What kind of holdings could this nameless wisp of wind have? My daughter’s not interested in the lice this unknown drifter has got stockpiled away. (Mamani 38)
Andean Lives brings together the testimonial narratives of Gregorio Condori Mamani and Asunta Quispe Huamán, an older Indigenous couple who have lived in the Andes all their lives. Their testimonies were recorded by Ricardo Valderrama Fernández and Carmen Escalante Gutiérrez, who “had them provide more detail on certain passages, amplify certain themes, return to others that they had quickly passed over” (Gelles 5). The interviewers’ questions and the couples’ “many repetitions” were removed from the transcribed text, which was edited to present two chronologically ordered narratives. The text was then translated into English by Paul H. Gelles and Gabríela Martinez Escobar, who had a North American and European readership in mind. So it’s important to note there were many layers of mediation—many perspectives and decisions between the original Indigenous voices and the printed text that made the stories accessible for a particular audience
The quote above shows how Mamani was rejected as a marriage prospect by the father of a girl he was interested in. The father calls Mamani a “nameless wisp of wind” and a “drifter” without property, suggesting that stability and a name are incompatible with Mamani’s vagabond lifestyle. I was interested in the other times wind is mentioned in the text. Throughout Andean Lives, Mamani and Huamán blame cases of ill-fortune on “ill wind,” which the translators contextualize as an “evil breeze … a kind of sickness that moves through the air itself and that is generated by malignant spirits, such as those ‘exhaled’ from the body of the recently deceased or from ancient tombs” (Gelles & Escobar 163). Mamani similarly understands his adriftness, and his inability to find a stable home or job as his curse and misfortune. Another time Mamani mentions the wind is when he recounts an elder named Laureano Cupita’s story of how Cuzco was built by the original Inka. Originally, Cuzco was completely flat “and the wind would come roaring through like a rushing bull, knocking down any wall or house Inka put up” (Mamani 22). The original Inka built mountains around Cuzco to protect it as a fortress against the wind. The wind symbolizes a natural force of terror that prevents security and settlement for these people.
The father who rejected Mamani was kind of right—Mamani was adrift under horrible colonial and economic conditions, and could not shelter his loved ones and himself from the storm. He understands his lack of place as his fate and tragedy, and perhaps that of many runas like himself. However, as we discussed in class, Mamani’s forced mobility allows him to experience many different kinds of life in the Andes. It allows him a range of knowledge and perspective that the landed hacienda owners might not have. This is a possible advantage to his position, though it is surely not something he would value over better living conditions.
This got me thinking about Che Guevara in the film The Motorcycle Diaries, and perhaps ourselves, who were able to travel without having to do so to sustain the immediate conditions of our lives. At least as it showed in the film, Che’s range of experiences while traveling contributed to his revolutionary awakening. Though he did get into precarious situations, I think they were not as threatening to his existence as Mamani’s in his testimony. The dangers Che faced were often chosen by him in a way Mamani’s were not.
I’m wondering to what extent our travels allow us the possibility of experiencing diverse and challenging perspectives, or if our economic condition or orientation to travel restricts the kinds of experiences we can have. I think these conditions can determine whether travel and mobility are a gift or a curse. I don’t think that more travel necessarily grants you more diverse or accurate knowledge. I think you can travel the whole world and change your understanding less than if you walked a block from where you live.