Una delle sette meraviglie del mondo moderno compie cent’ anni! Si tratta di Machu Picchu, Patrimonio Unesco, meta sempre più ambita per viaggi di nozze e vacanze. A celebrarla una mostra, che dal 26 Luglio al 28 Agosto in quel del Casino dei Principi di Villa Torlonia a Roma, vi porterà in questo scenario davvero suggestivo.

Se avete amato la cultura Inca certo non potrete perderlo. Cento fotografie saranno pronte a ricordarvi quei luoghi fantastici, scoperti il 24 Luglio 1911 da Hiram Bingham, lo studioso di Yale che compì la sua prima missione in Perù. Le foto di questo luogo che sorge tra due picchi montuosi della Cordigliera delle Ande, a 2500 metri di altitudine, vi colpiranno anche nella città del Colosseo. Vedere l’antica tenuta reale con i suoi duecento edifici circa in foto d’autore, vi rispamirerà un lungo viaggio, o forse vi farà venire voglia di programmarlo.

Ecco che a svelarlo saranno le fotografie aeree dei coniugi Ruth e Kenneth Wright: tra queste la scalinata in granito bianco che porta al Tempio di Inti, dio del Sole, i templi della Luna e delle Tre finestre o la pietra del pilastro piramidale detta Intihuatana. Porseguono poi tutte quelle immagini che ritraggono il profilo della montagna circostante: «La simbiosi tra elemento naturale e ‘artificiale’ era un concetto fondamentale nelle civiltà antiche – sottolinea la curatrice Calcani – oggi purtroppo è andato perduto».

Per l’occasione dei 100 anni di Machu Picchu a Yale verranno inoltre posti 4000 reperti archeologici portati da Bingham nel 1911. Un viaggio senza dubbio da fare, ma anche da rivivere attraverso foto così veritiere che vi toglieranno il fiato. Per i suoi 100 anni ovviamente i turisti stanno prendendo il luogo d’assalto, questo silenzioso e ameno retaggio della cultura precolombiana. Ben 800 mila turisti ogni anno, un luogo che possiamo dirlo a pieno titolo è entrato nel “turismo di massa”. Meno rischi senza dubbio per la mostra…. a voi poi decidere se andare o meno alla fonte!

The Jesuits made many additions to the home, most notably several new rooms and an adjoining chapel. It became a place for retreats and meetings. When the Jesuits were expelled from all Spanish territories in 1767, the land and the mansion were confiscated by the local government and sold at auction for 68,965 silver pesos.

After being sold and bought again, the lands and mansion passed into the hands of another famous family, that of Juan Crisóstomo de Goyeneche y Aguerrevere, a captain of the Spanish army. It was a family in which it stayed until 1947 when his descendants parcelled and sold off the land.

In 1978 a group of enthusiasts of Arequipeña architecture bought the mansion, by now laying in ruins, and over many months restored all that was lost. It has since been open to the public as a tourist attraction.

Source: enperublog.com

Peru’s northern coast gets most of the glory as beach & surf destination, leaving the far more isolated southern coast as a getaway for locals and independently-minded travelers. The southern coastline stretches south from the department of Lima all the way to the border with Chile. The sea is cold, thanks to the Humboldt Current which brings icy waters north from Antarctica, but this doesn’t stop the locals and more than a few tourists enjoying the numerous beaches.

The department of Arequipa, well known for beautiful Arequipa City, has some of the beast beaches of the southern coast. Those wanting to relax can find peace and tranquility in the natural beauty at Puerto Inka. Calm, clear waters await and there are accommodation options for all, from camping to hotels. With the naturally green desert hills as the backdrop to the town, it is an idyllic setting. Those seeking action can hire jet skis and kayaks from the hotel Puerto Inka, while those interested in history can visit the archaeological site of Quebrada de la Waca, at the southern end of town. Established during pre-Inca times, the site grew as an important source of fish and other coastal resources for the Inca Empire, with trading and supply routes reaching high into the distant Andes towards the ancient capital, Cusco. A further option for visitors looking for a pleasant spot to relax is the quiet beach of Jihuay, very rarely visited by foreign tourists. Both Jihuay and Puerto Inka are relatively off the beaten track and have patchy public transport services, so travelling by private transport is the best option. Puerto Inka and Jihuay are located off the Pan American Highway at kilometer 610 and 601 respectively.

For surfers the best waves lie in the far south, in and around Ilo. There are three good beaches: Gentilares, La Cruz and Piedras Negras. The waves break right and left, hold up to 3 meters and are consistent year-round. Although facilities at the beaches are relatively non-existent, the town of Ilo located just minutes away has numerous restaurants and hotels to suit all budgets. It can also be reached directly from Lima and Arequipa with the bus companies Tepsa and Flores.

The small town of Boca del Rio has a few pleasant beaches, which can be reached from Tacna and Ilo by bus. The town comes to life in summer when wealthy locals come to their holiday homes but, like many of Peru’s beach towns, it almost shuts down in winter. Surfers can enjoy the waves here too, with three breaks near the town. Most foreign tourists to Boca del Rio come from within South America so Western tourists can live an authentic Peruvian beach experience at this town. Independent travel in Peru is relatively easy and convenient. If you prefer to organize your trip with expert advice, contact a Peru travel agent such as this specialist in luxury Peru tours.

Most tourists taking part in the Inca Trail Trekking adventure to Machu Picchu are not necessarily specialist trekkers. Therefore, at TOUR IN PERU EIRL, we strongly recommend our clients to follow a reasonable course of training in order to get the maximum benefit while on the hiking adventure. Although you feel you are in good physical conditions (fit enough), keep in mind that the Inca Trail does not include activities of your regular routine; therefore, apart from requiring a reasonable standard of fitness, you need to be used to climbing hills and walking along narrow paths at different altitudes.

