I will always remember the Christmas night we spent inside the Sitial del Fuego — an adobe circle with a fire in its center. We gathered beneath the stars to listen to Mauricio explain Andean cosmology.
Mauricio
told us that indigenous Andean peoples, though diverse, understood the world
around them using some common tropes. Generally, they saw the universe as
tripartite. There was the Ukhu Patcha, or underworld, the Kay Patcha, this
world; and the Hanan Patcha, the world above (heaven). We sat in the Sitial and
ate indigenous food and drank Chilean wine that symbolized each. Ideas passed
around this circle as we learned from Mauricio and each other.
In
a sense, every journey is a circle. You return again to the beginning, carrying
something new. As Eliot
writes, we “arrive where we started and know the place for the first
time.” So I am thinking about our journey in terms of what I learned inside the
Sitial, our adobe circle.
Ukhu
Patcha
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Mauricio
told us that the underworld is something we have access to as mortals. It is
ruled by Supay, the Incan god of the Ukhu Patcha. This realm is often
symbolized by a snake.
On
this trip, we had our own minor bites of the snake. We caught colds, got lost,
got sunburned, got too ambitious with the 4x4 at times. Once Jessica dropped a
bottle of wine on the floor. I
constantly misplaced my sunglasses. I fell flat on the floor getting out of bed
one day.
The
real glimpses of the Ukhu Patcha, though, were much less trivial. We saw it in
the glint of the Carabineros’ mirrored sunglasses, and in between the words of
their pristine green signs
(‘Un Amigo Siempre’ over the logo of crossed rifles). We felt it in the absence
of Pablo Neruda inside his beautiful home on Isla Negra, the home he fled just
days after Pinochet took power and to which he would never return alive. We
heard it in the calls of panhandlers in Santiago and Valparaíso. We tasted it
in the sterile bottled water that we drank in San Pedro because contamination
from decades of mining made the tap water undrinkable. We laughed grimly along
with our tour guide when he explained that the rows of storefront funeral homes
in Viña Del Mar were built outside the public hospital because it was ‘good for
business.’
Other
times the Ukhu Patcha was barely visible, unspoken. It was the absence of
Chilean families from many of the beautiful places we visited. It was in the
exhaustion in the eyes of tourism workers as they politely answered (en Ingles)
the clueless or rude questions of foreigners. It was the motivation pushing the
Chilean entrepreneurs we met to hustle harder, work longer, promote themselves
and their premium services— to show the way to the baños. This market anxiety
did not rest. It pushed them to figure out what the tourists want and never let
on how hard they were working.
The
Main Street of San Pedro de Atacama is the physical manifestation of the Ukhu
Patcha to me. Time seems caught in a loop there, with an enormous density of
foreigners always milling about looking for a meal, an adventure tour, a
souvenir, a six pack to take back to their hotel. You can hear every language,
exchange almost any currency. There is a North Face outlet store. A good
proportion of the crowd look like models in an outdoor clothing ad campaign.
Next to them are still others decked out in couture as if the hard packed dirt
street were a casino floor.
One
local we met told us that after living in San Pedro for decades she no longer
recognizes the town or feels safe there. She sold the restaurant she used to
own in town once she discovered the extent of the cocaine problem among staff,
who often work long hours in the high season.
Walking
in San Pedro you feel the falseness of the place. it implicates you, too, as
part of the problem. By being there you are helping to keep it the way it is,
day after day; a small desert town reduced to a machine for generating money.
Yet
it is important to note that for Andean peoples, the Ukhu Patcha is not only
negative, but also the realm of rebirth. It is generative. This was true of my
experience of it. The force of the Ukhu Patcha as I felt it seemed to keep
commerce going, keep places changing, keep Chilenos hustling. It also spurred
us on to look closer at our experiences, appreciate and learn more.
Kay
Patcha
Though
the Ukhu Patcha was always with us, we spent our journey living in the Kay
Patcha. Mauricio told us the Kay Patcha represents our earthly realm, including
all of nature and society. It surrounds us and we participate in it. It is also
caught in the struggle between Ukhu Patcha and Hanan Patcha.
