? This must be a consequence of the religious conflicts that have been dividing the village for the past twenty years. Another sign of modernization: the school, which was like a village within a village, has been expanded considerably, to the point of impinging on the former soccer field. Even in the 1970s the school of Chipaya offered the full cycle of primary education. Now students can pursue a secondary education, since the creation in 1985 of a junior high school baptizt:d "Uru Andino." It's a regular campus, occupying a vast expanse to the nonh of the village. Due to accelerating population growth, youth are in the majority in Chipaya: hence the rhythms of daily life are dominated by the rhythms of school life, making this desolate pampa in the high plateaus feel almost like a college town. The background noise, which was familiar to me, seems

even more :mimated than btfon:: the sound of chil· dren running to school in the early morning. the bell "WJlmlay marking the end of class, the piercing screams and 11nd·rllll")'· laughter during recreation, the national anthem sung at the beginning and end of the school day, and the commotion once school is out. The noise of the boisterous young srudents is now accompanied by the calmer sounds of the junior high schoolers, who in the late afternoon (at least when the strong wind doesn't force them to stay home) gather around the square to talk in small groups. The boys are gener· ally dressed in \Vestem·style clothing while the girls continue to wear the traditional black tunic. And in what is perhaps a sign of the changing rimes, scenes of romance appear to be more frequent: on either side of a low wall, a young man, sitting on his hi· cycle, and a young girl, standing on her patio, con· verse aHecrionatdy in hushed tones.

Has Chipaya become just like the other villages? The holiday of October 12 (.. Dia de Ia raza"), 2 cele· brated everywhere else in Boliva, used to be un· known hen:. h was recently introduced by the teachers to commemorate both the creation of the junior high school and that of the .. fifth section" of the province of Atahuallpa, composed of the Chi·

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paya and Ayparavi cantons (with the village of Chipaya as irs seat-a position of great distinction). As is customary, the festivities begin the night before. A torch parade is scheduled; on the square, facing the authorities, who are bearing varas (command staffs) and dressed in thdr traditional costumes, a young student recites a congratulatory speech, which is enthusiastically applauded. In the clear, cold night, under the full moon, the other-worldliness of the lanterns and dancing shadows reminds me of the national holiday I anended in 1973 in the neighboring village of Huachacalla. The cortege moves in front of the administrative office of the corregidor; everyone warms up before a wood fire, stomping their feet, the rising wind sending sparks into the air. A very "Bolivian" picture in its austere beauty, like certain scenes in The CourtJge of the People, the film by Sanjines. Martin leads me to a warmer office, where we huddle together. I am surprised to see several cups of liquor circulating, as at celebrations in the past. Sitting to my right, a jovial truck driver with a mustache, from Coipasa, seems to be thoroughly en· joying the pleasures of the late night activity. The deafening brass orchestra strikes up in this narrow refuge: l take advantage of the commotion to slip away. The next morning when I head toward the square,

everyone is gathering in a semicircle opposite the au· ' thorities, who arc lined up to form a "tribunal," still 'liJ/rnl~n· infrontofthe corregidor'soifi.ce. The empty space in >~nJ'liNlaJ· the middle serves as a stage on which a theatrical program is being performed, punctuated by pro· nouncements (by the teachers) in the guise of inter· ludes. First the schoolchildren, awkwardly but with great determination, present a few sketches or short comedies; then four women, members of the .. Soci· ety of Mothers," with hats and layered skim, act out comic m::arket scenes, which have the crowd in stitches. I draw closer to follow the stories bener and run into the bearded man I met the first day at the wheel of the jeep: he's the priest of Chipaya, who has been living for the past five years in the village (which never in the course of its history had a resi· dent priest). We greet each other politely, but I sense a certain reserve in his overly respectful manner (he calls me "Professor" every time he addresses me). Is it a trick question when he asks: "Some people re· gret that the Chipayas are becoming more like the Aymaras. What do you think, Professor?" I respond with carefully balanced comments on respect for cultural identities and the ineluctable course of his· tory. He seems surprised by the nuance I take pains to express. Right in front of us, the contrast is striking between the younger students, dressed in tradi·

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tional outfits, and the older ones wearing school uniforms: a white smock for the girls and blue trousers and shirts for the boys. Our conversation is interTupted by the next event on the program: it's rime for the parade. The entire population lines up on the other side of the square, the authorities and leading citizens in front carrying banners and Bolivian flags, followed, in separate groups, by the men, the women, the elementary school students, the junior high students, the teachers (among whom the priest takes his place), and finally the brass band, blasting out a military march. In the first row I notice Marrin walking proudly, his head held high, carefully following the step: Is he proud of being placed among the leading citizens or, like all other Chipayas on this special holiday, of at· taining the dignity of citizen status? After a half-tum around the square, the authorities stop to form another tribunal on the western side, while the other groups continue to parade before them. The largest group is that of the schoolchildren and junior high students. The oldest among them stand out: wearing tall, peaked caps, they play and dance as if at the Oruro Carnival. Since the whole village is participating in the parade (or is gathered with the tribunal), the truck driver and I, lost in the middle of the large square, are among the few spectators. The en-

tire scene seems both absurd and moving, ordinary and strange: I know that the same parade is taking place everywhere, in every Bolivian village, but it is surprising to see it here for the first time. Is this, then, modern Chipaya? Continuing, in my mind, the conversation with the priest, I catch myself arguing, "After all, why shouldn't the Chipayas have the same right as everyone else to be ordinary? Why shouldn't they be citizens like everyone else?.,

I know from experience that the first week of a visit is spent seeing old friends, and that my presence inevitably disturbs village routines: a certain amount of time has to pass for things to settle down. The truth is, I am not planning to work as intensively as I did before; this rime I'm simply paying a friendJy visit. I have just finished my major work on the Urus, and it would seem wrong to publish it without paying tribute to my Chipaya hosts now that it has been wrinen. Rereading my notebooks from the 1970s, I'm surprised at how 1 would continue my inquiries for days at a time during my previous visits, speaking to a string of interlocutors, one after the other, without stopping, from early morning until late at night. Now I can accept the idea of spending long, empty hours strolling through the nearly deserted

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village, without systematically trying to "pick up" pouible informants. And even if it means interrupt· ing an interview, I never fail to head to the outskirts of Aransaya in the late afternoon to contemplate the sunset, whose colors, because of the transparency of the air at this altitude, have an unreal quality, chang· ing shades at every instant, from gold to orange to a burst of flaming purple. More moving still, this spectacle is mirrored in the sparkling water of the canals, where the silver reflections blend with the shimmer of the skies-a play of colors that is unique every rime, yet always possesses the same timeless splendor. If after so many years I sometimes find it difficult to recognize Chipaya, my friends, in turn, seem somewhat perplexed at the changes they see in me. It's not only my gray hair or my nearly white beard. It's that I don't question them with the same insistence they'd grown accustomed to about the ritual tables, the mallkus, or the mermaids. • Naturally they understand my interest in the recent transformations, but when, from time to rime, we return to our Ions conversations on the history of the Urus, •or snmos. Small, long·haimi crearura who live in the overs, .;aus.ing people they meet to fall sick, Sec Wachtel, Le Rttor,, Us aNdlrf!J (&H p. 141, n. I, Mlow), 202-3. For a ckscnptionofmaUluu,sceGiossary.-Traru.

the conflicts with their Aymara neighbors, and the old customs, I sense they are reassured. I even go so far as to make a new ucording of one of the stories or myths I know by heart, simply to put my friends at ease. For Martin, who has slipped into the role of my chief informant again, these are moments of quiet happiness: with a satisfied smile, he sips his tea spiked with liquor, pronouncing a vow or benediction with each swallow, and raking pleasure in the sound of his slow, deliberate voice.

One of the first things I am curious about are the changes that may have altered the social organization of Chipaya. During my previous visits, I witnessed what was essentially the birth and then the development of a hotly debated split in the society. Had it led to the creation of a new community? As in the other villages of the Andean altiplano, in Chipaya the principles of the dualist order traditionally determined the distribution of land, the division of social groups, and the conception of the universe and of the sacred powers. One local particularity is that the Aransaya and Manasaya moieties are also ayllus, and thus form two economically separate and parallel subsections; the unity of the village is essentially expressed on the level of ritual

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practices and symbolic representations. In keeping with the classical model of dualist thought-the dividing up of constituent categories (high/low, masculine/feminine, etc.) and the containment of social groups one inside the other-each Chipaya moiety is composed of two sectors (fuanchajta and Tajachajta in the Aransaya moiety, Ushata and Waruta in the Manasaya moiety, or four fourths in all), which in tum are subdivided into annexes (four in each moiety, or eight annexes in all). Administratively, the ensemble forms the canton of Chipaya, directed by a corngidor. Yet the main .. authority" is situated within each moiety in the person of the alcalde, who has both civil responsibilities (collecting contributions, surveying collective works, etc.) and ritual functions (a central role in many religious holidays). It is true that since 1961 the dualist organization of Chipaya has adapted to a tripartition, with the separation, to the east of the territory, of the dunes of Ayparavi (which was declared a canton as a defense against the demands of the neighboring village of Huachacalla following a centuries-old conflict). Administratively, the new canton of Ayparavi meant that a third ayllu was born, functioning side by side with the two others, outside the dualist system of organization. Inside each Chipaya moiety, each family line is

more closely associated with a particular section of the territory, where its estancias (hamlets) are con· ctntrated. Thus, on the Aransaya side, in the Tajachajta area to the southwest of the territory, the Camichiri section corresponds to the Guarachi fam· ily, which numbers about a dozen family heads, as well as a few Mamani allies. Its leader, Vicente, is a strong personality, a man of about fifty years old now, whose eyes shine with intelligence and sarcastic humor; his reputation as a great )ltltiri (sorcerer) has spread throughout the entire Carangas region, all the way to Chile. In 1974, when Vicente told me of his dream to transform his section into a fullfledged canton, I attributed his grandiose project to megalomania. Two years later, however, the separatist movement of Camichiri began: the inhabitants of the annex proposed establishing a new irrigation system so that they would have their own cultivated lands. They justified this project first with economic and demographic reasons: the fields prepared com· munally for the Aransaya moiety were no longer sufficient for the increased population. The other members of Aransaya expressed their disapproval; frequent meetings were held in an atmosphere of great tension. The almost descrtlike conditions impose special consuaints on both agriculture and stock fanning in

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Chipaya. The high salt content of the soil neassi· tares the flooding ol a pan of the territory for more than six months in order to r:ultivate quinoa; the water washes the salt from the eanh, and is then drained. What was a lake then becomes a r:ulrivated lidd in whir:h each family head receives a cenain numberoflors.Butbytheendoitheagrir:ultural year the so1l becomes poorer as the salt returns: planting is then uansferred to another area, pre· pared in advanr:e by another cycle of Hooding. It IS thusaveryintellige:usystemofrotation,botholthe fields and of the water; the amlictallakes must sue· ceed one another so that one field is always ready eachyear.Whiletheuseoither:ultivatedlotsisindi· vidual,theirngationanddrainageareexer:utedby r:olle«ive facrtu, which gather the men of ear:h ayllu mtheirrcsper:nveterritories.Thedualistorganization of Chipaya is thus also manifested in a double systemofiniganon:ear:hmo1etyhasirsownofftake from the Lauca nver. Despite the hydrographtr: complexity, there are no arms linking the5e two net· works, which rem am strir:dy parallel. Twolakesshapedlikeelongatedcrescenrsserveas sp1llways for each ri these twa netwarks, at the same nmeprovldingrichpasturessuitablefortheaquatic farming ol pigs. On either side, numerous huts with poinled rools shelter the animals. Their outlines

form a jagged hori~on on the banks of the river and among the rumuli that emerges from the water, ere· aringtheefkctofamin~aturevilla~:whattheChi· payascall"thecityofpigs.~ Each family head has his own herd of p•gs in the lakes (as well as a herd of sheep or llamas in the tstcmaas). Meanwhile, the aquatic plants on which rhe pigs feed also require successivecyclesofirriganonanddramage,which arehandledcollectively.ThisconstantcLrcularionof watercreatesthecloseconnect\onbctweentheagn· cultural and the pastoral activiticsoftheAransaya and Manasaya mo1encs; Ln th1s way the Chipayas arestiiiJDS·shoni,"watermen." The double system of 1rnganon was in harmony with the dualist organization of Chipaya (consid· ered wLthm the boundaries of the canton1. So the project presented in 1976byV~eenteandhisparri· sans introduced a cenain discord: they wanted to dig a new canal in order to increlst the water liupply oftheCamichirisection,andthusorganizeathird system of water and land rotan on. Although most of the Aransaya members were hostile to this project, they had to give in when the Guarachis, violating the rule of consensus, simply staned on the work and prcsentedtherestofthecommunirywiththefaitaccompli. The agreements finally reached between the members of Camichiri and of ~ransaya stipulated

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that the fields, lakes, and pastures would hencefonh be separate. This division meant both a spatial and a social rwrga.niuttion for the Chipayas, who from then on were divided into four distma groups (Camichiri, the l'e$t ot Aransaya, Manasaya, and Ayparavi). But did this new quadripanirion conformtothebmarylogic? The 1976 debate was all the more furious as other solutions were poss1ble that would not have rnulted in the separation of Camkhiri. The other Chipaya mo1ety, Manasaya. although suffering from the $3me shonageof eultivated land, nonetheless stayed together.Aiongwi:hthemoreexplicitcauses,anotherfactorprobablycameintoplayintheseparation: serious conRias had been disturbing the vtllagesmcethe 1960s,whennewreligiousgroups were established-two of them Protestant (the Pentecostals and the Evangelicals), and one Catholic (the "Catechists~). The three groups, whose followers called themselves hemtaflos, or ~brothers," rejectedthecustnmlconsideredtobeidolatrousand opposed the "pagans," the term used to refer to thosewhocontinutdtopracnccallthcrituals,honoring both the saints and the mal/bs (the Andean chthoniandivinirics,generallyassociatedwiththe mountains). As it rums out, one of the prinapal leaders of the pagans hostile to the new movements

was none other than the yatiTI Vicente, who had many partisans m Camich1ri. Unnl the early 1970s, thebrothersofthevarioussectswerebutasmallml· nanty and met with widespread disapproval. But littlebylittle,fromvisittovisit,lsawthenumberof pagansde<:rtascasthenewrdigiousgroupsgained strength. So much so that, oddly enough, in 1982 another type of quadnpartirion could be observed. The population wase$$C:ntially divided tnto four un~lydisnibutedrehgiousgroups:theCate<:hists

includedmorethanhalfoftheChipayas,theEvan· gelicals almost a quaner, the Prnte<:ostals about a 6fth, while the pagans were but a small oore of obstinate rebels. Th1s group, which now in turn met with strong disapproval, flocked to the Cam1chin anna, whichthuseametobethelastrefugeofthetraditionalists. lthereforehadanumberofquesrionsroaskwhen I returned to Chipaya seven yeats later: Was Vicente abletomakehisdreamcometrue,andrumhlsan· nt:JC into a canton~ Had the last pagan group hdd together in the faccoftheseeminglyinvincibleapansion ol the new churches~ In reality, the cvolu· rionofthevillagerurnedouttobemorecomplicated and less predictable. The Camichiri annex was still separate yet had not b«ndevatedtothelcvclola canton, while the Aransaya motety oontmued to

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split apart: thethrceotherannexesfollowedtheexample of the Guarachis, becoming autonomous wnh their own fidds, so that the moicry still oonsim olfoursec:torsatthesamelevel(eachwithanauxiliaryafctJfdeineharse).ltisastfthelogicofthedualist order had managed to compensate for t:hc disoordintroduccd.bytheseparationofCamichiri, reestablish.ng a cc:nam symmetry through a new type of quadripartition (all within the Aransaya moiety). In 1'84-85thcmembersoftheother the« annexesorganizedtheirown Individual rotation sys· tems for water and fields. like the Camichm mcmbers,theyexplaincdthisredtstriburionbytheneed for expanded growing fields due to a growth in population. And the results obtained in Camichin, at leastinthebe:ginnit~g,secmedencouraging;allthe

fam1lyheadshadbenefited from it with a greater numberollotsand more abundant harvests. But what would happen when the land became even more divided? Could four systems of rotation coexistwit:hinasinglemoietyoltheChipayate!Titory? Would the waters of the Lauca River support such an expansion of the irrigation network? The answer was not long in oommg: the splitting up of Aransaya into four separate groups proved to be a disaster. The accelerated rotation of the lands caused their

deterioration, with one bad harvest after another these past years. What is more, the lake m which ptgs were ratsed dried out; the animals were struck by an epilooricdiseasc, and the "city of pigs" is now deserted.TheAransayasthereb)lostanesscntialresource and an enormous amount of capital (more thanlivehundredheadoflivestock).Whatwerethcy to do? I could only witness their bewtlderment. They an: all the more confuse.:! as the Manasaya members have contmued to function as a oommu· mty and, though not always enjoying bountiful har· vests(duetovariationsinthechmate),stillhavetheir ptgsandthdrlivestock. So the inhabitants of Aransaya an: now thinking of reuniting. Not by rctuming to the Situation that existed before the separation of Camtchtri, but rather by regrouping the four annexes two by two; on the one side those to the west of Aransaya, on the other those to the eilSt. In other words, the motety would again be divided imo two areilS, Tajachajta and Tuanchajta, a return to the way things were in the 1930s,whcnculrivationolquinoabymeansof irrigation was first introduced to Chipaya. At that rime,thecultivatedlandswcrepuparedwithincach quancr,andevcnthcn,afteralewycars,thewatcr problem had led to the union of Tajachajta and Tuanchajta (in the Aransaya moiety) and of Ushata

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and Waruta (in the Manasaya moiety). If the Aransayas were to resolve the problem by recombining annex" two by two, the entire ethnic group would once again be composed of four groups (Tajachajta, Tuanchajta, Manasaya, and Ayparavi), following a configuration that is both unprecedented in the history of Chipaya and more in keeping with the logic of the dualist order.

October is the month in which one is most likely to encounter the Chipayas in their village. For one thing, it's the sowing season: those who have gone to work elsewhere rerum to be assigned lots. For an· other, All Saints' Day is approaching, one of the most sacred moments of the year: even the migrants who have been away for a long time return to welcome the souls of the deceased, who come to visit the living for the day. For the two weeks preceding the festival, the preP" arations create a certain animation in the village, as well as an incrusingly perceptible tension. Sheep destined for the market in Oruro arc slaughtered on patios, in front of the houses. Another new develoP" ment is the incredible frequency of trucks-up to two trips to the town a week-during this rime. There is only one truck in Chipaya, owned by the

wealthy Mariano, but other vehicles make the round trip, one from the neighboring vtllage of Escara, the other from Cotpasa. Each departure is a major event:ittakeshourstoloadtherrutkandgatherthe passengers; people keep coming and going, the horn ishonkedloudlytowarnlateoomersthatthctruckis leaving. Thepreparationsareespeciallyintensefor those ywho have a soul," that is, people who have lost a dose relative within the past three years and hence must incur major e:xpenses. What tan you do when you have no animals to sacrifice? The poorest, orthemostcunning,havecertaintrit'ks:theybcgmc tobuypiecesoffabric,ceremonialslings,andnever have I had so many offers to be a compadre! Youcan'trefusegodfatherstatus,evenifit'sobviousthattheofferisfinanciallymotivated,aswhen Eduardo Q. comes 10 see me a few days before All Saints' Day. Hts usual good humor sutts his round, puffyfacc;butthistimehetssombcr,ncrvous,e:xtremely preoccupied. He comes righttothcpoint: "I necdyourhclpbe<:auscl'mexpcctingmymother-inlaw!" I begin to smile, surprised that this visit should make him so nervous, when suddenly I realizethathiswife'smothcrdiedaycarago,andthat he's talkmgabout her soul and the ntual offerings due her. Poor Eduardo! His mother-in-law terrifies h1m dead more than she d•d alive! The next day I ar-

•.1 ..,...~

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>4

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rive at his house at the appointed hour for the c;ere· mony, but we are unable to proceed because his entire family is quite intoxicated. A little later, barely sober and abso\utclytcrrilicd, Eduardo rushes to my house to ask for my help again: ~I had a light with my wife because of her mother. I beat her, come see, she's in terrible shape!" Several days before All Saints' Day, Martin comes to tell me that he's been asked to participate in a c;eremony which he knows is going to ~interest" me. They are about to erect a tomb and renew offerings to the deceased Angela G., who was buried in a simple grave several years ago and whose soul, unable to lind peace, has been tormenting her husband. When I arrive at the ceremony, at about live in the afternoon, the parents of the deceased arc already at Martin's side. Martin is wearing a magnificent beige cap for the occasion. He begins by slaughtering a black sheep on top of the grave, sprinkling the blood as a drink offering toward the west (where the dead reside). Then he begins digging up eanh at the site of the sacrifice, with the help of an assistant. The work advances slowly, the sun sinks on the horizon, shadows grow longer. Waist-deep into the pit, Mattin prob~ the eanh with a metal hook. "It's here!" he o:claims. He light-s a cigarette so that the smoke will chase away the dangerous va-

pors, then gathers up the remains, wh1ch he lays out bone by bone on a piC"<:C' of doth spread next to the hole. With a miKhievous little ~m1le he announces, ~The human skeleton is composed of one hundred and twenty-live bones!" and r«ires, ~Ccrvic:al bone, tibia, fibula, femur," and so on. Not only doc-she P"k out the bones, but he rubs them, massages them, careS$C$ them affeaionatdy. Everyone grows sentimental upon r«ogmzing the dead woman's tresses, perfe«ly pl"C'$erved. The skull and bones are c:uefullydeaned,hcrnearlyinta«sandalsan:affixed, and finally Martin finds the flask of liquor with wh"h the body had been buncd. Durmg th1s nmeotherassistants,outsidethecemetery,prepare the mounds of eanh to be used to erect the tomb. Children apfle'arout of nowhere. a young woman offersthemundy,theooloredpapcrwrappcrs fly in the wind around the cemetery. Some fall into the deep pit. The doth is folded and plac:cd with the offerings in a wooden box, which in tum is laid in the tomb.AcrossisplanredJustasthesundisapfiC'ars behmd the mountain. To the east, the deep blue honzon rums grey, while to the wen, above the Andes, the sky grows purple. We oomplere the tomb in the encroac:hmgdarkncss. & All Saints' Day approaches, the wa1ting beoomespamcularly Intense: the deceased come up

