Advertisement
Published: September 22nd 2006
Edit Blog Post
MOTHER EARTH'S OFFERING
Elvis lighting his offering to Pachamama. Life continues on like normal here- I’m a continued joke with my lack of enthusiasm to conform to the typical Peruvian wife (you know, barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen). All Elvis’ male siblings and relatives laugh at Elvis and his luck in being stuck with a Western woman for the rest of his life- I am quite sure that this had something to do with him returning home after a hard day at work: dragging in tow his crusty, oil sodden mechanics overalls… asking me (quite pleasantly actually) if I could wash them for him. And, well, as you can imagine, I told him to stick his overalls where the sun don’t shine because my laundry expertise don’t go beyond socks and t-shirts. And, he’s never asked again.
I don’t know whether it is a good thing, but I seem to be influencing Elvis’ little sister: Sivigne (the black sheep of the family). We’ve made a connection, we share the same bond: we’ll never live up to the highly domesticated Ruth (Elvis’ sister)… and we are both okay with that, there’s so much more than wifely domestication.
So, as life continues normally, leeching my western habits through the household, I woke up on August 1st and was reminded that I am a VERY VERY long way from home.
In traditional Perú, before the Spaniards, August 1st was a very important day, in fact, all of August is important: it is the month of the Earth. Those familiar with the Incas, know that their beliefs and faith revolved around the Mother Earth… the Sun… the Moon. The month of August is dedicated to making payments to the Earth, thanking her for the things she has bought to the family, like fruitful harvests and also paying her so that she will be good to the family for the year to come.
I stepped out the door that morning on August 1st and stepped into a field of gold confetti. I don’t know exactly what the gold confetti resembles, perhaps it is an offering to the Earth to bring wealth to the family: but every single house was surrounded. It was an environmentalist’s nightmare!
Catching the bus into the city for the day, the gold disappeared with the shanty houses and was replaced by the houses of the rich. It seems tradition gets lost somewhere along the way when you have everything and not left wanting. Going about in the city for the day, I forgot about the specialness of the day. But coming home in the bus that night, crossing the point where paved roads turned to dirt, fancy houses turning to run down shanties- it was like crossing into another world. Traditional Peruvian men and women were singing and dancing in the streets, old men were sitting around camp fires playing their guitars. Chicha, the traditional highland drink, made from fermented corn- incredibly alcoholic, and incredibly disgusting for someone that hasn’t been weaned on it since birth, was flowing freely. A mouthful for the celebrator, and a mouthful for Mother Earth. PACHAMAMA (mother earth) being shouted for all to hear.
Getting off the bus and wading through the golden confetti I made it home to find the men of the house preparing to make their offerings to the Earth. It was all quite interesting, bad sadly I had to play a backseat role of just observing at a distance. The Mother Earth, naturally, is a woman- and a very jealous woman at that, so for a woman to participate in this offering would infuriate her. And who needs to be on the bad side of Mother Earth? The offering began as a small fire in the center of an old roof tile: stones of incense were added along with other various oddities like seeds of plants and candies. Once there was a good amount of smoke happening, the men proceeded to move from one room to the next, letting the smoke drift over everything, under beds, behind TVs, over all the kitchen utensils. Everything had to be touched by this smoke, there was not a corner of the house, inside or out, that was left untouched. For the remainder of the night, the burning roof tile sat in the center of the courtyard letting the incense burn and the smoke drift. Later that night, Elvis told me that his dad would be doing the exact same thing in his country home, but because he works with animals, he would sacrifice a baby sheep or goat: burying the body in the center of his land. This sacrifice will please the Mother Earth and will bring bounty for all of next year.
If you looked outside my window, you would see that Mother Earth had abandoned her people years ago: the years never bring riches for the poor, they struggle and struggle- but still they hope, they still pray and they still make their offerings…. And it’s this hope that makes them wake up each day, the hope that maybe today things will be a little better….
Advertisement
Tot: 0.057s; Tpl: 0.009s; cc: 5; qc: 45; dbt: 0.0357s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb