Author: Grace Baker

The first time that Pizarro and the conquistadors came in contact with the Inca Empire, the Inca ruler, Atahualpa, welcomed the Spanish into the city. Atahualpa did not know the intentions of the Spanish at this time, and ultimately the Inca’s trust and customs were taken advantage of, leading to the execution of Atahualpa and the invasion of the Inca empire. 

The initial pages of Guaman Poma’s The First New Chronicle and Good Government made me feel a little confused at first. I had wondered why an Indigenous nobleman was so persistent in his description of Catholic biblical tales; Especially when his book was addressed to the King of Spain. I found the message Poma was trying to convey in correlation to what I learned about him in the introduction of the reading to be unclear.

My perspective of Poma’s writing changed after learning in class that his work was not actually anti-colonial, but rather a critique on the colonial implementation. It began to click into place perhaps why Poma would draw so many comparisons between the Catholic faith and the Incas belief systems. Upon reading further on in the chapter, I found that Poma was really trying to appeal to the King of Spain on more of a moral ground for the injustices the Indigenous peoples in the Andes were facing.

To be honest, Poma’s work made me a little sad to read. Although the ways in which he describes Indigenous Peoples was problematic and still ultimately pro-colonization (perhaps related to his own personal conflict with his identity) , I think that Poma’s work had the intention of trying to reach some sort of middle ground. That despite the unjust things being done to the Inca’s, if his writing could teach more about Indigenous cultures to a Europeans audience, a commonality could be found. I felt this attempt was especially prevalent in the multiple translations Poma did of his text to make it accessible to a wide array of audiences.

I felt perhaps the heavy emphasis on Catholicism when addressing these injustices to the King was done to show an understanding of the European beliefs in hopes that an understanding would be reciprocated back to the Andes. It made me sad knowing the King of Spain most likely never even read it. The concept of colonization was not a misunderstanding, but an exploitation of people. Watching Poma try to rationalize this was difficult knowing the injustices that would continue to ensue. 

It is week two of my academic explorations in Peru. Having now moved from Lima to Cusco, there was much to adjust to besides the altitude. I had anticipated the move away from Lima to Cusco would provide some space from the city, however- I was surrounded by a different type of bustle here. 

We arrived in Cusco the day before Corpus Christi, yet the festivities had already begun. Staying in Hotel Plaza de Armas provided a view like no other. The center of the festival in the center of the universe. I was surprised by the exuberance of it all. Waking up most mornings to either marching bands or grandiose gunshots that rang within my hotel room. Streets flooded with hundreds of people all trying to catch a glimpse of the saints, marching in. 

We talked a lot in class this week about affect and bodies. I kept this in mind while I watched from the balcony of my room. For multiple days, men passed who swayed and sweat- carrying the weight of the saints through the crowds to the cathedral. Quite literally their weights in gold on their backs. Surely this spectacle had to be symbolic. Perhaps a representation of the Catholic needs for piety to be witnessed. Perhaps a show of penance. I stayed watching the festivities from my window, as I found the noise of it all a little overwhelming. Although through the speakers the bishops announced how Indigenous communities welcomed Corpus Christi to Peru, I couldn’t help but wonder where their voices were amongst all the noise. 

Our trip to Sacsayhuamán provided quieter times of reflection to process this all. I found the physical evidence of the Inca’s architecture to be incredibly moving. Standing on the tallest point of the mountain really made me understand how the Inca’s believed Cusco to be the centre of the universe. Our tour guide explained the manpower it took to create such grand structures- the bricks carved and moved by collective bodies. People working as old as 90 years old. I felt his reflection of bodies to be different from their presence in Cusco during Corpus Christi. The stone structures were a sense of purpose that people were building up for the community. Not weighing people down in symbolic representations of subordination. Something so symbolic that the Spanish put so much effort into destroying it.

Having now shifted from Lima to Cusco, I have felt the differing landscapes of these cities to be reflected in my overall mood. Cusco- once known as the center of the universe to the Incas- holds much history and life in every corner.

I was extremely moved during my reading of Deep Rivers. In my introductory blog post, I discussed my own personal experiences with place and identity- reflecting on how landscape influenced my own conception of self. Witnessing Ernesto in his exploration of identity through the streets of Cusco was incredibly powerful- and particularly special being physically in the same spaces he describes on his journey. 

Ernesto shares beautiful moments on the streets of Cusco in which he finds much life and connection- such as seen with his description of the Incan bricks and sounds of the church bells. This connection Ernesto feels to Cusco begins to help him understand his Indigenous roots, navigating feelings and understandings of his own identity in which his Father does not share. 

