Author: zyasmin

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Experience

Final Experience Blog (Oh My!)

Our last experience blog.

Gulp.

I am taking a break from working on my video presentation to write this. As I do so, my fingers shake a little more than usual. Tomorrow we head back to Lima, and then, I inevitably go home and put my time in Peru behind me.

I remember when I first found out about this trip, when I asked Ben from the Latin-American Studies department what the trip was going to be about. 

“It’s about you!” He said.

This confused me at the time. I had no connections to Peru. I do not consider myself to be Indigenous anywhere. How could this trip be about me?

But it was, a bit. I’ve always been intrigued with the question of identity, so much so that I mention it a handful of times in my video project. I say this in my project, but I may as well reiterate it here — as a double-diasporic (and then some) human being who has no ties to one of the places I associate with based on blood or growth, how is it determined that I have any claim to association to that place at all? How do we determine who is part of a group? I talked about this in my application for this course, and it’s still something I wonder. Is association to a group based on blood? Culture? Land? Birth? All of the above, or none of them? You can ask these questions of many groups, including the Indigenous peoples of the Andes. The answer to who belongs where is subjective, and I guess it’s a question we can all ask ourselves in reflecting on our own identities.

As Jon said, we might leave Peru with more questions on Indigeneity than we started with. In my situation, he was right. I still have no idea who has the right to call themselves Indigenous. Being in Peru makes it clear that the definitions of Indigenous are different here than in Canada. Canada’s definition is attached much more closely to race, which is based on, well, DNA. Peru’s definition seems much more connected to culture. I don’t think I have the right to suggest which one of these is “correct,” nor do I claim to know the answer. Maybe we can just settle on the fact that two different things can be true in different places (Huh, maybe I should add this point to my video presentation! I think it fits).

Despite not having a clear answer on many things, I am very happy I got to come to Peru. I feel enlightened on many topics, regardless of any further questions I may have on other ones. I also feel like I personally grew, aside from everything we may have learned. As I suggested in my introductory blog, I’m a pretty rigid human being that needs things done in specific ways. Sometimes, regardless of my attempts, things weren’t exactly as I felt I needed, and I survived (even when I was sick in Aguas Calientes AND had to shower in cold water at the same time! ????)

Thank you, Peru. I have so much more to say, but I guess my video presentation will have to do it all justice. I had a marvelous time 😀

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Readings

Death in the Andes: The Perspectives of the Stories We Tell

As I wanted to have some reading done for this course before my trip, I initially read Death in the Andes by Mario Vargas Llosa in early May. Of course, back then, I was trying to navigate the reading with very little context. I did not know what Sendero referred to, and for whatever reason I did not feel the need to look it up; instead, I assumed that it was a group that was made up particularly for the book. The same thing occurred to me with the term “terruco.” Although the term in itself suggests an association with terrorism, I was unaware of some of the context with which this term was sometimes used. Being in this class has definitely helped enlighten me on much of what Death in the Andes refers to. Now that I am re-reading some of the first chapter, I definitely feel like I am approaching the book under a slightly different light.

One thing that cannot be missed about this text, however, is the way that Indigenous/Andean people are portrayed in comparison to those who are from outside of that area. This is prevalent not only in how Lituma talks about his hometown of Piura, but also in how Andeans are portrayed in comparison to people from more “western” society in general. One example of this comes when the story of Michele and Albert from France is being told. Albert seems to especially marvel at the Andeans that share the bus with him, speaking about them more as if they were props or objects than people. Vargas Llosa describes Albert’s thoughts on them as:

These were the real descendants of the Incas, not the people in Lima; their ancestors had carried the gigantic stones up to the aeries of Machu Picchu, the sanctuary-fortress he and his friend would explore in three days’ time. (11)

Vargas Llosa, in situating this tragic story around the only foreigners present at the scene, almost presents their lives as even more important and more worth  highlighting. They are the stars of the scene while everybody else does become a prop of a sort; a prop to situate this story within the Andes. 

My question relating to all of this is: how is it determined whose stories are important and/or worth telling? Why does a story surrounding characters with little significance for the rest of the story have to be told from the point of view of foreigners? (Particularly when they were largely not the ones being impacted by these events in reality).