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more and more frequently in conversadon; their soulsarealreadyptheredontheoutskinsofthe cemetery, waning to visit. By noon on November I, when the famihes deposit their offerings of food and drinkonthetombs,youcanfeelachangeoccur:the soulsarehere,theirprescncealmostpalpable. The ritual has changed somewhat: in thepastthebclls rangcontinuouslyformorethantwenty-fourhours, sothatthesouls'vilittookplaceagainstabackdrop of monotonous, rtpeddve music; now the bells soundonlyinterminently,briefty,likeacal\orsalutanon. The skulls of the foundingancestorsareno longer transponedto the church, but merely honorcdatthecemetcry. Thcfourskullsarclinedupin the middle of the central row, faang south. The 111ufdesandtheirwiveskncel beforcthemandpray, offering coca leaYCI and scattcnnggencrous offermgs of alcohol. Thtir fam1hes form a cirde around them.Cigarcttesan:affectionatclylitfortheancestors to smoke. What a strange and intimate scene: the revered skulls with two or three burning cigarettes lodged in their nasal cavities. The cigarettes arc smoked "bythemselves,"andthisisseenasa good sign: when thry burn easily to the end, the next year will be a gocw:l one, the harvest will be plentiful. When a cigarette goes out, one of the people kneeling nearby simply takn the cigarette from the

skull, puts it in hismouth,relighB it, and resptctfullyreplaccsitinthen:ualcavny. A sense of grav1ty reigns that ahernoon when, back from the cemeteries, the Chtpayas welcome the souls into their homes. The offerings are laid out on a table, a setting placed at the!eatofhonor: food, drink, coca leaves, nndy. The !JOSstSSions of the deceased are also laid out around his or her photo (when one is available) and a 1ighted candle. The members of the family sit in a semic1rcle, passing cups of liquor and remembering the deceased: storiesandanccdotesa~blendedwithtcarsandloud

lamentations. The famtly engage-s 10 conversadon With the soul, whose presence is ev1dent, even for me. Th1s is when I visit my friends, before they're totally intoxicated, to "accompany~ them m the1r sorrow. I feel a linle awkward, sometimes, when I didn't know the deceased very well and my con· dolenecs are ne<:essarily merely polite. And I fed since~ sadnes.s when I go to my friend Benito's house, whose father, Geronimo, one of my prinClpal informants, died barely two months before my rerum to Chipaya.l r«ognizc the photo I myself took long ago, and which the mag~c olthe Polaroid enabled me to give to him: here are Geronimo's lea· tures,hiseyes,hissilhoucne;hc•snolongerwithus and yet he is among us today. "You 5«, the photo is

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still here, rhe photo will be: here forever!" Benito comments., his voice full of emotion. An identity card is also among the deceased's possess1ons, a detail of which sends my friend into the depths of confusion. Mlook,itv;as valid unril1992, it's written there: whydidhed1ebc:forethat~M Theysitwiththesoulsallnight,fromthcfirstto the second of November. It's one of the nights I worry about the most dunng my mps to Chipaya: the drunkards will ccnainly knock on my door more thanonce.lblowourmycandlesearlysoasnotto attract them. Nevenhdcss, at about one m the morning I recognize Benito's voice outside my door. Undcrthcpretcc:tofaskingforsomccocalcaves,hc againcxprcsscshissorrow,cryingandmuneringmcoherently.Aillcanmakeoutis,"Myfathertaught me that ... lowe him ... " On the morning of the second I return to the cern· etery wnh the families, who accompany their souls back to their graves. The few groups who remained sobc:r cross paths apprehensively w1th the howling, staggering clusters. There IS the threat of a fight: in the course of commg and going to the tombs, ene· micsrunintoeachothcr,intheirdrunkcnncssunleashing feelings d hatred. I not1CC: a few more changes. First, outside the cemetery, in front of an improvisedaltarcoYeredwithawhitetablc:cloth,the

Catechists sing a proper ~massH toward the west (the priest has left the village for the ksttval~ Other Chtpayas cany a tape player and salute the departureofthedecea.sedtothecatchysoundsofdance music. Since sn<eral playen an: going at the same timefullblast,thefarewelltothesoulstakesplace amid a deafening cacophony. Soon the batteries wear down, the music stammc~, stutters. and fades into the sound of even more hean-wrenching tears.

~, vw~


mg to decipher thc1r traces in the quiet, dusty archives, in order to reronsnua the world they inhabite.:l. Many documents from the colonial period (the griev3nct" of an Indian chid, the rnponsc to an inlcrrogation)lcadonc'smindtowandcr:onchcars thevo~eesofthcind•genouswitnesscs,butthcsound

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ismulflcdandfragrncntcd,sothatthctmpressionof spanningthedistam:c of centuries is accompanied byaninevitablcfcclingoffrusrranon. Thtstsessentially the way things go: the daily life we glimpse through the archives remains fragmentary, cloudy, bydefinitionlimitedtoexceprionaleventS,whileunderstandmgthemrequiresananalysisofthegencral context in which they rook place. At the same nme, the present reality of the indigenous communines whose past I was srudying also seemed distant and fleeting to me.l was living in rheeomfort of cines. in Cuzeo,Potos•,orSu,re,whereasfarasthelnd•ans were eon,erned, one saw lin:le else than the porters who hung around hotels, or the beggars who pn:ned their no~ agamst restaurant wmdows. And while I had passed through many villages in the oourseofmytravels,lwasgenerallysean:hmgfor old papers. Like many tourists, I had visited the

floating island on Lah Tltica~a. opposite Puno, .1' wherefolkloncUrusexhibitedtheirhurs and rush canon.Atthetlmeldidn'tn:alizethatmyresearch /'Jib•~ wouldtakeanewtumwhen,in J973,Jacques RuffiC asked me to contribute to the work of a ream as· signed to mvestigatmg the hemo:ypologyofthe pop· ulations of the Andean highlands. That is what led me to venture out of my archives into a terrain with a reputation for being difficult, mto the area of a somewhat uncivilized ethnology. What a rn<elarion! Suddenly, traveling several ccntuncs in the other direction, I found myself amongtheprescnt-day,authenticdescendantsofthe dead people with whom I had spent so much time in dusty archives. What was mon:, as Urus these living descendants found themselves marginalized and disdained by their Aymara ne1ghbors, who corn;iden:d them to be chul/pa-puchu, retcm from the anCientdead,refusefmmthefirsthumanclvlhzarion, the civilization before the sun. The Indians whose daily life I was now shanng were essentially Mthc de· fcatcdofthedcfcated,"andprescntedaspccialarca for resnrch that untd now I had only dreamed m1ght cxin. I became aware at Ihe same time of the possibilities (as well as of the demands) of the Inti· matecollaborationbetwcenhlstoryandanthropology.Subsequemly,lalrernatedbetwcenn:sc:archin

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the archives and liddsrudies,theconstantshifring from the living to the dead, and from the dead to the livmg, inevitably bringing about a slightly out-ofsynch perception, both of the present and of the past. For their pan, how did the Chipayas perceive my presence~ The gringos who came to this remote village/it intodistmctcaregories: priests, pastors, or doctors. From tim: to time tourists would mistakenlywanderintothisdescrtedplateau,stayafew hours ora fcwdaystotaketheindispensablephotos,thenleaveafto:rbc:ingproperlyllecced.Other anthropologius, it is true, had pncedcd me. One or two old people could remember the distant visit ol a Frenchrescarcher:wasitMttrauxmthe1930s,or Vcllard in the 1940s~ The memones were extremely vague. Along with Gtllcs Riviere, who accompanied meonthislirstvtsit,lrcprescntcdancwcatcgory:l stayed longer than an ordinary tourist and m my ncophyteenthusiasmwaspanicularlyintcrcstcdin thc"customs,"bcliefsandrituals,whichseemedto me highly traditional. Yet the priests and pastors preached a religion cleansed of these practices, whoch they constdetcd dtabohcal. What was thts apparentlypagangringodoinginthevillage? ltdidn•ttakemelongtoKahzcthat,byhtsvery prcscncc,theanthropologtstwhointrudcsintoaso-

cialgmupmodifics,o:vcnpcrturbs,thedclicatecqu•- JJ librium or disequilibrium of this group. No maner ··rk~ how he bchavn, he .;annat control other people's in· l'ltb• !fod tcrpretarions of him: consciously or unconsciously he ente~ into the cquanon among the ousting fac. tions, and while he would like to be an observer, hemayfindhimselfmanipulatedLnstead.ltLSLm· possible to tum oneself into a purely external observer:the~sea"hcrnccessarilyoccup•esaccnain

position amid the workings of the indigenous popu· ]anon, and finds himself assigned one role or an· other, which various members of the community, based on their own agendas, attempt to make him play. He is napped in his own presence. Should he proclaim himself neutral, p~acncc ecumenism~ Bythechoiceofhisinformants,the friendships he devclops,cvcnthequestJOnsheasks,theanthropologist becomes an actor and cannot escape the Ln· volvementthatbefallshim,dcspitehisobjecnons. He can only guess at what he rrpresc:nts to others, makingsurctobctruetohimsclf.Isthisatthepricc of diplomatic mancuve~ that arc too subtle, of com· promises that a~ too complaisant?

At the nmc of my fi~t visit, most Chipayas called themselvn ~pagans,~ which :;ct:med to have no pc·

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jorativeconnotations. Forthosewhodeclaredtheir allegiam;e,itmeantn:spectforallthetraditions,as wellasloyall}'rothtbchcfsofthcancntors."il'sthc wstom~:thisexplanat•onjustifiedritualsbelieved

to have bern practiced s1ncc time immemorial. Yet thisbcliefwasnolongerunivcrsal:althoughinl973 thedaringmnovators {Catechists, Evan~licals, Pen· tecostals)wereintheminoriry,theyintroductdarift in the pagan·Chri!tian system that governed the order of religious festivals. Each year the t~lca/des designated a cenam number of pDSilntes, or "volun· teers," who committed to sponsoring a saint or mal· lku'sfestivalthefollowingycar,onthedayindicated by the calendar. These celebrations were expensive, and served to mamfcst the bondsofsolidarily be· tween the members of the communi!}'. To accept a cargo, or sponsorship, was traditionally considered an mevitable obligation as well as an honor. Which is why the brothers of the new religious movements caU&Cdascandalwhentheyrefusedtoacceptthese wstoms and at the same nme set a contagious ex· ample: though the system of rotating cargos still funcrioncdnormally,thet~/u/Jeswerebcginningto

havcttoublecstablishinglistsofpiiSDnfes;thcre were kwcr and fewer volunteers. Is th1s why they made me an olttr, the repercussions of wh1ch would permanently mark my relationship to the Ch1payas?

As chance would have it, the lir5t ~authority" I JS met during my fir5tvisitin 1973 was none other than Santiago Condori, the p10necr of the Care- J·Jfb,~p../ chists, who then held the post d munic1pal agent. I dealt w1th him when I was looking for lodgings in thevillagc:helmmediatelyoffen:dton:ntmeoneof his huts m the Aransaya moiety, no doubt counting notonlyonalittlecxtracashbutalsoonestabhshinguscfulrclationswithagnngofromsuchadistant country. For my part, I didn't )'Ct know about his centralrolctnthcconflictsthatweredlvidingthcvillage; I would o:plain to mformants who I hoped wouldcollaboratethatlhadcomctostudythehlstotyoltheChipayas,whichwasthcexacttruthand explained my interest in the cu1toms; but I was in an ambiguous situation since I was staymg w1th Samiago,aCatechlst. At that time, the alcalde of ~ransaya (the mam authonty ol the ay/lu) was Juan Qu1spe, a fonyish, am1able man and subtle polincian, who fully endorsed my research. He may have seen th1s n:search,andthcasslstancchcoffercdmc,asameans to reassure thc traditionalists. He himself alened mc to the fact that the best informant I could find in maners of customs would bc hi sown father, Pabhno (who was among those who thought they remembered Alfred MC:traux), and his older brother, Mar-

J~ Clhf~,

tin,botha:pcrtsinritualpracncesandremarkable storytellers. My network of informants gradually grew out of thts .nmal core to juan's relatives and fru:nds: hts father-in-law Policarpio, officiating priest of the Kihmtnn mallku; old Geronimo Lazaro, rheoffictatingpriestofSantiago; Geronimo's som, Benito and Victor; and their cousin Fortunato, thescxtonofthechurch(whothercforcknewagrcat deal about religious festivals). Of course, from my very first visit I made a point of varying my inter· locutors, and ol working in the same way with membersoftheotherayllu,Manasaya.Asisproper,lwas also careful to alternate the locanon of my living quarters,oneycarinoncmoiety,rheno:tycarinthe other. But I always felt most comfortable in Arans.aya, nodoubtbccauscoltheanaehmentoneprcscrvcsforone'sfirsro:periencetnthefield:ldeveloped tics of friendshtp with Martin, Bentto, and thetrparents,butaloowithSantiago,whichoverthe yearshaveprovcdindestrncrible. Oneparticularctrcumstancccontributcdtobind me even more closely toAransaya.lt was the surprising proposition put to me by juan, who as alcalde had to establish the list of paumlts for the following year: Would I sponsor the festival of the Kilim1nn mallku, one of the most important divinities of the moiety? He probably hadn't found a ~volunteer" among the Chtpa)as, but why was he asking a

gringo who at that point was a itranger? I suppose his ofkr was something of a challenge, a test: I had to show that I wasn't just an ordmary tourist passmg through, that I would come back to Chipaya as I had said, and that in addttion I had the means to take on lavtsh.:xp.:nsc:s. Perhapsjuanalsowanted tostr.:ngthenthepositionofAransayaov.:rtheother motetyand,asasupplementarystrategy,toinduce me tosuppon the traditionalistpany. What should I do? The choice seemed simple: on the one hand, if I were to refuse, I knew what a disappointment and even an offense it would be: to my friends; on the otherhand,ifiagreed,l$awtheadvantagesofbeing trulyaca:ptedbytheChtpayasloratleastbyamajority of them). Not to mention the prospect of havingaprimaryroleinan.:xcitingrirual.Shoulditbc: ruled out because I would be compromising myself wtth the pagan group? I couldn"t worry about that: it was imponant to show my gratitude to friends who had hdped me so generously and were bestowing such an honor on me. In the end, I enthusiastically agreed to be the paunte of the Krlimmti

m111/ku.

lthen:fon:hadtob.:backmthevillage,puncrually, the following August I, the day of the Ktliminti. Preparations for a stay in Chipaya wen: always long

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J& Ch8pltt

and cosily; I went about them feverishly, as if for a polar expedition. They began in Paris, with routine vtsttstothedoctoranddentist,thepurchaseofphotographic equipment and recording materials, and shoppmg at the camping store, then continued in sevcralstagesinBolivta.lspentabouttendaysinLa Paz,atthebegmnin,ofjulyi974,notonlytogather thepermitsnccessaryfromthevariousauthorities, but also to take ca~ of some business for the Chtpayas: I knew that the pr<:vtous spring the village hadexperienccdseriousflooding,andthattheentirc harvcsthadbcenlost. Tho:ythcreforenecdedemer· gency ~lief. The military authorities accepted my rcquestwtthgreatunderstanding,andpromisedto send a truckload of food. The next step was the market at Oruro, a tec~rung world overflowing with di· vcrseobjccts,colors,smclls,asifthcessenceolthe high plateaus were concentrated in thts one spot. Along with my usual assoncd purchases (tins ol food, kitchen utensils, bowls, candles, matches, soap, notebooks to give as gifts to the school, cigarcttcs,cocaleaves,ctc.)lhadtopurchaseevcrythmg forthecclebrarionofthefesrivaland,inpanicular, for theccremomal meal oftcrcd by the p;1sante to the entire village: rice,;mtatoes,,hutioinastronomical quantities, enormous packages of coca leaves, and coundcss jugs of liquor. I felt a littlc guilty about

supporting my hosts' drinking habits, but drinking .1~ was the custom. Nor were thtse expenses so easily justified to the institutions who were financing my l'llb•.'i<>J miss1on. True to my prom1se, I was Clack in Chipaya in mid·July, two weeks early, in rh~ company of Gilles Rivi~re,who,likeme, hadagrccdtorerurn for the fcsrivaloftheK1hminn. Aslwantedtoliveonthe Manasaya side later, we avoided settling in Aran· saya,andwerchousedin~neutul"terrain,intheof­

fice of the corregidor (one oi the rare houses that had a brick instead of a badly packtd earth Ooor). Our occupying, even ttmporarily, a house that was rcservedforthehighestauthorityofthevillagelent an official quality to our alreao:ly unique situation. Our colleague Oliv1er Dollfus was supposed to ]Oin usa week latertoparticipatemthe festivities. The final step was to negotiate the purchase of a s.acnfidallamb,llama,andpig(anotherexpensetojustify in the report of my m1sS1on). Thtse were difficult negotiations,sinceevenourfriend~,quitelegitimatdy,

endeavoredtosellustheirantmalsatinflatedprices. ~alsonoticedanobviousreluctance:asthedays

passed,thepwplewhohadago:edtosellusananimal came to tell us, one aftertheorher,tharthey had to rescind their offer. Thetr reasons seemed unconvincing: their wife didn't want to sell it, the llama

~ Cltaplrr

was at an est4n(ia tllat was too far away, the pig had run away. The series of defections was worrisome. Wercthqthercsuhofpressurcsplacedontheanimals' owne~, warnings about us? Eventually the stringoffestivalsthatmarkstheendofthercligious yeararrived:July2S,thefestivalofSantiago;July 26,thefestivalofSantaAna,patronsaintofthevillage,whosedaywa5stillcelebratedenthusiastically. The new religious year began with the day of the ma/lku Kiliminti. Juan and Marrin had agr~d to come for us in the early morningtotakeusto the monument dedicated to the mallku, about fifteen ki· lomcte~ to the south, at the edge of the desert. Ttme passed, we waited, no one appean:d. Our friends didn't arrive unnl nine o'clock. Thq were alone, though we had planned to form a procession with the membe~ of Aransaya. We all waited a little longer; no one joined us. And we still had no ani· mals to sacrifice, as the last people had backed out. Was this yet anothettest of our will? It was as if thq wen: cn:atmg a vacuum around us. What should we do? Keep gomg. lt'sthe day of the Kiliminti mallb, we have ro honor h1m no matter what. We set off in our httlc group. In the course of our journq, we cross over innumetable canals, vast lacustrine ex· panses of still-froun water. After taking off our shoesandpants,...eblithelybreakthelayerofice wtth our bare feet ~nd stnk trembling into the cold

water and sricky mud; then, to t~ke another step, we have to laboriously extric~te ~ foot, ra1se it, and again break the ice from underneath. Once in a while someone cnc-s out; at other rime-s laughter punctuate-s our slow progrns when one of us take-s a sudden slippery step. As we advance, we are surprised to see other Chipayas, who have come from :he village, catching upwithus;httlebylittleourgroupgrowsintoatrue proce-ssion. After a kw hours we catch s1ght of the mollku, perched atop a slightly el~ated land milSs, high and dry. Already we sec dark splotches coming and going in front of the mon~ment: many other groups,orig.nanngatthevariousestatlcta.s,areconvcrgingatthemaf/ku,anivingatthesamctimeas we are. A small crowd forms at the site. The spirit of Kihminti re-side-s in a cone-shaped monument of dried earTh, about three feet h1gh, w1th a small open cavity lac:ingeaston top; this is the god's ~mouthft m wh1ch offerings are deposited. We 1m mediately have an opportunity to warm up; upon anival we're drawn into a busthngdance around thcmallku. Our Chipaya friends are calling greenngs to Kiliminri, soliciting his good will, and they encourage us to do the same. We exchange som~hat kwildered glances as we, in tum, twirl, stomp, and howl, conscious of how silly we look but also of the magnitude of this sacred moment. ~Long tive Kiliminri! Hello

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Kiliminti! Brrt Brr!" No manerhow hard I try to be sina:reasldana:andshout,l'mtomberwecnembarrassment at participanng in thts ndiculous charackandtherespeaduethesacrcdrituaLivacillatc between these twocontradtctory, conflicting sentiments. What grotesque efforts I am making to be po· lite! But maybe this tsn't so ndiculous after all. Do I reallyhavetogothroughall thisnonsensetobein this business~ Yet aren't my Chipaya friends sincere whentheycryMHirsch!Hirsch!"~

