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Wake and I walked a lot of miles in the sacred mountains of Peru with Don Francisco and his wife Dona Juanita. We typically went to Peru in May or June, their winter, when the weather was warm and dry. Don Francisco often played his flute while Dona Juanita sang along in Quechua, in her very high pitched, playful voice. Juanita would gather flowers from the bushes we passed and tuck them into her hat-band until she had a wonderful nest of blossoms. It wasn’t unusual to see and hear a hummingbird humming, or a few bees buzzing around her head.
Being with the Q’ero in this casual way, walking on the land of their ancestors, was quiet and intimate. I could feel their love and connection to the land, as well as their commitment to her, Pachamama, and to life. They created simple ceremonies, ways to say I love you to the earth, sweetly each day. Everywhere we went, and for every meal we had, I remember seeing Don Francisco take a small part of his food and drop it onto the earth, his water – a few drops to the earth. When we were sitting in a restaurant, where there was no ground close by, he would look around for a potted plant, or even the vase with a flower on our table to make his offering. Always remembering that Pachamama was taking care of him, being in communion with him.
While hiking, we’d come upon a waterway, Don Francisco would be the first to go off the path and down to the water’s edge. Wake close behind. Juanita would lay out a big cloth and we’d hang out with the men as they searched the shore and the stream. They never tired of finding medicine stones, Khuyas. Don Francisco would search for a pair of stones that felt good together to him, often a black and a white stone. Then he’d look at Wake and say Yanantin Masintin, referring to the Q’ero understanding of complimentary pairs. Each half of the pair in relationship to the other. Neither could exist alone. Like black and white, masculine and feminine, day and night. All existing – not in opposition to each other – but in a continuum of energy together, different and the same at the same time. Before leaving the waterway, Don Francisco would bow and thank Mamacocha, the great waters, for her gifts.
I am so grateful that Wake and I were able to spend so much time walking with these two gentle Q’ero, and for each experience with Don Francisco and Dona Juanita. I’m grateful for hearing the lively conversations between Francisco and Wake: Don Francisco speaking in Quechua and Spanish, using his hands and arms, and Wake speaking in English, tracking and intuiting the meaning from Francisco’s manner and mixture of languages. I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve learned, walking quietly on the earth.
