Reflections on Deep Rivers

Reading Blog 3

Deep Rivers has made me reflect a lot on a multitude of things, which has made deciding on a coherent and fluid blog topic difficult (hence the late posting). What immediately struck me was the feudalist separatism between the racialized social classes when we see the Old Man’s hacienda in chapter one. Ernesto and his father’s reproach for the Old Man and his treatment of Indigenous serfs, as well as them, is completely contrasted with his immense empathy for the pongo. As well, his admiration for the Inca wall, which he describes as living, talking to him and walking (8). I can interpret this as symbolism for the ongoing presence of Indigenous people and remnants of the Inca Empire in Cusco, something I feel I have begun to witness myself in the short time that I have been a visitor here. Being in Cusco myself while reading this chapter, I have been able to make a depth of connections, especially to the physical spaces being described, such as the Jesuit Church and the Cathedral, and even though I haven’t been yet, Sacsayhuaman based on description. I have also been thinking about the local population of Huancapi that Ernesto describes, as essentially entirely Indigenous except for the “outsiders,” AKA “the judge, the telegraph operator, the sub-prefect, the schoolteachers, and the priest,” and these are essentially agents of the still-colonial state (29). It makes me think about my, and our, roles as “outsiders” here in Cusco during the Corpus Christi festival. We are certainly not agents of the state, but we are students/tourists engaged in observing and studying the spectacle of this event. We are ‘outsider’ participants, which is made clear by our lack of knowledge of what is really going on, which saint is which and what they represent for their ayllus and the city community at large. Ernesto describes a similar experience of being the ‘outsider’ observer of a similar event in an unnamed town: 

“In May [the cross] was brought down to the town to be blessed. A host of Indians came from the valley communities and met with the few comuneros who lived in town at the foot of the hill. They were already drunk, and carried wineskins full of brandy. Then they climbed the hill, shouting and weeping. They removed the cross and carried it down bodily. They came along the thorny, barren slopes of the mountain, arriving after nightfall.”

Ernesto describes further how this kind of event is very popular in the Andes, he has observed it a lot in the travels with his father, and that the people often sit vigil with the cross in the main town square. Ernesto seems to be a wayward soul, as unlike us he is familiar with this culture and these customs, but remains an ‘outsider’, as observer rather than a participant. Perhaps because of his tendency to travel with his father rather than set down roots. Anyways, like I said at the beginning of this blog, Deep Rivers has inspired, and continues to inspire, a lot of reflections for me, so this is just a sampling of those thoughts as I continue to delve deeper into Ernesto’s narrative.