Aftcrtheinitialdancetn honorofKihmimi,the mainphaseoftheceremonybeginsand,with tt,a newsurprisethatbnngsusrehef:asifbyamiracle, three animals are present, hooves bound together, ready to besaerifiad. Pulicarpto,Juan's father-inlaw, assumes the duries of the officiant. At the foot of the monument, assistants slaughter the llama, the lamb, and the pig; with each sacrifice, Pohcarpio collects the spunmr: blood into a cup, spnnkles it as adrinkofferingtotbeeast,thensprinklesthemallku with it. Htssolcmngesturesstandoutagainstthe d«pbluesky,staintdasumptuouspinkbytheJlight of enormous flocks of flamingos. Then, on a piece of doth spread out on the ground in front of Kiliminti, Puhcarpto prepares the table with thirty-six small, shallow cups filled with chicha and ritual ingrcdients.Heplungeshissacrcdstakeintotheground, kneelsbehindit,andprays;anassistanthandshim

the cups IWD by rwo and the officiant scatters their u contents m drink offer1ngs toward the east as welL In lk()"' the meannme several women are fussing around a l"llh•.<1.J wood lire: they are already prepanng the meat of the sacrilicedanimals.SLttingonthegroundintheplace of honor, we are handed generous ponionsof liquor, which we dnnk, paying homag( with each swallow to Kiliminti, to the other mal/b. and to the saints; soonweareservedthemostprizedpottions: half· rooked tripe and internal organs. I swallow what I can, try to offer a pan of this pr«~ous gift to the Chipayafriendsaroundus,whileoneofmycol· leaguesdiscreedyslipsahandfulolorgansintohLs pocket. The meal continues in an atmosphere of warmth. The alcalde of Aransaya, wh1ch this year happens to be VicenteGuarachi,joins us in rum to give us some aquatic planrs. It's already early afternoon when Olivier and Gilles remark that the wind seems threatening and that it would be a good idea to retumtothcvillage;theyleaveshamelessly.Sinccthc pa.salltemustpresLdeovcrthcceremonyuntilthe end, I stoically remain. The cups of liquor keep coming, my mind grows foggy, I no longer feel any em· barrassmcnt;ontheconttary,lfeclthcaffeaionol my Chipaya friends all around me and am overcome byascnscofeuphoria.Atlcasttwohourspassinthis way, happily, amid greetings to the mallku, wishes,

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and laughter. Then, almost to my regret, the moment oi depanurearrives.I stand, and the others proceed ro harness me up: my friends load onto my backabasketlilledwiththeaquatkplantsoffered by the Alcalde; I'm decked out in a long white wig with a ponytail, and entrusted with the mllllku's equally white banner. I now incarnate the god Kiliminti, who is about ro viSll the village. 'Wemustarrivebeforcthesettingolthesun,sowe return at a much faster pace than we came: we dance the whole way back, and sometimes run. Since it's late afternoon, the ke on the lakes is entirely melted, andthewater,incontrastrothismoming,fec:lsal· most wann. Now at the head oi the procession, I spinandcry"Brr!Brr!,"'myfeetstillbareyetnumb to the blades oi pr•ckly grass strewn over the pas· turesbetwec:nthelakes.lsitdrunkcnnessprovoked by the alcohol, the tension of the physical effon, di~­ ~incss due to spmning around the countryside, or just an illusion created by the role I'm playing? I feelsimultaneouslygiddyandelated;eac;hmstant stands out intensely in slow motion; the sounds and eolorsarc veiled, unreal, leaving their imprint on me with unforgettable ~larity. Every time I spin around I'm dazzled by the setting sun as It drops to the Andcsonthehoriwn;thebluenessofthesky,until now absolutely pure, is becoming unrcd with in· crcasmglygolden rdlcctions, while our gesticulating

shadows are growing longer. Finally we arrive at the village: as we approach the first houses, crowds of spectators welcome us, applaud, cheer along with us. Among them are Olivier and Gilles, who were worried and have come to meet me. They later told me how surprised they were to sec: th1s dancing troop appear: they didn't recogt1iu the leader ol the proce$Sion, waving a white nag. I was somehow transfigured. The moments of grace one experiences as a god .nevitablycometoanendonceone falls back into the ordmary human world. The party is now over: we head toward the church to salute Santa Ana from the doorstep, in the semidarkness of the approachingnight.Unhames~,lsttdownonthestepsand

barelyhavethetimetoputashoebackonwhenan announcement 1s made: ~They're coming from Manas.aya!"Tbereisfearasculflemightbreakout;l follow, limping, as Gilles and Oliv1er quickly drag me toward the house. Fmally ba:;k to eanh,l return totheprosaicobjectsolourencampment,lnbythc slimcandlclight,whilemyattentivefriendsprepare a good hot soup.

Fora longtime I thought I'd made a mistake by accepting the sponsorship of Kiliminri. Then I changed my mind. My 1~74 stay 111 the village, one

f5

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of my longest (almost live months), was cenamly

(h4JU'

verydifficult.Aii:erG•IIesandOhvierleli:,thedayafter the festival, I remained alone wnh my Chipaya friends and moved into a Manasaya hut renltd to me by my compadre Pedro, one of the leaders of the uadnionalist party of the "other side.~ He's somrone I neverreallygotalongwith:aquamlsomealcoholic, he had mastered the art of transformmg the slightest incidents into maJor scandals. Smce he too claimed tobeayt~tiri,hesp.:nthtstimcpullingcardsfroma

deck, and forced me into interminable divination sessions; at !inti was interested m these, but ended updespisingthcm.lbccamcsupentitiousmysc:lf, and was afraid he would announce some catastrophe! But Pedro was also a good informant, with whom I wasabletodecpen my inquiry into the par· ticularinesofManasaya.Neverthdessouroonversations followed an unchanging, and frustrating, oourse,forhercgularlyreachedforhispocketflask tofillhiscup.lnltiallyclearandprecisc:,hiso:planationsbecameincrc:asinglyconfustdandinarticulate astheintervicwprogresscd. The difficulties I experienced in 1974 resulted from a variety of causes. While my movmg 10 Manasaya after the festtval of K1liminri manifested my good will toward us ptople, Lt didn't automatically crasc:thcgrudgctheyhcldag:unstmeforhavingfa-

vored Aransaya first. They in turn asked me when I would sponsor a festival in their moiety. And since there was no way I could return 10 the village the following ~ar, nor assemble the necessary sum, I was forced toevadethequestion.ltwasa delicate and complexs•tuation,themon:sosincethe Penteeos· tals and the Evangelicals-twO groups that wen: rapidly growmg-were intrigued, even shocked, by myfriendshipwiththepagans.Ande:u:hs•de'sammoslty was brought to the surface because of a se· rious mistake I had made at thebeg~nningofmy stay.Na•vely,lhadthoughtlcouldannouncetheim· minentarnvaloltheprovisionstruckthatthemihtary authorities had prom1sed 10 send to Chipaya, which was supposed to leave La Paz at the end of july. Weeks and months passed, August, September, October had come and gone, still no rruck appeared. The Chipayas' questioning became more and more urgent. Soon they stattcd repro:u:hing me, accusingme:lhadfooledthem,mckcdthcmwlth false promises, I was a liar! No matter how sincerely lprotcsted,lcouldn'tncapethcfactthatthetruck still hadn't come. What could I do? Whenever I heard the sound of a motor (which was rare), I hurriedly scanned the horizon. Each time I was disappointed. This obsessive wainng took on quasimessianic ovenones. My Aransaya friends believed

~; t·u~, !joJ

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tn me and took up my defense. For weeks I found myselfatthecenterofdtbatts:myprtsc:nctheightentdthevillage'sintemaldisstnston. The end of my stay was approaching; I was beginning to fed desperate. My credibility, my honor, were at stake. '"lflleavcunderthtstcondttions," I toldmyself,"it'llbfatotalfailure,l'llnevcrbeable tocomeback."Tittnsuddenly,awctkbeforethe date set for my departure, a miracle occuned. Again thesoundofamotnr,headlightsinthedarkntss,l begintorun:yts,it'sthetruek!Tbere'sgreatemotioninthevillage,it'sall verytheatncal: I amtnstantly transformed, from shame to triumph. A big celebrationisorgamztdbeforemydtparture,tveryone dances, it's a mass reconciliation. My worst dttractorsconfusc:mebygoingdownontheirkneesto askmyforgivcntss:lintumhavctoreassurethem. ltalltumedouttobeamatterofbureaucracy:the truck arrived four months late becausecenain forms had to be filled out, cenain signatures had to be obtatned,theruleshadtoberespected! My reconciliation wtth the brothers of the various scm was sealed during subsequent visits tn 1976 and 1978, when I greatly apanded my inqutry to tndude the religtous movements that were uansform•ng Chtpaya society. This was the moment when thetrspectaeularprogresswastolcadtoarcvcrsalof

the balance of power, to the marginalization of the pagan group. Working with the brothers wasn't alwayseasy.lexplainedtothemthat,asastudentol thehistoryofChipaya,Iwasmterestedinthehistory of their church becauscthetrchurchwasanintegral partofthishistory.Buttheycouldn'thclpbutmterpret my inquiry as a first effect of divrne grace. Though I was very honest in explaining to them that lwasn'tamembcroltheirchurchandhadnointenrionofconverting,theywerenonethclessconvinced that I would wind up worshipinr; m their faith. Thus an inevitable ambiguity rook root: during the churchserviceslwasobligcdroanend,lfelruncasy at the undeserved consideration and friendhness shown me. The discrrpancy berwecn my interest in rhescbrothcrsandtheirexpcctationsofmemadcme wony I might seem to be tricking them again. At the same time, my pagan friends might wonder, with apparentrrason,aboutmyamtudc:'Werrn'trhey being betrayed by the former tnsante of Kiliminti? Fortunately,manyofthcminrurnadopredrhefatth ofthenewchurches,sothatlwasbasicallyjustfol· lowing the How. Funheringmymtegrationintothevillagc,whilc accentuating the uniqueness of my position, were the journeys on which I invited my friends Martin, Benito, and Fortunato to jom me, first in 1974, then

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1976,tovisnthcothersurvivingUrus,thcMoratos of Lake Poopo and the Iru·hus of Dcsagua· dero.Eiso:wherelhavetoldofthcmovingencounter bcrwcen thcscdcsa:ndantsofhumanity before the sun, all chul/pa-puchu, who unril then had only heardabouteachother,buthadnevcrmet.llt'strue that the tmpact of this experience primarily con· cemed a few of m~ oldest friends, but they imme· dtatelysharcdtheirdiscoverywiththeothcrinhab· itantsofthevillagcuponthetrrctum.Myroleas mediator berwcenthediffercntgroupsoltheUru "narion"addedsomethingofanecumemcaldimen· siontomyprcscnce.Jnaddirion,overthcyearslhad beenablctoacquiuaccnainknowledgcofUruhts· torymyself:thedocumcntslhadasscmbledatthc archives of Corquer:tarca, Poopo, and Sucre, whtch I had annotated wit~ my collaborators, revealed un· suspected aspectS of the Uru past. The Chipayas would consult me on this topic, so that, paradoxi· cally,lmtumbecamcaninformanttothem!Manin, in particular, loved to ask me questions: we would convcrseinalearnedfashion,likemcmbci'$Ofanac· ademicsocicty,exchangingourinterpretauons,our doubts and hypotheses. Ttme, tn short, had done its work, and I think I can say that a wide group of adultsofallbelicfslinallysawmcforwhatlwas:a htstonanofChipayasociery.

In

St1ll, somethingremainedoftheday I had been 51 god. Accordmg to custom, former pll$011lles are hon· ·llor·n.r.· ored by being given the name of the fcsrivalthey l'lf~>S..d sponsored. So the Chipayas often called me "Kili· minri~ (unril my last visit, fifteen years later), in an alkcrionatclyhumoroustone.Atfirstlwasannoyed to be repeatedly reminded of such an old cp1sode, butthenlacccptedtheinevitable;afterall,itwasa sign of a kind of Chipaya citizenship. I kept the nicknameasasouvenirofthosc:momentsofgraccl hvc:dsolongago.

'Ilie :Midniqlit Confession THOUGH MY RETURN TO CHIPAYA WAS PRIMARILY A

fnrndly visit, I had an ultenor motive. There had bc:enaseriousdisruprionmthevillageinl978, which I'd heard about through rumors and cenam arttcles that appeared in the regional newspaper (La

Pamaof Oruro). A charge of causing Ma threat to the publichealth"hadbcenmade,amilitarydetachment had been dispatched, and several Chipayas had been arn:stcd,t!icn Imprisoned m Oruro. My at· tempts to lo:am more about the matter during my previous vtsit in 1982 had met wnh no sucCC'SS. The slightest allusion to the affair made people uncomfonablc,andr~cnmybcstfricndswcren:ticentand

preferred not to tallr: about it: the subject was taboo.

The mam protagontsts (the ones that weren't in prison) had never reiUmed to the village, so I

s•

couldn'tqucstionthem;forthisrcasonmyprevious visit had leh me with a feeling of frustration that I was finally hoptng to dispel. What had happened~ The affair involved kharisiri, one of the greatest dreads ol the Andean world. The kharisiris (al$0 ~:ailed fik'tcbirts or,in Peru, nakaq, or pishr.:tkos) are more or less mythi<;al charaeters who acmst dteir vtcnms on desened roads or brcak into their houses at night, sending them intoadeepsleep by use of

various powders, and taking advantage of their un· conscious state to extract their fat {or their blood according to other, more recent versions). Several days later the victims fttl weak, suffer from a kind of apathy, or anemia, rhm die. In the ethnographic literarute (to which we shall return), the lt.harisiri generally appears wirh the fearuRS of a gringo, the diabolical incarnation of the outside world. A number of foreignen who have worked locally-doc· tors, engineers, cvrn anthropologists-and who considered themselves well integrated into their communities have had the alarming misfortune of being suspected of these criminal actions: they had no choice but to nee as quickly as po»ible. It is easy to see why investigations into matters of this kind are .anything but simple. Wh.at intrigued me panicularly, in the Chipaya case, was that the ac· cuscd p.arties were neither from the gringo world nor from another village but belonged to the indigenous group itself. I knrw that similar cases had oc· curted in the region, contr.adicring the dassic.al interprd.ation of the phenomcnon.ln Orinoc.a, ncar Lake Poopo, a village resident was accused of the same crime in 198J.Sinccthistypeolollcnscisnot recogniud by the Bolivian justice system, the com· munity assembly sets up its own tribunal; in this case the unfortunate party was bumed alive, his

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ashes scattered to the wind. When the regular judges attempted to intervene, seeking those who had insti· gated the punishment, they encountered a wall of silence-an admission, at the same time, of collec· rive complicity. Could a similar drama have taken place in Chipaya, where I had so many compadres and so many friends?

Ten years had passed since the affair. When I cautiously raised the subject of kharisiris, I again found my interlocutors somewhat uncomfonable, though slightly more talkative than before. According to them, in 1978 many Chipayas had been stricken with a strange illness, characterized by a sudden fa· tigue, a state oi prostration from which many died. Suspicious-looking spots were found on the bodies of the sick (on their arms and chests), little dots that seemed to have been caused by the pricks of a needle; these uaces dearly demonstrated that they had been victims of a kharisiri. Upon checking the officialrecordsforthatyear,lfoundnomoredeaths than for the previous or following yean. Instead, I found fewer. In 1976 there were IZ deaths; in 1977, 16;in 1978, 7; in 1979, 7;in 1980,10;andin 1981, 9. It is in 1977, then, that we obseO'e a rise 1n mortality; Was this simply a delay in their awareness of

the demographic situation? Other factor.; certainly ss come into play. In the meantime, my investigation ·~."~~~"'~~'' was going nowhere, and would have remained cursory if, once again, I had not benefited from cxcep· tionalcircumstanccs. I had been in the village for one week when, among a group of worker.; gathered ncar Aransaya to build a house (a "canteen," the construction of which had been initiated by the priest),! rccognil!ed Gregorio, the principal party accused in the khtm· siri affair. Cynically, I rejoiced in the idea that his presence might allow me to further my inquiry, and I began keeping an eye out for him. Seeing him arrive one day by bicycle, I managed to bump into him at a curve in the path. In response to my friendly greet· ing. he stopped, gave me a big·toothed smile, yet spoke caustically, almost aggressively; •You're back? After all these years you haven't forgotten us? Arc you going to make a sacrifice at Kiliminti?" I was silly enough to answer; "You know that Kiliminti doesn't exist anymore! That's all in the past." Gregorio, now about forty·five yean old, a mem· bcr of the Manasaya moiety, had been a good Informant durmg my fir.ot visits; I appreciated his clear and detailed explanations, but little by little, finding his insatiable desire for gifts decidedly too self· interested, I had stopped working with him. No

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doubt he had bern angry with me (Was he still angry with me?) for moving on to other interl()(:utors, who had ba::ome my friends. Wh1ch IS why I d1dn't hrs1· tate to suggest a renewal of our former collaboration. This time he was thervasiveone. A subtle game beganinwhichhewouldcomecloser,thenduck away; lure me m, then avoid me. At times Gregorio would prom1se to come see me, and I'd wait for him in vain; at other times I would go to h1s house at the appointed hour, and no one would be there. For another two weeks, no matter how cleverly I maneuvered, we missed one appointment after the next. Ihadthelmpressi
the "a ready because my wife is against it, she 57 doesn't want me to sell it. But tonight I'll come to ·Jlr.,f.J"!f~l yourhouse,lhavesomethingstotcllyou!"Hean- (,.,..._, nounas this visit with unusual conviaion, h1s vokc a bit shaky but full of resolution, his gaze firm: I sense that something important is happening. As 1f to make less of 11 and to enrourage him, I tell him that other informants have told me the stories of their lives, and that I would like to get his story. He S«ms dctumined, but will he change his mind~ I spendthcdayinfevcrishexpectation,notevenchatring w1th my usual visitor.;; I cutconver.;ations short and wander around the v1llage iDstcad, then meticulouslypreparethecOISSCnesandtapem:order.leven informmyfriendsthatlwon'tbefrcethatevening, so as to avoid unnmely interruptions. Will he come? Night has long fallen when Gregorio finally arrives.Hecarriescocaleavesandcigartttes,asusual, butheisn'tatea.sc;onthecontrary,hewriggles,agitatcd, casting womed glances about him. The man beforemeisvisiblyterrificd.Hestartstotellthe storyofhislife,butsoonhistalcisoverrunbythe drama that has destroyed him. And gradually as he speaks,lmyselfamfilledwnhhorror.

Brother, here it ts. S•ncech1ldbood, I have lived as an orphan, with no mother 11nd no father. My

ss grandfather raised me, &ince my mother had enc,.,,_ tnl$ted me to him. I $u{fered, my grandfather $ent me to work for other people, for the others, the Aymara$; I would go off a-ying, alone, I would Ult3tch the ll.tma$ in the mountains. My grandfather al$o #ayed alone, bi$ wife died, and $OOn he died too. I had a brother, a younger brother, but be had $taytd with my motiJer. But I w.w always an o"fJhan. When my grandfather died I UV$ seventeen, I was wry poor, I bad nothing, no bo14$e, no money. no flock, nothing, nothing. I married very young. My fathtT"in-law bad no sons, be took. me in but I suffered a great deal. I was J'grlorant, I didn't know what it was to live a$ busband and w•fe. My wife wanted to order me around, she bad her father ilnd her mother with her, and I had no one on my side. I fought with my fatber-inl.tw, I was wry unhappy. Then I thought of going to work in Chile. Thm! I worked four months and 1114naged to SJ~ve enough money to buy a bicycle. At that time there were almost no bicycles here. When I wmebiiGk., my wifeandfather-in-law werewryk.ind to me. Then Ilefr the village tJgain, I retumed to Chile, I continued to save. E.m:h year l went back there for two montbs, three months. I bought coca, liquor, and I traded them: first for one/4mb, then for others. My flock. g7tUI. mult•plied. I already thought

I was somebody./ built a house, bought utensils for 5!1 my home. So by going to uork each year I saved, I ·l&.""'""~h' began to have things, a small business, I set up a c...,_.,.., shop in my house, and 1 was elected to an official post, I was a commumty official First 1 was responstble for the organization of peasant workers, and so, with my own money. for thewmmunit)ll bought a typeumltr. Thm, asprestdent of the School Auxiliary Council, l took the necessary steps with the admtnmration, traveled all the way toLd Paz, obtained twetrty benches, And maugurAted the new educAtton U'lit. After thAt, they elected me to alcalde of Man11saya. That was in 1977. I worked for the village, built a house with a metal roof to senot as a col/ectil"t warehouu. Then, all oft he northem sector of Manasa)'Q wanted to be· come independmt,,ust QS it happened in Aransaya. But I kept the community togrther, l made them sign an act, the papers art registered, so that wt would continue to live together. As alcalde, I worked a great deal, and undertook many of the expmses. It was the following year, in 1978, on All Saints' Day. that I was persecuted. Htrt's how it happened. There was a )(lUng man, a liar, Luciano F., who publicly bragged, maybe because he was drunk: "/ know how to do kharisiri, I how how to extract

.., Choplrr

blood! • He rold thiS to people, on All5.3i"ts' D.ry. So they arrested him, beat him to make him talk: ~It can't be that you are alone, others work with you, tell us who!~ At fiu.t Luciano dtd,'t wa"t to admit anythmg: "No, f IIIIlS fUSt kidding. • They threat· med him, beat him some mon1, a"d he gave the 11ames of two other youths from Ayparavi. They tJr· rested them tOQ, tvl>r)Vne was SI1Yi11g: • All these sickpeopfe,thesescars,itmustbetrue."Butfora/1 that, there WQS no proof, it was tJII rumor, sltmder. The 11ext d.ry, Friday the Jd, they CtJIIed a tributu~l for thtJt evrnmg. I suspected "othmg: thtJt d.ry, mno· centfy. f had IMked some bread to sell. Then I went tothetribu1ltJf. Ever)'(me was auembled. They questio11ed the two youths from Ayparavi: "WhtJt did you do it with?" ~with a little machine" (una maquinita). "A11d where is thtJt i11strummt "ow? • The11 o11e of them gtJvt my 11/Jmt: "We gave the machi11e back to Gregorto M., heowrts it. • They sold me off/ike that, casting the bliJme on me. But i11 all cot~scimce, brother, there was r10thi11g to this, I had "ever do11e anyone htJnn in nry life.

