Report from Pisac

Following Fielding’s recommendation not to take the direct road to Pisac, I spent a good two hours winding through the Sacred Valley from one small town to another on March 19th, 2010. I critically scanned the view from the window looking for signs of devastation in the valley. Unfortunately, they were not absent:  whole fields of corn dry and dead where they should have been green and approaching harvest, adobe houses collapsed onto themselves, unnatural patches of water far extending the reaches of local lakes and ponds. Having seen these signs from a distance, I grew increasingly apprehensive as we approached Pisac. My last leg of the journey was in a taxi with a young driver and an extra passenger he had stopped to pick up.

It turns out that my traveling companion was from Taray, Fielding and Roman’s village, and as we approached the town he pointed across the river to where Taray was distantly smeared along the mountainside. The taxi deposited us in Pisac on a street that was familiar but significantly dustier and more disorderly than I had remembered. The weariness in people’s faces reflected their recent trials. Still unsure about what to expect, I quickly made my way to the Pisac Inn, Roman and Fielding’s beautiful home for travelers on the Pisac Plaza. There I found Fielding and the kids; Roman was at a meeting with the town of Taray and a geologist from Cusco to discuss whether the land was still suitable for rebuilding (short answer: No).

After warm embraces, Fielding excitedly asked if I wanted to see the progress on the Kusi Kawsay School, located near the Pisac archeological site above the town. We made the short trek above the plaza and were soon at a big wooden door flanked by the high stone wall that encircles the school area. Fielding and I couldn’t quite jimmy the lock open, so we ended up taking the back route, the route than the construction workers have been using to transport all of the building materials to the school site. Navigating that path, and then a small ladder over the wall, was challenging enough with only a small backpack; I couldn’t imagine doing the same journey with bags of sand and cement.

We arrived in the school center as the sun sank into the valley behind it. The effect on the earthen walls and straw roofs was beautiful. Several people were still working, preparing the ground for wooden floors and painting bright turquoise trim on windows looking out onto the Sacred Valley. Fielding pointed out the symbolic significance of the arrangement of the buildings, and explained the traditional building materials for their structure (bamboo frames with earthen plaster). We followed a path to a separate area where the kindergarten classrooms will be built once more funding comes in. A small building that sits on a bluff above the school buildings will become the administrative office and library, looking appropriately like a mother hen watching her flock.

That evening the Pachamama’s Path community performed an amazing collection of traditional dances and songs in thanks for the support they have received from international friends. Following the progression of the Andean calendar, the dances were beautiful as well as a lesson in Andean philosophy, narrated by Roman.

The next morning we continued to discuss the politics and practicalities of establishing an Andean school in Peru. This was especially valuable to me after meeting with Fredy Flores Machacca, director of the newly founded Kusi Ccoyllor Education Center in the Communities of Q’eros. By the end of the conversation I was even more impressed by the Pachamama’s Path leadership and their commitment to their vision of creating Andean leaders in their community. Especially incredible to me was how much they have accomplished and continue to pursue despite the devastation created by the floods.

I had carried 9 kilos of fruit to Pisac with the intention of delivering it to the Taray refugees. Because the main Pisac bridge was still destroyed, I walked a kilometer down the dusty road until I came to the Taray pedestrian bridge. Although crowds of people were casually walking back and forth across it, I took a few minutes to examine its crumbling supports before slowly inching my way across it behind a large, slowly moving family.

The Taray side of the bridge was a dusty noisy mess of buses filled with people daring enough to take the washed out road to Cusco. I asked someone where the church was (I had been told the church was organizing meals) and she gestured up the road, calling after me that I should get an autorickshaw, it was too far to walk. Among the people and buses idling in the hot dust I spotted a middle aged man with an empty bicycle cart (see photo below). I asked him where he was from. Taray. Would he be able to take this bag of fruit to the church for the people of Taray? He hesitated, eying the size of the bag, and then nodded. I gave it to him gratefully, equally happy if he took it home to his family alone, or actually brought it to the church. I had heard several stories of politics and uneven distribution of resources in the last few days, but in that moment I was giving to someone who had less than I did. If he was able, I hoped that he would do the same.

Many thanks to all of you who have contributed so generously to the Pachamama’s Path Flood Relief Fund. Unless you specifically indicated otherwise, the money will be used to provide critical support to affected families in Taray and the reconstruction of the Pachamama’s Path Cultural Center.

On Mar 28 in Peru tagged by kate