Recognizing the importance of a good preparation to enjoy your Inca Trail adventure is really important; therefore, we invite you to start exercising in advance. The demands of a trekking holiday are specific and very different from other activities so it is important that your training programme is also specific to the demands of your trek. The trekking consists of 6 to 7 walking hours a day, normally, in different temperatures and over hilly and rigged terrain at times. So in order for you to have a hazzle-free advetnure, this requires endurance, leg strength, aerobic fitness, stamina and a good comfortable pair of walking boots!

It is not enough to spend endless nights researching on the Inca Trail adventures, its location, duration and appropriate precautions to take; this could be the trip of your lifetime and you need some fitness preparation. See our travellers testimonials for inspiration on your next adventure!

El Inti Raymi en la época de los Incas era, el equivalente a lo que hoy es para nosotros la fiesta de año nuevo. La celebración solar era una fiesta en la cual se iniciaba un nuevo año y terminaba todo el año agrícola anterior entre los meses de mayo o junio, y al mismo tiempo se iniciaba el nuevo ciclo agrícola a partir del mes de julio, de modo que el período existente entre la última semana del mes de junio y comienzos del mes de julio era un lapso de transición del año viejo agrícola a uno nuevo, entonces la fiesta estaba dedicada a ese acontecimiento.

Escenarios de la ceremonia del Inti Raymi : El 24 de junio, la fiesta en honor al dios sol, se realiza en los tres escenarios históricos y naturales que habitualmente se utilizan para la escenificación:

El Qorikancha (Cerco de oro): En la época incaica era el principal templo consagrado al sol.

La Plaza de Armas (el antiguo Auqaypata o Plaza del Guerrero): Durante el incanato, en esta inmensa plaza se desarrollaba íntegramente la ceremonia en medio del gran ushnu o plataforma ceremonial.

Saqsaywaman (voz que deriva de los términos quechuas “saqsay” y “waman” que traducido al español significa “halcón saciado”). Este impresionante centro arqueológico se encuentra a 3,555 m.s.n.m., a un kilómetro del barrio inca de Qolqanpata.

Escenificación final del Inti Raymi – Actos en Saqsaywaman

Emplazamiento ceremonial, Informe de los 4 Suyus o Regiones: Qollasuyu, Kuntisuyu, Antisuyu y Chinchaysuyu, Rito de la Chicha, Rito del Fuego Sagrado, Sacrificio de la Llama (camélido andino) y augurios, Rito del Sankhu (pan sagrado), Q’ochurikuy (estallido de exaltación popular).

Horarios de La Ceremonia del Inti Raymi

09:OO hrs Qorikancha: Inicio de la escenificación. Duración 30 minutos.
11:OO hrs. Auqaypata (Plaza de Armas): El lnka y su séquito real, ingresan por la calle Inti K’ijllu. Duración 45 minutos.
13:3O hrs. Ceremonia central. Duración de 90 minutos.

Reservaciones: Contacte a nuestros expertos en viajes y haga sus reservaciones con anterioridad. El tour de la fiesta del SOL o Inti Raymi de 01 dia es un tour especial a través del cual llegaremos a conocer mas de la gran Cultura de los Incas.

On Wednesday Carlos Canales, president of Peru’s National Chamber of Tourism (Canatur), expressed his joy at news that Peru will host the start of the 2013 Dakar Rally.

“We are happy, happy. We have to greet and congratulate the Tourism Minister Silva because he managed to take the initiative, the grand opening of the 2013 Dakar will be in Peru and especially in our coasts,” he said to local radio RPP. Canales estimated that over one hundred thousand tourists could travel to Peru, to watch the race in January 2013. “The Dakar Rally will involve being in the eyes of over 1.2 billion people. Over 300 TV channels are going to know what Peru is […] I think we will surpass one hundred thousand tourists,” he said.

The head of Canatur also estimated that the rally could bring over $400 million to the country. “More than $ 400 million could be billed from domestic tourism, and the most important thing is the event’s opportunity to sell Peru [as a tourist destination], not just in January,” he said. Canales’ estimate is far higher than the amount received during Peru’s first time hosting part of the race in 2012.

Peru’s Minister of Foreign Trade and Tourism Jose Luis Silva said this year’s rally generated about $70 million for Peru’s hotels and gas stations, reported Andina. 2013 will mark the fifth time the Dakar Rally takes place in South America, after security concerns in Africa forced organizers to look for different countries to host the rally.

Contact our travel experts to start organizing your 2012 / 2013 Peru travel packages and start dreaming about your next Machu Picchu tours.

peruthisweek.com

María del Carmen Martín Rubio, historiadora española, doctora en historia de América y especialista en la cultura Inca, en la siguiente entrevista nos acerca a “Patallacta”, probablemente, el verdadero nombre de Machu Picchu; además del destino que sufrió los restos del Inca Pachacuti.

Para entender mejor a los Incas tenemos que cambiar nuestros parámetros culturales e imaginarnos la lógica andina en que ellos basaron su desarrollo, y en este sentido nos preguntamos: ¿Cuáles fueron las características de las Llactas o urbes en el Incanato?
Hay que empezar por decir que la sociedad inca fue fundamentalmente agraria; la ciudad existió para cumplir fines estatales, o sea, para albergar a los representantes del gobierno quienes ejercían las funciones establecidas por el Estado en base a sus necesidades de mantenimiento y para sus fines expansivos.

Machu Picchu, constituye aún un enigma que nos genera muchas preguntas, una de ellas es conocer su nombre original y usted tiene una teoría que parece haber resuelto este misterio. Explíquenos.