Our
new marriage and our love is in the Kay Patcha. We discovered that, between my
comprehension and Jessica’s speaking, we formed one half-functional Spanish
speaker. We cared for each other when we felt ill, helped each other find the
best things— like roadside empanadas, foamy iced coffee, onions grilled over a
wood fire. We embraced our cultural flubs as we both fumbled toward
participation in Latin American commerce and communication.
The
Kay Patcha was all the majesty of the nature we took in: towering volcanoes,
the wild expanse of the desert, impossibly green scrub brush and orange desert
minerals; rolling vineyards and the cold, salty Pacifico. Burros, vicuñas,
rheas, foxes, llamas, alpacas, wild and free dogs, flamingoes and the
occasional stray cat. It was the thrill
of driving foreign cars in a foreign place, discovering hidden vistas on a
hike, getting our butts scalded in thermal baths.
Most
importantly, the Kay Patcha was all the meaning we made together and with the
Chilenos we met. We exchanged chocolates with off-beat Maria on our flight to
Santiago. People like Francisca and Alfonso shared their real thoughts and
feelings with us— not those that would most please the whims of the market. We
found common ground when Alfonso told us about his development projects;
employing people with disabilities to service his cabins and starting a
cooperative to produce Chilean marmalade. We disagreed when some Chilenos
seemed willing to justify disappearances, authoritarianism and torture based on
the prosperity that came with mass privatization.
We
felt Francisca’s dismay with increases in lithium mining that threatened the
precious trees about which she was an expert, and joined her in wondering where
the solution was to the joint problems of economic scarcity in Chile and a
world market hungry for precious minerals to power modern machines.
Later
we learned about wine and ecology from Justin and Rocio, joining them in
appreciating the miracles of Chilean terroir and the bold genius of the master
vintner and his craft.
We
snuggled and pet Efraím, the lovable mutt on Alfonso’s farm. We accepted his
simple, trusting nature— giving us so much and never asking for anything from
us but a belly rub.
During
this trip, we were free to live in the present and appreciate each other and
all that surrounded us.
Hanan
Patcha
It
is said that living humans can never have access to the Hanan Patcha— the world
above. It is beyond us, save for the hints that we get in sacred places like
the peaks of volcanoes.
So
too was much of Chile beyond us.
Try
as we might, we will never know what it is to fully understand the language and
culture of its people. We are motivated now to climb further up the mountain—
learning more language and history to be good citizens of our hemisphere and
useful neighbors to those around us.
We
will never drive like Francisca, ride a horse like Alfonso, run like Waldo,
roll cigarettes like Mauricio, taste wine like Rocio, make coffee like Solier
or risotto like Isabella (Alfonso’s Thermomix machine). We will certainly
never play Feliz Navidad on the pan flute, guitar and tambourine at the same
time like the performer from our Christmas dinner in San Pedro.
And
as much as I would like to say I could, I wonder too: Could I strike out on my
own and build a business sharing what I love? Could I stand up to the water
cannon and the baton for what I believe in? Would I survive torture, poverty,
the loss of loved ones? Would I give up all my earthly belongings? Could I risk
my life?
I
cannot say. This journey has given me such questions to ponder, along with the
memories and lessons I have learned. I return with them, and Jessica and I will
unpack them together. This voyage has ended, the circle is coming to a close.
But our fire is burning brightly, and we will have many more chances to ascend
the mountain or dive into the rushing river.
Postscript:
The Chañar tree
One
last thing that we learned in the Sitial from Mauricio and francisca was about the
miraculous Chañar tree. This sacred tree had a special relationship with the
Atacamanian people. It provided precious shade and fresh air in the desert. Its
fruits were made into food and medicine.
Chañar
trees rarely grow alone. They are almost impossible to grow from a seed,
preferring to take root from the stock of an existing Chañar. Their roots are
shallow and searching, and they seek out other Chañar trees, with which they
share nutrients and water. They have also been known to cooperate in this way
with Algorrobo trees, whose roots are deeper but less searching. It is their
nature to thrive together, photosynthesizing with both their leaves and their
bright green bark. In a harsh climate, they stand defiant in their flourishing.
This is my dream for our marriage and the family we will
create— that we can be better together than alone, that we seek out others and
stay connected for life, that we can bear fruit to nourish and heal the world.
