RITUALIZED MEMORY AND LANDSCAPE AT PUEBLO SAJAMA, BOLIVIA: A STUDY OF A SACRED LANDSCAPE AND COLONIAL ENCOUNTER APPROVED BY SUPERVISING COMMITTEE: ________________________________________ Sonia Alconini, Ph.D., Chair ________________________________________ Michael L. Cepek, Ph.D. ________________________________________ Jason Yaeger, Ph.D. Accepted: _________________________________________ Dean, Graduate School Copyright 2016 Adam Birge All Rights Reserved DEDICATION This thesis is dedicated to my family and the countless museum trips we went on together. Without their support and encouragement, this work would never have happened. RITUALIZED MEMORY AND LANDSCAPE AT PUEBLO SAJAMA, BOLIVIA: A STUDY OF A SACRED LANDSCAPE AND COLONIAL ENCOUNTER by ADAM BIRGE, B.A. THESIS Presented to the Graduate Faculty of The University of Texas at San Antonio in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of MASTER OF ARTS IN ANTHROPOLOGY THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS AT SAN ANTONIO College of Liberal and Fine Arts Department of Anthropology May 2016 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This thesis was made possible through the help of many. First, I would like to thank my committee for the conversations we had and the insight they have provided. In particular, I would like to thank Dr. Sonia Alconini who introduced me first to Nevado Sajama. In addition, Dr. Alconini’s help in developing this project and comments on this thesis were invaluable. Without her help, this project would never have happened. I would also like to thank Dr. Jason Yaeger for his guidance in developing the literature used in this thesis. Finally, I would like to thank Dr. Michael L. Cepek who encouraged me to consider more ethnographic approaches. I am also indebted to many others for their assistance and support in this thesis. First, I would like to thank Ramón Torrez and Claudia Alvarez for accompanying me to the field and for their help in surveying the pathways. I would also like to thank them for their friendship and their assistance in developing my Spanish. A special thanks goes out to my close friends that helped, in one way or the other, during this process: Daniel Nicholson, Jose Barragan, Mark Luzmoor, and Amanda Martinez. I would also like to thank Dr. Robert J. Hard for his assistance in developing my thesis proposal and methods for this research. I am also deeply grateful to the people of Pueblo Sajama for welcoming me into their community. In particular, I would like to thank Don Gregorio and his family for their dinner time conversations. Finally, I am grateful for the financial support that was provided by the department of anthropology at UTSA and the College of Liberal and Fine Arts. I like to thank my family for their help. From books to trips to museums, they have all fostered my interest in history and archaeology. My grandparents, Gary and Ann Toms and Claire and Kerry Schultz for their encouragement to pursue archaeology. My parents, James and Roberta Martoza and Dean and Bonnie Birge, for their support emotionally and financially in iv this long journey from undergraduate to finishing this thesis project. Without their help, I would not be where I am today. May 2016 v RITUALIZED MEMORY AND LANDSCAPE AT PUEBLO SAJAMA, BOLIVIA: A STUDY OF A SACRED LANDSCAPE AND COLONIAL ENCOUNTER Adam Birge, M.A. The University of Texas at San Antonio, 2016 Supervising Professor: Sonia Alconini, Ph.D. Near the mountain of Nevado Sajama in the Oruro Department, Bolivia exists a vast 16,000 kilometer network of pre-Hispanic linear pathways that connect villages, chapels, churches, and hilltop altars. Near Pueblo Sajama at the base of Nevado Sajama, a small sample of the Sajama lines is represented in nine pathways that connect chapels with elevated altars. The creation and transformation of these pathways and associated places demonstrate a changing ritual practice that occasionally reused pre-Hispanic materials and places to combine Catholic and Andean sacred elements. Through this negotiation of practice, the local Aymara people were able to mitigate Spanish colonial strategies by incorporating Catholicism into local understandings of the landscape, space, and ritual. In order to examine the nature of this transformation, I combine informal ethnographic data along with material remains found along these pathways. Through these methods, I test a possible model for ritualized landscapes as well as provide a study of the dynamic social nature of landscapes. vi TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................................ iv Abstract .......................................................................................................................................... vi List of Tables ................................................................................................................................ ix List of Figures ..................................................................................................................................x Chapter One: Introduction ...............................................................................................................1 1.1. Research Objectives ......................................................................................................2 1.2. Organization of the Thesis ............................................................................................4 Chapter Two: Performing Memory .................................................................................................8 2.1. Types of Social Memory...............................................................................................9 2.2. Materials and Memory ................................................................................................13 2.3. Religion, Ritual, and Ritualization..............................................................................16 2.4. Memory and Ritual .....................................................................................................24 Chapter Three: Ritualized Landscapes in the Andes .....................................................................26 3.1. Archaeological Examples of Ritualized Landscapes ..................................................27 3.2. Ethnographic Examples of Ritualized Landscapes .....................................................39 3.3. Conclusion ..................................................................................................................45 Chapter Four: Research Goals and Methods .................................................................................46 4.1. Research Goals............................................................................................................47 4.2. Research Methods .......................................................................................................48 4.3. A Model for Ritualized Landscapes ...........................................................................51 4.4. Possible Limitations ....................................................................................................54 Chapter Five: The Carangas...........................................................................................................56 vii 5.1. Late Intermediate Period .............................................................................................57 5.2. Late Horizon ...............................................................................................................60 5.3. Colonial and Republican .............................................................................................61 Chapter Six: Archaeological Results .............................................................................................66 6.1. Architecture and Other Features .................................................................................66 6.2. Artifacts.......................................................................................................................77 6.3. Spatial Data .................................................................................................................87 6.4. Boulder Field Site .......................................................................................................92 Chapter Seven: Ethnographic Results ............................................................................................95 7.1. Pilot Project.................................................................................................................96 7.2. Fieldwork ....................................................................................................................98 7.3. Contemporary Ritual Practice at Sajama ..................................................................102 Chapter Eight: Discussion............................................................................................................104 8.1. The Ritualized Landscape of Pueblo Sajama............................................................105 8.2. A