Creo que el nombre original de Machu Picchu fue “Patallacta” que significa “ciudad de andenes”, nombre por el que ahora se conocen unas grandes andenerías situadas muy cerca de la actual Machu Picchu. Los cronistas Juan de Betanzos y Sarmiento de Gamboa indican que Pachacuti anexionó a sus dominios la selva de Vilcabamba, entonces llamada Antisuyo, y que llegó hasta los parajes de Vitcos. En efecto, como ha documentado el Dr. Kauffman Doig, el noveno Inca amplió la frontera agraria cusqueña por esa zona. Además Betanzos, Sarmiento de Gamboa y el Padre Bernabé Cobo dicen que edificó “sus casas en Patallacta” lo que en nuestro lenguaje actual significa que construyó una ciudad. La zona de Patallacta, situada en las márgenes del río Cusichaca, era el nexo entre el Cusco y la selva, y la ciudad el centro administrativo en el que se almacenaban los productos cosechados en las andenerías, como el maíz, y también se guardaban en ella los tributos entregados por los habitantes que vivían en Vilcabamba: el oro, la plata, la coca, las plumas de aves, etc. Pero asimismo fue una ciudad sagrada según se desprende de sus templos, especialmente del que presenta un muro curvo, similar al del Coricancha.

Cronistas como Bernabé Cobo, Acosta basándose en Polo de Ondegardo, Sarmiento y sobretodo Juan de Betanzos asocian Pachacutec a Patallacta. Podemos recordar un fragmento de la Crónica de Juan de Betanzos; ”siendo ya muerto fue llevado a un pueblo que se llama Patallacta en el cual pueblo el había hecho edificar unas casas do su cuerpo fuese sepultado y…metiendo su cuerpo debajo de tierra en una tinaja grande de barro nueva y el bien vestido y encima de su sepulcro mando Ynga Yupangue que fuese puesto un bulto de oro hecho a su semejanza y en su lugar a quien las gentes que alli fuesen adorasen en su nombre…”. ¿Es esta mención de la crónica un elemento básico para esclarecer el nombre originario de Machu Picchu?

Si, es muy importante el testimonio de los cronistas, especialmente el de Betanzos cuando dice que quiere que su cuerpo sea llevado a Patallacta y que le entierren allí pero, cuidado, dice su cuerpo “curado”, lo que puede significar que no quería que se llevase su cadáver embalsamado, sino un bulto hecho a semejanza del mismo.

Según Bernabé Cobo, a Pachacuti le costó mucho esfuerzo someter a las gentes de Vilcabamba, solo tras ser vencidos en muchas batallas, tuvieron que aceptar la dependencia del Cusco, mas siempre fueron muy belicosos y, aunque los mandatarios incas controlaban la zona muy de cerca, había continuos levantamientos porque los curacas se negaban a entregar los altos tributos exigidos por el Estado Inca; de ahí que Pachacuti pidiera que fuera llevado allí su cuerpo “curado”, pues su presencia, aún después de muerto, contendría las sublevaciones aunque, a pesar de ello, los vilcabambinos se sublevaron al año de su muerte.

Betanzos dice que Pachacuti ordenó que su cuerpo fuera enterrado en Patallacta en una tinaja, pero también dice que su momia fuese puesta en la casa donde estaban sus antepasados, o sea, en el Coricancha, porque al morir un Inca lo embalsamaban y colocaban en el Coricancha. De su pelo y uñas y, quizá de un trozo de su carne como en el caso de Huayna Capac, hacían dos bultos, uno lo llevaban a veces en las batallas que sostenían contra etnias vecinas y el otro lo llevaban a los lugares importantes que habían anexionado. En efecto, parece que Pachacuti fue puesto en el Coricancha ya que el licenciado Polo de Ondegardo dice que encontró su cuerpo momificado unos sesenta u ochenta años después de haber muerto en un barrio del Cuzco llamado Totoccachi y que lo mandó al hospital de San Andrés de Lima. Por lo tanto, creo que Pachacuti nunca fue enterrado en Patallacta y que allí se llevo uno de los “bultos” hecho de cabellos, uñas y quizás con algún trozo de carne. De esa forma la ciudad fue doblemente sagrada pues guardó el bulto del poderoso Inca.

Luis Lumbreras en su libro “Machu Picchu, Historia, sacralidad e identidad”, propone ya el nombre de Patallacta y le otorga a la ciudad un carácter de mausoleo, ¿Qué opina usted?
Si, el Dr. Lumbreras dice que Patallacta pudo ser Machu Picchu y que Pachacuti fue enterrado en el templo pero, como le he dicho, los testimonios de las crónicas evidencia que fue enterrado el “bulto”, no su momia.

¿Dónde estaría entonces la momia de Pachacutec? Cuenta el licenciado Polo de Ondegardo que cuando la encontró en 1559 tenía el pelo muy blanco y que parecía que había muerto aquel mismo día y lo mismo dice el Padre Acosta. Por su parte Garcilaso de la Vega cuenta que se hallaba perfectamente conservada, que tenía pelo, pestañas, uñas y que estaba sentada y vestida con la ropa que usaba. Garcilaso cree que era la momia de Tupac Inca Yupanqui, a quien también adjudica la victoria sobre los Chancas, pero al describirla igual que Polo de Ondegardo y el padre Acosta no cabe duda de que se trataba de la de Pachacuti, pues Tupac Inca Yupanqui murió más joven. A mi me resulta muy difícil creer que una momia, que había permanecido en una tinaja sesenta u ochenta años y que no había recibido cuidados, pudiera estar luego sentada en un tablón tan bien conservada. Creo que no salió nunca del Cusco y que cuando llegaron los españoles, los miembros de su panaca la escondieron en Totocachi, barrio hoy conocido por San Blas.

Jorge Basadre dice: “Las ciudades eran construidas generalmente en terrenos que no pudieran perjudicar a la labranza, Cuzco y Ollantaytanbo en cuestas rocosas, Pachacamac y Chincha fuera del territorio irrigado”, tomando en cuenta ello y su reciente descubrimiento.