There is one particular story that Ernesto shares in chapter 2 that I found incredibly moving. Whilst in boarding school, Ernesto describes different species of birds in the surrounding area. One of these flocks however, perplexes Ernesto- the parrots. Ernesto describes sharp shooters coming to kill the birds with guns as target practice- sometimes even hitting two at time. Despite his best efforts to scare them away, Ernesto is pained watching them continue to stay even whilst  being shot at. 

“But why didn’t the flock scatter?” 

I felt this story to be a moving continuation of the theme’s identity and connection to land that were set up in chapter one following Ernesto’s experiences in Cusco. I felt perhaps this analogy of the parrots was meant to be a representation of the colonization of Cusco. To the Incas, Cusco was the center of the universe. Their connection to land, culture, and ways of life depended on being there. Cusco was a sacred space. So when Cusco was invaded by the Spanish, the Incas did not flee; despite the mass amount of violence that followed. Just as the parrots stayed in their trees. 

The most moving thing I found about this however, was that despite the colonization of Cusco, we see through Ernesto that the sanctity and spirituality of Cusco still remains in that space. The identity of those who came before is still dancing in each brick.

In the chapter Cloth, Textile, and The Inca Empire from the Peru Reader, John Murra discusses the importance of cotton and wool textiles to the Indigenous peoples of the Andes, ranging from aspects such as ceremonial use, burials, status symbols, economics, and systems of reciprocity. It is very evident through Murra descriptions that textiles functioned in ways beyond just clothing articles, and were of great importance in the Incan lifestyle. 

We have even seen examples of these textiles, such as the large red burial tapestry discussed during our trip to Larco Museum. Murra even describes how 320 square yards of agricultural land would be needed to make all of the new fabric needed for one burial. This time and effort really highlights how significant cotton textiles were in multiple facets of Incan lifestyles.

Before traveling to Peru, I read many tourist travel articles praising their purchasing experience of mantas as souvenirs. Many guides suggest “hacks”, such as avoiding ponchos in high tourist areas, as oftentimes the material is disguised as wool- but contains polyester blends. Arriving in Cusco, I walked past many shops in the plaza, all filled with an array of colours and styles of woven textiles. I couldn’t help but notice, however, how all of these textiles did not share much resemblance with the one preserved in Larco Museum. 

Upon reading Murra’s article, I began wondering at what point these sacred textiles- so monumental in more ways than one- transitioned into a gimmicky tourist piece. In line with our conversation in class, what really is an “authentic” textile? Although the history of the relationships between textiles after colonial contact is still unknown to me, I think perhaps this may have been a result of the colonial concept of monetary value clashing with Indigenous peoples ideas of worth. 

When considering what is authentic, I think it depends on whose definition you are going by. For some, simply buying a souvenir in another country makes it authentic. Others, authenticity lies in the purity of the fabric. For me, I think authenticity lies in intention. I think the capitalist values imposed on Indigenous art forms lack authenticity due to their almost insincerity to the craft. However, the ways in which the concept of authenticity and tourism has come to surround textiles in Peru is still unfamiliar to me.

Day four in Lima and so much has happened. In a way it feels like I’ve been here for so much longer. So much is yet to happen. 

One of the activities I’ve been reflecting on is our visit to Larco Museum. Coming from an Anthropology background, I receive museums with much skepticism. I have yet to see a museum that does not function as an institution of continuing colonial narratives. 

Although the belongings (not artifacts) fill me with so much awe, my voyeurism on such sacred items left a little pang in my chest. I found the preservation of the belongings to be quite astounding, especially considering their age. This had prompted me to ask our guide about the sourcing of them. Although I had my suspicions already, the sentence “purchased from private collections” caused a short silence in the room. 

My heart sank. 

You see, the guide was correct in her commentary about the dry and arid environments being unique in its preservation of organic material (which is often lost in the archeological record). This results in items like the large red burial tapestry being preserved in its colours and designs- so vibrant and whole. The problem is, human remains also preserve exceptionally well in these conditions. So where was the person who was wrapped in this burial blanket? 

I felt this was brushed past quickly by our guide, and I no longer pushed for any more answers. There is a large possibility that these “collectors” in which whom have sold sacred stolen belongings may also be in possession of ancestral remains. There simply is no way to know. But the likelihood of “stumbling” across collections worth of burial items and leaving the remains of the dead out of respect is highly unlikely. 