Dynamic Social Landscape ...................................................................................112 Chapter Nine: Conclusion ............................................................................................................121 9.1. Directions for Future Research .................................................................................124 9.2. Memory in Colonial Context ....................................................................................124 References ....................................................................................................................................126 Vita viii LIST OF TABLES Table 4-1 The material aspects of ritualized landscapes ........................................................52 Table 6-1 Heights of altars recorded ......................................................................................68 Table 6-2 Altars with crosses or niches..................................................................................70 Table 6-3 Dimensions of stacked rock features .....................................................................76 Table 6-4 Number of diagnostic and non-diagnostic artifacts ...............................................78 Table 6-5 Table for chi square results for painted vs non-painted ceramics found at chapels and altars ................................................................................................................80 Table 6-6 Count of diagnostic artifact styles..........................................................................81 ix LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1-1 Map of Bolivia with the National Park Sajama highlighted ....................................2 Figure 5-1 Map of Late Intermediate Period Aymara señoríos (from Bouysse-Cassagne 1978) ......................................................................................................................57 Figure 6-1 Altar L1 .................................................................................................................67 Figure 6-2 Volume of altars .....................................................................................................69 Figure 6-3 Chapel N2 ..............................................................................................................71 Figure 6-4 Total area of chapels ..............................................................................................71 Figure 6-5 The church of Tomarapi.........................................................................................74 Figure 6-6 Total area of churches ............................................................................................74 Figure 6-7 Artifact distribution at chapels ...............................................................................79 Figure 6-8 Artifact distribution at altars ..................................................................................79 Figure 6-9 Number and proportion of artifact styles found at sites .........................................82 Figure 6-10 Pacajes cuenco sherd..............................................................................................83 Figure 6-11 Inka local sherd ......................................................................................................83 Figure 6-12 Inka aribalo sherd ..................................................................................................83 Figure 6-13 Republican era sherd ..............................................................................................83 Figure 6-14 Republican base sherd............................................................................................84 Figure 6-15 Blue transferware sherd .........................................................................................84 Figure 6-16 Early colonial or Late Horizon sherd found at chapel S1 ......................................85 Figure 6-17 Early colonial or Late Horizon sherd found at chapel N2 .....................................85 Figure 6-18 Republican era rim sherd found at chapel S1 ........................................................85 Figure 6-19 Republican era rim sherd found at the boulder field site .......................................85 x Figure 6-20 Count of vessel forms ............................................................................................86 Figure 6-21 Modified flake found at boulder field site .............................................................87 Figure 6-22 Obsidian preform found at boulder field site .........................................................87 Figure 6-23 Length of Pueblo Sajama lines ..............................................................................88 Figure 6-24 Viewshed of the Nevado Sajama peak...................................................................90 Figure 6-25 Total area of corrals near chapels ..........................................................................91 Figure 6-26 Map of the boulder field site ..................................................................................93 xi CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION In a remote stretch of the Bolivian Altiplano, adjacent to the border with Chile, is a network of linear pathways or lines that cover an area of approximately 22,000 square kilometers (Tierra Sajama 2008). Called the Sajama lines, this network connects currently inhabited towns with early colonial and even pre-Hispanic places. In the northern portion of this network is Bolivia’s tallest mountain, Nevado Sajama. This mountain is still considered a sacred mountain or apu and still orients ritual practices as it did in the past (Medinaceli 2012). On the western flank of this mountain is the small town of Pueblo Sajama that is used by tourists to access the national park around the mountain (see figure 1-1). More importantly, surrounding this town is a group of ritual pathways that connect chapels and a church with altars placed on or near foothills of Sajama. In this thesis, I examine these pathways near the town of Pueblo Sajama in order to better understand the Sajama lines but also colonial entanglement of materials, ontologies, and memory. The idea for this thesis emerged in August 2014 when Ramón Torrez, Claudia Alvarez, and I traveled to Pueblo Sajama to examine the nearby pathways. During this brief reconnaissance, we walked two lines in order to understand both features and portable materials found along these ritual trails. By walking these lines, we noted the common layout of pathways: chapels or the church in the west linked by a pathway to altars in the east. We also noted the presence of colonial artifacts and even pre-Hispanic ceramic sherds. In addition to preliminary archaeological investigations, we talked to a few of the locals about the use of the pathways. These conversations suggested that the pathways were still used. Moreover, they established the possibility for some ethnographic research. Data collection around Sajama occurred over three weeks in July and August 2015. In total, we surveyed nine pathways, nine altars, four chapels, 1 one church, and one possible prehistoric site. We also recorded 125 diagnostic artifacts and noted 651 non-diagnostic artifacts. Besides this archaeological fieldwork, we talked to a number of locals that confirmed the pathways were still being used. However, these uses may be changing from the influence of tourism and current national trends in Bolivia. Figure 1-1: Map of Bolivia with the National Park Sajama. The pathways surveyed are in red in the insert map. 1.1. Research Objectives This thesis has three goals. The first goal was to document the qualities of the rituals conducted along the Pueblo Sajama lines. This region is not fully understood archaeologically and I hope to contribute to current research on the Carangas as previous archaeological research 2 has focused on prehistoric sites. My second goal was to create a model for investigating ritual pathways that could be applied to other sites. I plan to use this model to investigate other cases of the Sajama lines located to the south of Nevado Sajama. Finally, I wanted to study an example of colonial negotiation where precontact ontologies and cultural logics are used in the colonial period. Although this could be conceptualized as hybrids or change and continuity, these new practices that emerged during the colonial era are unique with elements that may be seen elsewhere in the Andes and Europe. By studying these entanglements of sacred mountains, living stone, and Catholic symbols, I seek to challenge colonial narratives and provide an example of indigenous agency. In order to achieve these goals, I gathered information through fieldwork to assess: (a) what materials are associated with the chapel-altar pathways and (b) whether concepts of space impact the behavior or material patterns along these pathways. To do this, I primarily used pedestrian survey to record and identify material patterns in architecture and artifacts. During the pilot project, locals reported that they still used at least one of the pathways. Because of this, I utilized informal interviews to assess past and present uses of this system in order to better understand material deposition. By using these methods, I argue that the Pueblo Sajama pathways show ranking and different types of ritual practices. These pathways were also created under the influence of pre-Hispanic ideas of mountains, stones, and space. This was modified with Catholic practices and images into a completely new ritual system that is still used today under a backdrop of tourism and indigenous pride. 