¿Se puede saber con qué finalidad fue construido Machu Picchu? Hay que recordar que los hombres y mujeres andinos crearon una gran civilización en un territorio muy adverso, donde había muy pocos tierras de cultivo, por eso las ciudades, como dice Basadre, tenían que situarse en lugares no aptos para el cultivo ya que las tierras fértiles tenían que ser totalmente aprovechadas; de ahí que fueran situadas en lugares altos y rocosos. Cumpliendo esa planificación, Patallacta o Machu Picchu fue edificada a una gran altura en la quebrada llamada Patallacta por los cronistas, y después Picchu en algunos documentos oficiales.

El Padre Bernabé Cobo habla del sistema de Ceques, una compleja red de huacas y adoratorios que partían del Coricancha hacia los cuatros suyos, y en esta relación menciona a Patallacta en los Ceques pertenecientes al Chinchaysuyo.

¿Cómo encaja esta información en su interpretación? Como se sabe en el Imperio Inca la religión estaba completamente unida al Estado porque el inca era el hijo del dios Sol y le representaba en la tierra. En todas las ciudades había un templo dedicado al Sol y adoratorios menores en los caminos que llevaban a ellas, llamados huacas, los cuales estaban situados en líneas imaginarias, o ceques, que salían del Coricancha, el templo principal del Cusco. Tanto en los templos como en estos adoratorios se hacían muchas ceremonias religiosas.

Sorprendentemente, el Padre Cobo dice que en Cusco, en el camino del Chinchaysuyo, había una huaca llamada Patallacta y que era una casa de Pachacuti. No se sabe por qué se hallaba allí; pienso que la explicación puede estar en que al monarca le costó tanto sojuzgar aquella zona que hizo una huaca dedicada a los dioses de aquel lugar para que le ayudaran a mantenerlo, ya que las producciones que entregaban al Estado eran muy necesarias para complementar la alimentación de su pueblo y para los continuos ejércitos que tenía que mantener.

Imaginamos que su descubrimiento pronto se convertirá en un documento publicado y estudiado por la comunidad científica y publico en general. ¿Usted cree que este hallazgo puede a su vez abrir las puertas a nuevos conocimientos sobre Machu Picchu y los Incas?
Pienso que sí, ya que un descubrimiento siempre abre nuevas líneas de trabajo. En este caso creo que la zona de Patallacta y Vilcabamba, que fue tan importante cuando en 1536 se sublevó Manco Inca, el hijo de Huayna Capac como señaló el historiador Edmundo Guillén, va a servir para replantear futuras investigaciones y, sobre todo, para trabajar con los cronistas porque sus testimonios son básicos para complementar trabajos arqueológicos, pues aunque los restos arqueológicos son muy importantes, unidos a la documentación arrojan mayores luces del pasado. Vemos como en este caso Sarmiento, Betanzos, Cobo, etc. nos están dando la clave de lo que era Machu Picchu.

(*) Máster en América Latina Contemporánea – Universidad de Alcalá de Henares

Fuente: soloparaviajeros.pe

Princeton graduate student Carol Mitchell looked up from her work and was transfixed by the sight of eleven naked men walking toward the thatch-roofed building in which she was compiling her field notes. Carol was alone that afternoon, since the other researchers at the station were off in the surrounding forest. Her startled indecision quickly turned to indignant impulse when some of the men began to gather up drying clothes from a nearby line. She rushed out of the building with a loud exclamation and snatched the clothes away from the now equally startled men. Returning briskly to the building, she slammed the door and deposited the rescued clothing on a table. There then ensued a standoff, Carol inside and the men outside, each staring at the other through the screen that served in lieu of a wall in the tropical climate. Thus did we come to know the Yaminahua or Yora people who lived upriver from us and who had terrorized their (and our) Matsigenka neighbors for at least a generation.

Carol didn’t know what to make of the delegation, but it was clear that they had come in peace, because they were not carrying weapons—bows and arrows. Multiple possibilities flashed through her adrenalin-fueled thoughts. It was clear from the hesitation on both sides that the station was not under attack, so Carol decided that hospitality would be the best policy. She came out of the building and, motioning for the men to follow, walked over to the dining hall next door. She then passed out cups and poured refresco (akin to Kool-Aid) for all to enjoy. The men, now gathered in the close quarters of the station’s dining facility, solemnly drank their portions.

With conversation impossible, silence reigned until the leader indicated that it was time to go. The men got up, but before they left, they gathered in a tight cluster only inches from Carol’s face and sang her a song. They then filed out of the building and continued their journey. We didn’t see any of them again for many months. These events took place in 1985 in the heart of Perú’s Manu National Park in the southwest Amazon at a rustic biological station where I have been conducting research with students and colleagues since 1973.

Neither we nor our Arawak-speaking Matsigenka neighbors could understand a word of what we later learned is a Panoan language. Thus the motives that inspired the Yora to come downriver where they had never previously ventured were unknown to us at the time. We later learned that an epidemic had swept through their community and that many had died, prompting survivors to seek help in the outside world. Some years later, the entire Yora community moved out of the park to an adjacent watershed where they have become wards of a Dominican mission. It has been years since I saw any of them.

Incredible as it may seem, and there may be no greater anachronism on earth, there are still “wild” human beings living in some of the remotest corners of the tropics. Known or suspected locations of “uncontacted” groups are mapped and identified at www.uncontactedtribes.org (click on “Where are they?”). Most are around the fringes of the Amazon in the border regions of Brazil, especially in neighboring Perú where there are suspected of being at least fifteen uncontacted groups. Outside of South America, the only remaining uncontacted humans are in the Andaman Islands and Indonesia’s West Papua province (the western half of the island of New Guinea).