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Readings

Shining Path and Peru: Contradictory Groups with the Same Answer

In “The Years We Lived in Danger,” the first chapter of How Difficult it is to be God,  Carlos Iván Degregori demonstrates how two groups in conflict with one another can each be wrong at the same time. Degregori states that:

 “During 1980–82, Shining Path expanded vertiginously in the rural zones of Ayacucho. In response, the civilian government of Fernando Belaúnde (1980–85) entrusted the counter insurgency fight to the armed forces. In 1983–84, the military unleashed a brutal counter offensive that resulted in about one-third of the victims killed in the entire conflict, most of them civilian” (22). 

In a world where people ignore factual information that discredits their own arguments, I appreciated Degregori’s honesty about the tragedies committed by both Shining Path and the Peruvian government. The Peruvian government was not automatically right in its actions just because it was fighting people involved in killing; after all, its own actions ended up hurting and terrifying even more people. Based on my limited knowledge on Shining Path, it appears as if there was no right answer to dealing with this issue. No matter what, it seems as if innocent people would have gotten hurt regardless of the course of action given.

In the second chapter of his book, “How Social Sciences Failed?” Degregori speaks of a lack of general research on Shining Path in Peru and elsewhere (37). He says that:

“ In my opinion, this lack of research, which led to speculations and misinterpretations regarding Sendero’s armed violence and the counter insurgency response by the government, was related to various factors, including surprise, fragmentation, post colonial distancing, and fear” (37).

I believe that when Degregori speaks of various factors, (particularly fear), he suggests that the revelations of the Peruvian government’s own wrongs will become more prevalent amongst the study of Shining Path itself. As the Peruvian government’s actions during this period are intrinsically tied to the suffering many people have gone through at the time, it is only natural that more information will be dug up about it if more attention is put into the topic of Shining Path in general. I believe that, perhaps, there is fear surrounding what could be uncovered for everyone involved. When we visited the LUM, there was little talk if any about the Peruvian government. This is proof that there still exists some hesitance to speak of one’s own wrongdoings through publicly funded projects, and why these projects might not dig even deeper in general. My question is: what do we lose when suggesting that two groups in conflict can both be wrong, or both be right? Does the possibility for that even exist?

 

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Experience

Experience Blog 5: Machu Picchu and the Filters of Sickness

Hello everyone!

I am writing this from my table at the hotel restaurant in Cusco, watching what I can from my angle of the parade below me. Considering today isn’t even technically Inti Raymi, it excites me to see the intensity of the celebration tomorrow. How much more intense and passionate than what’s going on today can one really get?

This past week has not been my favourite, but that’s entirely on me. I got sick on Monday night and did not start feeling normal for good until yesterday at about noon. As a result, my experiences of Ollantaytambo, Aguas Calientes, and Machu Picchu have been impacted through a filter of uncomfort- of enjoying my time exploring things in each of these places, but also anticipating when we’d finally be back at the hotel so I could experience more comfort for my situation. This made me start thinking about how our own positionalities might impact how much we enjoy a particular experience or place.

At the moment we visited Machu Picchu, my positionality was of a person who was unwell and would not have enjoyed or fully appreciated much of anything. How might my experience have differed if I was feeling well? In our small group in class, we compared our experiences of Machu Picchu and Sacsayhuaman. We talked about how Machhu Picchu felt largely curated – you have a tour guide that tells you what you need to know and does not let you think for yourself about the site you are on. Meanwhile, Sacsayhuaman was the opposite – there were few additional tourists, you could go where you pleased, and there was no major restaurant, hotel, or 2 Sol bathroom right outside, reminding you that you were in fact in a tourist destination. I wonder if my health issues at Machu Picchu further took me outside of the “true” Machu Picchu experience and feel. Along with everything touristy that lays outside Machu Picchu’s walls, it too could have taken away from some illusion I was supposed to be immersed in. 

Just as being sick is (sort of) a positionality, being a tourist, a person of the 21st century, and a Canadian can all be considered parts of one’s positionality. I guess in this way, our eyes add a filter on to what we’re seeing. Is it even possible to say, therefore, that we’re all seeing the same thing?