3 1.2. Organization of the Thesis This thesis is organized into nine chapters followed by a reference section. Chapter one includes an introduction to the study including information on the field site, research objectives, and the layout of the thesis. Chapter two is a literature review covering anthropological and archaeological approaches to memory and ritual, which were some of the main influences in creating and maintaining the Sajama lines. The chapter starts by looking at how memory has been conceptualized and used in archaeological studies. In the past, memory was seen as different types including personal, social, inscribed, and embodied. More recently, critiques centered on the non-human agency of materials challenged these typologies of memory by claiming that memory should be studied with the relationship it forms between humans and materials. Memory then is political, generative, and naturalizing. Next, I briefly discuss religion, ritual, and ideology. Although providing simple definitions of these terms is difficult, I mainly focus on analyzing the process of how actions becoming ritual or, in other terms, ritualization. This process can be studied to see how human agents navigate their worlds by creating formal practices that can naturalize, transform, or otherwise challenge relationships. I conclude this chapter by summarizing how ritual and memory reinforce one another and how their utility as scholarly concepts may be applied to archaeological cases. In chapter three, I present a number of case studies of ritualized landscapes from the prehistoric and historic Andes. I start by reviewing landscapes from the Paracas, Nasca, and the Inka. These archaeological cases demonstrate how the ritualization of pathways and architecture in the landscape aid in the creation of political authority and social organization. Most importantly, these cases establish the fact that ritualized landscapes have a long tradition in the 4 Andes. Moving to ethnographic cases, I first examine cases of physical ritualized landscapes that are often expressed in pilgrimage trails. I then move on to conceptual or mental ritualized landscapes. These mental landscapes are found in how people toasts coca and drinks by naming nearby places or things before moving outward to important landscape features. Not only do ethnographic cases establish the current ritualization of landscape, it also demonstrates how information, identity, and power are expressed in perceived linear journeys. These case studies are important for comparing the Pueblo Sajama lines but also creating a model for investigating ritualized landscapes. Chapter four covers the research goals and methods used in this research. I start by discussing in more detail the research goals that were introduced earlier in this chapter. In order to accomplish these goals, I used two research questions that directed fieldwork in July and August 2015. I then present these research questions followed by details on pedestrian survey, field recording, and interviews. Next, I review a model for investigating ritualized landscapes. This is done by examining the physical aspects of the landscape: the pathways, stations, and portable materials. I conclude this chapter by looking at limitations and how the methods addressed research goals and questions. In the fifth chapter, I discuss the Carangas people of the southern Andes and the creation of the Sajama lines. I first review current understandings of how this group formed and survived during the Late Intermediate Period (c. 1000 AD - 1476 AC). This includes agropastoral and exchange practices with neighboring and distant valleys. It was also during this period that most scholars believe that the Sajama lines were created. I then review how Inka colonialism impacted the region through the creation of new residential and ritual sites. Finally, I examine the Colonial 5 and Republican period when Spanish colonialism relocated many villages and people, as well as created new sacred places and practices through Catholic conversion. In chapter six, I report on the results of archaeological fieldwork. First, I cover architecture recorded such as altars and chapels. Next, I examine the artifacts that we recorded. In particular, I argue that the distribution of artifacts suggests that only ceremonial ritual practice was done at the altars while a variety of activities were conducted at the chapels. Spatial data is considered next with views of Nevado Sajama and measurements of corrals near chapels. Finally, I conclude with information about a prehistoric site found nearby chapel N1 termed the boulder field site. This site is significant because of the high number of artifacts found, current ritual associations, and a few cases of prehistoric ceramic sherds and lithic preforms. The seventh chapter addresses the ethnographic results. This starts with the pilot project when Ramón Torrez, Claudia Alvarez, and I encountered a woman with a white llama that she wanted to sacrifice. Based on this pilot project, I discuss how I attempted to find informants from Pueblo Sajama and the kinds of information I gathered. Although this work did not immediately address research questions, it did determine that the pathways are still used today for a variety of practices. Moreover, interviews suggest that tourism and identity have a significant impact on how the lines are currently used. Chapter eight covers a discussion about the results. First, I consider the Pueblo Sajama pathways in terms of the model for investigating ritualized landscapes. Through this model, I argue that the lines show ranking and a difference in practice. Furthermore, by examining placement of altars, I claim that Andean ontologies of living mountains and stones were used in creation of sacred space, and for Catholic practices. In the second section of this chapter, I examine the dynamic social nature of the Sajama landscape. I take a look at how memory is 6 recreated and negotiated in the use of the landscape. Following this, I argue that the Pueblo Sajama landscape is like previous case studies; the space becomes the stage for ritual performances that allow for group formation. Last, I discuss how this may have allowed the colonial Carangas to navigate colonial encounters by incorporating Catholicism into their own understandings of the sacred. In the final chapter, I conclude this thesis by briefly summarize how the research questions and goals were answered. I then look at directions for future research based on this project. Finally, I relate this study to broader issues in archaeology of conceptualizing colonial encounters. 7 CHAPTER TWO: PERFORMING MEMORY Memory is important to the execution of nearly any social action but perhaps it is most crucial to sacred ritual. Ritual requires a frame of reference, often set in the past, in order to provide a repertoire of appropriate actions, responses, and materials. Moreover, responses and acceptance to ritual can be based in memories. It is because of this that I will examine some trends in anthropological and archaeological concepts of social memory and then ritual. By understanding how these two concepts articulate with one another, we can better understand how colonial entanglements occurred around a set of ritual pathways around Nevado Sajama. In recent scholarship on social memory, the material object is considered to play a crucial role in the functioning of memory and remembrance. Perceptions of the past can become associated with these objects or cited through the use or presence of objects. In this capacity, materials can aid in place making, identity, and even separating ritual action from the everyday. First, I broadly define social memory by examining how scholars have parceled out memory into different types such as inscribed, embodied, and personal. Next, the interaction of materials and memory will be considered. This is not a simple relationship where memory is stored in materials. Rather, this is a complex field of interactions where the body, the mind, memory, materials, and the world come to form complex interrelationships with one another. After social memory, I review what ritual is and the qualities it tends to have. Ritual has been a popular topic within anthropology as it is generally seen as a way to make ideas or social structures real. In archaeology, research has emphasized social implications for ritual as well as how past ontologies are represented in the