Yesterday marked the end of our first of two excursions during our program and, though physically exhausted, I feel a newfound emotional and mental revitalization that has brought me out of a slump that, before this trip, I hadn’t even known I was in. During the last six days, I have traveled to both Arica, a city placed between scorching deserts and crystal-blue oceans, Putre, a small pueblo high (11,483 feet high to be exact) up within the Andes, and Socoroma, a neighboring pueblo to Putre, all with the purpose of participating in cultural exchanges and interactions with indigenous communities in the North, broadly labeled (in part by Western imposition) as Aimará.
As the city we flew in and out of, Arica served more as a transient site, the setting for our 2-3-hour long lectures that provided some historical, social, and cultural background for our future participation with indigenous communities. However, we were able to spend one night with a local community, the Guallatire, to share dances and songs from each of our backgrounds (we, thankfully, were able to avoid performing the Cupid Shuffle or Cotton-Eyed Joe – I don’t think much of America but I know we’re better than that) in an act of cultural reciprocity. Following our performative exchange, we shared a meal together and, of course, danced more. There, I met Sara, a member of the Guallatire community who, all within the same hour, shared that she didn’t rely on any man to buy her things, told me to “be sexier” while we were dancing, and became my new favorite female icon.
However, for me, the majority of the trip’s emotional impact and my personal connection lay within Putre, with the driving force behind much of this infatuation being my host mother of 3 days, Elsa, who made it her mission to share as much as possible of both her wisdom and her pueblo within the short time we had together.
Elsa was born in Putre but left as a teen to study and later work, but returned to the pueblo within the last five or six years to live with her husband and her 4-year-old son. Together, they live in a bright blue house, the only colorfully-painted building on the street, and own a piece of land outside of the pueblo in the “campo.” Elsa’s mission is to live a life that, in all aspects, is entirely sustainable and independent of any aid from or exchange with the government or global corporations, a goal she is currently manifesting through the process of building solar panels on her land, which she will then use to power irrigation facilities and help provide easier access to water for everyone in her pueblo, and growing much of her own food in her campo.
With this lifestyle, Elsa preached a connection with and respect for the environment and the world that I have never experienced before, and that she shared with me through every conversation and experience. During dinners, our conversations were centered around the differences in access to food and food production here in the US, along with the persistent and complex consequences of industrialized food production inherently borne from the system of global capitalism. These conversations would always turn to “the system,” the moniker used by Elsa to encompass all the entrapments and consequences of consumerism, capitalism, and the patriarchy. Meanwhile, during our free time, Elsa showed us the natural beauty of Putre, taking us to her farm, surrounded by mountain peaks, to dig up potatoes (which we later ate for dinner with goat cheese made from her mother’s own goats) and sneaking us into to the Termas de Jurasi, an isolated, natural hot springs pool in the middle of the mountains which, at the time we went, was (supposed to be) closed.
I will admit, writing in such great detail about the experiences and sights of my last week in northern Chile serves, in part, a selfish purpose. This post is meant to do more than share the natural, spiritual, and cultural beauty of the people and places I visited to those who have not yet experienced it; it is to provide myself a lasting reminder of the humanity, kindness, and profound wisdom that I encountered during my time there, a reminder to not forget the people of Putre and Socoroma, who, despite the history of violence exerted upon their pueblos during the still-ongoing process of Chilenización (a governmental movement to homogenize the Chilean identity and culture), still chose to share their beliefs with us. It takes an extreme level of vulnerability and strength to celebrate a livelihood that has historically been minimized or delegitimized through state violence, and I know it is a gift that I won’t ever be able to reciprocate with the same level of profundity.
Yet what I can do is remember, remember how welcomed and valued I felt throughout my time in Putre and Socoroma and, most importantly, remember the aspects of their lives that aren’t all that picturesque, pretty, and tranquil. Currently, the region of Northern Chile is undergoing a series of enormous political and social battles led by indigenous communities for the right to clean and safe water, a right that has been threatened by the encroachment of mining companies whose industries, supported by the Chilean state, have contaminated vital resources. Just recently, through a governmental decree, 9,000 hectares of land was transferred to military use, a provision that could radically change the beautiful landscape surrounding Putre.
All these struggles have been widely ignored by both the Chilean and global news forces. However, though the people participating in these fights have been rendered invisible, they are not powerless. Several projects that would further ruin surrounding land and resources have been halted due to the intensity of protests, and the people of Socoroma have taken back control over the exploitation of their culture by initiating and controlling their own tourist industry. Of course, despite the small successes, the battle for respect and legitimacy is constant and ever-lasting. Now that I have shared some part of their lives, albeit a small and most certainly surface-level, I no longer have the ability to ignore these fights, to dismiss them as the struggles of some distant or unknown land and people. Instead, I now have the duty to use my privilege, whether monetary or in terms of visibility, to shed some light on these struggles and to support (not lead, command, nor dictate) the movements of those in Putre and Socoroma. I can only hope that this blog is a start.
Kenzie