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Readings

Nathanial Tarn and Neruda: Some Thoughts on Translation

I had originally come onto Pablo Neruda’s The Heights of Macchu Picchu with the intention of writing about a quote and what it means. Ultimately, I decided to do that in a slightly different manner than I had initially anticipated. I was not always a fan of Nathaniel Tarn’s translations, and considering that I took notice of them in this way more than once, I decided to do my blog post on how some of these translations sort of annoyed me because of their slight inaccuracies (And if anyone believes that I am incorrect or otherwise wrong, I am open to changing my mind!)

The first line of the entire poem is one which particularly stuck out to me, though there are many:

“Del aire al aire, como una red vacía, iba yo entre las calles y la atmósfera, llegando y despidiendo” (16).

Without looking back at the translated quote, I would translate this as:

“From air to air, like an empty net, I went between the roads and the atmosphere, arriving and saying goodbye.”

Now, though “despidiendo” does mean saying goodbye, it could definitely be a euphemism for leaving in general. In this case, I could substitute “saying goodbye” for leaving. Nevertheless, Nathanial Tarn translates the sentence like this:

“From air to air, like an empty net, dredging through streets and ambient atmosphere, I came” (17).

There is no mention here of any sort of leaving or actions that come from it, even in the lines that follow. Why would Tarn omit this? To say “I came and left” would still sound smooth. Even if saying that would make the translation not sound smooth, I’d prefer to know I was reading something closer to what the original author had intended. At the very least, we are being provided with the Spanish for transparency, so I am able to make these critiques in the first place.

Ultimately, I’ve determined that our version of The Heights of Macchu Picchu is impacted by numerous forms of interpretation. Neruda makes assumptions about what Machu Picchu is supposed to represent, and tries to transmit this to his readers in ways they can understand. Does that mean that Neruda himself is translating, in a way? At the same time, Nathaniel Tarn transforms these words even more, perhaps getting rid of any semblance of what Machu Picchu is actually about. It really makes me think about how many texts I’ve read where I didn’t have the opportunity to compare with its original language, either because of lack of understanding or opportunity in general. How do we determine whether the information we receive about anything is accurate?

 

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Readings

Asunta and Holding on: What we Remember

I want to start off by apologizing for this blog post. I’m sick and I’m probably slightly delirious, so this might not be my best work (we’ll save more information on that for my experience blog!) Anyway, I’ll try my best.

In her chapter “Eusebio,” Asunta tells the audience of when she first got her period. When explaining how her mother reacted, she says that “ She didn’t even pay attention to what I said. All she told me was, “It’s your monthly bleeding” (116). I found this quote fascinating. Asunta’s mother brushes off something that is concerning to Asunta, not even explaining why it is something normal she shouldn’t be worried about. I feel like this quote is more largely representative of how Asunta is taught to view all of the negative things that happen to her in her life. They are that way just because they are that way — there’s no explanation as to why suffering occurs, and so moving on from thinking about specific instances of pain and suffering is the only thing one can really do. After all, in the beginning of “I Stopped Wearing that Cross,” Asunta says that: 

With all the sin that exists in the world, to live this life is to suffer. Yet, everybody, from the tiniest moth to the mountain lord’s fearsome puma, from the largest tree to the smallest blade of grass spreading without a thought, all of us here since those distant times of our ancient ancestors, we’re all just passing through this life. (121)

I wonder what “pass through” means in this situation. To me, it definitely can mean a necessity to not “dwell” on situations, as I said yesterday in class, and instead to persevere and pass on to the next thing. Of course, as we also discussed in class, to persevere does not necessarily mean to forget or even to move on. One can choose to be strong after a tough time, knowing they must continue on with their life, while still holding a space in their mind for what has happened to them. The very fact that Asunta and Gregorio can retell their past sufferings means that they remember them. If one remembers something, does that mean that it hasn’t been completely “passed through” or let go?

The above was a bit of a ramble, but hopefully it made some sense. My mind is not currently clear enough to determine whether that’s the case.