archaeological record. Instead of seeking a succinct definition of ritual, I examine the qualities that rituals often embody such as formalism, traditionalism, and performativity. These qualities have been applied to archaeological 8 approaches to ritual, most notably, in approaches that seek to understand how these qualities come into being or ritualization. By studying ritualization, archaeologists can better understand the sociopolitical contexts for why rituals start, change and end. 2.1. Types of Social Memory Social memory within recent anthropological and archaeological literature starts with Connerton (1989) which examined how societies engaged their perceived past. This past is not purely objective, but rather, shared within the group and manipulated for individual and group needs. Connerton explains that this shared memory is important for any consideration of societies or culture because memory acts as a way to normalize relationships and expectations. This highly political nature of memory can and does support exploitation by elites, power relations, and labor within any society. Thus, controlling and manipulating memories is advantageous for actors within a society. Besides these political functions, Connerton also notes that social memory functions by establishing expectations for permissible actions as well as future actions. In this way, social memory provides individuals with ways to respond or react to experiences which they may never have encountered before. Besides reaffirming the importance of remembering and social memory, Connerton (1989) provides two types of memory: inscribed and embodied. Inscribed memory, broadly speaking, is when memories and dispositions become associated with a particular past event. To Connerton, this is the more active type of remembering where participants are aware that they are remembering. In his example, Connerton (1989: 7) uses the trial of Louis XVI where memories of the old feudal era were projected onto the trail. After, the king’s execution was seen as a somewhat literal death of the old era, and the birth of a new era with the short lived First 9 Republic. By attaching memories of feudalism and the perspective of rebirth to the king’s execution, memories not directly associated with the king or the execution are inscribed onto this event. The second type of memory, embodied, is more passive in remembering through the bodily dispositions and attitudes people take to the world around them. In his example, Connerton (1989: 10) states that the changing fashion trends in Paris during the Revolution exemplify this type of remembering. Before the spread of liberté, égalité, and fraternité, Parisian fashion trends were focused on more restrictive clothing with lots of ornamentation. During the Republic, this changed to be less restrictive waist coats and corsets with less ornamentation. With this change in bodily practice, social memory is embodied by participants in ways that they may not be conscious. These two types of memory provided a foundation for later archaeological studies as Van Dyke and Alcock (1993) demonstrate in their edited volume. In order to apply these approaches to archaeology, they note that materials and performances play a very important role in remembering such as with monuments or mortuary architecture. Van Dyke and Alcock (1993: 35) argue that inscribed memory is the most easily accessible by archaeology since this deals with past events being actively remembered through things. For instance, the previously mentioned monuments or mortuary architecture would be inscribed memories as they were built to commemorate an event or person. Another example would be adding any sort of text onto a material that somehow recalls past events. Both examples provide an easy way to get at the act of remembrance thanks to the objects being remembered. On the other hand, embodied memories are the performative, temporary aspects of social memory. Because this type of memory is a short lived practice, it would be very difficult to assess within archaeological contexts despite the fact that practice plays a crucial role in the functioning of memory. Besides applying inscribed 10 and embodied memory to archaeology, Van Dyke and Alcock (1993) further elaborate the concept of social memory by noting the multivocality of memory. If memory can be used as a means of political power, then it serves that multiple groups would create, recreate, and transform memories in order to benefit their own or their group’s standing. These uses of inscribed and embodied memory are not without their own problems, as a more recent critique from Olsen (2010) demonstrates. The largest problem with the division of these two types of remembering is the fundamental way that materials are separated from practice. Materials enable human action and in turn influence humans. For instance, bodily practices and embedded memories are treated as “self-governed and self-sufficient”, instead of being reinforced or created through the materiality of memory objects (Olsen 2010: 123). Consider any ceremony or ritualized act of remembering. Materials play a crucial role in not only the execution of that practice but also in how that practice is understood by participants. It would also be difficult to argue that any social remembrance is purely inscribed or embodied since both work together. Olsen then contends that since both operate simultaneously, then this separation of the material and practice is a false binary and not adequate for scholarly work. Another approach to types of social memory is to focus on personal versus collective memories. Much like embodied and inscribed memories, these types of memories are also heavily influenced by Connerton’s (1989) work--particularly with personal memory claims. As the name suggests, personal memory claims are individual and thus, more ethereal and sentimental. As such, personal memory is more difficult to assess archaeologically since this type of memory frequently does not have a direct relationship with materials. If personal memories are difficult or even impossible to understand with archaeology, this raises the question if personal memory claims are even necessary when examining social memory. One 11 view is that personal memory is informed and mediated by collective memories (Jones 2007: 67). With this approach, an understanding of social memory would mean a partial understanding of personal memory. In archaeology, this approach could be used to understand how social memories associated with materials shape individual experiences of memory. Another approach to personal memory is to abandon personal and collective memory to focus on the functioning of memory. Sebald (2015: 65) questions whether the differences between personal and collective memory is even important. In his view, memory could be viewed as a sort of “generalization” that is reinforced or changed based on experience in the everyday (ibid.: 58-63). Instead of focusing on types of memory, Sebald (ibid.: 64) suggests that scholars examine how memory is processed and to what ends. Regardless if the memory is stored in the mind, body, or social, generalizations can then inform a single type of situation or even impact across multiple situations. In both these views, personal memory is seen as not an important focus for archaeological research. Instead of examining types of memories, another approach would be to examine the main vehicle of social memory--materials. Newer approaches that emphasize material agency and materiality claim that things evoke memories from prior individual or group engagement. This memory in materials can recreate or transform identities, dispositions, and expectations, all while detached from direct human intervention. In this way, materials have agency in directing future human action through social memories. Moreover, examining the role that materials play in this process can support other claims about the nature of past societies. The main emphasis of this approach is not identifying types of memory and remembering, but instead, examining the dynamic role that memory plays through the interaction of materials, bodies, and minds. 