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Guaman Poma’s brand of colonialism

When reading Guaman Poma, I was struck – which I have been often, it seems – by his theory and justification for a new, or different, form of Spanish colonialism. His ‘Catholicization’ of the Andean Indigenous cosmic vision was a very (morbidly) interesting method of colonial imposition. I was expecting a more ‘direct’ form of erasure, such as the forcing of Catholic belief onto the Indigenous population while also regulating, banning, or destroying their unique worldviews. This is only sort of the case; instead, Guaman Poma sort of canonized the Indigenous worldview (broadly speaking) within a Biblical framework. By including them as descendants of Noah, for example, he doesn’t actually alienate the Indigenous and their beliefs from the Catholic world. He basically just calls them confused, misguided, idolatrous, but still somewhat admirable as worshippers of ‘the divine’. This is a Catholic generalization; assuming that the Indigenous Andeans considered their worship practices ‘otherworldly’ could be far from correct. Also, this somewhat sympathetic depiction of Indigenous Andeans is still an oppressive, imposing account that justifies colonialism. In other words, different means to the same end. Still, the lack of at least direct ‘otherization’ regarding the Indigenous Andeans felt rather unique. Further, I’m really curious as to how Indigenous forms of Catholicism have developed in the Andes. Are there Indigenous worldviews imbued within Catholic beliefs? How do people who would identify with Andean Indigeneity feel about Catholicism now? Granted, being ‘curious’ about the effects of a culture’s worldviews being imposed upon and eroded by colonialism feels insensitive. Curious, but deeply saddened, feels like a much better way to say it. In fact, much of the reading and experience we’ve done, while so fascinating, makes me really sad. Grace brought up a very validating point a few hours ago about how sad this Guaman Poma reading is. Leaving his positionality out of the question, he is sort of writing on behalf of Indigenous Andeans, defending their capability of converting while critiquing the cruelty of Spanish colonialism. Cruelly, the reality of what the Spanish were doing to Indigenous Andeans was far different than the plan Guaman Poma so painstakingly laid out. As has been mentioned, his writing never reached the Crown. It is worth wondering if he would have had any sway in that sphere, but I very much doubt it. Much of Guaman Poma’s feelings toward the Indigenous Andeans, while deeply contaminated with Catholicism, are informed (apparently) by his lived experience. Obviously, this is not the case regarding the members of Spanish royalty. I forgot which Spanish king it was that never visited ‘the Indies’; or maybe it was none of them? What a bunch of evil fuckers.

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Second Sunday reflection; bodies in Cusco’s Corpus Christi

Throughout our week spent experiencing Cusco’s iteration of Corpus Christi, I have been trying to see how the Catholic celebration attempts (or doesn’t attempt) to reflect Peru’s deeply entrenched ‘hybridism’ (syncretism? I keep changing my lingo) that we have read so much about. Dean’s book focuses especially on ‘Cusco’s Corpus Christi’ as unique, so I had high but tempered expectations. As I observed, I was frankly not all surprised – which was, dare I say, surprising in and of itself – by how the celebration represented Andean indigeneity. Corpus Christi employed the classic colonial tactic of making bodies invisible, one that we have observed constantly in the Canadian nation-state’s historical and contemporary treatment of indigeneity within its arbitrary borders. A major example of this was the lack of pronounced indigeneity in the enormous crowd. Of course, this brings into question what indigeneity even looks like, which is a generalization I do not wish to invoke. Rather, I am noting the lack of emphasis, of pronunciation, that caught my eye. The absence of bodily representations, such as garb or dance, was striking. Furthermore, there was the infamous moment when the guy delivering the mass (before the virgins and whatnot were paraded about) emphasized the deep Catholicism of Cusco’s Corpus Christi, albeit with “an Andean face”, which was clearly an attempt to liken it to more ‘pure’ forms of Corpus Christi, like the one in Spain. If it wasn’t obvious, the Catholic Church does not want to acknowledge the hybridity of Peru. However, what I find so beautifully ironic about these shitty colonial attempts at erasure is that they don’t work at all. I will say that if I wasn’t searching for indigeneity, or rather being conscious of its lurking presence (thanks LAST 315!), I may not have noticed it at all. The native Andean potatoes placed at the feet of the virgins, for example, or a face with markedly indigenous garb jutting out of the beams that supported one of the virgin floats. Or, perhaps, the chicha morada being guzzled by some dude as he egged on his buddies who bent underneath the weight of a priest float (correct me if it wasn’t a priest, I don’t know my Catholicism). More important than the ironically visible, though, is the invisible indigeneity that teased my nostrils, taste buds, and fingertips. When I searched beyond the sharpness of Catholic sound or my keenness at the sight of a virgin fight, I was struck by the strong presence of Andean indigeneity. The smell of roasted guinea pigs that I failed to try; the taste of chicha morada in my mouth and its fragrance on the breath of others; the re-purposed Inca stones that people brushed against, bounced off, and leaned against as they wrestled the virgins through the square. Indigeneity was, in fact, everywhere.

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