Many
American and Canadian urbanites can identify with my wonder at the Andean
Agrarian Cycle. Being raised a suburb-kid, I remember visiting my relatives on
their farm in central Kansas. The early mornings, long hours, and connectedness
to the land and animals were very different from streets, shops, sidewalks,
backyard fences, and even the well-trimmed prune and apricot orchards I grew up
with.
But when
your valley floor begins at 3,000 metres (10,000 feet) and spans upward from
one Andean granite cliff to the next, the rules are completely different. How
do they live? What do they grow? How do
they even survive?
The 1990s in
the Peruvian Andes was a time of both climatic and political change. El Niño was a notorious weather pattern
scarce heard of until then, quickly traumatizing the entire Pacific coastline
of both North and South America. At that time it was very typical for it to
rain for 2-3 weeks non-stop with the craziest balls of hail. The results were
devastating to thousands of hamlets and towns dependent on narrow dirt roads
and footpaths for access to trade to the outside world. Most of the over one million
inhabitants in the Conchucos Valley (Chavin Region, North Central Peruvian
Andes) had little or no electrical power generation (no hydro-generators and only a few Briggs-Stratton-style diesel generators, with a continual lack of petrol).
Most were, as they said, dependent upon their luck and their family ties
up-and-down the mountains as well as those on the coast. When you’re living
(not visiting) these mountains, you quickly learn the importance of
relationships and timing. Who you know and when do you go to them—both were
essential.
Most farmers
had their own plots of land. In the land of the chuqui (Conchucos) each farmer helped the other farmer during the never-ending
cycle of:
Prepare the land - Plant - Water - Guard - Weed - Guard - Water - Guard - Weed - Guard - Harvest
All fields
were surrounded with stone walls, mostly to keep out the pigs, goats, sheep,
donkeys, oxen, cows, and horses from getting in. I quickly learned the first
week of our stay in the home entrusted to us, that both chickens and dogs can
climb a wall (even high ones). Preparation and reparation of the walls, fields,
roads, and irrigation canals—are also non-stop and require assistance and
coordination. The community minka is
such an event where all including the children contribute in some way (food,
drink, and elbow-grease).
As far as I
can recall, the cycle in Conchucos Valley (although varying according to how
high up your fields are in altitude), is as follows:
Month
|
Season
|
Harvesting Crops
|
March
|
End of rainy season
|
Potato, oka, olluco (tubers)
|
May
|
Beginning of dry
season
|
Corn
|
June/July
|
Dry Season
|
Wheat, Rye, Oats, Flax, Alfalfa, Tawri
(lupin bean), Quinua, kiwicha (Amaranth)
|
Finally my
sons’ fondest memories while in the village of Cajay [aside, of course, from: hanging on the outside of
our Toyota HiLux truck as we hustled around switchbacks and hikes up small
waterfalls or running with our 2 Siberian Huskies around the high summit lake
of Reparen], are the various harvest seasons:
- Threshing and winnowing the wheat leading the 3-4 horses to trample on the stalks;
- Jumping in the wheat straw piles and watching as our Quechua neighbours set fire to some of the piles to cook calabasu (squash);
- Eating the sweetest corn cane and helping in the cutting of the stalks;
- Riding our meandering white horse Rayo (“lightning” – ha!) while they triumphantly didn’t have to worry about the fiercer dogs in the community;
- Watching and helping in the potato harvest and seeing the many varieties and colours (especially the purple ones!);
- Wretching at the smell and curious taste of toqosh (fermented potato); and finally
- Roasting coffee over a eucalyptus fire (hmmm!).
 |
| Oka |
 |
| Quinua |
 |
| Yunta/ Plow-yoke |
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