12 2.2. Materials and Memory More recent materiality and relational archaeological approaches have argued for new ways in conceiving memory based largely on materials and the relationship humans form with things. These approaches have argued for collapsing categories of memory and seeing how practice, materials, social memory, personal memory, and the mind generate both active and passive memories. Examining this interaction can then help in understanding how past societies changed and interacted. First, this dynamic form of memory can be observed through the problems of the often used analogy of materials being storerooms of memory. The main issue of this analogy is the assumption of fixed, external memory instead of an active, mutable entanglement of people, objects, and memory. Finally, if memory is inclusive enough to not only recall events but dispositions and relationships, then memory can stand in for tradition. It is through this function of memory that culture is transferred across generations through an engagement of humans with materials. The relationship between material and memory is not new: materials holding or otherwise encapsulating memories has been considered central in the development and continuation of human societies and cultures. Scholars such as Merlin Donald and Colin Renfrew have argued for stages in the development of human societies with memory as one important stage. In these views, memory is symbolically represented in objects which act as a sort of pre-writing form of communication across generations. As Jones (2007: 5-7) points out, these views of memory and materials are attractive because it gives materials an active place in societies where they are products of human agency while in turn acting back on societies and individuals. However, this approach to materials as storerooms of memory is not without problems. The first problem is the idea that memories are externally bound in materials when the mind and body both 13 simultaneously act on materials and memory (ibid.: 9-11). The mind is the primary consideration for memory as it is where material representations are processed and culturally mediated. Moreover, it is through this interaction with the mind where new materials can be related to previous memories of other objects. Bodily practices are also important for these relationships since it is through embodied engagement that experiences of materials are made in order for the mind to culturally mediate. In Jones’ (2007: 10) opinion, the mind and the body must not be seen as separate, but instead, conceived of as fields of interaction with the world around the individual. Thus, materials as storerooms of memory are a problem since it implies a lack of bodily interaction. Instead, memory should be seen as a complete engagement or entanglement of the mind, body, social, and material. The second problem with the idea of materials as storerooms of memory is that this does not consider the materiality or temporality of the object. This is particularly evident in the use of building materials selected for materials used in remembrance. Jones (2007) observes that since stone last longer in any environment compared to wood or other biodegradable materials, then memories would have the opportunity to continue to exert influence on societies thanks to their association with the more permanent stone structures. One example of this would be with Stonehenge. Because of how long stone last, the monuments form was replicated by people in nearby barrows and even in other local henge structures generations after the initial construction of Stonehenge (Bradley 1998). This is important, as Swenson (2015) argues with the Moche site of Huaca Colorada. Permanence would allow for materials to continue shaping identities and practice beyond the initial needs. Besides permanence, the other consideration of material memory is the maintenance or repair. Maintenance activities reaffirm memory associations which in turn pass on and modify dispositions, identity, and social order. For example, at 14 Çatalhöyük burials in houses had to be replastered periodically. Hodder and Cessford (2004) assert that this activity that was carried out at the household level reaffirms social organizations of the house and established group boundaries because of the conscious decision to continue veneration of the dead. Considerations of the permanence and temporality of materials may help in inferring how memory was carried out in practice within communities. This is not to suggest that the memory is stable, but instead, the materials allow for memories to be continually cited through human action. Furthermore, previous conceptions of memory failed to account for materials, and the ways they influence how memory is actively maintained or how it could continue to influence human communities through changing associations. By addressing these two problems with social memory, the dynamic nature of memory could be better understood as something that does not recall past events, but rather, provides the basis and knowledge for the more subtle intricacies of human life. If social memory can inform social organization, dispositions, relationships, practices, and beliefs, what makes it different from tradition? Hodder and Cessford (2004) make this suggestion by stating that memory really is not too much different from tradition. In fact they argue that memory should stand in for tradition, as memory implies a certain degree of mutability where actors can influence the outcome and practice. The fact that any practice or relationship needs to be remembered by the actor in order to be carried out supports the idea of memory as tradition. Another approach from Jones (2007) suggests using the term citation instead of tradition or memory. Citation, much like Derrida’s indexing, can be carried out in practice with materials. Unlike tradition or memory, citation also implies a degree of multivocality and intentionality that is grounded in the embodied engagement of people and things (ibid.: 61-2). Materials cite the past but also may influence future expectations or actions in humans. Considering citation through materials is thus 15 important for archaeologists in helping to determine how communities change and diverge based on similar practices or use of similar materials. In one of Jones’ (2007: 122-140) case studies, he examines grooved and beaker pottery from Ireland and Scotland to argue that although these artifacts may be amalgamated in the same type, they were used to cite different memories in different contexts and thus established different group boundaries. In Scotland, grooved and beaker pottery were used in domestic, ritual contexts which were more than likely tied to identity. In Ireland the same type of pottery was used in burials, showing a shift from practice in interior of tombs to the exterior. In this example, two different regions cited memory for different purposes: one for domestic use and the other for burial rituals. Both uses of memory demonstrate how important memory is to identity and how applying memory in archaeology may help determine relationships past people had with their materials. Remembering, particularly through things, then becomes very important for societies but, taken to the extreme, any reuse of a site, style, form, or the continuation of culture could be viewed as a social memory. What establishes memory from reuse or continuation would be the political and social role it plays by legitimating power hierarchies and establishing expectations for future actions. Archaeology is in a unique place to examine memory as these functions are enabled by the materials themselves which become bound up in interrelations with the body, mind, social, and the world. 2.3. Religion, Ritual, and Ritualization Religion and ritual have been difficult topics to approach archaeologically as opposed to settlement patterns, production, or social complexity. Exemplifying this older view is the often cited Hawke’s (1954) ladder of inference where religion and ideology requires the most 16 archaeological inference. Most archaeologists at the time seemed to have agreed with Hawke and avoided the topic of ritual, religion, and ideology (Bell 1992; Insoll 2004). Instead cultural anthropologists tended to address the topic of ritual. Bell (1992:19-22) summarizes these anthropological approaches to ritual as mediating the binary of thought and action. This is the case for Durkheim’s approach where collective beliefs and ideals are created, experienced, and affirmed by the community through ritual (Bell 1992: 20). Levi-Strauss took a similar approach although it was not just beliefs or ideas but myths. Ritual then makes real what was once conceived of in legends and myths (ibid.: 21). Turner takes a different approach by envisioning rituals and rites as a sort of “anti-structure” that allowed for negotiation of formal hierarchies and social organization (ibid.: 22). Generally, these anthropological approaches perceive ritual as making real the mental. Thus, it is important to study ritual because it is the action that makes real the more ethereal structure, belief, or religion of human societies. The importance of religion and ritual are well established but the definitions are more troublesome especially when applied cross-culturally. First, religion has often been avoided in favor of ideology. Insoll (2004: 6-7) follows this trend by arguing that religion is not useful or appropriate for work by archaeologists and his definition shows this. Religion, to Insoll (ibid.), is a system of rules, beliefs, thoughts, actions, and materials that often deal with the intangibles of human existence: life, love, good, evil, and death. By using a broad definition of religion, it could be seen nearly anywhere and since it is so ingrained into life, archaeologists do not need a separate analytical category. To this end, Insoll suggest that religion should be seen as informing all other aspects of life. Another