"Butwhyyou,n Iaske<:!, .. why did thqgiveyour

That I don't know. Enll)l. jealousy. Because I live well, Without problems with my wife. Beta~ I had a l1ttle money. a little business, because things wen going well for me, ftlerything WIJS going well. So they arrested me too, beat me with their fists, with their feet, toffllred me: dTalk, whne is the ma· chine? They say it's at your house, corrfess!· Bur what could I admit? Evm if I told lies, there was rro machine ilt my house, nothmg. Alii could do was suffer, be martyred like Christ. For three days and two nights I was martyrrd. Tht thru communities gathi!TIId together, Aransll)l:f. Manasaya, and Ayparavi: one gnat triburral, all these people, a crowd. They b/irrdfolded me, dragged me naked to the square, tied me to a cord like 11 litJm11. Thm they hung me m the tribunal, bound hand arrd foot, up· side down, from my fut, and they be11t me to make me confess: ~speak, speak! Where is the machine?· They whipped me, blood was pouring from my nose, from my mouth, they colfuted my blood'" a basirr. /lost cons"ousness, I don't remember anymore. But I didn't speak, I dorr't think so. If I did speak, I told lies, I was being 10r1Uff!d, I dorr't re· member. I was completely innocmt, brother, inno· cmt,itwasalllies. Therr they took me to a hoUJe at the edge of the

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vilf11ge, near Arii/IS<'l)'a.l couldn't walk11nymort,my entire body was co~~ertd with wound$, sores, I was bleeding 11/f over. They locked me in theTe, I rt· nu#ned unconsCIOUS, wrth noth1ng to drink, nothing to eat, until Sunday. I was almost de11d. They bad tortured me the way Christ was tortured. They wanted to kill me, lind they tertllinly would h11ve killed me t{l badn'tbeen sa~~ed by the rtgtment from Hu~b~alla.

My brother Hmnogenes 11nd my brother-in-law Maximo, seemg thtt.t I was being tortured, that they

were going to as:uwin11te me, took their bicycles and UIOII to Huaehaealla, to the barracks, to wam the regiment. My brother rttumed Saturday afternoon, saying: • A milttllry det~hment is coming!ft But they arrested my brother too, and tortured him like me. It wasn't urttil Sunday, at about noon, that M.aimo 11rri11ed with the regiment. The officers 11sked{orme: ·whereisbe?·whentbeysawme,a/1 blood)l, they said: •Poor thing! What's going on bert? • The commander wanted to send me to the bospitlll in HU4Ch04111a, but the people of the community, of tbft!e communitres, were ag11inst rt: •No, no! This kharisiri, we have to kill h1m!• They took the four of us who wtTeaccused to Sabaya, threw us in pruon, and I was further mistreated. The people o{Chi~wantedtohlftlltmeaecuted, butthesubprt!{ect told them that they touldn't do it wrthout a

trW/: "We must punish according to the law. • So OJ they sent me to o~ro. to the prnonm o~ro.l was /!rt.ll~ sick, almost dead, but they didn't put me in the hos- hn,.._, pita/. I cried evrry day, I U/Qnted to leave this world myself: for them to kill me off, but I WDS heartbroken whtml thought of my children. While I WDS in prison, at Oruro, the people of Chipaya continued to persecUle my family. they thTtatened my brother Hermogmes. my brother-inlaw Maximo; even my wife, who WDS pregnant, they tortured her too, and they showered hn with lies: "Your husband talked, he said you know where the machine is, now tell us!" They wouldn't let hn go out, she was a prisoner. My dtJughter who WDs twt/ve years old CtJme .t/1 by herse/f tO Q~ro, dressed in her aqso,-1 to WDm me in my prison u/1: "They want to kill MDmtJ!" My youngest chtldrerr, two boys, four and five years old, were also thTtatened, betJttm, so mistretJted thllt they've remained half-idiots, simplemi11ded, a11d they call't leam in school anymore. Everything I htJd /lost: membns of the commu· nity took everything, they emptied my house, my shop, they divtded up All my merchandise, everything WAS stolen, I htJd nothing left. I htJd t.w hun· dred sheep, pigs, /lost everything, even my bicycle. The Chiptryt~ tJuthorities, the alcaldes, Honoria L. tJnd Felipe P., tJccompanied by about twenty

~•

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people, umt to Orwro. They btglln m4kfflg IICCUSG· tioru, published lies in La Patria. A tri~tl was held. DCKtOI'S, professors, 1111d /awyeTs discussed tht ~tf· f~tir: they all Sllid th11t it wasn't possible, th11t such a thing doesn't ui.st, that it'sa belief with no foun· tiltion, a legend. The Catechist brothers defended me, and the bishop of Oruro also helped me. The presiding 1udge decided to free me, the Llw ww in my favor, I was ir:noc:ent of all ~barges. And he threatened the people o{Chipaya: -Ignorant peasants, savages, how could you treat an honest ptTson like this? You're the ones who should be punished!~ l stayed in prison one month. They let me go, but I obtamed no compensation, neither for the insults, nor for the things tl:at had been stolen from me, nor for my injuries, the blood that had been S(1111td, nothing. Since there ww no way l could go bad to Cbipay.l, I went to HIU1c:haca/LJ, /lived there alone for sever11l momhs, sep,uated from my family. who continued to be persecuted. It Wll'S only seven months later that f11ther Gilberta WtJS able to go to the village in a jeep 11nd bring my wife b.uk, rescue her, with the children. A furious crowd gathered at the sqiUlre to threatm thm~, and it wasn't easy to get thm~ into the car and get aW
to Chile to start saving again. But 1couldn't worlt. as before because of my injuries, I'm handicapped, wealt., uncoordmattd. Sft,eral ytars lafer,l retumed lo Chipaya, but they still mislnaf me, I'm sfill per· secuted. My children are also persecuted ar school, the other students loolt. d0W11 ~n them and insult them: ~The khansir1's children!" 1 un't stay here any longer. Brother, whal should 1 do!'

So Gregorio appeared to have come to me in search ol commiseration, of sympa1hy. I knew that Chipaya, which seemed so peaceful, was home to in· termmable conflicn and fierce hun:d, but I was hor· rificd to hear the names of some of my compadres and friends included among the culprits in this affair. How oould I help but feel ashamed, at the same time, after all my clever maneuvering to get him to talk? I listen w1th fascination to the story I had wanted tohearforsolong, buthaveltherightto rakeadvantageolthedist~ofamanattheendol

hisrope,hkeavampircmyself,inordcrtosrudya scientific object-the phenomenon of lt.harisiri!' For ldtdhavetheprofcssionalrclle>:toprcssthereoord burton, and to tape Gregorio's con~ion. The n:st olhisstoryisequallypoigoant. They never stop slandenng 111e, I'm nol 5a(e, my life i.s lning threatened. Because now, 11's startrng all over agam. Some people haw gonen s~elt., and

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they'reallsaying.-•Jt'sthekharisiriagain,itmustbe him, the sick havt needle marks, scars, il's the kharisin!" Tbe other day. the alcalde of Manasaya, Comelio, ct~lled D muting to Dlf!Tt the members of the community: ·se careful! It's back DgDin: my w1{e is sick, there Dre needle mt~rks. Be on the lookout, there may be {ore1gners, suspiciOU$ peopk Ul1n· dermg around the village at night. • I realiud I UJ4S in danger again, I told them: ·our body is butmiseT)I dirt, we may have many sCDrs, they don't necesSIJrily come from what you think. In the past I UJ4S slandered, persecuttd, but I'm not a{ra1d: I'm ready to sacrifice my bod). like Chr~st. • ·we're not thinking of you, • they respo.,ded. But I'm sure they suspect me, they think I'm guilty, thDt I'm the kharisiri. "So some people lrts1ek at the moment~" I asked (sincc:lhadn'tnoticedany~

"Since: when?"

For the past few weeks. I'm 11(raid they're going to Drrest me, thDt they're goi>1g to make a martyr of me 11gain, persecute my family. And this time tbey'llltlll me. Ytt there is no f!'JII in my heart,l've been chosen in this world, like Christ./ how that at the moment they're spying on me, they're watching me. Brother, whDt should I do? Should I stqy in the village or go to the cityf Brother, CDn you help me?

Thisisacryofdistress,acallforhelp.Gregorio's "7 handsareshaking,h•s forehead1sbathed•n sweat, ·11ir.\tlllm9Ju even I fed dizzy: not only ishetdlingmethestoryof his experience, but now I'm involved! How can I not help h1m? A terrible thought also creeps Into my head, a dreadful doubt: Can I trust him? What if someoneweretoseeus,conversingmysteriouslyin the dark of night? To all evidence, I'm an accomplice. Worse still, I suspect a Machiavellian plan: Why did Gregorio finally tell me his whole story if not to eompromise me in rum? Know.ng that he's being watched, is he trying to dnignate me as the real "boss" by coming 10 my house, to cast the blame on me, just as the youth of Ayparavi did to him? Will he pretend to have passed the infamous "machine" on 10 me? And if there really •sa ltharisiri affairrightnowinthevillage,I'Uhavenochoicebut to make a fast getaway! When Gregorio finally leaves, late into the night, pleading for my help (and promising to bring me all the documents in his possessionthenextday).lamsurprisedtofindmyself carefully bamcading the door behmd him.

'"'*......,

After reexamining Gregorio's fears, and my own, for therestoflhenight,itslriknmcthatahasrydeparture is our of the quesuon: 11 wo·~ld be an adm1sston

<>~ ChpJtr

of some sort of guilt. N~ertheless, when Martin comes 10 visit me rhe next morning, I ask him wilh particularmtercst,inwhatlhopeisan innocent manno:r,aftcrlho:healtholrhispeC5onandlhai.No, no one is sick, ~erythmgso:ems calm, at least on the Aransaya side. But m the other aylfu! I head to Cornelio's, the alcalde of Manasaya, with whom I re· cendy esrablished a relationship ol compadrazgo.!n response 10 my concern, he tdls me that my compadre feels a little "ttrcd. ~That's all he says. I seem todercctsomeho:sitationinhisamrudo:,afleeting glance:. Am I Imagining things~ He makes no refer· encc: ro the meo:ring of community members that Gregorio mentioned, and I am careful not to bring It up. I am wandenng, perplexed, through the village alleyways when, in tho: afternoon, still in Manasaya, I como: across an unusual scene: Celestino G., in the middle of his patio, is bendingbarecho:stedover a basin, washing himself. He is one of the prominent mo:mbersofthePento:costalgroup,someono:loften converse with. I ha~always known him to be sickly, and,infact,sincethcbeginningofmyvisithehas been complaining of mysterious pains. Celestino is alsooneofthosenamedbyGregorioasamongthe mosrunrelo:nringaccusers. Whenlgetcloser,lsay hello wirhoul interrupting him. There is something

disturbmg about this spectacle, for aside from de- ,;, fleaing sessions one vinually rever sen Chipayas ·IIIOf~hr attending to therr personal h}grene. Celestino is (..Y,""" oonscrennously rubbing his anns and chest, and scrutinizing his skin. I rcahzc: rrghtaway that he is scarchrng for suspu:ious marks, possible traces of thekhDrisiri! That n<emng I have a long srssion with Manin. My friendshrp for him has not been betrayed: I know he wasn't one ol Grcgono's persecutors. Srnce yesterday the tensron has been unbearable. This time I approach the subject head on, revealing to him that the unfonunate party has come to ask for my help: Docs he really think he's gurlty? Mamn remains caunous: ~cod only knows!" He remembers thatinl978hehimselffellill:onemoming,hediscoveredneedlemarksrnhislefr:arm;dlefol\owing few days he was weak, exceedingly tired. So he thinkshewasavierimofakharisiributgrantsthar, as far as Gregorio rs concerned, ~they found no proof." On the other hand, Martin adds. in Orina~:a the Mproof" was discovered: a kmd of synnge connected by a tube to a small machine ("a box that looks like your tape recorder!":. As for the current situationinthevillage,heconfirmsthatwhilethings arc calm in Aransaya, there is some trouble rn Manasaya. And Martin concludes: "Gregorio should

~·· lh•f"'T

watch out on All Saints' Day, something could happentohim!" The approach of the holiday certainly contributes tothcgcncraltcnsion:itwa5thcdayafterAliSaints' Day that the 1978cris.esbrokeout, andananniVCr5ary of this kind no doubt rckmdlcs Gregorio's anxiery,aswellasaccnaincollccrivefearinManasaya. Theno:tdayswill becrincal.lmpatiently, I awatt the friends who are supposed to pick me up aftertheholidaysandtakemebaekmthevan.Does this strange climate make people more ralkative? Pieccsofinformanon about thc:affatr abound, the ptcturc:lillsin.Durmgthtsrimeonevaudevillesque episode follows another, as I lind mysclfsurrcptinously vtsinng interlocutors (often my compadres) who are themselves mona! enemies with one another. Upon entering or leaving one of their homes, I cautiously glance: both ways, taking care to follow comphcate
On October 31, Gregorio prudently leaves the village and stays in Huachaca\la for the duration of the holiday. He is wise to do thi5, for the drunks are more numerous than I had imagined, and the danger all the greater. I have promised to take him back to Oruro with me in the van, to find him a safe place to stay and to introduce him to friends who might be able to find him a job in town. The day of my departure, when he chmbs into the van, my support becomes public, surprising many Chipayas. At the risk of compromising myself definitively in their eyes (of being burned, at least metaphorically), I leave in the company of the kharisiri.

7'

t~.\fod•!'J~r (on,.._,

'Tales of'lA!mpires THE KHARISIRI PRESENTS 111..\ITS THAT AilE BOTH

constant and manifold in space and in lime, mani·

fcsnnghiscapacityioradaptationtoawiderangeof contexr:s. The series of terms used to designate him,

varyingn:gionally,formsaooherentsemanlicoorc. NDkaq oomes from the verb nakay: "to slaughter"; pisht4ko from pUhuy: "to cut into pieas, to slaughter"; kharisiri from kharina: "to cut something with asharpinslrument(aknifeorarazor)";whilelik'i means "tallow" or "animal fat.6" Etymologically, then, we an: talkingaboul a "slaughrerer" who spedali~es in "extracting fat" from 1hc human body; a relationsh•p,evenanequivalcnce,istherebyfundamentallyestablishedbetwttnfalandblood. Funhcr, this relationship seems implied, in 1hc Andean tradition, by 1hc nameofthcgod Viracocha, to whom the orig.nal myth annhutes the creation and order of the wodd. The association of the terms wira and qocha (in Quechua), or wil.l and qota (in Aymara),canbetranslarcd,lirerally,as"seaoffat~

~·

or "lake of blood.~ If we look at their derivatives, the terms have connotations that lead ro notions such as "reserve of vital fluids" or "creauon pnnciple. "' In the Andean world, indeed, blood and fat are among the essential offerings to rhe sacred

powers: the sac;rilice of slaughtered animals and the iJ offering of their blood oonstitute the opening se· ·Join of quenc;e of all religious c;eremonies. Animal fat (gen· 1b..pom erallyllama fat)tsoneofthebasKmgtedientsin the c;omposition of rirual tables (mesas).' These offerings,whic;hbydelinitionarevoluntary,suggest redproc:ityand aremsc;ribed ina system of inter· oonnectedrelationships:menbenelitfromthepro· tectton ao:orded by the samts or the malllrus m exchangeforwhattheygive.IOTersc:ly,thekhartsm makes any sorr of redprodry impossible, sim:e his victtmishumanandhestealshi;vitalfluids. lntheethnographicliterarure,thekhiJrisiritsdesc;ribed as a white man or a mesti1:o with a ragged look: ruddy c;omplexion, piercing eyes, unkempt hair, and a shaggy beard. Sometimes he wears ordi· nary dothes, sometimes a sac;kdoth runic; cinc;hed at the waist by a sword belt into whic;h he shps a long pig·snc;ker with a sharpened blade. Slung over his shoulder he carries another terrifying weapon, a lasso made from human leather. Yet the lrb1Jrisiri is of this world, a human being, o:ven though he possesses magical powers and acts ]USt like the "oon· demned" of the other world, who wander among us searchingforinnoc:cntsoulstodo:vour.lndecd,this slaughterertravelsthewildcrne!Softhehtghplanes on the lookout for innocent travelers, atta<:kin(l;

~~

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thematduskoratnight, nearbridgnoratthe bmd ol deserkd paths. With the hdp of a blowpipe, he sprays his victim with a powder made ol ground hu· man bones, throwing him into a deep slo:ep. Then the kharisiri t"Xtrarn his fat, which IS uwd either forfoundingchurchbellsorforconcocringmcdical remedies. The victims either disappear (having been buricdunderthebrJdgeorcompletclydcvourcd),or wake up.conrinuetheirjoumcy, then die of anem1a a kwdayslater."

Understandably, thanks to the nature of the written sources,thenakaqorkhllrisirifigurcisrarclymenrioncd in h1stoncal documents. It is all the mort' rt'· markable, then, that the theme appears, drarly L
was intended to ~spreadhatredberweenthelndians and the Spanish,~ to the pn:achen sent by Tiru Cusi-the Inca n:bd from Vileabamba who n:s1sted the expeditions aga.nst him untill572. The chron· ideralsoestablishes a link berwren Tnu Cusi and the Taqui Ongo mdlenarist movement, whkh, be· ginning in 1565, broughtabouttherevoltofpartof thelndianmasSI:Iiofcc:ntralPcru.Thattherelation· ship between the lnu of Vilumbamba and the Taqui Ongo 1s stdl 111 question, despite Cristobal de Mohna's affirmation, is irnln-ant here: what is im· portant is that the themeol the khar~sm, asstmilated intoSpantsh,appearsforthefirsttime,hinoncally, •nthecomcxtolaprofoundcrisisintheindigenous SO<:Lety and a movement to reJect coloma! domma· The Taqut Ongo preachers navel from vLllagc to villagc,exhortingthelndianstorcstorethehuacas {theindigcnousdeities)destroytdbytheChristians. They cla1m that n-cr since: the Spanish conquest thesedivinitiesarenolongcrn:a:ivmgthcritualsac· rificc:s, that they are wandering about abandoned, ~dyingolthirstandhungcr.~ 11 In revenge, they send sickness and death to all Indians who agre-e to be baptizcd.ll On the other hand, those who reject Spanish domination but do penance and rerum ro the cull of the hwu:as will be saved. The preachers

~.~

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restore life to the former deities with "rcsurTKiion~ riruals,bringingofleringsofchtchDandcomtothe rumsolthesacrcdsitcs. Already thehU11CDS have manifested their return in ~pectacular fashion by becoming incarnate in their followers: "possessed,~ theyenterintoastateofecstasy,loseoonsciousness, sing,danceincm:lc:s,andbccomeobjeruolveneratlon themselves. 11 What is more, now that they have been revived, the l:ui1CilS an: preparing to wage a new battle against the Christian god, who will be vanqutshed in rum. "The Spanish will bt killed, their cities swallowed up, and the sea will swell and drown them, abolishing thctr memory. ~14 The Christian god is at the end ol hts mtttJ, his "tour of command,~ and ~me bUIICDS will recreate another world and other men. " 15 The Taqui Ongo prophets arc announcing nothing less than a flood, a cosmic event: the end of a world and the promise of a new era. This is clearly a millenarist·typc movement, developed in response to the breakdown of structure expc:rienccdbythe,ndigenoussocietyfollowingthe European invasion. What is meant by Taqui Ongo, the naii\C of this movement? The express1on means literally "singing stckncss,"or"dancingsickncss": thetermttJkiap· plies to all sorts of"song," sacrcdorprofane,ac· companied by dance or not, whereas the term ongO)I whichdesignatcs"!ickncss,"isalsoassociatedwith

theconnellation of the Pleiades, the observation of 7~ wh1ch, according to Andean tradition, allows us to ·rllln.of predict met«lrological phenomena, calamities, and 1~,.,...., cpidemics. 16 In one pan of his chronicle, Guaman Pomade Ayala listsascricsoflllnesses,induding TaquiOngoy,whichthcsorcerershealedbyextractingthesourceoftheillnessfromthebodyusingsuction,l 1 1sitakmdofuanccdancewhich,inthecasc of the millenarist movement, as provoked by rhe huacas who possess their wor1hipers~ Funher researchtellsusrhattheTaquiOngopenitenceritual isreminiscentoftheonepracticcdinCuzooatthe timeofthelncas,duringtheSiruafnrival,which was celebrated to expel sickness. Wcm1ght also wonder whether the Taqui Ongo beJrs some relation to the wavn of epidemics (smallpox, the plague) that spread throughout the Andean world following the European invasion, bringing a demographiccatas· nophe to the indigenous population. Indeed, from their point of view, how can these new illnesses, and such a death rate, be explained~ Two contrary but not mutually exclusive causes arc poss1ble: on the onehand,aswcsaw,theabandonedhUiiCasarepun· 1shing the lnd1ans (and the1r cult must be restored); ontheotherhand,thcSpanishareinvoluntarilythe causcoftheepidemics.lsitanywonder,then,that the theme of the nakaq, identified with the wh•re man,shouldappcarlnth•scontext~Theoppositeof

7& tNp~
thehealingsorcerer,sincehen:ttactsthevitalsub· stancefromthelndians,hemerelyuansfersthctragic realiryintoarhinlyd•sgu•sc:dmetaphoncform. The theme of the sorcerer who heals through suction can, of course, be KVCrscd and transformed into the sor.:erer who kills by draining h1s v1ttim 's blood: this is the.;ase olthc cau,husor the runapm1a~,, describedbyArriagainhistn:arisc:on"then:rirparion olidolatryinPeru"(writtenin1621),who"gainaccess mto homes by sprinkling powder made of hu· manboncs"inordertoplungetheinhabitantsintoa d«p sleep. 18 But tbis purely indigenous character sc:emstoderivcfromadifferentsc:mant"grouping: he may be one of the components of the naltaq dus· tcr,withoutincorporatingtheelementtharmakcs thelatterorigmal,thatis,h•sassociationwiththc Spanish.MorcthanacenruryafterthcTaquiOngo, this association rerums with charges against the Berhlchemitcs,whosc:ttledinCuzcoin l690and founded a hospital
Jndiansandextracttheirf:u,inordertoprocurethisremedyforthedispensaryofHis Majesty ... Fulloffear,thelndiansensured thm safety by avoiding the friars, whom theyconsideredtobecruel,life-threarening enemies;andalreadytheycalledtho:mbyno other name than that of tl~etr bloody and feared mimstry; for, when they couldn't avoid meeting them, they slud toone another: there go the ~~~. 111>hich means, in our language, slaughterers or hangmen. 1 " VariousoftheBethlehemites'traitsmayhavefavored thctr tdenti6cation with the nakaq or, conversely,oonfem:don thenakaqccn:atnparticulanries of these friars: dressed in lrmgrobcsof rough sackdoth,thefriarswanderedthccitystreetsfrom dusk into the night, ringing bells and praying for soulsinPurgatory;theyfrequentcdtheroadstoask for alms from travelers. Ultimauly, it may have been theirvocarionofscrvinginhospitalsthatmadethe Indians suspicious. They gr«trd the Bcthlehemitc brothers by throwing stones at them, and the historian of the order notes that a hcnnit who had been confuscdwithoneofthefriarsrno:thisdo:athinthts way. Twenty or so years later, in 1747, a Bethlchemncbrotherwas,intum,assassmated,onthe road from Cuzoo to Lima, by t...o lndtans who took himforanakaq.ll

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Thus,atthebeginningoftheeighteenthcentury, the figure of the ~slaughterer" displays more specific traits, some of which correspond to those of certain friars, themselves intermediaries (like the indigenous sorcerers) between thisworldandthesacred powers. No doubt not a lithe Spanish are nt~kaq, although vinually aU of them could be: suspicions more readily rest upon a certain section of them who havc,inasc:nsc,b«nddcgatcdthctaskofstcaling fatfromthelndians.