“Uncontacted.” What does the term mean? Although definitions would certainly vary, basically it refers to human societies that have no regular intercourse with the modern world, though they might have second- or third-degree contact through trading partners or colinguists. They live with few or no manufactured implements other than perhaps the odd machete or ax acquired through trade. Most speak languages not understood by anyone else. Hence they are isolated by linguistic barriers as well as the physical barrier of remoteness.

In the Amazon, remaining uncontacted groups are isolated by a third barrier, that of abject fear stemming from the horrendous atrocities of the rubber boom. Those events of a hundred years ago remain very much a living memory that is indelibly inscribed into the consciousness of every child living in isolation. Uncontacted Amazonians live a fugitive existence in the farthest headwaters of tributary streams, often above cataracts and beyond where even a small dugout canoe can pass. Here they live in perpetual fear of being detected and enslaved or killed by the white man.

One starry evening, after we had both had a few beers, an Amazonian acquaintance of mine loosened up and recounted to me the life he had led as a child before his extended family established contact with the outside world. They moved their camps frequently, and when they did, they took pains to cover up the evidence of their presence, especially the fireplace. The ground was smoothed out, the ashes were scattered widely, and the charred spot was hidden under a cloak of dead leaves. When the family crossed a stream, they erased their footprints behind them to leave no trace. Anyone they might chance to meet who wasn’t one of their little group was assumed to be a mortal enemy.

And so it is with the Flecheiros (the Arrow People), a group of uncontacted Amazonians living in the headwaters of the Itaquaí and Jutaí rivers on the Brazilian side of the Perú–Brazil border. Feared by their Amazonian neighbors and possessing a reputation among outsiders for unprovoked ferocity, they had resided in isolation in their headwater redoubt since the collapse of the rubber boom.

Scott Wallace’s engaging adventure story The Unconquered presents a chronicle of his experiences as a journalist on a grueling seventy-six-day expedition through the wilderness to assess the status and condition of the Flecheiro people. The expedition was organized and led by Sydney Possuelo, founder and director of the Department of Isolated Indians within FUNAI (Fundação Nacional do Índio), Brazil’s Indian agency. In the remote frontier regions of Brazil, landgrabs are routinely justified by the claim that the area in question is unoccupied. Possuelo’s agency was thus under constant pressure to demonstrate the presence of indigenous inhabitants in areas undergoing development.

The ostensible purpose of the expedition was to provide information to FUNAI about the size of the uncontacted population, the location of villages, the extent of the area used for hunting and foraging activities, and perhaps clues to their ethnic and linguistic identities. In fact, much of this information could be obtained more easily and safely through overflights and interviewing members of contacted tribes whose lands bordered on those of the Flecheiros. Thirteen Flecheiro villages had previously been pinpointed by GPS and photographed during aerial reconnaissance. The number of structures in each village could indicate the size of its population. The stated motive for the expedition thus appeared rather flimsy.

There was, however, a parallel motive, which was to draw attention to Possuelo and his efforts to protect people who had no representation in the halls of Brasília. This motive offers a better explanation for why two Americans with limited jungle experience, Scott Wallace and Nicolas Reynard, a photographer assigned by National Geographic, were invited along to document the expedition. Possuelo was in need of money to support his activities and a feature article in a major international magazine could provide a boost to his fund-raising.

On June 8, 2002, the expedition departed from Tabatinga, a tiny port where the Amazon passes into Brazil from Perú and Colombia. The flotilla of three riverboats carried a remarkable multiethnic party of about three dozen men, including members of three local indigenous groups. Although the intention was to skirt several Flecheiro villages to assess the extent and intensity of their use of the land, an unintended encounter could not be discounted. In the intense stress of such a moment, having members of the party who were capable of speaking all of the region’s known languages could be a lifesaver.

The expedition journeyed upriver on the Itaquaí as far as it could prudently be navigated at a season of receding water and continued by motorized dugout until the river became too shallow and littered with fallen trees for any kind of boat. From this point, the plan was to trek overland into the adjacent watershed of the Jutaí. The party would then hike down the Jutaí until it reached a point at which the river could be navigated by dugout canoe. The plan then called for a two-week sojourn during which two dugout canoes would be crafted from live trees. These were not the kind of canoes two people might use to shoot rapids; one was sixty feet long and the other forty-seven feet. The two together carried more than thirty men with all their gear and supplies. Wallace’s description of how the crew built the canoes is one of the highlights of the book.

Danger was a constant companion. Of course there was the possibility of being attacked by Flecheiros, but even greater hazards lay in the journey itself. For more than two weeks, the heavily laden men struggled across the divide between the Itaquaí and Jutaí. This was highly jagged terrain incised by innumerable creeks with vertical banks that had to be scaled or slithered down (up to twenty-five in a day’s march). Frequent rains ensured that the track became a mudslide after the first several men had passed. Never mind the snakes and jaguars; these are much overrated. The real danger was that of slipping and breaking a limb or falling and being impaled on the Punji sticks left by the machete-wielding trailblazers at the front of the line.

If one of the inexperienced Americans—or anyone—had been incapacitated by injury, this would have had dire consequences for the entire group, for there was no way to get a person out. The boats that had brought them to the headwaters of the Itaquaí had returned to port. There was only the way forward and that required a fifty-day feat of stamina and mental fortitude that stripped thirty-three pounds from the author’s frame. Possuelo carried a satellite telephone, but that offered only an illusion of security because the irregular terrain and unbroken forest canopy precluded the landing of a helicopter.