approach is using religion comparatively to create typologies. Bowie’s (2000: 26) typology of religion ultimately creates a binary of world religions and traditional religions. World religions are considered the written religions that most contemporary 17 people adhere such as Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism. Other aspects of these religions are the fact they often create separate spheres of life and generally having a message of salvation. Traditional religions on the other hand, are non-written and are deeply ingrained into everyday life. Although this may have utility for some, this type of categorization may be unappealing for anthropologists since it recreates divide between modern and the other, but also evolutionary ideas where traditional religions simply have not developed into world religions. Alternatively, religion could be seen more broadly as a type of ideology. To this end, Insoll (2004: 22-23) advocates that archaeology should consider all past life as informed by religious ideology. Echoing this idea, Rowan (2012: 2-3) argues that archaeologists do the past disjustice by treating religion as a separate analytical category. Life for most people, living and dead, has been bound so tightly with religion that it would be impossible to separate the two. In this view, religion is the logic of why actions in the past were carried out and not just at temples or holy sites, but for other aspects of life such as agriculture, production, and social order. Furthermore, it is very difficult to separate activities and rituals of religion from utilitarian ones, as religion often informs non-sacred actions (Rowan 2012: 3). Because of these issues, religion should be consider as an ideology that informs materials and depositional processes that we observe in the archaeological record. Although Insoll and Rowan are examples of scholars working with religion, other scholars (see Bell 1992, 1997, 2007; Kyriakidis 2007a) are happy to avoid religion, and instead, focus their efforts on the actions of religion or ideology: ritual. Although more tangible, ritual is nearly as problematic to define despite more attempts by archaeologists to provide a definition. In his edited volume on the archaeology of ritual, Kyriakidis (2007b: 10) suggest that ritual is “an etic category that refers to set activities with a special (non-normal) intention-in-action, which are specific to a group of people”. Although this 18 may work for some scholars, leaving what is and is not ritual up to etic interpretation may be a problem by further entrenching boundaries between the West and the culture being studied. Furthermore, by leaving it up to etic understandings of what is normal, or rather non-special, creates the classic archaeological problem where anything found in archaeological contexts without a clear purpose is claimed as ritual (Insoll 2004: 11). Rapport (1999: 24) takes a different stance on ritual by suggesting it is “the performance of more or less invariant sequences of formal acts and utterances not entirely encoded by the performers.” In this view of ritual, the emphasis is not placed on beliefs or intention, but rather, on the more performative and formal qualities of the act. This emphasis on performance is attractive for archaeologists as performances are also easier to assess in the material record. Olsen (2010) points out that any performance, like nearly any human activity, requires materials since the right materials aid in the interpretation by the audience and the success of the ritual within the cultural system. In these definitions, ritual tends to be viewed as an action that engages in logic or ideology that is outside of the actors. Besides being manifestations of ideology, ritual provides one way to get at past ontologies. Relational archaeological approaches (see Watts 2013) have attempted just this by examining the material remains of past rituals to see how animals and the dead were empowered through ritual. For instance, depictions of predators at Göbekli Tepe suggest that builders may have wanted to channel the power or aspects of predators (Borić 2013: 60-61). This is in contrast from prey animals such as deer that have been found in middens nearby but are not represented in the artwork at the site. Any experience in the temple would reaffirm this predator-prey ontology. Ontologies can also be observed in burial rituals at the Shamanka II cemetery near Lake Baikal, Siberia. Excavations of these burials discovered bear crania and baculums placed 19 with human remains (Losey et al. 2013: 67-69). In some cases, bear remains were found buried by themselves near human burials. These burials suggest that bears occupied a position that was considered near human or perhaps as a sort of totem for the group that used this cemetery (ibid.: 92-93). Finally, sacrifice rituals in the Andes may be one way to see how landscape features such as mountains, rock outcrops, and springs were empowered with agency (Bessom 2009; Bray 2009). In the case of worship at mountains, regular rituals at shrines would have been one way to establish the power of mountains, ancestors, or spirits as acting within communities and social groups. Through examining evidence of archaeological ritual or sacred space, ideology can become represented at least partially in the material record. Investigations can then lead to providing insights into ontologies where mountains are alive and acting within communities or where bears are seen as non-human persons. Defining ritual as expressions of ideology would not be an adequate definition as this would encompass nearly all actions. Instead, a definition of ritual should take into account the qualities of ritual that separate it from other actions. For Bell (1997: 138-69), rituals tend to have at most six qualities: formality, traditionalism, disciplined invariance, rule-governance, sacral symbolism, and performance. First, formality is one of the most important aspects as this implies the need for many other qualities such as sacral symbolism, rule governance, and traditionalism. Formality is also needed in order for rituals to be established as different from other activities. Next, traditionalism are the references back to social memory so that older places, materials, or practices are used. Invariance and rule-governance are very similar to one another as they both deal with the fact that rituals often recall previous rituals so that similar logic is used in future rituals. For example, funerals would recall the rules and rituals of previous funerals so that they would stick to a certain format. Sacral symbolism is the quality of rituals where concepts such as 20 life, death, and the cosmos are referred in the use of certain symbols. By engaging these topics, symbols not used in everyday life may be utilized. Finally and perhaps most importantly, rituals are a performance. Rituals are often done with audiences in mind where participants can take on different roles in relation to one another or even non-humans. Performance also reinforces other aspects of ritual such as rule governance since performance can succeed or fail based on these rules. Like formality, performance demonstrates that these qualities often overlap one another. One final point by Bell is that these qualities are found in most rituals but not all of them have them. Some archaeologists (Insoll 2004; Hastorf 2007; Kyriakidis 2007a, 2007b; Moore 2005) have found these qualities to be useful in their own work, in particular performance and the material basis for many of these qualities. Hastorf (2007) examines the performance of ritual in the Andes to argue that rituals would have played a crucial role in the social life of past Andean societies but most notably the Chiripa. The materialization of these performance can be found in the large mounds, burials, and sunken courts of the highlands and coastal regions (ibid.: 97-100). In these cases, the materialization of performance allows for conclusions to be reached about the social life of these societies. A different take on the performance of ritual, Insoll (2004: 293-294) explores how action creates not just space but also time. The creation of ritual time through performance is not stable but instead highly mutable much like social memory. Insoll (ibid.: 293298) then examines this concept of ritual materials and architecture creating the spatial-temporal environment through directing bodies through a Nyoo shrine whether in dance or the Golib festival. Materialization and performance does not just impact the social life but also perceptions of place and time. All these recent archaeological approaches to ritual build off the qualities of 21 rituals laid out by Bell (1992, 1997). In particular, the aspects of performance seem the most useful for archaeological applications. Moore (2005) takes the performance of Bell (1992) in a different direction by examining a unique performance: the procession. Processions are not always ritual but ritual processions are a unique ritual that have their own distinctive qualities that expand