 

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Experience

Experience Blog 4 – How are we here already?

Geez, week four . . . does that mean it’s been nearly (not quite) a month since we got here? That seems incredible to think about. I think that through all of the things that we have done in our time in Peru so far, this past week in Pisac has been one of the most significant. 

On Monday, we visited the Kusi Kawsay school. This was very fascinating and intriguing for me, as I am interested in eventually going further into the field of education. Our discussion about Waldorf schools in class got me thinking on whether there is a “right” way to learn. Perhaps, the way that we believe is “right”  is only that way because it serves to sustain ourselves in the society that we live in. The way that I grew up being educated sure would not serve me to sustain myself in Amaru, the Indigenous community we visited on Thursday. I do not know how to weave, nor have I ever been trained in farming or agriculture. Who needs the ability to write an essay or do math when you do not have the skills to survive in the context that you live in? This week, I’ve determined that usefulness is relative. If we continue on the topic of how children should be taught, then I think I’ve arrived at a conclusion: Children should be taught in the way that best serves them for the community they will find themselves in as adults. As that is typically unknown, perhaps different kinds of education combined are necessary; this will ensure that kids have the ability to thrive regardless of the context they end up in. Regardless of whether they’re a requirement to live, to acquire new skills is important in itself (can you imagine how much cooler I’d be if people thought I knew how to weave?)

Besides the learning aspect of things, I really enjoyed our trip to Amaru and our ability to immerse ourselves in the community. The cooking on the ground, our consumption of multiple new types of potatoes, and the delicious soups were amazing highlights for me- this among the sweating as I hacked at clumps of dirt for a long while, something that was not quite as pleasant. Nevertheless, everything we did contributed to immersing ourselves into what “real” (debatable?) life looks like in the Andes. I definitely learned a lot, and I’m very excited to learn more.

Next stops: Ollantaytambo, Aguas Calientes, and Machu Picchu!

 

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Readings

What is “Whiteness” to Herman Melville?

Hello everyone – at the risk of sounding too much like an English student, I have decided to return way back to our days with The Lima Reader. The reason I risk sounding too much like an English student is that I wish to do this to draw on Herman Melville’s words about Lima. I read his short story “Benito Cereno” in a class this past year and I’d like to draw on certain things I remember about it in comparison.

“For Lima has taken the white veil; and there is a higher horror in this whiteness of her woe,” Melville says. The use of colour (or shade?) is what strikes me here, and makes me believe that Melville is using shades or colours differently than he did in Benito Cereno. Although I don’t remember Benito Cereno down to its last detail, I remember the opening pages that more than once talked about grayness- gray sky, gray smoke. In a story that does not clearly label which of the white or black guys are “good” or “bad” (that is up to the reader’s interpretation) grayness represents confusion – a mixture of the good or bad regardless of which group the “good”guys supposedly are. If this is the case, then what does it mean, for Melville, if Lima carries a white veil? My first assumption about white in this scenario is that it has to do with some lighter clouds – perhaps clouds that appear non-threatening in the beginning, because they offer less of a chance of rain, but conceal the sun nevertheless. The clouds’ concealment of the sun metaphorically correspond to the veil – something that covers. Is Melville saying that Lima’s “whiteness” covers something else, and that that is scary? If so, does “whiteness” represent people, perhaps those of a higher percentage of Spanish descent? Does this cover the city’s long Indigenous history? I’m probably going too far. Given that I don’t know much about Melville himself and how much any of this would have mattered to him, I am purely making the assumptions any good English student would. Maybe I should stop looking for metaphors where there aren’t any significant ones. Maybe “whiteness” does only represent clouds, if that.

In an attempt to continue using this metaphor myself, there are far fewer clouds in Cusco and Pisac. There are some, but they don’t quite manage to obstruct the blue skies. I guess, if you think about it, that a veil cannot fully obstruct anything either- it just makes things a little bit more difficult to see, which I suppose is the case in Lima.