It felt quite ironic for our guide to emphasize so heavily the Indigenous communities’ dualist beliefs during our tour- simultaneously acknowledging how communities viewed these items- belonging to the dead- to be just as alive as they are. Yet, separating them from the people in which they are supposed to serve in the afterlife. In a way, I feel this is similar to the ways in which the museums attempt to teach about Indigeneity, yet separate themselves entirely from Indigenous communities. If they did not brush past these inquiries, they would have to acknowledge how their institutions profit off of colonial narratives.

While it has only been merely two days in Lima, I have been attempting to take in all the city has to offer. I traveled to Lima with very little background knowledge of Peru, leaving me open minded to what this experience may bring. However, I was really surprised to learn some names and connotations that Lima has earned for itself.  “Lima the grey” or “Lima the horrible” being some of which that had particularly surprised me. It had left me wondering what had caused Lima to earn such nicknames. 

The readings this week lead me to believe that perhaps there is a large colonial influence to this. In the brief chapters we read of The Lima Reader, several authors provide analysis of accounts of Lima from the journals of Spaniards, ranging from years between the 1530’s-1920’s. Many of these authors note recounts of their initial understandings of Lima as a beautiful city, yet were disappointed upon arrivals. I noted similar terminology amongst the excerpts of perceptions of luxury and beauty, turning into descriptors of filthiness, dullness, and disorganization. I thought this disconnect between the idea of what Lima was, and how it actually functioned was reported so oppositional, considering the organization of Lima was directly related to its colonization by the Spanish. 

One section that I felt this was especially evident was within Bernabé Cobo’s passage. Cobo discusses how Lima was built and colonized by the Spaniards without the consideration of the Indigenous peoples living there too, quoting “the Spanish would have to share the City of Kings with the people who did the work” (pg 16). The expansion of Indigenous communities surpassed far beyond what was expected when building Lima. Yet, I don’t know if I necessarily agree with Cobo that the Indigenous peoples were not considered in its construction. 

I found Cobo’s description of the main plaza to especially exemplify this- as Cobo takes special attention when describing the most monumental and beautiful buildings on each four corners of the streets. These descriptions note the grandeur of the churches and chapels, as well as the secular town hall. Later on, it was mentioned the church was one of the first buildings burnt in a by the Indigenous communities during a revolt. 

I feel the extravagance of buildings representing religion and law were not passively included in Lima, but rather served as symbols of presence and power by the Spaniards to the Indigenous communities- especially as Catholicism was used as a means to justify colonization. I couldn’t help but wonder if some of the connotations behind Lima’s nicknames would still be present had the Spanish had succeeded in their ideas of a grand city.

I must confess- I’ve been putting off posting this blog. Not because I’ve been ignoring Jon’s polite reminders in the chat, but because I’ve been finding it rather difficult to describe who I am, and properly encompass my excitement about LAST 315 in 500 words.  Yet, tonight it must be done. Afterall- there will be plenty more time to share over the next 6 weeks.

My name is Grace Baker and I am a fourth year Anthropology and Archeology student. I grew up on an acreage in Elk Island, Alberta. Don’t worry- no one else knows where that is either.

In my three years I’ve lived in Vancouver, I’ve synopsized Elk Island to “about an hour east of Edmonton.” Initially, upon my pursuit to make friends with such well-traveled people at UBC, I was very quick in my attempt to separate myself from where I grew up. My whole youth spent in the middle of nowhere made me feel that there was nothing particularly interesting about myself. However, as I’ve gotten older, I have found my relationship to where I’m from incredibly intertwined with my identity. 

The prairies have a way of making you question your place in it all. The land is vast and often can make one feel small. I feel growing up in this environment instilled in me an inherent curiosity about what existed beyond it. Did you know snow absorbs sound? Where I lived, in the middle of our 8 month winter, you could step outside and hear absolute silence. Nothing but the sound of your own heart beat, and perhaps the echo of a coyote howling miles and miles away. I still have not quite adjusted to the noise of the city.

Partaking in our class in Peru has made me reflect on the idea of the embodiment of place- something we discuss a lot in Anthropology. Who defines place? How do we decide where its boundaries lie? How does this reflect in how we view ourselves? I think about this a lot when trying to describe where I’m from- especially when my address consists of a series of coordinates rather than a town name. Technically speaking, I don’t even live inside of Elk Island, but rather the range road just outside it. Given I must watch out for deer whilst I drive nonetheless, I consider this distinction futile. 

I am also really looking forward to seeing how a different place expands my understanding of concepts such coloniality and Indigeneity, as these topics were really relevant to my community back home. I’m curious to see how these ideas expand past physical boundaries.

Most of all, I’m looking forward to sharing this experience with all of you.