Life as a Postgrad Scholar

The study of textiles and their producers cannot be separated from the context of daily life in the indigenous community of Chaullacocha, Peru. Rather, to fully understand textile production, one must integrate with the agricultural cycles, community festivals, and mundane daily activities in the community. This is how I’m approaching the task of conducting research in Chaullacocha. 

On my most recent trip I brought a digital voice recorder, a handy device which captures Quechua conversations that can later be replayed with a translator. As we hiked through alpaca pastures and potato fields, I captured conversations with campesinos traveling from village to village. We approached each person with a friendly “Allillanchu?” Which means, “how are you” or “how is life treating you” in Quechua. These first words are followed by an exchange of coca leaves, a friendly action which is greatly appreciated by the campesino. Conversation then ensues, and the campesino may say where he or she is headed and for what purpose. If we are crossing through his alpaca field, we may inquire about the animals, or ask how the potato planting is going. I feel fairly mute in these conversations as I don’t understand much Quechua, but I usually end the conversation with something I do know how to say: “tupananchis kama,” or “hoq p’unchay kama,” which means “until we meet again,” or “see you another day.” We then part ways and continue up the trail to the village of Chaullacocha.

the house of Augustin and Demesia

Chaullacocha is a barren community scattered with houses, alpacas, sheep, and potato fields. I stayed in the house of Augustin and Demesia, the only couple who speaks Spanish in Chaullacocha, to get a closer glimpse into community life. Their one-room house is simple, yet somewhat deluxe by community standards. Unlike other families, they have items such as a headlamp, food such as sugar and pasta, and a gas stove that was carried by horse to the village from a larger town in the valley. We squatted on small stools and were graciously offered llama skins for warmth. We huddled around the dung fed fire for protection against the icy wind which blew through the open door. As we peeled potato skins, the guinea pigs that live on the floor in the house scurried out to sweep up the scraps. In the morning I awoke to announcements blaring on the Quechua radio. As the only sound against the backdrop of the bitter wind, it is a comforting, yet false, link to the outside world. 

the chakitajlla, or Andean foot plow, used in potato planting

I found most comfort in the conversations we could have in Spanish. As we cooked dinner, we talked about the potato planting which has been occurring throughout the month. This year, the rains have been late to come, and the community is worried about the potato planting process which is closely correlated with the dry and rainy seasons. Right now, the community is in yapuy (the turning of the soil that occurs during potato planting). Through the system of ayni (reciprocal labor exchange), community members take turns helping each other turn the soil in their potato fields. They don’t receive money, but they might receive a large meal, coca leaves, or chicha (corn-beer) for their day of help. In turn, these helpers can call on community members for help in their own potato field. Here is Augustin, ready to head out for a day’s work in his neighbor’s potato field. The foot plow that is used to turn the soil, the chakitajlla, is a large piece of wood fastened with a metal piece that is secured with rope.

While the main responsibilities of the men are agricultural, women’s responsibilities pertain more to the household. Women are in charge of taking care of children, tending sheep and alpaca herds, cooking, and simultaneously weaving either inside their houses or in the sun as they watch their animals. For these women, the small prospects of the sale of their textiles for cash does not stop them from weaving. At most houses we visited, women were weaving bright llikllas (shawls) for themselves and their family members. In many conversations, however, a frustration prevailed among the women over the lack of market to sell their textiles. In one conversation, weavers describe the reality of their textile economy:

 Me: Have you started to shear the alpacas yet?

Community Women: Not yet…we usually shear the alpacas in December and January every year…

Me: What’s the process of alpaca shearing like? Do you shear the alpacas all in one day? 

Community women: The alpaca shearing depends on when the merchant comes to the community. We don’t have an exact date…he can appear in whatever moment. Right now, we haven’t started shearing because no buyer has come to the community.

Me: Where do the merchants come from? 

Community Women: They come from Sicuani (a town with lots of factories for the production and exportation of alpaca wool)

Me: What’s the price that the merchants pay for alpaca wool?

Community Members: 4 soles (1.3 US dollars) per kilo. A few years ago they would pay between 10-15 soles (3-5 US dollars), but the global financial crisis has lowered the price the merchants are willing to pay.

Me: So, where do you sell your textiles? Do merchants come directly to the community to buy?

Community Women: Merchants rarely come to the communities. We have to walk to Huilloc (a town 3 hours away) to meet the merchants. We sell our textiles for very low prices. Sometimes the merchants don’t pay us in money…they exchange synthetic wool for alpaca wool, ponchos, and llikllas…and when they do buy, it’s for a low price.

Me: Are the merchants weavers? Are they familiar with textiles?