On a lengthy expedition of this kind, food supplies are a critical issue, not simply for energy but for morale. No one can carry fifty days’ rations on top of a hammock, clothing, and other essential equipment. Daily hunting made up the shortfall. Naturally, returns were better on some days than others. When a herd of peccaries could be assaulted, the bounty allowed everyone to eat his fill and retire contented. But there were many days when the hunters could bag only a few monkeys. A bowl of thin monkey broth simply couldn’t compensate for a long day’s march and left everyone in a sullen mood.

allace tells the story well, embellishing it with verbal snapshots and vivid portraits of his wilderness-wise companions, from the close-knit group of just-contacted Matis to the redoubtable Sydney Possuelo himself. The chronological account maintains a steady pace, climaxing in the tension-filled middle chapters when the expedition stumbles into a close encounter with the Fle- cheiros and Possuelo’s contingency plan falls apart. Wallace captures the flavor of the trek, the heat, the rain, the biting insects, the daily exhaustion, and the mental effort needed to sustain a positive attitude in the face of discomfort, loneliness, exhaustion, and fear.

Wallace portrays Possuelo as a man possessed, a prime subject for a Werner Herzog movie, autocratic and uncompromising. He led through intimidation, not persuasion, demanding that his orders be carried out to the letter. Even insignificant failings were met with harshly, earning him the enmity of those who bore the brunt of his wrath. He could be tender and sympathetic, usually to the least sophisticated Indians in the party, but he was more typically aloof, lecturing his men rather than befriending them.

Nevertheless, by its own criteria, the expedition succeeded. It kept to the intended route and schedule, documented evidence of Flecheiro occupation over a large area—without actually meeting with the people themselves—and everyone survived. But what did it really accomplish? That is less clear. Are the Flecheiros any better off now that a global audience has been informed about them? Wallace is more ambivalent about these deeper questions.

What indeed will be the fate of the Flecheiros and others like them? Possuelo’s vision is that they will continue to live in isolation until, like the Yora in Perú, they decide on their own to do otherwise. Wallace makes clear the Sisyphean task ahead of maintaining isolated human groups. They must be actively protected against the incursions of land seekers, loggers, gold miners, and other opportunists. Rural Brazilians, many of whom have no land they can call their own, are resentful that a handful of Indians have exclusive domain over a huge “exclusion zone” (where all outsiders are excluded by law). The zone occupied by the Flecheiros encompasses a wilderness the size of Maine, yet holds only 4,500 people.

Two years before the expedition, an angry, liquored-up mob of some three hundred men brandishing shotguns attempted to breach the exclusion zone by force. Possuelo himself was present that day at the tiny control post that marked the entrance. He radioed the Federal Police, and by a rare stroke of luck, they had a helicopter in the area. Soon it was circling overhead, doors open and guns pointing down at the surly group below. The would-be invaders retreated. But will they next time? Without force majeure at the ready, the lawless frontier will advance into yet another wilderness retreat of Native Americans. Whatever the eventual fate of FUNAI’s exclusion zones, one must admire the huge commitment Brazil has made to its indigenous people, contacted as well as uncontacted, allocating to reserves more than 365,000 square miles. This is an area larger than California, Washington, and Oregon combined, five times larger than the Oklahoma Territory into which President Andrew Jackson exiled the Cherokee and other tribes.

The current FUNAI policy of isolating uncontacted people in formal exclusion zones is a third-generation policy. Two previous policies were abandoned after failure. The first began with Marshal Cândido Rondon, for whom the state of Rondônia is named. Rondon became famous for successfully directing the construction of telegraph lines across Mato Grosso far ahead of the settlement frontier. He was a charismatic and highly principled military man who regarded the Indians as human beings worthy of respect and humane treatment. The work of constructing the telegraph lines brought him into contact with numerous ethnic groups whose cooperation he obtained through nonviolent means. Rondon lived by the motto “Die if you must, but never kill.” He was convinced that the only future for the Indians lay in assimilation, so he made efforts to bring them education to help them assimilate into society. In 1910 he was named director of the SPI (Indian Protection Service) and given a mandate to integrate Indians into Brazilian culture.

The policy of assimilation eventually foundered because Rondon’s vision was not shared by many of his countrymen. Indians were viewed as second-class citizens or worse, and treated with derision by the settlers who were pushing ever farther into the interior. The Indians’ culture of survival that had served them so well prior to their encounter with Western society had little relevance or value afterward. The lure of “things” (including alcohol) was irresistible and led to dependencies. Missionaries forbade them to go naked, thus requiring them somehow to obtain clothing. With the convenience of matches, one quickly loses the knack for starting a fire. Shotguns decisively outperform bows and arrows, but cartridges must be bought at a good price.

Such newly acquired dependencies fundamentally altered the life of the Indians, who were compelled to work for wages instead of spending their days hunting, fishing, and tending their gardens. Exploited by settlers and unscrupulous merchants, and with little prospect of achieving a level of prosperity, independence, and self-respect that would have carried them over the cultural divide into real assimilation, many indigenous communities became trapped in a state of demoralization and profound cultural poverty, being neither what they once were nor what Rondon had envisioned for them.

After Rondon, the SPI lacked vision and leadership and fell into a mire of bureaucracy, apathy, and corruption. The condition of indigenous people in Brazil became so deplorable that the Ministry of Interior appointed a high-level commission in 1967 to investigate it. Its five-thousand-page report exposed a nightmare of murder, torture, slavery, sexual abuse, and land appropriation and resulted in the creation in 1970 of FUNAI, led by Cláudio and Leonardo Villas Boas. Like their predecessor Rondon, the Villas Boas brothers were charismatic, media-savvy, and highly sympathetic to the Indians. But this time, the vision was different. In 1970, Brazil was beginning to construct the Transamazon Highway, a vast network of roads designed to integrate the Amazon into the national economy. Its routes, projected as lines on a map, crossed great swaths of terra incognita that was the homeland of numerous tribes, many uncontacted and some whose very existence, much less their ethnic and linguistic affinities, was entirely unknown.