Cunously,thechaucteroftheslaughtererwhoextractshumanfatcanalsobefound,widelyevenroday, in various regions of Spain, where, among ogres and werewolves, he is one of the protagonists ina worldoffrighteningchlldren'stalesandlcgends. 12 The SMJ~mt~ntecos appears in a type of popular literature,widc:lydissc:minatcdatthebeginningofthe twentieth century, that recounts a series of grisly crimes,alsoreferrcdtoincarmvalskits.lnhisstudy of this folk tradition, julio Caro Baroja notes, for example, "the dismemberment of a little twelveyear-old girl tnLLsHurdcsofP\ascncia(Oicercs)," committedbyaccrtamjosedclalglesia,whoextractedthe fat from his victim in order to heal his sister, who was stricken with tuberculosis.lJ Another story connected to this theme ts that of ~the

double assassination and dismemberment of two lr children, seven and nine ~ars old, m Bejar, a prov- ·Tolt>o( incc of Salamanca"; this crime was commtned by n,.,.,.. Juan and Luisa Carricado, an "mccsruous" brothu and sister, in order to fumish "children's blood," recommendcdbyahealer,toanchmanalsosuffering from consumprion. 14 So it is not surprising to find thesametypeof remedy in atrearise ritlcd Popular Medicine rn Galicia under the anicle "ruberculosis":"ltissaidthatasorccrn.sonccevendugup adeadchild,pullcdouthisheart,ando:tractedhts fat in order to admtnister them to a person suffering fromthisaflliction." 1 '1 Is there some relationship bc:tween the Spantsh sacamantecas and the Andean pishtako, or is this an example of cultural paralleltsm1 Aside from the fact that the laner o:planarion is only Of limited interest,thcresecmstobenotraceofthethemeof theslaughtererinpopularSpanishliteraturebefore thcbeginningoftheninet«nthccnrury. 111 Mightthe sacamJJnteC4S have been imported from Amenca? It is not impossible that this character, in tum, may haveinspi~cenainrecenttransformarionsinthc

Andean pUhtako.

The versions gathered in the 1950s by Efrain MoroteBestandjosC:MariaArguedasinthecentralre-

I> tMplt•

gions of Puu anribute a now-classic image to the slaughrerer {dark tunic, long pigsricker, magic pow· ders, etc.) while including numerous variarions. 17 While he often bears the fl:aturn of a blue-eyed gringo, the n13kaq may appear as an Indian or amesrizo,inwhichcaseheisdescribed,significantly,as anmtermediaryberwecntheindigenousmilieuand the out$ide world. In the mid-twentieth century, however, this theme seemed more "folkloric" than anythingclse,eventhoughinformantsoccasionally indicatcdthatsuchandsuchawell-knownindividualwassuspectedofbeingan13kaq,andthatcenain relatives or neighbors had been victimized. Arf: we dealingherewitharchaicbelicfs,stemmingfroma repcnoryoftalesandlegcndsontheirwaytobeing forgotten?Forthepasttenycarsorso,wehaveobservcd an astonishing phenomenon: a new outbreak ol rumors and panics prompted by the actions of a n13kaqwnhupdatcdcharacteristics. Inquires made in the 1980s recorded a very modem use of human fat: after bemg o:poncd to the United States, it scrvn to lubncate industrial machines, cars, airplanes, even computers, procuring enormous prolits for tts rrallickers. 20 At rhe same rime,anotherthemeisspreading,tharofcannibal practices: thepisht11ko isn'tcontentiUSttoexrract rhefatfromhisvictim;healsosellshisflesh,which

isconsumedinexdusiverestal.lrantsin Lima. Ac· cording to one of the versions gathered, dismemberedchildrenofAyaeuchofecdtheeapna1. 19 Thc senseofkarhasitscounrerpartinurbansertings, where the slaughtc:rers rake on various, seemingly contradictory forms: thieves, rapists, terronsts, or pohee and military men. In the suburbs of Lima, lynehingshavebeenreponedinwhiehthepc:rpctrarors were subjected to the punishment formerly reserved for the prshwko of the wild altiplano, but the crimes of individuals in uniform, wearing boots and sometimes masks, are also feared. The dim ate: of vrolcnccsustainedin Peruovertltepastfewyearsby guerrillas and repression bc:ge~ wild rumors: the slaughtcrerscany "idenrirycards,ft hold mrerings, oomm1t their crimes in groups, have formed an "organizatron,"andareeven"scntbytheg~m·

mcnt." 30 Is it by ehancc: that a spectaeular return of the prshtako can be observed in the region of Ayacucho,

theoriginalhomeoftheShiningPath?lnSeptcmbc:r 1987, for inst:mce, a rcnifying piece of news spread from the country to the CJ()': 6ve thousand slaughtercrs had suddenly mnerialiud, bearing special authorization from the president of the ~publie and sec: king human farm order to "pay the foreign debt" of Peru. These: 1/akaq arc white,

1_1

·lillt.o( lb"'f""'

s~ 0111p1~r

bearded. dressed in long green or black coats, and armtd with knives, revolvers, and even machine guns. Some of them, having been arrested by peasants and rumed over to the police, were supposedly released by the authorities, who arc protecting them. Others were killed by the smderos, which is why packs of slaughtcrcrs arc now pouring back into the city, where they arc seeking refuge and a continued supply of fat to provide the government with. One woman was supposedly killed in the central market bathrooms; now no one dares go there anymore, especially after dusk. The residents of sev· eral Ayaeucho neighborhoods, in particular the shantytowns, arc organizing to form self-defense groups: they have established night pauols in which those on duty cai'T)' whistles and torches, and bum wood fires that light up the city. Incidents arc on the increase, and the victims arc those reckless enough to travel far from their homes after dusk. The tension and panic readied their peak on Septt'mber I I, 1987, when a young merchant from Huancayo was lynched after being accused of being a pi$htako.11 Another intense panic demonstrates tbc presence of the sJaughrcrcr, in unprecedented fofll15, as far off as the popular sccrions of Lima. On the morning of November JO, 1988, a rumor spread that gringos armed with machine guns hadt'ntcrcd a $Chool, kid-

napped <:hildren, and tom out th~ir eyes, whicli they &s then sold abroad. 11 Hundreds of franri<: moth~rs ·Lilr>of rushed to rhe sdiools to collect their crying <:hil· ttr..prrn dren. Th~ most honifying rumors escalated during the days that followed: gringos dressed in white sma<:ks, again armed with machine guns. were driv· ing around the city streets scouring for <:hildren, their vehicle equipped with medi<:al instruments that enabled them to tear out eyes (in addition to beans or kidneys, a<:rording 10 c~nain versions), be· <:ause of the need to expon organs for transplants and, onu again, 10 pay the "foreign debt." Children with bandaged fa<:es, abandoned by these "eye· extraaing" doaors, had even been found on 1he<:or· ner ol: a panicular strttt. These doctors had gon~ so far as to slip envelopes <:ontaining dollar bills into the children's pockrts as payment. The ensu· ing mass hysteria brought about sev~ral anempted lyn<:hings-thrtt youngfren<:h tourists were among those threatened. Far from appeasing the popula· rion, m~ skepti<:al or ironi<: anides that appeared in th~ press and the solemn televised denial of rh~ minister of health only exacerbated the feelings of terror: what acdibility do a minister's assuran<:es have compared with the testimony of a horrified neighbor~

White sma<:ks, medical te<:hnology, foreigners,

It> Cbop~n

dollars: the urban slaughtc::rer has abandoned his pig:sricker, his sackcloth runic, his little bell, his blowpipe, and his magic powders, but a~ we not still faced whh the same rejection ol and fascination with the powers that be and a cenain modernity on the pan ol poor shantytown dwellers? It is true that the rumor of the criminal trafficking of organs, a contemporary mythical theme, occurs in many other places: Why in this case is it aimed toward childrm, and why their eyes? For the answer, funher analyses of recent phenomena in Lma would obviously be required. It is significant that the alleged th~at begins wnh some kind of aggression in school: Might not the resulting blindness be a physical metaphor for the darkness in which the poor and illiterate are living? The child's eyes misht here represent the poSSl· b•liry of progress through education, an opening toward the future, and the fragile hope of a better world. 1 l It is this hope that the slaughtcrer Qtinguishes. There is no question that evidence of the lt.ha,iJiri in Bolivia over the past kw years has not reached the pitch that it has in Peru, but cenain parallels seem particularly notcwonhy. For instance, major scares were recorded in 1982-83 in the Nonhem Potosi rqion. They occurred in the context of a national

economic crisis, aggravated by su~sivc: droughts, 67 famine:, and epidemics. The: kh.tr~iri made: his ap- ·r.lt>of pc:aranceinOcuri,amongothcrplacc:s,avillageon Jb'"l"''" the road from Oruro to Sucre:, where an institute for thedevclopmentolagricultureandmedicinc:had beenfoundedwiththepanicipanonofEuropeanexpem.14 Not surprisingly, we ~ncountc:r a known theme once again: at the requnt of the World Bank, thepresidcntallegedlysentgringosonamJssionto extractfatfromthepc:as.antsinordertopaytheforeigndebt. Whenthc:rc:djc:epfromthemsrituteis spotted traveling through the countryside, terror breaks out, the peasants run away, children stop going to school for fear of being kidnapped. Faced with threats, the foreign expens arc: forced to dear our. 1 J And yet we learn that the khari5iri who was executed in 1983 at Orinoca, an::l whose body was bumed,wasnotaforc:ignerbutafull-Hedgedmc:mber of the mdigenous community. He had, however,placedhimselfonthemarynsolthcbondsol solidarity that umte the village mhabitants: after converting to an Evangelical sect, he refused to do his pan within the system ol shared political and rclig.ous rc:sponsibilirits. He was therefore: suspected ol havmg made: a pact with the devil, who had enabled him to grow rich and buy a van, which he used

8&

CMp~~r

forpersonalbusiness.Thusheappcarcdrobeanex· tensionoftheoutsideworldinsidethevrllageand, worse still, a traitor who had put himself at the service of foreigners. The discovery of dollar bills in his home only confirmed his criminal activities as a k.htJrisiri, and his association with the others. This otherness was absolute, for the punishment inflicted upon him {the refusal of a burial) excluded him de· finmvelyfromhumanity. 1 ~

If by definition thek.htJrisiriincamatcs a visJon of the other associated with evil (but still human) forccs,itisunderstandablethathewouldbecapable ofbothconnnurryoverthecenturiesandofassuming a variety of forms, changing accordrng to local circumstances and d-oe particular moment in history. Yet at the conclusion of this rapid overview, we notice an evolution in the Andean process of imagining the foreigner. At the rime of the Taqui Ongo, followingtheEuropeanirrvasron,theotherrsidenrified,m the aggregate, with the Spaniards who, appearing fromapreviouslyunsuspectedoutsideworld,came to rmposc dommation, thereby provoking brutal ruptures in the indigenous community. As time went by, this representation oftheothercoveredamore limitedfield,whilegivingrisetoanarcherypicalfig-

ure, many ol whose traits were mspired by those of ~ ccnain religious groups (norablyBc:thlehcmm:s)of ·rok<<>f the colonial period. The lt.haris•ri at the time ac:ted lb'"f'"" individually, as 1f delegated power from the dominanrauthorirics.lnrcccnrman:fcstarionshistraits havebccnupdated,andnowbcarcharaaeristicsof an ad van~ modernity: rhoscoidoctors,enginccrs, or terrorists. And panicularly in Ayacuchok, thererumofacollec:tiVeimageofthclt.harisirihasbcen noted, with the irruption of packs of slaughterers whostnkeacrordingtoasup~dgovcrnment

plan. The example of Orinoca !and of Chipaya) illustrateanothcrnolcssremarkablecvolurion,which in some sense corresponds to an interioriz.ation of th1s otherness, since m these ;asc:s the lt.harl$iri, thoughronncctedtothevastneiWOrkofthcoutside world, ha1ls from the md1gcnous milieu. Tius is ccrtainlyasymptomofaprofoundcrisis:theinrrusion ol modernity into the bean of Andean communines rhreatenstheveryrootsofthcir,dentirics.

9reqorio's
noca,thevillageolChipayahadbecnshakrnbythe khansiN11ftair:thattheMguiltypartles" in this case managed to escape f'Unishmem I'C'Sulted from an ex·

.'1''

ceptional combinat>Dn of drcumstances (Gregono's brother·in-law'sappcalforhclpandthclast-minuu• arrival of a mihtary detachment). But was it a co· incidcncethatthcdramacoccurredduringapaniC· ularly critu;al moment in Chipaya history? Apan fromthcintcrnaldLVIS!OOSthatthrcarcnedtheunity of each ayl/u, we know that there were heated con· flictsinthcvillagtcausedbythcgrowthofncwrdigious movements (Call:chist, Evangelical, Pentecostal) over lhc previous twelve years or so. Two ways of thinking were in opposition: on the one hand, the Mpagans" were indignant at the abandonment of a tradition which was all the more venerable as 11 appcarcdrothemtohJvebeenrespec!edsincetimeimmemorial; on the other hand, the brothers were selling a precedent for a radical split by rejecting customs they considered to be dtabolical. For a long nme, the initially marginal pioneers of the new cults wcrecondemned,evenpcrsccuted,bytheotherin· habitants of the vti!Jge. But the rapid progress of the ncwrcligionste$uhedmarcvcrsalofthebalanceof

powerbytheendofthe 1970s,tbepagans becoming a minority relative to the brothers of the three religiousorders. The village then underwent a mutation. For several years the aiCJJldes had had trouble 'oming up withalistof"volunt«rs"tosponsorreligiousfesuvals ('hoosing me as/XUifllteof the Kiliminti fesuval was no doubt symptomati,). Alter 1978, the tradtllonal system ol cargos, which formed the ba,kbone of the Chipayas' social orgamzanon, 'arne nashmg down. During my pn:vtous stay I was able to record thedatl'Solsomeofthelastfo:sttvalscelebratedin the village: in 1977 mallku Kemperani; in 1978 Kiliminti, San GerOnimo, and Guadalupe; in 1980 the mallku of the lau'a river and Santa Ana herself. Andlhavementlonedtherumultthataffecredreligious structures, vtstbly transformmg the village, andeventhesurroundinglandSCtpe:thealtersatthe fourcornersofthechurchsquarehaddisappeared, as well as the Rosario chapel; ID[)St of the stations of the cross, which had extended outward in four din:crions m rhythm with the llaml'SS of Chipaya space, had been dl'Stroyed. The new extirpation of idolatries being carried out by the brothers, three centuril'S after the first, was weakening the religious syncrettsmthathadtraditionallygivenordcrtothe Chipayas'n:pn:scntatlonofthe.-.rorld.ThcfirstPen-

~•

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tecostaltemplehadbccnbuiltinthevillageinl976, the lint Evangeliealtcmple in 1979, and during this time the Catechists were taking control of the church. The last pagans, who wen: now marginalized (mainly in the Camich1ri district), had only the chapels of Santiago and Gerommo, wh1ch wen: practicallyinruins,attheirdisposal. Thus a long phase in the history of Chipaya was ending right before my eyes. The irharisiridrama fits into th1s juncture-the end of a particular worldandisonlyonccxprcssionofthecrisisswecpmgthe village at that moment. We an: therefore tempted to interprettheaffairasaddensiven:actlononthcpart ofthetraditionalistsfacedwiththeintrusionofthe outside world. This reading could be corroborated by the fact that the two young men from Ayparavi bclongcdtothcPcnteoostalchurch,andbytheintercstGregoriohadaln:adyapresscdintheCatechist movement(whichheofliclallyjoinedafterhispcrsecurion). A more detailed cxammationof the events of 1978 shows that such an interpretation, though notenrin:lymaccurate,fadsrotakeintoaccounta far more complex reality. The inquiry that was conductc
gdical, pagan or Pentecostal, aU were convinced of 9.1 thekharisiris'guilt.lt'struethanhealt.:afdeofAransaya, Honono L., and ol Manasaya, my oompadrr felipe P., were at the rime both associated with the pagan group, and that they weu the ones who took the initiative to file suit with the higher authorities in thenameoftheChipayasfora"erimeagainstthe public welfare~; they were the ones ualous enough to travel to Oruro to dcnounct the acnons of the khari$1ri$. But Gregorio's a(:CUl-Crs also included a good number of Pentecostals, who didn't hesitate to persecutethebrotherstheyconsidereddangcrous renegades. Thus a curious allianct ol antagonistic religious groups was formed to punish the vampires.

y..,.,.,

Why choose Gregorio as the main culprit? His sympathy for the Catechtsts at a rime when theywerr beoomtng a majoriry in Chipaya is not enough to cxplainhisexclusionfromtheoommunity.lnfact, hehadsevcralpcrsonalstigmasthatdesignatedhim as a porenrial scapegoat. He was margmal, so to speak, from binh: an illegitimate child, abandoned by his mother when she married, he was treated like anorphanandratscdbyhisgrandfather.Hisgrandfather's death, while Gregorio wassrill an adoleso;;ent, left him alone, penniless, and reduced to

"~ l~•ptr•

extreme poverty wi:h no family 10 tum ro. He managedtoestablishahouseholdbutoouldn'tstandlivingwith hisexploi:arive farher-tn-lawanddeaded to work abroad. From this point theoourx of his life could only generate envy and suspidon: starting wtth nothing. he gcu rich, and manages to obtam a c:enain degree of comfort. How~ Most Chipayas temporarily mtgratc to the Chilean valleys. Commerdal aaivity, on the other hand, is far less com· mon: by opening a ~shop" in his home and by scouring the countryside for business, Gregorio only accentuated his uniqueness. Was he a good member of the community~ He claims to have assiduouslyexecutedthc{aenlls,theoolleaiveworkobligations, but many (panial~) wimesses assert the contrary. And while over the years he took on a number of community moponsibthnes, 11 rums out that they didn't follow the traditional pattern: working with thesd!ool administration or the peasant union was new to the village. On this point, Antonio'sconftssionsuggesuaprobablybiasedintcrpretation: according to him, these duties show theChipayas'confidcncc in Gregorio and hisintegranon into thecol'llmunity. But if we look at lt from anotherpcrspectivc,don'ttheyalsopointtoanacccleration of the village's integration into national likandofthechangesbroughtonbytheencroach-

ment of the modem world, ol which Gregorio

~-

cameanagent~

The accusation of vampirism is therefore dirraed atanindividualwhobybinhandlifeexperienceis distinct from other members of his group. This sm· gularitymustalsobeseenagainsrabackdropofpermanent conHicts and hatred, all the more vicious as it involvn close relatives. For it is Within his own family that Gregono co uno his worst enemies, even though, as we saw, the scope oi this enm1ty is lim· ired.First,thereisPedro,hisbrother-in-law(andmy compadre). The respective estDm:iDs of the two men, Takara and Yunguyo, areconnguous, so that there is constantquarrehngovcrtheboundaricsolpasrures or trcspasstng ammals. When Pedro gcn drunk, which happens frequently, he takes it out on his brother and threatens to kill him; the latter's complaints go unheeded by the authorities. Gregorio's second persecutor is none orher than hts halfbrother, Antomo, born leginmatcly after their mother's marnage. As Gregorio tells the story, in order to hve peacefully wnh Antomo he invtted h•m to move to the Yunguyo estDndD and to share the land. But Antonio happens also to be Pedro's son-in-law, and the two of them are now combimng forces to evict Gregorto from his own estDnCID. Gregono is rhusfindinghisbestmtentionsturningagainsthlm;