Community Women: They’re just businessmen, but they know a bit about distinguishing high quality textiles. They buy all types of textiles and pay a price according to quality. They prefer the older textiles. They use them in personal collections or to sell to tourists. We don’t really know where they sell them.

 This is just one conversation among many more that I hope to have with the weavers of Chaullacocha as I continue my project. Learning how to integrate into this community has been a circuitous journey. I’m learning how to ask questions that will receive the most complete and accurate responses. For example, instead of asking yes-or-no questions or general questions, I try to ask questions that are specific to each person. Instead of asking “how do people get married,” I may ask “how did you and your wife get married.” I’ve also learned to be aware of internal community politics that I may not understand. For example, the president of the weaving association in the community of Rumira won’t let two talented weavers join the association because one of the weavers told her cousin not to marry this president. Most importantly, I’ve learned that I must participate in certain activities, like helping Demesia peel potatoes, helping Augustin turn the soil in his potato field, or to gulp down an unappetizing plate of food with appreciation, to gain their trust and to become one of them. Trying to understand and obtain information on an indigenous community in a culture completely foreign has been a long walk- but it’s a road, nonetheless.

My Fulbright project analyzes the effects of international involvement, as seen through the weaving cooperative that I work with, in three villages near Ollantatambo, Peru: Rumira, Chaullacocha, and Chupani. While the villages are only a few miles apart, they are unique in many ways. Rumira, for example, is located directly along a highway where food, goods, and tourists are easily accessible. Chaullacocha, on the other hand, is only accessible by foot over a high altitude mountain pass. Medical care, supplies, and community visitors are thus scarce. While the popular Lares-Patacancha trekking route brings tourists to Chaullacocha, offering community members a small market to sell their woven textiles, the Chupani community enjoys no such market. Chupani is even more isolated than Chaullacocha and can only be reached by walking 2-3 hours from the highway. Hence, the differences among the villages in this region make for a fascinating study, especially in the midst of the expansion of the highway in which changes in these communities are appearing before my eyes.

As part of my Fulbright project, I’ve partnered with Threads of Peru, an NGO that sponsors a textile project in Rumira, Chaullacocha, and Chupani (www.threadsofperu.com). While I spend some time in the Cusco office, most of my work is independent and involves a lot of traveling to different towns and villages to meet with textile experts and directors of other NGOs. Yesterday I traveled to Urubamba, a town in the Sacred Valley about an hour from Cusco, and visited our Quechua-speaking textile expert to discuss an upcoming trip. Since Spanish is neither of our first languages, communication was a bit difficult. We sat in her one-room home, eating a vegetable stew, as her baby pig kept running in and out of the kitchen. Next week I’ll travel to a village (Lares) to meet with the presidents of the community weaving associations in three villages in the region and to arrange a weavers’ visit for the upcoming month.

Threads of Peru is currently working with female weavers in Rumira, Chaullacocha, and Chupani to improve the quality of textiles and overall health and well-being of the weavers. Over the next year, textile, health, and nutrition workshops will hopefully be implemented in each community. Last time I went with Threads of Peru to the three villages, we brought alpaca wool and each weaver chose a product to make, such as a scarf, table runner, or belt. In two weeks, we’ll go back to the villages to purchase the finished products from the weavers to eventually sell on ebay and to importers in Canada.

The greatest challenge to Threads of Peru’s work in the villages has been bridging the understandings of the project between indigenous community members and ourselves. Cultural differences are great. Quechua, for example, dominates everyday household conversations, and is the language in which weavers joke and live their everyday lives. Only a few community members have ever been to the larger cities Ollantatambo or Cusco, and most people marry within their own community or a neighboring one. Chupani community members have had little contact with tourists, as no tour groups pass through the remote village. With this being said, how well do community members really understand why Threads of Peru seeks certain styles, quality, and products to sell to international consumers? Do they understand concepts like “global,” and “internet,” and do they understand why Threads of Peru marks up the re-sale price of textiles and takes a portion of the profits? On the other hand, Threads of Peru struggles to understand and accommodate the indigenous perspective of our work, and to work within existing sociocultural community structures. For example, the ayni (a longstanding system of reciprocal exchange), forms the foundation of labor exchanges and daily life in the communities. Threads of Peru seeks to work within this system rather than imposing an externally-devised system. Community cooperation is an essential element for the success of the project. Ultimately, the goal is for communities to see the big picture of what we hope to accomplish, as well as for us to grasp the indigenous perspective of our work, for this will only help both us and the communities in which we work in achieving future success.

Threads of Peru holds a community meeting in Chaullacocha