If Indians living in the path of the Transamazon Highway weren’t contacted (“pacified” was the term of choice) and relocated, the consequences for them would have been disastrous. Conflicts with surveying and construction crews were inevitable. So were Western diseases—measles, influenza, dysentery, malaria. Isolated people have no resistance to such diseases and first contact with Europeans frequently results in demographic losses in excess of 80 percent. After demographic collapse, many tribes simply ceased to exist as organized entities.

To ward off these horrific prospects, the Villas Boas brothers organized a crash program, carried out by highly trained sertanistas—team leaders—to establish contact and then pacify and relocate entire villages and tribes. Pacification was accomplished through the proffering of Western goods, including machetes, axes, metal pots, fishhooks, matches, mosquito netting, and clothing. The seductive appeal of such things was nearly irresistible, for each of these items can make a quantum improvement in a sylvan lifestyle. Acquisition of several or all of these goods is a transformative experience that makes contact essentially irreversible. Once a person knows such things exist, then that person and his entire community are irrevocably changed. Missionaries trying to make contact to save souls know this and exploit it to lure people into a trap of dependency. Dependency instantly demotes proud, confident, and independent people to a mendicant status that is pitiable to behold.

Sertanistas carried out FUNAI’s pacification policy with vigor and dedication, but with severely qualified success. Newly contacted groups invariably contracted Western diseases and suffered heavy mortality. Entire ethnicities were moved to a huge reservation on the Xingu River where they were thrown in with other ethnic groups, sometimes including former enemies. Relocation accompanied by heavy mortality fractured families, leaving bewildered, disoriented, and dispirited survivors. Eventually the sertanistas themselves became disillusioned. Dissatisfaction with the pacification policy on the part of the people responsible for carrying it out, and completion of the Transamazon Highway project, combined to lay the groundwork for a third policy. Ample experience demonstrated that Indians can’t be contacted and moved about without killing and demoralizing them.

The best solution, Possuelo argued, is to leave them alone in situ. Find out where they live, create reserves for them in absentia, and keep the rest of the world out. By dint of charisma, reputation, and force of personality, Possuelo argued, cajoled, and eventually persuaded the government to create a new category of reserve, so-called “exclusion zones” where uncontacted tribes could live in their traditional way without risk of either guns or germs. Rondon’s policy was designed to advance the frontier, whereas Possuelo’s had the opposite effect, that of freezing the frontier.

Forced acculturation and pacification both failed as policies, whereas the jury is still out on Possuelo’s policy of isolation in exclusion zones. Wallace recounts some of the history but he doesn’t take on the difficult task of suggesting what should be done to prevent future disasters. With development pressures mounting by the year and rampant lawlessness on the frontier, exclusion zones can be regarded at best as a temporary expedient. In time, they are certain to be breached by resource seekers with all the adverse consequences the exclusion zones were created to avoid.

Here’s an example of what can be expected. Illegal logging is rampant throughout the Amazon and nearly uncontrollable. It takes place within parks and other nominally protected areas as well as on private, indigenous, and state lands. Well-intentioned international efforts to prevent the extinction of bigleaf mahogany led to a sharp rise in its price in the early 2000s. There followed a gold rush–like assault on mahogany stands in the newly created Alto Purus National Park in Perú, a vast forested wilderness occupied by several uncontacted indigenous groups. The large-scale intrusion of men, chainsaws, and heavy equipment terrified the park’s inhabitants, causing some groups to flee across the border into Brazil and others to seek refuge elsewhere in Perú.

At one time there were estimated to be five thousand loggers in the park, completely overwhelming the handful of guards assigned to protect the area. Feature articles on the sacking of the park’s mahogany appeared in Perú in the most prominent national media—newspapers, magazines, television. The identities of the wholesalers responsible for most of the export of mahogany logs were well known to the public, yet to my knowledge no arrests were ever made. One would have to have faith in a much more assertive level of law enforcement to think that strict reserves for nonvoting indigenous people could remain inviolate for long.

On a more philosophical level, do we want to keep people in a “cultural museum,” a time warp as it were? Putting aside the practical questions of how this would be accomplished, is it morally the right thing to do? This is a question of values and some of my anthropologist colleagues would say yes. But the morality of this question has to be considered in the light of our own cultural origins. Once upon a time, the ancestors of each and every one of us lived in a premodern culture. Those cultural origins have now been completely erased from our collective memory. Do any of us regret the loss of this memory? Would any of us prefer to return to our ancestral condition, rather than to live in the modern world? Few, if any, would say yes. To live in isolation is to live a short, hard life in the absence of modern medicine and in complete ignorance of history, geography, science, and art.

To my admittedly biased way of thinking, the modern world offers a vastly richer existence—intellectually, culturally, physically. Not only do we live nearly twice as long on average, but we are able to travel, to experience the accomplishments of a cultural history that goes back three thousand years, and to savor the best creations of a highly diverse global cuisine. Recently contacted people I’ve met in both New Guinea and the Amazon were grateful for contact. For the first time, they were able to move freely without the burden of anxiety that comes from living in a state of hostility with neighbors or the outside world. Really, it’s no contest, and many of the Amazonians I know, especially of the younger generation, are eager to immerse themselves in Western society.

The question is, how to make the leap? The cultural gulf is both wide and deep and there is no easy way to jump over it. Three generations of FUNAI policy have all failed to answer the question of how successfully to assist isolated people negotiate the leap into modern life. A native Amazonian does not know how to function in contemporary society. He or she speaks an unwritten language and is possessed of jungle skills that are of little value in the money economy. Add to these handicaps the almost universal tendency of frontier societies to exploit and discriminate against the members of less acculturated ethnic groups, and the barriers are almost insurmountable. Social ostracism, demoralization, and alcoholism comprise the barren netherworld between cultural states.