I apologize for my heavy metaphor usage today. I hope my blog manages to get its point across regardless 🙂

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Readings

Incas, Spaniards, Silverblatt, and Beliefs

Upon reading the “Becoming Indian” chapter of Irene Silverblatt’s Modern Inquisitions, I began thinking about the concept of beliefs in Indigenous Peruvian society. Mainly, I was intrigued by a line by Hernando Poma that Silverblatt quotes:

“Indians, precisely because [we] are Indians, should worship [our] malquis [ancestors, lineage] since they are the ones who look out for the fertility of fields and the well-being of Indians; and only Spaniards should worship God and the painted saints which are in the church, since they are the gods of the Spanish.”

Although this line can (and should) be inherently read as meaning that the Indigenous should continue following their traditional beliefs and not assimilate into Christianity, this line also implies that there is no religion or belief that is “right” or “wrong.” It perfectly accepts that  the Indigenous should believe what they believe, and that the Spanish should believe what they believe, and that each one of those is the “right” belief for each group. This goes against what was being promoted by many Spaniards, such as Francisco de Avila and Fernando de Avendano, whose main goals were to transform the Indigenous into “civilized” Christians. They did think that being Christian was the only right way to think or live. Assuming I understood her correctly, Silverblatt mentions that this was not an issue when the Incas conquered other Peruvian Indigenous groups. Silverblatt says that:

Although the lords of Cuzco, self-proclaimed descendants of the Sun and Moon, established devotion to the empire’s ruling gods throughout the conquered Andes, their strategies of statecraft sanctioned provincial religious beliefs, including ayllu commitments to non-Inca ancestor heroes and heroines. (191)

The quote above emphasizes the Inca’s lack of necessity to have its entire empire believe the same things. They did not feel that they needed that in order to have power and control over people. At least in this regard, they seemed to believe that the people under an empire could all belong and work for that empire even if not everybody believed the same things. The idea that beliefs could coexist in a society seems to have at least stayed with some people after Spanish colonization, as evidenced by Poma’s quote. It also reveals an interesting difference between what the Incas and the Spanish believed. I assume that the Incas thought that more than one belief could be “correct,” (which one you chose depended on who you were) while the Spanish believed that only one religious belief could ever be the right one. My question is: are common beliefs and ways of thinking what makes up a cultural group? Does thinking differently automatically alienate oneself from a group?

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Uncategorized

Experience Blog 3: Pisac, Ruins and Value

Hello everyone,

I can’t believe that this is already my third experience blog, this time from Pisac! It’s incredible how quickly this trip has been going by. Unfortunately, my memory does not always serve me well, but I’ll do my best to sum up the days I can remember.

Thursday was the day we left Cusco. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to leave town until six, when we had to leave our hotel rooms at ten. It wasn’t until three-ish that Anja and I decided to embark on a trek to some ruins with a name I can’t recall. It was a half-hour walk, and when we saw this on Google Maps it did not occur to me that that walk would go upwards. Ultimately, the ruins we saw were just a bit past Sacsayhuaman. Just before them, there was what appeared to be a vicuña sanctuary with a little gift shop. We saw the adorable vicuñas, which gave me much joy, and more than made up for the long walk up. I ended up purchasing a pair of socks (as all money would go to keep the vicuña sanctuary running, and they’re so cute I couldn’t pass it up)

The next day, when we were finally in Pisac, our group went uphill again to see some ruins (this time by car). It never would have occurred to me that this site could have been largely a recreation, until Daniel brought up differences in some of the stones we saw, compared to what we knew to be “officially” Incan. It amazed me that these kinds of things are never mentioned when we visit sites – how come there aren’t any signs explaining re-buildings? I am convinced sites choose to fool their visitors into believing that everything is exactly untouched as the Incas left it, but that isn’t the case. (Although, let’s be honest: they would have fooled me). To know that it is very possible that much of this site has been rebuilt has made me linger on the concept of value. Is an archeological site inherently less valuable because much of it has been recreated? Or would it have been less valuable if it had been left untouched, but with very little to show for it? 

Saturday and Sunday have mostly involved wandering around Pisac for me. It was nice to take these days to relax, and also explore somewhere new! I’m very excited to see where the rest of our time in Pisac takes me, particularly when it comes to visiting the school tomorrow.

See you soon!

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