515

!i"J"""'

,, , . .,

his brothtr's betrayal is the bitterest wound of all. Helaterc:lCplainedtomethatitwasnotonlybecause ofhisanimalsthathehadhadtogotohislandthe Sunday of our appointment (the day before his confession); a more serious problem was on his mind. WithAntonio'sbad:ing,Pedrohadundenakenthe constructionofahutthatencroachedonYunguyo's land. When Gregor.o complained, the three got into a list light. I had known Antonio since my first visits. He was always very warm vrhen we met, though he wasn't a regularinformant.Itwasdisturbingtodiscoversuclt hatred betwten people with whom I was on friendly terms. After Gregorio's confession, I naturally began seeking out An:onio's company. Did he suspect that I was interested m h1m for a reason~ Did he follow the example of his father-in-law, to whom I was linked by a compadrazgo relationship? He too asked me to becom( h1s son's godfather. How could I refuse:? There's no question he too had other mo· rivations., but there was something touching about the attennon he patd to me, the graciousness wnh which he offered mt cheeseti and eggs. For my pan, when I offered him gifts or when we had friendly chats together, I once again felt uneasy in spite of myself; in responding to Antonio's benevolent gaze, I couldn't help thinkmg about the violent disputes

between the rwo brothers, and I too seemed to be betraying Gregono. Attheheartofthekhori$1ri~ffair,then,isanar-

row circle of enemy brothers and brothers-in-law, whoseconflictsseemessc:nriallytobeinspiredby prosaic, even sordid interests. Towhato:tentdo religious diffen:ncn come into playl Pedro and Antonio aremembersofthetraditionalistgroup,butnotwithout certain nuancn: Antomo seems halfhearted in matters ol religion, almost agnostic; Pedro is a )'Dtiri andfortunc-teller,andalthoughhisconv•ctionsare fundamentallypagan,bythet•mcoltheaffairhis wife had already convened to Pentecostalism, so that he found himself more or less constrained to follow her, despite his reticence. He too was therefon:o:periencingapersonaldrama,which,probably exaccrban:dhisaggressivenCS$.lnhisownmanner, tonnented and almost schizophreruc, Pedro incarnatesthatstrangealliancebetwttnpagansandPenn:costals that we observed earlier among Gregorio's persecutors. Family feuds and personal tragedies were among the many seemmgly mmor items that foundthemselvesampliliedbythediYislonsthathad longdisruptedthevillage,helpillgtobringaboutthe major,publiccriliisofthckharisiris. Theonecssenrialmissinglinkinthesequenceof thedramaissomethingldiscowredonlyduringthe

'J7 ~,.,.,...,

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last week of my stay. During his travels, Gregorio had established a conneaion with a member of the Challacota comm1111ity, Mario T., with whom he had a business relationship. In 1978 this trading partner was also accused of the crime of khari$in in his village. He was the one who supposedly orgamzed the sale of blood abroad, thus maintaining the link to the outside world. How did the crisis play itself out in Challacota~ To lind out, another inquiry would have to have been performed on site. According to my Chipaya infonnams, Mario, like Gregorio, was almost lynched; in the end he had to flee his village and never went back. Funher, an important detailsuggrsts a prrv1ously unsuspeaed dimension to the affair: back in the 1950s, Mario's gcandfatherhadalsobeenaccuscdofbc:ingak/nJri$1n,andhadbeenslain.Grcgorio'spartnertherefore also bore a distinctive sngma, in thLs case a fateful heredity:thisgcandfathuallcgcdlytaughthimthc practice of vampirism, and transmitted his inclinarionforcrime.Asthcplotthickens,therootsofthc problem recede into the past: we don't know in what way this grandfather d1sringULshcd himself from the rest of his commumty. At least we're on the track of familylinesofkharisiris,orreputedkhamiris,similartocenainlinesof)lf'tii'J$orsorcerers.Through Mario, the unfortunate Gregorio was connected not

only to the outside world but :o another unlucky " .'1..,.,., precedent. Indeed, Gregorio scc:ms to attract misfortune. This fits in with psychologkalcharactensricsthat areprimanlythosc:ofaloser:dnpitc(orb«ausc:of) hissuccessinbusiness,hewasputdownbythisvillage m•lieu with which he never managed to become fully integrated. Did his abandoned childhood cause: him to become mepl in human relationships? He nonetheless rums h1s "persecution" into a vinue: we saw, m his story, that he has reinterpreted the evenlsofhislifeinlightofthelifeofChrist. He too wasmanyredandconstdershissuffcring,lnrenospea, as a sign of being "chosen." God condemned himtohvealifeofmisc:ryhereoneanh,buthtsinnocenceassures his salvarion. After his ordeal, he joinedthcCatechistgroupdelinitively,theonlysuppon he recetved havmg come from the Oblate fathers, and he has become pan of a community in whichhecanbereoognizedasa"brother,"cqualto all other members. There is no doubt that he is a sincere follower of the faith, experiencing it as pain, whichheembracesandissanctifiedby. WillagruesomedesrinybefaiiGn:gorio'sentire family? Remember that his two sons became idiotS as a result of the abuse riley reaived at the rimeol the allair. Thestoryofhisyoungestdaughterisnoless

Lilop~~r

sinister. After we left Chipaya, I found myself With Gregorio m Oruro, in a waiting room at the law couns, to which '"' had come in search of docu· ments rdanng to the inquiry previously conduaed on khari$iri$. (To my great disappointment, if not surprise, I leamed they had all disappeared.) At this point a womaD passed by, dressed as a cho~; Gregorio nervously hcstitatcd to greet her. "Do you know that woman;" I asked. He told me that she uscdtoliveinHuachacallawLthherhusband.Rrcall that at the time of the affair, Gregorio's wife was pregnant; after fleeing to Huachacalla, she gave binh to a little girl. The woman in question, seeing thcdlstressoftheparents,offeredroadoptthechild, and they gratefullyacceptcdtheoffer. A few years larer,howt'VCr, the woman left her husband to live with another man, m Oruro, and took the hnle girl with her. But the man spent his nme dnnking. Three monthsbeforetheencounterinthewaitingroomhe had raped Gregorio's daughter, who was now about ten years old. Gregorio demanded that the woman give hLm back his daughter, to whom she had provided such inadequate care. The woman agreed to givehcrbackbutdemandedwbepaidthecostoften years' ~room and board." As a result, Gregorio was in the middle of a lawsuit with the woman (nor so muchfortherapcasforthemoney).

It was also in Oruro that Gn:gorio, recalling his ch1ldhood memories, told me about another of his misfonunes, wh1ch according to him left a profound mark. He was about rwdve years old when he lost hlsgrandmother.Shonlythercafter,hisgrandfather began hving with another woman, who be.::ame something of a wicked stepmother to Gregorio. She had a son ol about the same age, and Gregorio soon became his scapegoat. One mght, this childhood companion "stole" his own belongings and h1d thembyburyingtheminthccemetery;hewassovi· cious he even wore Gregorio's sandals, so that the footprints would make Grcgono look guilry. Indeed, a scandal broke out, in keeping with th1s Mac:hiavellianplan:despuchlsprotestarions(even at that early age) ol innocence, Gregorio was ac· cused of stealing. Faced with the cv1dcnce, he was humiliated by being publicly forced to ask forg~ve· ness. Whether this was exactly the way thmgs happened or not hardly maners: tbisatleastwasthe narrator's memory, and his in:erprctation. I ventured to ask him who this childhood companion was, the true guilty party. Mit's Fortunato l!" I was stupefied to learn that Grcgono's first persecutor wasoneofmyclosefriends,amemberofthegroup that had accompanied me on my visit to the Mu-

~"!!""'"

Urapt
ratos, the Urusof Uke Poopo.l didn't stt Fonunato during my last stay in Chipaya: he was in prison m Oruro, accus.ed of appropr1atmg a large sum of monc:ythathadbccngivtntothevillagebyac;haritablcorganizarion.Wasjusrictfinallys.etvtd?

Why did Gregorio f.nally tell me of his problems and ask for my help? One might have exptcted him to turn to the priest, sino;e he was a member of theCatec;hLsts.Whenlaskcdhimthisquestion,heexplained that he was involved in a c;onllic;t WLth them as well. The disagreement had to do with his oldest daughter, who for some time had been living wuh a man {a first step toward marnage for the Chipayas), and had r«ently given binh. But she didn't get along with her c;ompanioo, who beat her and who also refused to recognize the eh1ld as his own. She therefore wanted to separate from her c;onc;ubinary, a plan Gregorio approved of: "Let her come back to my hous.ewithherbaby,she'llbehappicr."Thepriest, however, was hosnle to the "divorce" and was urg· ingthec;oupletostaytogetherandmarryinareligiouscen:mony."l(an'tgowthepriest,"explained Gregorio, "because he d1sapprovtS of my advice to my daughter, and anyway, he wouldn't believe me." Thus I was Gregorio's only recourse. How was it

rhar I ~med ro him rhe most qualified person 10 help~ It is understandable, g~~n rhe narureof rhe 9"!9""'" crimeofwhkh he was ac.:used, that he WQUid go to a ·f""'bi" foreigner who is at the same rime separate from the mher gringos. Although I do represent the otherness whose gnp reaches all the way tCI Chipaya, I am nor just any foreigner: I've been known here fora long nme, I have many compadres and friends. Having sponsored Klliminti in rhe past has conuibured to myintegrationinthevillage,andbecauseofmyre· searchtheChipayasthemselvesconsultmeasanexpcn in matters of Uru htstory.lthmk I can say rhar I occupy an ecumenical posinon with regard to the different groups who are in con Ilia, as well as that of an mtermediary between Chtpaya and the out5tde world. My umque siruarion wa~ no doubt apparent to Gregorio when he came to ask my help. He was basically saymg: ~The Chipayasaccuse me of selling you tbetr blood. Therefore you"re the one, wtth all thatyourepresenthere,whocan.saveme.lbegyou roexemseyourpowerinmyfayor." The power I have at my dtsposal rests on the fact rhar ultimately I belong to the world of rhe ncb and theprivtleged.Thefeastloffem:ldunngthecclebration of the Klliminti was certainly far less sumptuous than that of many other pas.mtes, but they were grateful to me for making rhe dfon to come from

l"lldpltT

suchadistantcouotrytofullillmycommitments. The Chipayas also know that I mix with powerful people in La Paz, such as the director of the Anthropology Museum, and that in some sense: I participate in this power, as was ~idenced by the supplyfilledtruckwhichamvcd in thev!llagcallthosc: years ago. And ev~ though I don't travel by personalairplane,likecenainmlssionarics,mypossc:ssionsbespeakmywealt:h:thegasbumer,thecansof Ncscafe,theincchausriblesupplicsofcigarencs,t:he candlcs,thesleepmgbag,~enmypcrsonalbt-long­

ings(myshoes,inpanicular,arehighlycovcred).l am ohen asked, MHow much does a plane ticket from France to Bolivia cost~~ What can I say? I can't lie,buttellingrhetrut:hdoc:sn'tmakesc:nsc:cither:in thccontn:tofChipaya,thcamount,translatedinto pesos,isastronomical,totallyunimaginable.lcan strcssthatmyricketispaidforbymyuniversityalll want: I must be vel') important if mysterious institutionswouldgrantmcsuchfunds. So I am aware that the esteem the Chi pay as have for me is based ontheirobligatorydeferencefora representative ol the dominant world (even though I amsureolthesinare,andn:ciprocated,friendship ol some of them). There is no question that my n:· search benefited from this relationship ol dominance; desp1te the 'onsideration I tried to show my

informanrs, we were all caught up in a me<:hanism that was imposed from without and was difficult to .'1~• surmount even in very close relacionships. The basic inequahryinourstatusconstar.dyldtirsmarkon the various phases of my inquiry, even on the very lastone,Gregono'scallforhelp.ltisquiretruethat the anthropologist, inevitably raking advantage of his privileges, andgatheringinformauonwhichhe then delivers to the outside world, performs the work, metaphorically, of a vampire. Gregorio was thereforeveryperceptivetotellmeolhismarryrdom and to ask me for help: he had m:ognized me, if not asacolleague(sincehewas,infacr,innocent),at least as someone likely to understand him, for, though I was god for a day, I was also something of a kharisiri.

PARADOXICAL AS IT MAY SEEM, THE EXTREMELY

teosedimalethatdlaracterizedtheeodofmyslay, andthe!a'elarioncimuchinterpcrsonalhatred,did not throw in1o question my lil"$t impress1on, which wasthatthecollecdvcconflictsthat had bet:nsnrringupthevillagesolongandsoviolentlyhave,over the last decade, more or less calmed down. The crisis struck, a number ci century-old msritunons crumbled,butthenthehistoryofChipayaenteredintoa phase of rccompos1rion and readjustment, of compromise even, through which, if not a new order, at least a modus vivendi was sought. How did 1he mhabitantsofthevillagcsurvivethecnsisSOC!ally?lt's asif,disconccnedaoddisoriemedbythechangesof 1978-82, they no longer recognize themselves and arc trying to establish other guideposiS, and in so doing are starting on the path of reconciliation. The earlier devastation essentially taughr the different groupsthenee
fercnt course from the one I would have imagined attheendofmystaym 1982.Atthatrime,onemight -~ ..., have supposed that, in a continuanon of the pre- q..-.ll viousevolunon, the new relig~ous movements would continue their expansion to the pomtoftotally eliminating pagan behefs. The reality turned outtobc more complex and nuanced. Though earlier ~-ustoms will never regain thetr former primacy, they are nonethclesscxpc:riencmgaparttalrevtval,whilethe Protestantchuro:hcs-Pentccostalandpantcularly Evangelical-arc c:xpcnenanga marked decline. Ultimately, it is the Carcchisrs and, even more broadly, the Catholics who are now dominant in Chipaya, as much in number (more than two-thirds of the populanon) as m mfluence. Dtd the presence ofthepriest,whohasbecn livinginthcvtllagc for fiveycars(andforthefirsttimesinccitsfoundation), enable the Roman church to consolidate in this way~ His actions were no doubt instrumental. But the historical and ethnic smgularity d the Chipayas also came into play. The neighboring villages of Sabaya andHuachacalta,forinstancc,arcstilldominared by a mong Protestant marorif). Ch•paya theretorc standsoutnotonlyasanUruenclaveinthemidstof avastAymararone,butalsoasaCatholiccnclavc. Are the Chtpayas trying to affirm their identity in the religious domain?

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EverySunday,lconscientiouslyexplorethes•teof woi'Ship. Outside of feast days dedicated to a pan•cularsaint, I had n""r,on earlier visits, seen such crowds m the church: each week more: than eighty people squee~e in, even when the priest isn'ttherc: (as when he's visinng other villages). It's still the same adobe edifice-modest, well kept, regularly whitewashed, and now covered with a corrugated metalroof;butthcmsideisunrc:cognizablc:theteLS not a single image, no statues of Sannago, Guadalupc,orevcnSantaAna,patronsaintofChipaya. They've all disappeared. Aside from a naked emu thatstandsoutagainstthebarc:wallabovethealtar, then: is nothing to distinguish the Interior from that ofaProtestantehurch.ltispaniCIIlarlypackedon thc:Sunday•mmediatelyprecedingAIISaints'Day, October 29; this attendance no doubt has somcthingtodowuhthcdistributionofaid(rice,sugar, etc.) scheduled for that afternoon, pan of ~Proje« Children." That morning, before- mass, the priest appears in shimleeves and blue jeans, making prc-parations,walkingpurposefullybackandfonhfrom thealtartothecorncrthatKrvesassacristy.Hethen publicly dons a chasuble and sacerdotal ornaments, and, after a few words of introduction, rwo or thrte Catechlstassistanrsreadaseriesofvcrses.Halnngly thcyplowthroughthcstoryofthePhariseeandthe

publkan. The faithful listen attentively, but how much do they understand~ WhenlarriveattheEvangehcalchapel,lfindno more than thirty people in attendance (about a doun men and fifteen women). The building IS smallerthanthechurch,butittoohadbeenpacked during my 1982 visit, the foll~rsoverflowing into the street. The Evangelical group was more dynamic at the ttme; it was the church whose membc:rship swelledthcfastest.lremembc:rhowself-assuredthe Evangelicals~rebythesuccessofthetrproselynz·

ing, and although their prayers remain fervent, I nowsense,inthesparseanendanceandtheanitudes andexpressions,akindofdisenchantmcnt.Forover thcpastfewyears,theEvangehcalshavealsoexperi· enced the highest rate of defection. This dwindling is allegedtobccoausedbyintemaldifferencesandpcrsonal rivalries; I was also told stories of adultery which supposedly weakened the faith of cenain fol· lowers. There is no quesnon, however, that the decline of the Evangehcal group is the almost auto· marie re5uh of religious compctJtion, oand that most ofthcdcfectorsretumedrothcCatholicchurch. WhilcthePentecostalg.rouphasn'tgrowninsev· eralyears,itisdoingbc:neratresistingthelloodof defections. The chapel regularly 1nracrsalmostforty faithfuls (about fifteen men and twenty women).

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This stability can no doubt be attributed to thetr strong cohesiveness, to the panicularlywarm ties amongthebrothers,anclbasicallytotheintensity olthetrmessianic (jUest. Also, aftcrthcprtestset up restdence in Chipaya, a pastor from Sabaya came to live there as well. On Sunday he holds service dres.sed.naflame-blucthree-piecesuitwithalowcut U-shaped vest, along with a matching light blue shtrtandagray-blue,impeccablyknottcdrie.Wben he reads vcrses,hehesitatcsandstumbles,so he toopreferstohavethemreadbyanassistant,after which he offers free, somewhat questionable interpretatJOns.Butthepastorisatcasewithimprovisation: he is remarkably eloquent, his voice swells with inspiration, rises to a resounclingptreh, subsiclesintoharmoniousmflecnons,fallsback,carefully measuring o~~: a weighty silence, then picks up,swellsagain,thestopspunctuatedbythere&ain: "Noes cieno verdad~" Finally, his body trembling, almost m a trace, the orator invokes the Holy Spirit, transporting the faithfuls, who respond with exalted Glori4Dios.

Nearthebeginningofmystay,wanderingrhevillage alleyways on the Manasaya side, I see Cornelio M. again,siningonhispatio.lcallouttohimandhe stands up to greet me, apparently surprised: "How

doyouknowmyname?" .. Whatdoyoumean,don't you w::ognizc me?" Cornelio bcromes effusive; once: again laminthepresenceofhisfamiliarwarm smile, his prominent canines, but now I'm the one who's surpns.c:d: when I knew him before, he was a youngandardent~ntcoostal;nowhetstonering

before: me, speaktng huskily. How is it posstble? Despitehtshazyconsciousnesshetsawan:ofmyaston· ishment, and apologizes for having be.:n drinkmg: this year he isaiC~Jide and so is ooliged to panicipate in the customs of the lields. Aliule while later he asks me (as so many others have done) to bcrome his son's godfather. This intrigues me even more, since compadrazgo now has cc:rtam .. pagan~ connotauonsmCh•paya. I often worked with Corneho in 1~73 and 1~74: astde from bemg a clear and precise informant, he servedasanintermediarytoh•sgrandfather,Mareo, oneoltheoldestmeninthevillage(lrememberhis hunched-over silhouene and his limp). Mateo was himself the grandson of Anadeto M., who, fony years earlier, hadbeenoneofAifrc:d MC:uaux'sinformants. I don't know if he said it to make me happy, but Mateo claimed he vaguely remembered a gringo like me staying in the vii! age, who was interested in the customs. As for Cornelio, he was a perkct collaborator when •t cam• to irngauon te<:hniquesorquesllonsolfamilytrees,butwheniasked

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him questions about the mallkus, the sacrilicf:li or ritual tableli, he grew distam, joked and laughed un· ;iu comfonably. It was apparent to me that his interpretations weren't trusrwonhy. Which is why the changeissostrikingwhen,afewdaysafterourreu· nion, now sober, he explains to me that he fulfills hts dunf:li as an llfcafde by carefully respecting all thccustoms,"asbcfore."Andheenumeratelithcm obligingly: thecamival, the sowing, capturing the winds, and so fonh. True, the monuments 1n which themllffkwsresidehlvebccndc:stroyed,buthemakeli ccnain to mention them by name in his praye~, "in memory" (p<Jra recordar). The tenderness with whichhcevokcscachma/lkwandtheslightestdetail olthcircostumescontrastsstrangelywithhispre· vious detached atrirude. And when I mention Ma· teo, the grandfather to whom he was so devoted, I seethe same look of tenderness 10 his eyes, mixed withatouehofsadoc:ss. HasComcliolostthe Pentecostal fatth? He speaks to me very openly about his religious iunerary. The story of his conve~ion, twenty years ago, follows the classtc model: hts young child was sick, they wedalltheremcdiaandconsultedallthehcalersin vam. Then came the revelation: thts affliction meant he should follow the path of the Lord, which he did, and hts son recovered. In the 1~70s, Cornelio was thusoncofthcpioncersofthcPrntecostalchurchin

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Chipaya. Thepersecurionthebrorhersexperienced, butalsothehardshipsoflifemthisdesolatepampa, '~""" prompted him to emigrate to yrarmer climates: he Qllt>b moved to the colony of Yapauni, near Santa Cru:t, where other families had precedrdhim. Years passed (which is why I hadn't seen Cornelio for so long); theywerehappyyearsunulhiswife,intum,fcllsick. All the remedies failed, shewa; even taken to the hospttal in Oruro and grew won;e and worse unul she dted. Thts misfonune profoundly affiicted Cor· nelio, who sank into hopeless melancholy and be· gandnnking.Hecouldn'tgoonlivinginYap"ani, so he returned to Chipaya. But his fauh had been shaken, he no longer went to church. After a while he remarried and returned to tht customs, to the ex· tentthatthetransformationstbathad occurred in the village allowed. It was this same Cornelio who, as alcalde of Man· asaya,hadcalledagatheringofr:tembersoftheayllu in order to sound an alert on a new threat oi kbari$iri$. His second wife was ill, stncken wuh fe. ver, and complained oi susptcious spots on her chest. He remained evasive in mponsc to my careful qucsnons.

