Turismo Vivencial en El Parque de la papaA few weeks ago I spent a few days in “tursimo vivencial” in the Parque de La Papa, a biocultural territory dedicated to conserving the cultural and biological diversity in the Andean mountains. In the Parque, I came to better understand the Allyu system, and the complexity of sumak kawsay, or “harmonious living.”
After working with the culinary collective during the day, we are driven by one of the técnicos, or locally trained experts, to Paru Paru, a small village. It is dusk, and as we arrive, passing a young woman dressed in traditional Kichwa clothing herding alpaca. She shimmies over to the van and hops inside. “Soy Rosa” she says with a warm smile, shaking our hands and plopping in the back seat of the van. A few minutes later we arrive at Rosa’s home, a rosy pink adobe home with a clay tile roof, nestled in between two lakes and mountains, the property speckled with eucalyptus trees. From Rosa’s home, the lakes shimmer in the distance, and the mountains take on a new shadowy form in the dark. After dropping our bags off in our rooms, Geoffery, another ANDES intern, and I are welcomed into the kitchen, where Rosa starts a fire with eucalyptus bark, to boil water. She sets a pot over the fire and pours a plethora of oil into the pan and a handful of corn kernels. After a few minutes, the cacophony of ‘pops’ overwhelmed the small room, and we are handed a wicker basket full of popcorn or “palomitas.” The crunch and saltiness of the palomitas are welcomed after a long day in the Andean sun. Rosa also provides a sprig of muña or Andean mint, which she just snipped from a plant in her yard to seep in steaming water. Good for digestion. Good for altitude. The wisdom of healing plants is second nature to Rosa. I would continue to be struck by the place-based wisdom of Kichwa people in the Parque- of their home, of all the plants, animals, and beings that exist in the space they share. After a day of introductions in the Parque, learning about the agricultural calendar, the thousands of types of potatoes in the park, and repatriation efforts with seed banks, we end up in Pampayacha, a distance from Paru Paru. We set off with Daniel, a técnico, as our guide, for a walk through the mountains of the Parque. Daniel guides us with no hesitation, only a peaceful candor and a constant smile. Daniel walks confidently through the tall grasses, and up the hills, pointing out specific plants and their properties. This yellow flower is good for a cough. This soil can be used to paint homes. He breaks open a purple-colored seed and brushes the pigment onto my nail bed. For painting, he says joyfully. I look down at my thumb which is now colored in a purple pigment, struck with awe for the ways in which Daniel understands his immediate environment. It is not separate for him, as he walks he does not conquer the path, but rather gently points out the wisdom of the beings that surround him. He stops, looking up at the pajaros in the sky, pointing them out with a sigh. We then take a descansa (rest), laying on the earth, glancing down at homes, terraces, trees, and the mountains in the distance. We continue onwards, and as the sun wanes in the sky, making our way into the village of Paru Paru. Rosa prepares a warm dinner of rice, papas, huevos, and fresh tomatoes, accompanied by papa relleno, or stuffed potato. We eat in the warmth of the kitchen, Rosa’s two daughters, ages 11 and 4, glance up at us with curious eyes and endearing smiles as they munch on their papas, too. On the last morning of the stay, I am abruptly woken up by a knocking on my door. Daniel shouts “Sammi, estás listo?” Shivering in my bed I muster the courage to respond, “Sí, un minute, necestio cambiar!” I was a bit nervous to hike in the dark, but with Daniel’s guidance, my worries faded. We begin our ascent, the stars, bright as can be, lighting our path. Daniel carries onwards into the night, up mountain passes. I light my flashlight to the right, spying a steep cliff and the shimmering of water in the distance. After about two and a half hours of climbing through the night, Daniel says “Estamos cerca.” At this point, the mountain shapes are highlighted by a deep red. The sun is on its way. I glance down to see a laguna in its full form, the mountain above reflecting its immense rugged glory in the still water. And then Daniel points to the left, it is the Apu, Pitusiray, a sacred mountain, covered in snow, shimmering in the pre-sunrise glow. We make it to the mirador and Daniel says with joy “Ya hemos ganado” or “we have won” referring that we made it before the sun rose. We sit down in the yellow grasses, waiting for the warmth of the sun to grace us. Daniel pours some tea, for strength, he says. Suddenly the sun peeping above the mountains in the distance its rays at first timid, and suddenly overwhelming, wrapping our bodies in warmth. We then climb to a higher point, to have a view of the Sacred Apus: Pitusiray and Salkantay, each of which has its own spirit. At this point, Daniel asks that we take a few minutes to introduce ourselves to the two Apus that surround us. He says that we may ask for guidance for our lives, that we may lay ourselves before their spirits to gain wisdom. And so we sat on the mountainside, praying to the Apus. I have never before prayed to a mountain. Surrendering myself to the moment I was able to connect with the spirit of the Apus around me. I felt peaceful and warm despite the growing wind. The Apus had much wisdom to share with me, and I felt grateful to be in their presence and for Daniel’s willingness to guide us. Then Daniel began to speak about Sumak Kawsay. Daniel begins… “Sumak kawsay is the dance, the language, the food, it is all. Vivir en Harmonia. Our traditions our customs, our animals, our wild animals, the plants. We must be cautious and live with the mountains. This is sumak kawsay for us. Now we are here observing mountains, lakes, and walking. We are above 5000 meters in altitude. You have come from a different place to observe sumak kawsay. Ayni, and reciprocity. This is sumak kawsay. Living together and sharing our experiences, now this is harmony. Like siblings. We are observing the sun. Many thanks. Protect me, mountains, in my walk, in my life. Pachamamma with the Apus… this is sumak kawsay. We can dialogue about sumak kawsay. This is reciprocity. We are free to live. We are tranquil. Live in harmony. This is sumak kawsay. It is beautiful.” As we begin our descent back to the village of Paru Paru, Daniel stops and breathes in deeply, “El aire libre…. este es el Sumak Kawsay.” Breathe in deep. Feel the wholeness deep in your bones, allow the clean air to fill your soul, and purify it. Ask the mountains for guidance on your path. Allow the plants to heal you. May you be held, and free. From what I learned that week in the Parque, sumak kawsay is multitudes. It is complex. It is contested. It is deeply cultural. It is all. And yet I continue to wonder- is sumak kawsay or buen vivir lived? Is it used? Is it taught? From speaking with individuals in the Parque I learned that sumak kawsay is indeed passed down, as the wisdom of plants, the alllyu system, how to weave, care for livestock, is knowledge passed down from generation to generation. Rosa will pass all that she knows on to her two daughters, they already know how to weave small pieces. But Rosa also shared that the ability to live sumak kawsay is shifting with climate change. There is a reorientation that must happen in the context of climate change that is viscerally felt within communities. Not everything is beautiful, not everything is harmony. And how can the rest of us learn from Andean cultural values? To deeply know and understand the ground on which we stand, the soil that holds us, the plants that offer us healing, the animal species that provide wisdom and guidance in their own subtle ways. The water moving through rivers, lakes, streams, asking for help from the sacred Apus, growing potatoes and vegetables in the earth, sharing food that we’ve grown. Reciprocity to each other, to all beings. Compartir, to share. Rosa told me, “now is the moment to transmit this knowledge.” To center it, and share it, not to romanticize or essentialize it. But now is the moment to reorient to different ways of being and knowing, learning balance and harmony through reciprocity.
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Sammi Bennett I am a dancer, singer, creative non-fiction writer, yoga teacher, outdoor lover, and book-binder. Archives
August 2022
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