on Bell’s qualities of ritual (Moore 2005: 130-131). The most striking quality of processions is movement in often everyday space. Because of this, formalized symbols are used for participants and observers to differentiate ritual activity from the surroundings (Kirshenblatt-Gimblett and McNamara 1985: 2). Not only do symbols need to be formal but many aspects of the processions such as paths, places, and materials are made formal in the context of the ritual or follow a rule system. In addition to this formality, processions engage in tradition through the use of memory whether fictitious, actual, or somewhere in between (Moore 2005: 131). Another important consideration is that the focus may be on the procession itself or on places along the procession , and it is often material markers that designate an important station along a procession path (KirshenblattGimblett and McNamara 1985: 3). For archaeology, Moore (2005: 130-137) summarizes several important points for investigations. First, processions rely on a “technology of events” and “design logics” in order to be made meaningful with space and for people involved (ibid.: 136). These are grounded in local knowledge and historical events that are difficult but not impossible to study archaeologically. This can be done by using comparative studies and analyzing the material evidence (ibid.: 136-7). Moore’s work shows the utility of Bell’s qualities of rituals as they could be applied to processions--a unique type of ritual event. Moreover, even processions rely heavily on the use of materials and place in order to be understood and made meaningful. 22 When studying ritual, it is not just identifying these ritual qualities but how and when actions gained these qualities through the act of ritualization. It is this approach that Bell (2007) finds this the most productive in ritual studies. Ritualization is the “strategic way of acting” that could be explored to see “how and why this way of acting differentiates itself from other practices” (Bell 1992: 7, emphasis in original). An archaeological approach to ritualization would then seek to find changes in rituals or practices and how social or political influence may have shaped this change. Any modification, transformation, or change could be expected to follow the addition of new materials, techniques, or even change in political complexity. In other words, because ritual is an entanglement of bodies, materials, practices, memory, and space then any change would possibly be reflected in other aspects of the entanglement. These changes can be observed in the cases of Incaic Cuzco (Bauer 1998) and Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca (Bauer and Stanish 2001). In both cases, the use of the landscape as expressed in architecture and portable artifacts shows significant elaboration by the Inca Empire. In the case of Isla del Sol, shrines and sacred space were constructed on top of earlier sites. A change in rituals conducted in both places is influenced by the elaboration of the Inca state into an empire. An earlier example could be found in the Chincha Valley, Peru where Paracas’ use of the landscape through mound construction and ritual along pathways may have influenced the rise of the state (Stanish et al. 2014). This sort of ritualization is not one directional and acts as a feedback loop to encourage further elaboration of the state and the ritual. In this way, ritualization is another way that archaeologists can assess issues of social complexity, identity, or power. Besides as a way to examine change, ritualization is a way that networks of relationships are created, maintained, and transformed. In this capacity, examining ritualization can be one way to find sources of non-human agency, and as Stahl (2015: 54) points out, ritualization is the 23 way that humans and objects are brought into relationships with one another. Whether this is conceived of as meshworks (Ingold 2000, 2007), actor-networks (Latour 2007), or even entanglements (Hodder 2012), ritualization is the realization of human and non-human relationships in entanglements of place and materials. 2.4. Memory and Ritual To sum up memory and ritual, the interaction of the two often overlaps especially when qualities of each are considered. Ritual aids the formation of memory but memory aids in the transmission and execution of ritual. This is made even more complicated when one considers how bodies, minds, the world, and space factor into these interactions. However, some clear statements could be made about memory and ritual when it comes to archaeological studies. First, ritual and associated memory are observable in the archaeological record as performances. This notion captures the material requirements of both ritual and memory. Because these acts take into account bodies, the mind, and the world, critical analysis of archaeology patterns can recreate at least partially the relationship between human and nonhuman agents. This can be seen with how bodies are directed around space in the case of Göbekli Tepe or even what is placed as offering as in the case of the Siberian cemetery. In conjunction with other lines of evidence, ritual and memory studies in archaeological contexts can support conclusions about perceptions on non-human agents, identity, and political economies. Secondly, the best approach to these studies is to examine ritualization. By taking this approach, change is emphasized over continuity. This can take the form of the change that imperial control brought to Cusco or Isla del Sol, or even how memory citations in materials took on different functions with the grooved and beaker pottery in Ireland and Scotland. 24 Ritualization then brings together different actors and objects into new entanglements that are navigating by the humans creating them. This can be seen in through the ritualization of the landscape in Sajama but also in other cases in the Andes. 25 CHAPTER THREE: RITUALIZED LANDSCAPES IN THE ANDES By examining how practices, materials, and space become interrelated in ritual entanglements, archaeologists have another way to examine the sociopolitical contexts of change within societies. This is the case with ritualized landscapes in both the prehistoric and historic Andes. These landscapes were transformed over time through practice into culturally significant places connected by pathways or geoglyphs that embodied Andean ontologies, social relations, and social complexity. Not just pathways or geoglyphs were used. These ritualized landscapes include stations in the form of mounds, chapels, or stacked stones. Other times, culturally significant points outside the system would be referenced such as sources of water by the Nasca or mountains by the Inka. All the while, pathways physically connect these places and serve as one way to infer past relationships. By examining these material remains, archaeologists can gain insight into past societies that can support other lines of evidence. In this chapter, I investigate how specific case studies of ritualized landscapes in the Andes manifest. More importantly, I examine what sort of conclusions scholars have made based off how these landscapes manifest. First, I examine the prehistoric landscapes of the Paracas, Nasca, and Inka. In these case studies, archaeologists have highlighted the role that state control and group formation plays. Ultimately, use of these landscapes allowed for past societies to maintain social order and complexity. These studies are then compared to the historical examples of ritualized landscapes in the central Andes that are primarily used for pilgrimage. In both types of cases, specific physical qualities of these landscapes are highlighted, as they allow for conclusions about the social and political nature of past and present societies. At the end of the chapter, I present these physical aspects of ritualized landscapes and how investigating them 26 could serve as a model for future investigations into ritualized landscapes. These aspects will then be used to examine the pathways around Nevado Sajama in a subsequent chapter. 