Martm's itinerary seems typic~] of that oi many Chipayas. In 19821 foundoutthathe'dconvened

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rwo years earlier to the Evangelical faith, which, for a man so erudite i~ matters ol rites and customs, might seem surprising. But in Marrin, whose per· sonalirycombmesanaturalapprehensivenesswitha quesrioning religio:~s KOK, these flucruanons ap· parentlyreflectthec;ollecnvecurrentsthataresweepmg Chipaya. He told me the circumstances of this conversion: hiswtle'sillnessandthedreamofhis Mvtsit to God. ~n Seven years later, though, Manm smiles knowingly and shows no embarrassment in telhngmcthathcnolongcrgocstochapelonSundaybuttochurch:bc'saCatholicagain. A Catholic, and not a Catechist. We noted earlier a distinction between the two terms: "Catechist~ srill dcstgnates the brothers who, m response to the Protestantcompetirion,preachareligiondeansedol all remnants of paganism, while MCatholic~ tends to encompass those who reolgniu the Roman church yetallowthemselvo:stopracticccustoms,tovarying deg.rees,whichth~themselveshavereviscd.Does

thisdistincnonpan.doxicallyindicate(incontradicrionwiththeCatechistdoctrine) aretumtoatradtrional Catholicism that might be said to function esscntiallyasacowr,beneathamoreorlessintact veneer, for pagan-Christian syncrettsm? Not ex· actly, for the syncretic system that combined the worship of saints and of mllllkus in a series of collec-

rive holidays has fallen apan with the abandonment • •.s of the religious Cilrgos previously assured by the ·~..,,.. p45t1ntes. By an unotpectc:d twist, this very disap- QoNU pearance brought on a new era, a kind of redemption, conkning on what remains of the customs a new legitimacy. The customs have been amended, "reformed" say the informants themselves, that is, ckansed of their blatandy idolatrous tendencies-the wayside crosses dedicated to the saints and especially the monuments dedicated to the maffkus {all the oratories, at their sacred sites, have been destroyed). As a result, no one in Chipaya, not even Vicente Guarachi, calls himself a "pagan" anymore. But while they may resign themselves to eliminating the Cilrgo system, how can they help but pray for generous rain, good crops, or healthy animals? A number of apparently fundamental customs-those dealing with cultivated lands and fertility-are in fact kept alive, though in a reinterpreted form. Marrin now performs the duties of an officiant (sukachin) in Aransaya; he is responsible for overseeing the riruals intended to protect the fields and obtain good harvests. Pleased to see me taking copious notes, as before, he otplains at length how the new customs work. Adapted to the new religious order, these customs are characterized by an obvious simplification (one might say impoverishment if one

tended toward nostalgic conservatism), but they are

c,_,wr hardly any different, in their basic principles, from the fonner practices. The agrarian rituals are still in the hands of lhe field guardians (the iam.Jyos), generally in collaboration with the aladch. Their principal phases, although fewer, an: the same as before: the opening of the fields in October before sowing, their dosing after the sowing time, the Carnival cycle during their maturation, the passing of command in April, after the harvest. The main difference, with respect to the former customs., is at the moment of closing the fields: the m4llku (called slralkont.JIIf). which in the past stood in the middle of the cultivated field, is no longer erected; insread, in the same location, a "table" (mesa) is setup with clumps of canh. In front of the mesa an animal is sacrificed, incense and copal an: burnt, and drink offerinp made of ritual ingredients an: scanerc:d. With the disappearance of the sktdkontavi the three tishne are no longer celebrated, in the course of which, on three successive Sarurdays, the guardians and the officiant buried several dozen uhua (linle cones made with animal fat) throughout the cultivated field. But if the maflku of the fields no longer aists, the com· position of the ingredienu continues ro follow un· changing rules, and offerinp are made to the powers above as well as to those be.low. We know that the

incense is intended for the saints, and the copal for the maflkus as well as for Pachamama, the Eanh Mother (who is present in as many Virgmes• as in designated places). Rrduced to six shallow ..ups, the table preserves the essence of the pagan-Christian system's ritual thought: there are mineral powders (sebarios) for the maflkus and the samiris, llumpaja (ground white com) for the Pachamama, and kulli (ground black com) for the Sky. The agrarian rituals are still intended to mediate between above and below, right and left, masculine and feminine, in order to put the sacred powers in contact with one another and to bring about the beneficial conjunction of the Sky and the Eanh. And the ritual voices still and always speak of gifts: a good harvest occurs in achange for what the men have offered the gods, or God in his many fonns. There may well be theological uncenainry, but this in no way affects the primary necessiry, for man, of giving. The cycle of agrarian rituals culminates with the Carnival, the only collective festival the Chipayas continue to celebrate. It no longer begins on Saturday as it used to, which was the day of the mallkus, but on Sunday, with the gathering of members of the "ThrvirJiru; (not to NconfuRd with tM Virgin Mary) who pl'OftCt a pvm place. Ser Wachm, (non: I, below), 64-65.-Tr~~!ll.

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two ayllus, the two alar/des in the lead, in front of the church tower, decorated as before with bread andstreamcn;. An•rnalsarenolongersacrificedon top of the tower, b11: offerings are made with the rit· ual mgrcdicnts, followed by dancing and drinking contests. On Monday, the kamgyos symbolically givethefirstcarsofquinoatothciralcalde,whodistributes them on Tuesday to each member of h1s moletyasapromiseofluckandasymbolofbclonging to the community. And unnl Wednesday, the authorincsandthekllonayoshostoneceremonialmeal (a/sa)aftcranother.bringingtheChipayastogcther •nanaflirmarionoftheiridenrity. The Carnival celebration, tradmonally hosted by thca/ca/des,ra•scdakeyquestion: whethcrthcauthoritiesshouldparticipatcinthefc-stival.Foralong rime the brothers, whether Catt<:hist, Evangelical, orPentecostal,rcfusedtobccompromiscdbypagan practices.Onthispoint,significantchangcshavediminished religious 1ensions in Chipaya over the past few ycars,e•therbecausetheChipayashavcgrown wearyoftheendlessconflictsbctween nvalgroups orb«auscascricsofbadharvcstshaslcdthem to theideaofhedgingtheirbctsbyobservingasmany muals as poss1ble, from all the religious options. The two ayllus held mcctmgs in which the question of the rolcofthcauthoritieswith respect to the

"modern" customs was debated. Agrcements were finally reached that made It obligatory for the a/- ·~~~~og..., UJides to participate. The brothm;of the three faiths Q...., now tolerate this participation: when someone assumcsthfunctionofaka/de,hcisgivenayear's leave from the church in order to fulfill htsdutics. Thishappcns"inprinciple,"theyadd,fornoonets compelled: everyone has some leeway-to participate m a few or in many customs?-at his own risk, or more precisely at the risk of the community. In otherwords,adegreeofpersonal frcedomisbcing recogmzed. Oneofthemostnoticeablcresultsofthcreligious transformationsinChtpayaisthea(:centuation(and recogruuon)ofthcpcrsonaldimcnstonofbcliefs,tn· duding belief in the customs. The new movements introduced a concept of religton centered on faith andtheconcernforindividualsalvation,hencetheir radical opposition to the ancient pagan-Christian system,whichwasstrucruredaroundtherotationof C4rgos and communal organization. Paradoxically, then, the brothers' greatest triumph 1s to have instilled this sense of mdividuahution mto rehgwn, which has worked irs way down to those practices and beliefs considered to be pagan. Other turnabouts resulted. There is no longer a festival of the mallkus, butthosewhoconrin:~eto be devoted to

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these ancient tutelary powers can still, when a particularma/lku'sda)'arrives,praytothatmaflkuin· dividually, within themselves (asComcliodoc:swhen he honors them ~in memory~). Even for the naditionahsts, religious worship is only a step away from becoming a pnvaft' affa1r. The growth in popularity ofcenain practices considered to be pagan is per· hapsfavorcdbythisprcviouslyconft'ntiousideaof liberty. The rerum to the home, to the nuclear family, is apparent elsewhere, outside the religious domain, evcninarchitecturalchangesinthevillage.When thehouseswcreroundandscattered,onecouldeas· ily pass from one to another Without obstruction; they were separated only by low walls (on which one couldsltandtalk).Forseveralyearsnow,thewalls havcbeengettinghigherandhigher.Thehousesare becoming better and better aligned, and their owners are now surrounding them with walls almost the height of a man, which isolate them from their neighbors. The relationships among village dwellers are visibly marked by the growing individ· ualism. Thus various fac:ors converge: the wcakemng of Protestant groups, the consolidation of theCate· chists and the Catholics, the pamdpation of the brothers in the ~reformed~ cus10ms, the personali~ationolfaith,arruhofdcfections,orratherofcriss·

crossing from one group to ano!her, and an increasinglyindlVlduahsricsryleoflifehavcresultedin greater toleration of religious differences. At the s.amc rime,the reinstatement of the customs (at least relative to previous years) among both Catholics and Protestants diminishes thm difftrenus and tends toward homogenization. The ioonoclast war hasbttnreplaudbyartligioustruce.

On Friday, October 13, as I was wandering around ontheAransayaside,whomshouldlscebutVicente Guarachi, standing at the foot of his doorway, drunk, h1s head drooping, wearong a "Korean~ cap, urinating very ostentatiously in front of two young women, who are both embarrassed and cut:~ous. He greets me warmly despite his foggy state of mind. I v1sit him the next day. H1s clune~ house suggests a certain level of oomfon: a wooden armchair (in wh1ch Vicente invites me ro sit), a sewing machine, animpressivcradio-tapcplaycr,alargtgasstove,a rul bed (on which my host sits!. On the wall, curiously,lsaprettyposterdepictingthelushMaryland oountryside. Peppering his words, as usual, with sarcasnc laughter, Vicente explains to me that he no longer lives regularly m Chipaya; dunng a good part of the yearhelivcsinOruro,whereheconductshisappar·

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cndylucrariveacriviriesasayatiri.l'mawarcthathc has a tendency to be egotistical: "People consult me from all over!" He gives me his cxa« address, mvlting me to visit him in the city. His comments on Chipaya arc cyniC-'1, pessimistic: "The village is goingtodis.appcar,it'sover."Heisobviouslyreferringtothevillagealitwasyearsago,inlifeperme· ated by customs. In those days the Chtpayas who had emigrated to distant places returned at least once a ycarfortheSanraAnafcsuval;nowthercts no longer a fcsriva~andtheyneveroomeback.So Vicentedatmstohavelostinterestinrhevillage:he feels he's donccnoJgh forit{heeven assumed the post of corTegidor once again last year). He ts no longer demanding that Camtchlrl be upgraded to a canton. Buthecontinuestodcfcnd the division of theAransayaaylluintofoursecnons: thelieldsarc larger, the harvests more abundant. But what about the droughn, the pigs' demise? All the Chtpayas' misfonunes arc: due to the anger of the mtJI/ku$ andthesatnts,whohavebeenpitifullyabandoned. ViccntegoesontospeakdisparaginglyoftheCate· chists,thcEvangelicals,thePcnteoostals,andlinally the priest. When I ask htm about the 1978 khtJ,;s;,; alfa•r, he provides few detatls, as much out of dts· crenon, it seems to me, as out of concern to mam· rain dignity: since die affair brings no honor to the vtlla~, he prefers not to talk about it. I know, m

faa,rhathewasn'tamongthe~rsc:cutorsoftheac­

cused.Andlhavetho:satisfaaion.olfindingoutthat ·Jt.llg••u Vicente, whom I always held in btgh esteem and had Qotm frio:ndlyfeelingstoward,tothisdaydefendsthcun· fonunateGregorio. In the course of our discussion !learn something thardisrurbsandconfusesme:lastyear,asmJTegidor, Vicente received a visit from Daniel Muricio, the ~president" of the Urus Moratos ol Lake Poopo. He was looking for Manin, Benito, and Fortunato, who had accompanied me in 1974 when I mer Danielforrhcfirsrrimeatrheest.JnciaofLiapallapani,as well as two years later when we Yisited the Urus·lrus of Desaguadero. Unfonunately my fnends were not in Chipaya at rho: rime, and I ca.nimagino: how dtsappointed Daniel must have been. &penally, Vicente adds,ashehadmado:tho:joumC")'becauschewanted Chipayateacherstocomeliveonthebanksollake Poopo and reach the Puquina language to the Urus Moratos.lcanpicturethesceneinllapallapaniand wonder what role I played in this dream ol Daniel's: his OO$talgia for the ancestors' language reverberates back tome.

I wanted to have a conversation with father Ramon, thepriestinChipaya,butaftcrlhcnationalholiday ol October 12, I saw him only occasionally, from a

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distance; we gruttd each other cordially, but he seem«! to be avoiding me. His house (which is made ofbncks) w;u only lifty meters or so away from San· tiago's, so we were basically neighbors. !expected himrotakethclirststep,burlwairedinvain:hewas bcmg decidedly reserved. After a good two weeks, I vowedtokcepanereoutforhim(yctanotheronel was on the lookout for); one afternoon, seeing him leavetheschoolsurroundedbyagroupofstudents,l rushedover,exchangedafewpoliteremarks,andin· vited him to my house "for coffee.~ He seemed ex· tremdy surprised and excused himself, saying he had an enormous amount of work; when I LRSISted, he promised to "cmss the street~ in an hour. Two hours later, when he still hadn't shown up, I ventured to knock on his door and practically kidnapped him. So now father Ramon is sitting in front of me on the bench. He drinks coffee m moderation and doesn't smoke. His easy smile is accompan1ed by a distant anitude. He declares, abruptly, that he is wonderingwhylwanttotalkrohim,andopcnlyad· m1ts h1s dtstrust ol anthtopologists, from whom he's read some questionable works that present the Chipayas as savag~. Without quite knowing which texts he's rdemng to, I anribute them to authors of yearsago,prisonersoftheprejudicc-softheirage.l

then bringupthechangesinChipayaand (almost) shamelesslyflarrerthefather,5haringmyimpres- ~ ..., sionsastothededineoitheProtestantgroupsand Qut>r> the prog~ss of the Catholics since my last visit. Now more ~bxed, he comments on my impressions and begins speaking freely, outlining the history of his mtsstonaryacnon. Father Ramon is from Cochabamba. He dcscribeshimselfasanacrive,stubborn,willfullypro· voo::anve man. Very aware: of the 1mponance of h•s misston,herecallsthebriefeffortsoffatherAmado, whom the Chipayas o:pellcd from the vLllage thiny ycarsago.ltisnotavillagethatlcndsitselftohavmg a priest in residence. The lifestyle continues to be difficult,andtheinhabttantsquiteunusual:hcin· sists(despitehisremarksconceminganthropolog~­

calwritings)onthcviolentandaggressivenaturcot the Chipayas, who nonetheless tum out to be cowards when you stand up to them. He has therefore made it his policy to firmly resist any aggression against him. The mam rc:ason is that he encountered majortroublesatthebeginningofhisstay. Cenain followers condemned him for surrounding the church and his office with a high wall, as if he wantedtoappropnatctheland.ButitwastheProtestants, espectally, who did everything in their power to get rid of him. They denounced him first by

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accusmg h1m of being a communist; the sub· prefecto ol Sabaya. accompamc.:l by a delegation, came all the way to Chipaya one day, burst 11110 the chord!, mterrupted the mass, and ~monstratc.:l withthcpriest,say,ngrhatthiswasaplaccofwor· ship and notasireforpolitiealgatherings. The fa· thcr had to go to tht Bishop of Oruro, who accorded himhisprotecrion.Butthcstorygocson.Onen•ght, theyuicdtosetfiretohishouse;hekeptafewtraccs of the damage as proof. Another night, a drunkard knockedonhisdoorandthrcatenc.:ltokillhim;thc fatherwcntoutsideMalmosrnakc.:l~andconfrontcd

him,causmghisdis..-onccrtedaggrcssortorunaway. OurintcrviewisintcrruptedbyMarrin'sarrival; surprised to se.: the priest, and no doubt intimi· date.:!, he doe-sn't co.en say hello to him. Afttr Father Ramon leaves, I go over the story I have just heard. Manin smiles: no, the Protestants didn't try to bum down the priest's house (indc:cd, th1s kind ol VIO· lenceisnottheirstyle);itwassomeCatholicswho dldthat!Asforthcdrunkardwhothreatenedrokill h1m, it was none other than Mariano G., a rather traditionalist Catholic whom I know well: I too had a fewrun·ms with h1m in 1974, whenwewerewalt· ing for the infamous truck. What did they have againstthtpriest?Mainlyhishavingempticdthc church ol its images: Santa Ana, Santiago, Ger·

onimo are waiting to come back. Though oificially the CatKhisrs loyally support rile print, many fol· lowers don't understand this action, wh1ch seems to themmorclikerhatofaProtestanrmissionary.So tensionsarcrifeintheCatholicgroup,whileamis· understandmgisformingbetwet:nrheprintandhis

flock. A few days later, Father Ramon comes back to sa me: now he wams to talk, and I invite him in once agam. He can't say enough about my ~gentle" man· ner of spcakmgand my ~subtle~ remarks. He there· fore wants to ask my advtcc: the rivalnn between the two ay/lus disturb him, and he would like me to cxplainthedualistorganizationoftheChipayas.Hc is working mostly with the Aransaya mOiety, where the Catholics are clearly m the majority, and this gtveshtmagutltyoonscienceWithrespccttoMan· asaya,whererherearesnll many Protestants. He wants to love each moiety equally, but h1s actions in thcvillageseemunbalanced.lthenleamedthatthe giftsofcharitableorganizarionshavcuntilnowfollowed two parallel paths (in conform try with theduahstorgamzanon): atd to ~Project Children," whteh is Catholic, is administered by Aransaya residcms, whtle ~World Vtston," whiCh 1s Protestant, 1s ad· ministered by those in Manasaya. 'llbrld Vision, however, ended two years ago (Is this one of the rea·

-~OH' Qv<>b

CMP'"

.m

sons for the shrinking Protestant population~), and sofatherRamonenvisionsextending"ProjectChildren"tothewholeolthevillage.lencouragehimin hisgenerosity,butputsomedisturbingthoughtsin his head when I prudently mention the growing popularity of the customs, wh1ch unquntionably have some negative aspec«-a definite rerum to drinkLng-butalsobringposmvechange,smccthc:y favorthisunilicationofthcvillagetowhich the father aspires. ltLstruethatthtreligiouscalmitselfseemspartial,andfrag.lc.ltLsthercsultofasonofequilibnum between two different interpretations for the Chipayas' misfortunes (sicknns, poor harvests, etc.): either these are God's way of punishing them for their oontinuedan:achment to the customs, or thc:y are brought o~ by the abandoned mDIIkus. It's asif,whenindoubt,religiouspracticesaredivided upacoordingtopersonaloptionssoastomakeup fororcomplcteoneanothcr. Butisn'tthcreaoontradict•on in taking precautions on several fronts like this~ Does such heterogeneity snll have any meaning?

'Parties in tfie 'Pampa THE SCHOOl DIRECTOR, A PLUMP LITTI.E MAN,

jov1al, hvdy, and extremely talka1ive, is eager to spend rime with me to discu~ the history of the Chtpayaculrurc. Unlike 1hc priest, he isinteresred enoughinrheworkofanthropolog~ststohavcoom·

plied a oolltction of photoropin ol dol:uments concerning the village, and more g:enerally the Urus.

