Expecting More, Committing Less Decades later, I witnessed a similar phenomenon in the mountains
outside Cuzco, Peru. My friend Jeanice and her Peruvian husband,
Mario, had arranged for a small group to spend time in an indigenous
community and experience their culture and customs. The villagers
who invited us in were Incan descendants, whose mighty empire once
extended from central Chile and northwest Argentina to southern
Colombia.
Inca history is commonly told through stories of immense treasures
of gold and precious metals. Spanish conquistadores later plundered
these riches and the people. For these descendants, signs of past wealth
had long since disappeared. All that remained was a life marked by
agrarian subsistence. During our stay we spent time in their small
abodes, participated in family rituals, and shared meals made from
potatoes, corn, and, on one special occasion, guinea pigs.
The importance of guinea pigs in Inca culture dates back cen-
turies. When the Spanish invaded, Jesuit priests conscripted Inca
labor to build (on top of the foundation of an Inca palace) what is
now Cuzco’s most famous colonial cathedral. When its exterior was
nearly complete, Incan artists painted the cathedral’s interior murals,
including a reproduction of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper. Fea-
tured prominently on the table, about to be eaten by Christ and his
disciples, were guinea pigs.
Back in the village, the same fate awaited the local guinea pigs.
Though they scampered freely around dirt floors of homes and were
treated as household pets, with limited protein available each would
one day be featured in the family meal.
Although we were at twelve thousand feet in elevation, the village
was pitched against the side of an even higher mountain. Rocks were
plentiful, but other essentials for living were in short supply. Water to
grow food came from snowpack higher up. Each spring, as part of an
annual ritual, everyone in the community trekked up steep mountain
passes until reaching the snow’s base. Together, the villagers cleared
away debris and retrenched a channel bringing the water downhill to
the community.
One afternoon, I soldiered partway up the mountainside and picked
out a spot to watch the sunset. Alone with my thoughts, I reflected
on how the community seemed to thrive in such stark conditions.