It was this trap that Rondon failed to perceive when he promoted a policy of assimilation. Yet in my view, assimilation offers the only moral and permanent option. The cultural gap can be bridged, but only by education. Yet the educational services provided to unacculturated natives are usually abysmal. Here might be the starting point for a fourth-generation policy that would break new ground while benefiting from insights gained through the experiences of thousands of Amazonians who paid for the mistakes of the past with their lives.

Source: soloparaviajeros.pe

New concerns about “human safaris” are now being raised in Peru, where tour operators are profiting from the exploitation of indigenous tribes in the Amazon jungle.

An increase in economic activity and tourism in the Manu region has led to a dramatic rise in the number of reported sightings of the Mashco-Piro – one of around 15 indigenous groups in Peru who have no regular contact with outsiders, and one of only 100 or so such tribes left in the world.

Fenamad, the local indigenous rights organisation, has criticised tour operators who have taken advantage to take tourists “close to where” the tribespeople were seen.

There is growing evidence that travellers and tourists are attempting to make contact. “Uncontacted Indians are not a tourist attraction,” said Rebecca Spooner of Survival International, which aims to protect tribal peoples. “So-called tour guides should already know better.”

Growing concerns over “human safaris” caused a scandal in India after the Observer revealed how tour operators in the Andaman Islands were colluding with police to offer sightings of an indigenous group, the Jarawa, who have only had contact with the outside world since the late 1990s.

In Peru, the Mashco-Piro live in the Manu national park of the Madre de Dios region, near the Brazilian border. More than a century ago the Mashco-Piro were driven off their land in the upper Manu river by rubber tappers supplying the American and European car and bicycle industries. The tribe was forced to retreat to more remote jungle areas.

After Survival International published photographs of the tribe last month to publicise the need to leave it in peace, a spokesman for Peru’s national protected areas department (Sernanp) urged people to steer clear of “communities trying to remain apart from the outside world”. However, independent research has confirmed that unscrupulous tour guides are flouting that advice.

“The uncontacted peoples have been sighted on the Madre de Dios river in Manu. Let me know how many days you want and I’ll suggest a tailor-made programme for your party,” said one, contacted anonymously with a specific request to seek out the tribe.

“We can’t be 100 per cent sure we can see the uncontacted. If we are lucky we can see. In 2011 they came out in the months of May and October,” said another.

“The best time to see these uncontacted natives is towards the end of the dry season, when the turtles are laying their eggs along the riverbank,” said a third operator. “The best chance you would have to see them is between July and September. Along the main rivers is the best place …”

But other tour operators gave a markedly different response. Manu Nature Tours, based in Cuzco, said: “We do not offer any possibility to see [the tribe]. It is very dangerous to attempt any contact with them. A simple cold can kill them all. Any attempt to try to contact this people can put you in jail in Peru and Brazil.”

Atalaya Tours said: “It is completely forbidden to contact ‘non-contact people’. We have tours to Manu park, but Atalaya fully respects all the laws protecting non-contact natives and we don’t agree with the illegal guides or operators that try to commercialise these kinds of visits.”

According to Fenamad, “There’s great concern because the Mashco-Piro are very vulnerable. In addition to their susceptibility to common diseases and epidemics, the sightings are occurring in an area of open-river transit where there is an intense traffic of commercial and tourists’ boats.”

Glenn Shepard, an anthropologist who has worked in Manu, says tour operators have approached the Mashco-Piro on the riverbank so that tourists can “get photos like they would for a jaguar”.

Video footage of the Mashco-Piro emerged last year that appeared to show travellers “playing a game of cat and mouse with the naked tribesmen” and discussing whether to leave food or clothing for them on the riverbank.

None of the trips to Manu advertised by tour operators on their websites openly offers Mashco-Piro sightings, but several acknowledge the presence of “uncontacted” people in the rainforest.

“We need governments to act to protect indigenous communities, tour operators need to follow a code of conduct and tourists need to be educated and informed,” said Mark Watson, director of Tourism Concern.

Source: nzherald.co.nz

Start dreaming about your next adventure tours of Peru.

While Ceviche is Peru’s national food, Tacu Tacu is undoubtedly more widely available and is more often a part of daily meals. It is served in all regions of the country, and is made in a range of styles and variants, using local ingredients to create a unique twist on basic beans and rice.

The dish is believed to originate from slaves from Africa in colonial times. It was a creative use of leftover beans and rice, spiced with hot pepper and garlic, and served with pork, beef, or an egg, and slices of fried plantain. Usually it is formed into a patty shape, pancake, or tortilla, and then fried crisp in oil. Often bits of crisp fried pork or bacon are mixed in with the rice and beans. Lima beans, chickpeas, or lentil beans are commonly used.

It has evolved, depending on the region, into an upscale accompaniment to seafood, foie gras, or steak. In some kitchens it is not formed into a pancake shape rather it is served loose on the plate. In other variations it becomes almost a stew with a greater range of ingredients such as pieces of beef, sausages, olives, and mixed beans.

My introduction to Tacu Tacu was in Pimental on the central coast. In the beachfront restaurant, Tieda del Pato, with my fledgling Spanish vocabulary I asked for a meal of local fresh fish. I paid little attention to the main course of fried sole, enjoying the side-dish. The next day on Pimental’s fishing pier I witnessed a crew bring a 10 foot hammerhead shark ashore. Returning for a second dinner, my fish course turned out to be that hammerhead shark. As fine as it was my attention was again captured by the mysterious side-dish. My attempts to learn the recipe prompted my server to resort to mime and cartoon drawings, as she recreated the act of forming the ingredients into patties.

I was hooked on Tacu Tacu, but nowhere else in the country served it well as at Tienda del Pato in Pimental. A close second was at El Sombrero in Trujillo, where it was offered with the standard thin sliced beef steak. Also a great meal.

I’ve since mastered the art of making Pimental-style Tacu Tacu in my home kitchen and have impressed local friends with the spicy satisfactions of Peru’s everyday treat.

Source: enperublog.com