Proud ol his compilation, he in,ites me to h•s office to show me the file: m it! find texts by Anuro Pos· nanskyandbyEnriqucPalaveo;ino,andC"t~cnoneol

my own anicln. The d1n:ctor 81ps through his file and comments on it endlessly,lingenng on the tech· meal and linguistic aspecrs, addrnsmg me as ~Pro­ fessor." To convinc;e me funher, he begins re¥fing longpassagcsaloud,andlamsurprisc:dtofindthat hestumblesjusrasmuchasthcpriest'sassistantat

thcchurchorasthcpastoratthcPcmcoostalchapel. He obviously doesn't really understand what he's reading,buthcpcrsists,poringoveralltheitemsin his lile. How strange it is to hear my own prose o:hoppedupanddisligurcdlikcthis. Despite his interest m Chipaya culture (he again refers to the projea for a load museum), the direaor doesnothaveaveryflaneringvtewolthevtllageres· idents. Eager to please me, he p•o:ks up the theme of

Ut.prtr

the savage Urus, cbuflpa-puchu, the rejectS ofhu· manity. It is a diffkult misston for the teachers to "civtlize"theseprimitivecrearures.Whentheybegm their educanoo., the youngest students don't speak a word of Spanish; their progress is slow because they lack intdligena:. Asfortheolderones, they are shameless: no marcer how much you punish them, they mate "precociously." From the time they aretwelveyearsold,thegirlsdeliberatelyexcitethe boys, which is wh~ the Chipayas reproduce "hke rabbits."Whenlsuggestthatsomeolthevillagers themselves might be trained as teachers, who would thenhaveaneasiertimebecauseoftheirknowledge of the Puquina language, the direcror categorically rejectstheidea:suchteac:herswouldonlyretardthe students funher. They must be educated in the Aymara and Bolivian cultures. The irony of the >tory~ While the school director is a perfect exam pit of tht Aym:uas' disdain for the chuii(M-puchu, he himself is from Challacollo, a vii· \age near Oruro. The viceroy Francisco of Toledo's census indicated thn Challaoollo was populated en· nrdy with Urus, .... ho abandoned nomadism and settled there at some point dunng the sevent~nth cenrury,adoptingtheAymaraculture;theirdescen· danrs lost all memory of this assimilation. At the

ideathathisancestorsmightha,ebetnUrus,thedi· rectorburstsoutlaughing,mcralulous. •/'ompo

Aside from festival periods, the silence of thr Chi· payanights,aslhadalwayscxptriencedthem,was ofanalmosttangibleintensity,asifaccenruatrdby thc:brillianc:yolthc:a•r.Nowlfindyc:tanothernew development:sincethc:btglnningofmystaylhavc: bc:c:n heanng strange noises almost every nightechoing footsteps, the sound of someone: runnmg, snatches ol conversation, laughter, and especially the: echoc:sofblaring mus~e.llind this nocturnal commotion intriguing and soon learn what it's all about: it's the: "youth,~ gathc:nng for a pany m a house in the village orin theurroundingpampa. These are fourteen- or lifteen-year-olds, adolescents whoaresrillinjuniorhighschool.Theparties,my informantssay,are"vc:ryparticular" mthc:sense that,unliketheoldkind,theyareprivateinnarure and can take place at any nme. The: music that now pervades the: nights in Chipaya, and which these: young people are dancing to. is produced, I'm amused to lc:am, by agraluJdora (tape recorder). Some of my many godchildren are old enough to participatemthesc:parties:theyaplaintomc:that they are organized atdilhrentproplc:'s houses fol-

l~

lowing a kind of roranon system, or sometimes at an eslancra, outdoors. Their favorite dances arc cumbias, espwally rock! Although I have expressed a desin:tojointhem,noneofmygoclchildrenhasever mvited me to a gathenng: I'm definitely too old. So I wasunabletoattend oneofthesen-ents,which I tmag.ne must be curious: boys in shirts and trousers, girlsdressedinthettaditionalblacktunic,bobbing upanddowntoroo:kmusicbeneathsrar-litskyin this desolate pampa. How did these young people leam modem dances~ They travel to the Chilean valleys, to the cny, and listen to the radio. When I ask my godchildrenwhatpresentstheywant,theygivemeaspe· clfichstofcassertesthey'dliketohave. The parents are worried about these acttvlllcs, whtch only took hold in the vtllagelouror live years ago: these kids notonlydance,theyalsodrinkandgetdrunkas muchasadults,andthengetintofights!SuchbehaviorhadneverbecnreenmChtpayaatsuchanearly age. Those parent5 who also drink are full of righ· teous ind1gnation, remembering their own youth: ~At their age, when we were single, we didn't take pan m the festivals, we didn't drink. Our parents were the ones who drank, whilewewatchedoverthe animals. We only srarted later, after we were married!" On the morning of October 19, lleam that a

meeting is being held in the corTegidor's office to deal with an unprecedenrcd scandal. The previous night, two boys who had already been dnnking knocked on rhe door of Filipe M., who owns a shop where they thought they could lind jugs of liquor. They asked him 10 sellrhem some. When Filipe refused, the two boys beat him up. This adolescem aggi'CS$ionagainstanadultbastbevillageinastateof commot•on. Whatiscquallysurprisingisthatthefamilytrad•tion in which these adolescenu were raised seems immatenal. The ones who go to pames come from both traditionalist and Evangelical or Pentecostal families wirh puritan morals, but they make no distinctionwhentheygathertogcther.Hen:thenisanother type of umlicanon brought about by the younger generation's openness to input from the media, accompanied by dissatisfaction, even disgust, With village life. The licentious behavior of the youngisperceivedbytheparennasprovocation,rebcllion: according to them, their children arepos· sessed by a kind of ufrenzy." Bur whar frenzy? Rcbclhon agamst whom1 There is no longer any tra· dition to reject: it was the parents' generation thai abandoned the customs (or "reformed" them). Now rheyouthno longer bcheveinanything. Thema/1ll.us!The rituals of the past?Those outmoded beliefs

·l'o'"J'd

Cltilp~~r

area joke, they're from another era. The Evangelical or Pente<::ostal religions? In the bnt of cases, they accompany their parents to the services, without sharing the1r convictions. (One factor in the de· dineoftheProtestantgroupsisnodoubtthcadults' failurctotransmltthtirfaithtothcirchildrcn.) All thatrcmains,then,lmongtheyoung,isindifftrence tainted with confusion. What do they aspire ro? To get away! To escape the miserable life to which people arc condemned in this remote village. They dream of the riches promised by the colonization projcctsinthewarmvalleys,oftheglistcningcomfon of the cities. Yet these adolescents are well aware ofreality:theyknowthatveryfrwofthemcanleave, and thatofthosewho do, fewer still ever attain a comfonablc living. The horizon seems dosed. There is no hope. A state of anomy? A previously unheard-of phenomenon has arisen among adolescents: su1cide. A half-dozen cases have been reponed in the past four orliveyears,teenagcrswhokilledthemselvesforthe flimsiest of reasons. Broken beans, of course. But also,simply,forbemgreprimandcdbytheirparents. A child is reproached for going to a pany, forgetting drunk: "In a state of frenzy,~ they repon,m tears, "he swallowed some poison!~ Last year this misfortune struck my compadre Antonio, Gregorio's en-

emy brother, who is so harsh with Gregorio and so affecnonarewithme.Hissbueen-year-oldsondidn't want to go to school anymore; he lectUred him, try- ·l'llm,.. mg to make him return. The young man prefemd to hang himself. On All Saints' Day I naturally visit Antonio. A table is set with offa-ings for the soul of thedeceased;mthcmiddle,aphotooftheadolescent:roundhead,longhair,asmileonhisfacc.Attached to a small string, above the table, are his personal belongings: an ir11, two pairs of panrs, a jacket, a cap, Mbasketballshocs." Avery touching scene. The family members, sitting on the floor, are plunged in silence. My three-year-old godchild is playinginacomer.Antoniooffrrsmcatallglassof lemonade. He is not weeping, but his exprcss1on IS vacant, his vo1ee hoarse: "I'm offcnng you lemonade,notliquor,becausehewassoyoung.ldidn't understand, I still don't understand. Maybe he's happter now. I cried so much last year. Now I cry lcss,l'mstaningtogctuscdtoit."

'Final :Note I WAS FINISHING iHESE LINES, CONVINCED THAT

they were the last I would write about Chtpaya, when other echoes reached me m Pans. In early jWlc 1991, in my olficeon the boulevard Raspail, Ire· ceivcdaphonccallfromatravdcrjustbackfroma month in the village. Pierre Espagne, a consultant for a dtvelopmcnt project sponsored by a "nongovernmental organization,~ introduced himself. A cunouscoincidcncr:duringhisstayhewashouscd at the home of my compadrc Antonio, whose sorrow I had shared dunng All Saints' Day in 1989. I thus learned the latest news from Chipaya: is this yet another epilogue to an epilogue, or an afterword and ending?

The pt"riod of appcascmtnt that the vtllage had enjoyedforseveralyearstumedouttobcquilcfragilc; Chipaya is now m turmoil agam. The twoayllus, Aransaya and Manasaya, are opposing each other because of a colonization project in the warm lands of the Alto Bcni. During my last stay, I witnessed the begmningsoftheoonflictbutdidn•timaginetherepercussions it would have. Lists were circulating 10 register heads of families interested in the project, and the Aransaya members were already reproaching Manasaya members for hoarding dOCIImc:nts

and enrolling en masse, therebyrxdudingallthe other Chipayas from the program. Of the fony-two volun~ttrs~ntuallyreginered,thiny-ninebelong

to Manasaya (or more than half the heads of family in the ay/{1,) and only three to Aransaya. Even though the depanure for thesecolomcs is not yet cenain(womenandchildrenstayinthevillageuntil the re.::laimed land becomes productive), a senous imbalance now affects the rcspeaive populations of the two mo1eries. The Manasayas' monopoly on the landsdisrributedintheAltoBeni•stumingagainst them: the Aransayas, now tw1ce as numerous m the village,arcdemandinganrxtensionoftheirtemtory to thedetrimcntofthatoftheotherayllu. It's nuethatthisconflict is merely an inversion of the one that caused the two moicues to face off for con· trolofthewareratthebeginningofthemnet«nth century, when Manasaya numbered twice as many tributaries as Arans.aya. But today, after so much up· heaval, one of the final components inherited from the ancient order-the dualist orgamution-is being threatened. Funhermore,thereligiouspexchasfinallyended. Father Ramon no longerhvesmChipaya: thehos· tihry of a good pan of his flock won out over his stubbornness, and he was vinually banished from the village. The Catholics, who had attained a domi·

rJ8

nanrposirion,arenowbeginningtodwindle.Onthe two new Protestant sc:cts (Bapnst and Adventist) have taken root and are r::xperienong rapid growth, accompanying their mtssionary action with generouJ gifts. There ~ seem to be many young people among thetr followers (but parties rontin11e nonetheless to enliven the Chipaya mghts). Withtheinstabilityolgrollpsofbelievers,criss· crossingfromonechurch roanother,andrepeared conversions, the Chipayas' never-ending religious quest is following an ever more erraric itinerary. In the old days, people knew which customs to follow in all circumstances. Everything was precisely codified,ritualpcrmca:edallsocialrelarions,andeach tndividualwaspartolanorganizedumversc:,where meaning was to be found.lt is this vanished meaning that is now desperately being sought: all the codes havecrumblcd,thcmllllkus have disappeared, the order of the world has unraveled, and the Chipayas literally no longer know what to believe. Joining the newchurchesisasignoftheirdesiretobreakoutol thctrmarginalstatus,andtoanainuniversality,as well as modernity, but the Chtpayas, now tom be· tween dereliction in their windswept pampa and a· ile in the torrid valleys, can't escape what defines them at hcan: their status as chullpll-pucbu, rejects from humanity.

cfiar- other hand, r.19ht

lsitwrongfortheethnologisnoyieldtonostalgia atseemghisareaofsrudyfallapartovertheyears?l know thatthisdesolatevtllage,hkeall societies, is bc:mgcaughtupintherideofhistory.lspentyears studying the formation ot an tdenrity which, having had a moment of creation (toward the mtddle oftheeighteenthcentury),will certainly have an end. The accelerated transformations that at the end of the rwenneth century an: affttnng not only Boliviabuttheenrireglobean:inevitablyreachingev· erycomeroftheworld.Shouldthecontributionsof modernitybelimitedtotheintroductionoithewa· ter faucet today, tlectriciry tomorrow? Might it not containmeaninginitsc:lf,dillcn:ntbutequallyrtch as that conferred by a world now passed? This very passing is the crux of the matter. For whtletheethnologistbeginsbymeddlinginasoci· ety which atlirst is only otinrrllectual interest to him,heendsup,inajustreverS.lloictrcumstanccs, intemalizingthisobjectofstudy,madeupofliving beings with whom he maintain~ relanons of friend· shiporhostiliry,withwhom he has shared every· day joys and sorrow. Whilelgotmixedupinthe htsrory of Chtpaya, Chtpaya also got mixed up m mine: indeed, tt's a pan of me that time is taking away. What's left? Writings and memories. As Be· nitosaid, "You see, rhe photo isst:tll here." He added a ~forever," of which I am less sure. Looking up,

(~•Jilt•

LIJihr

I contemplate the large photograph that pres1des over my office: in rhe waten of Lake Coipasa, its crusts of salt twmklmg w1th blu1sh rdlccnons, a Chipayahunter,insuspended.motion,formsatiny dark spot, lost in the grey and white immensity and overshadow.:dbythcdistantridgeofsnowymountaintops,unchangmgintheirbeauty.

Jllotes 1. Stt Nuhan ~~~•. U Rl"''"d"' mrdi7U: l.n l~dleftr d~ !loin..._., XX•-XVI• siilck. 8uo d'lowomt ~·w

u,..,

(f';ans:Gallimar
1990~6J9-H.

l.OWJ~t.."'""'holuioyalellra•cdClaobcrll,•n•mutcd

in Sp;tin in 1915,11\cn '" vanow counona ol Lonn Ammca, o:ommcmoranngChnsu>piKrColumbw'sd~ryoiAmer-

~- lrd· a male. Chopaya p.....,t, a kond ol put>dlo wioh bn.wnandwhnr...mcalstripc:s. .~ •

~nr

.4qUI: thcmamdnn..,tolfetnalrd~onChop.oy.~,arunoc

composedolt>W>~nplarpoecnoffabncKWni"Sfth.tt,in

blxkord.Jrkb,._,, 6.k>ram~dotaolcdanalysisolo~oerms,...,Golla Ri~~."Uk'ichmykh:ono.iri:oprop6somdtla•rqwnmra·

doi'Olro' en la1100f
bucno,ondoom~no:Lontnlcturadeunocnoenoaandma.·l amsinctrdygra~efulroAnloonctteMolino<-t'ioravanuand

Golln Rlvot"' for shanng 1hnr le:OIS (sull unpubhshnl ~••he nme ol1hos wnnng) wilh rM, ~nd allowoa1 rno 10 '"" thnn. 1, Accord!niiO.IonS.....Und111,no.2,july,I9B7,12-27. 8.0n!h"pOinl, .... cspecially Molinit.Fooro~anu,"Scbo buono,ond>ornu..,o"(n<Xo6a~~

9.1'llt do:scnp11011 pn:K111Cd on thos p.ara""'ph is drawn from onformononpdo!ollnt,"El do-

sollador(N~kaq~" Tradoudnlno.4(19Sl): 67-9l,rcpnn
buluyntosdoloslnca•"[IS721,Col«c.O..delobti,Krinl,..,.,l(Lima,

1916),97. 1l.lbod.,98. l2.\b.d.,98-99. U.lbid.,9"9. 14.1bid.,97-98. H. AI"Cb1'
17.

"""P'" Gua111<1n Po""' 0. Ayala, EJ prvrwr N - c016-

""")'l>wngoh,..,.,.o[161S],IOd<~byjohnV.Mum.and RolmaMorno,(MoJCOCi')',l980~l8l.

18.1';oblo,_.deAiriap,t..so•,_;o,..bl,oidof4rrUoll'lel ,..,...[\62\],BAE,vo\.209[Madrid,l968),208. 19.P.Fr.jooept.GarciadobConcq><:i6n,Historu/>elbk· ~lreSyr..JnPrdrod~S....joupbii..,..,C11r,famd;Jdord~~I"'B"·

1m uu/tllltoth Bnhklnmo101lou l11dus Oa:idmwla; /nliD> sm· "'"'"''tk..,/tCIIIIdoapirintySOic~sos......,..thntrrhg/1011 (Sivill~. tnl~ a~

by Bnt (n- h......,~ 168-70. 20.lbod. 21.\bod. :U. See Etrllln Bm, "Addenda," "' Aldtaf swb· ......pwrnon:9abo.e),l57-58. 2J. JuiJo Cam Ban>Ja, E.nu,o lolrrantra de earth/

M-•

sob..:"'

IM~drid, 1969), 156-57;- also Lilia Pfru Go!IU.In, "AIgunas roltfiderat~onn ~"' ~• .a.:aman~«
25. Vlaor Li• Quibftl, 1.4 ml/hcirt4 poJ'i'l4r m G,/.c;, ([1'1491 Madrid. 1980), 108, ci1d by 11M (nat<' 9 abow), 358. 26. llost(noto9abow),358. 27.1brd.;josofMariaA'l"edas."Cucntosm~aoco-n:alim.sy

cancionn de A"'ta tradicional del Valk del Manraro, Proorinci01 ~r..~;.y Conottpcion," FinJit/Mt.muriu-1, no. I (195.1): 28.Sa:JuanAnllonan4EIIdooioSrfuen•..,·Laima(mpo. pula• de Ia Yiolrncia, a 1ra.., de los rdamt de dqolladorn, • in PisJmrm: ~und"fOS"StiC"fr>s, tdi!td by juan An•ion (Lima, 1989), 72-75. 29.1brd.,75-77. lO.lbrd.,99-100. ll. C.rlosldn Dqrqori, "Enrrelos fuososdc Sendrroyt'l EjCrcity: Rqrno de los 'Posbtacos,'" on Pish~Mos (nace 28 abow), 1011-14; Abolio 'fttpra Figueroa and FtoGdy hmia Car..asco, "Ayacucho: de nlln'O los dqolladorn, • in ibid., 121-34. l2.Gaoh'inAntontoZ..para, "Sobn:n)osypi•hra.:os,"in PisJJr«os (noh: 28 abow), ll7-40; Etruho R.oi.,. Rima.:hr, "Loo'oaaoiM'"olmiodoylacOirra,"ibid.,I41-47;Eudosin Srfuenrn,"LaconrinuidaddelabiSronadelospithla.:oIos 'ro'-rjos'dehoy,"ibrd.,l49-54. H.S..Runachi(noto32abow:),I4S. l4.S..GillaRi~(""'o6abow).

JS.Ib•d. 36.1bid. 37, Sa: Nathan Wac~Mc.l (route I abow),6ll-l4.

A/wide: rhe m05f imponamc11rgo orpos1, bolh civil .and reli&ious, exercised in Chipay.a wirhin !he framework oflhcayl/u. Alj(l: ceremonial mral oftem:l by rhe paunte to the inhabilan~ of a v11lage on the ocasion of a sain1's or a m4//ku'sfunday. Aqsu (or Ur.\o): 1hc principal dcmcm of female dress in Ch1paya-a 1unic, in black or da1k brown, rompos.cd ofrwor«tangularpiecesof&bric..ewntogcrher. Ayllu: the basic unit of social organization, dcRned by the tciTitory and by familial rclarionsh1ps, and over· lapping, in Chipaya, wi1h the moicly. C4'!:": includts a nriny of c1vic n:spons1bilirin, from :~Ssuming certain posts (5« Alctule, above) to sponsnringrehgiousfntivals,ctc. Chica:bccrmadcofcom. Chullpas: beings who, a.;wrdmg to the crea1ion mylb, inhabitedtbcc.arthbcfurerheappcaranceofthe!iun. ChullfNJ·Puchu: •rejects of the chul/pa:.,~ an insult ad· dressed to the Chip.ay;u by the Aymara Indians. Chuiio: a potato preserved by dehydration in 1hc frost. Comptul~: ~pic linked by co...,11dr.ngo, or mual godparenthood, whereby rhc parcnn ol a child and the ch1ld's godparen~ become ca-parenr•, calling each other com("Nidre. Com(Nldrllzgo: sec Comp11dre.

''' 9"""''l'

administrau~ din:aor of theunron. E.slilncU>: in Chipaya, designateS th~ clusters of houH-S that fonn hamln:s and are distributed among arable porrionsoithctcrritory. Ttam.l: o;ollcaive work in th~ servi-=e of the o;ommumry.

Corrqulor: in Chipaya, the

H~~JJ£~J:sac:redsite,sac:redobjea,divincmriry,eiC.

lr11: Chipaya male gannent, a kind oi poncho with line brownandwhilc~mcalstripes.

K11nuryo: "guardian of the

fields,~ designated each year tow:llchovcrtheculrivalcdareu. Kh11risiri: lisurc generally o:cprntntcd a a white man who extracts th~ fa! or !he blood oi the Indians at dusk oratnight,aflerhavingplungcdhisvictimsintoadecp siHp. KuUi: ground black rom (ritual oikring). Lilt"ichiri: S«Kharisiri. LlumfNltll: ground white <;Om (ritual ofkoring). Mllllltu: in Chipaya, design.ares chthonian divinities whose spirit is supposed to resLC!e in cone-shaped mon· umcnts made of adobe and dried nnh one to rwo me· tcrsinhcight. Mtu:ritualtablebearinstheofftrinptothcdivinitics; in Chipaya, it generally consists of one pie-=e of doth laid with thtrty·six shallow cups rontaining the varIOUS inpatients that the sulc~hrr• sprinkles on the grounduadrinkoikring. N11lc11q: SH Kharisiri.

PIU4nlt!: ~rwn designat~

each year to sponsor the fo[. lowingycar'scclebntionolas.aintora....,//Au. secKh.lorisni. Sdmm~:divinities ol strong cluhon1n charactrr who pnxt!C! animals (bol:h domesnc and w1ld); ongmally Hat stont"S oltn.XU"rminatc form that-~ burial~neaththemJJfllt.uJ. St!bario: mmeral pow
thenlllaldunngthefftrivalolasaintoram~~//ltu. T.rlti:dancc,chant(SKIIIaror~ligtous).

Tisbiit!: rilllal cycle formrrly ctlrbnted tn Chipaya tn honorolrhedtvlmtiesthatpro!«
sw...,-

Index Morno,lttll....,,l41nl7

A=I<*M•rto,Si-81,

Advea....,.,lls Allflln.onn..W.,I16-120 Ap\omol,Cmtabol,l41nU Alt..W..l4,l4-l6,112;ofA,.. O""')'a,4l-44;onC.rnonl ronon,IIB-11~

AIIS•nna'Day,7G-71;ro· nonol,17-29;p~
for,ll-27 Al;o ~.Mo,....y»on,IJ6-

1

Iunodo.falhc-t,ll5 lunmca,do~ol,\41nl

-·

A....:ktuM.,I\1 Monnf;ol,ll-19

Aon.op,l':ll>lo)<*,l4ln1B AyiiNs.U-14;onC..mw.ol«l<·

b..-, 118-119;«>11~1<1 bcrooml,ll6-ll7;noalry..._

n.nn,I17-U8 A~:i::"M,5;
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