3.1. Archaeological Examples of Ritualized Landscapes Landscapes provide a physical space for groups to gather and regular practice provides the social context for transmission of cultural information. In the Andes, prehistoric landscapes demonstrate how space and practice are mediated by societal and cultural factors. These factors could include identity and group formation, which in turn facilitate state control. This may be done in relation to a ceremonial core and in competition with other groups--as was the case with the Nasca at Cahuachi--or it may be done to bring together the people of an empire like at Cusco. Another important factor is the logic of selecting space to be made into a sacred place. Perhaps creating platforms in a line to be used for astronomical observations in the Chincha Valley was done intentionally to enhance the perceived power of elites or priests. These important factors all have material traces that could be examined to understand identity, groups, and ontologies of past societies. For the archaeological case studies, I will examine an example of ritualized landscapes from the Paracas, Nasca, and Inka. The geoglyphs in the Chincha Valley, Peru link mounds, cairns, burials, and circular platforms together in one of the oldest preserved ritualized landscapes in the Andes. These physical associations suggest that groups were brought together for regular practice that may have contributed to state formation. The second case study are the Nasca lines. By examining the places linked by these geoglyphs, we gain an understanding for how the Nasca used space for group formation but also how knowledge about water sources may have been communicated. Furthermore, historically contextualizing these geoglyphs with the example of Cahuachi demonstrates the active process of ritualization to achieve local results. The 27 final archaeological case study is the Cusco ceque system. This well studied system is different from the others because of the historical accounts that illuminate the social functions and practices of this landscape. The ceques were conceptual lines or lines of sight that linked wak’as to moieties and kin groups together with regular practice. Also unlike the other cases, the ceques represents the most sophisticated landscape as it was the capital for an imperial state. 3.1.1. The Paracas of the Chincha Valley The Paracas geoglyphs in the Chincha Valley, Peru were studied by a team of archaeologists led by Dr. Charles Stanish (Stanish et al. 2014) to determine how ritualized use of the landscape encouraged state formation. To accomplish this, the team surveyed and recorded 71 linear geoglyphs or segments of geoglyphs plus 353 additional features such as stone cairns, circles, and rectangular structures. Besides survey, the team also excavated the mound site of Chococota or ‘Mono’ which is framed by numerous geoglyphs. The Chincha Valley was an ideal place to study geoglyphs as previous research identified and dated 30 major Paracas period sites in the valley. Because of the amount of Paracas sites, the authors argue that the Chincha Valley was one of the main centers for Paracas development (ibid. 1). Dating the geoglyphs was also made easier as associations with other previously known Late Paracas (c. 400-100 BC) mounds suggest that this system was used during this period. Carbon dates from Mono support this and run a range of dates from 405 BC to 225 BC (ibid. 4). The style of ceramics found during fieldwork also support the Late Paracas date. Perhaps the most important aspect of this system were the arrangement and orientation of the geoglyphs. Through these aspects, the team could make inferences on the past importance of various sites along with uses for the lines. Clustering was particularly significant for this reason. The team observed four clusters of geoglyphs around five known sites in the Chincha Valley 28 (Stanish et al. 2014: 2). In practice, clusters may have been used as a meeting place for groups where views may have factored into ritual performances. Each cluster has a paired set of lines that would visually frame the major site in the form of a “V” and draw the observer's attention towards the mound. Viewing would have been aided by thee roughly circular 4- to 12-m stone platforms that could serve for viewing or for performances. Besides implying past functions, frequency of clusters are important for archaeological investigations as it strongly suggests culturally significant spots on the landscape. Mono was recorded as having at least 14 lines converging on the site while other nearby sites only have 2 to 7 lines (ibid.). As we will see with other ritualized landscapes, frequency of geoglyphs is an important line of evidence to infer about past significance. Not only were the geoglyphs used for viewing mounds but also solstice events. This was argued by the authors as aiding in state formation (Stanish et al. 2014: 5). Lines, radiating out from mounds, frequently align with the June solstice at 294° but so do mounds and walls located on mounds. At the site of Mono, the team recorded three structures aligning between 291° and 297°. Not all structures match this alignment. One platform even had an alignment with 280° but walls that oriented to 295° ± 2°. This evidence coupled with the fact that marking solstice events were significant at Chankillo, Tiwanaku, and many Inka sites suggest that marking the June solstice was important for many Andean societies including the Paracas in the Chincha Valley. Observing the June solstice would have been important as it not only marked time but also provided an opportunity for regular, formalized performances and meetings. In the Chincha Valley, platforms near the clusters of lines would have provided a venue for these performances while the successes of marking the solstices would reconfirm the importance of the geoglyphs and possibly elite control of this system as well. This “materialized ideology” of centralized 29 power was one strategy for bringing together disperse groups of people for interaction (ibid.). Bringing people together would be essential to the formation of any state and this ritualized landscape would provide one means for the development of social complexity for the Paracas in the Chincha Valley. Examining this geoglyph system, it becomes evident just how important the arrangement and orientation of lines are to any study of similar landscapes. Clustering of lines demonstrates a possible culturally significant place and perhaps a venue for ritual performances. Other material evidence along the lines support similar conclusions about group formation and social complexity. Orientation of architecture such as the mounds, walls, and platforms with the pathways may further strengthen conclusions about past sociality. In the case of the Chincha Valley, architecture was able to add further support for the astronomical observation theory. Finally, portable material culture plays a role in these ritualized studies. In the Chincha Valley, this was used to date the lines but also to infer about past practices along these lines. 3.1.2. The Nasca Lines Another example of a ritualized landscape can be found in the famous Nasca lines. This landscape demonstrates not only the importance of line arrangements and ritual performance but as a means of transferring knowledge. The Nasca lines also show just how diverse ritualized landscape can be as a medium. In total, 227 large geometric geoglyphs cover more than 4 million square yards or about 29% of the pampa (Ibid.: 40-41). Although most geoglyphs are geometric in nature such as lines, trapezoids, rectangles, spirals, and zigzags, the most captivating and popular geoglyphs are the 30 or so biomorphic geoglyphs (Aveni 2000: 30, Silverman and Proulx 2002: 173-174). These biomorphic figures mostly consist of animals with the most common being birds. Other animals include foxes, monkeys, spiders, fish, and even an orca 30 (Aveni 2000: 30). Virtually all the biomorphic geoglyphs were constructed on the pampa while the valley has primarily geometric geoglyphs (Silverman and Proulx 2002: 176-184). In fact, the biomorphic geoglyphs are concentrated into a 10 square mile area on the southern bank of the Ingenio River (Aveni 2000: 30). Further supporting this separation of geometric and biomorphic geoglyphs is the fact these two types rarely intersect one another. This has led some to suggest that the biomorphic geoglyphs are a local phenomenon (ibid.: 191-193). Because of the difference in style and physical separation, these two types of geoglyphs may have been considered distinct from one another or created under different conditions. Creating the geoglyphs would be fairly easy but required coordination. To make both geometric and biomorphic geoglyphs, the Nasca people used a subtractive technique where the dark oxidized stones on the surface were removed to expose the lighter unoxidize stones (Aveni 2000: 28, Silverman and Proulx 2002: 176). Although the technique of making the geoglyphs was not labor intensive, the scale and complexity of the lines would require a degree of planning and organization. This would doubtlessly have required models and the organization of labor under the coordination of a knowledgeable individual or small group. Planning out designs may have been as simple as sketching details on a starch cloth (Aveni 2000: 38). However, executing complex images such as spirals would be a little more difficult. Maria Reiche suggested that this could easily be done using a standard unit of measure--probably based off a bodily proportion-and a length of cord and poles to mark off potential lines (ibid.: 96-101). In Reiche’s opinion, this standard unit of measurement and planning represented a highly abstract thinking that would set the Nasca apart from many other cultures in terms of mathematical innovation (ibid.: 140). Geoglyph construction was not the only activity to occur along these lines. Remains of stone features and ceramic sherds suggest a range of ritual movement and practice. Structures 31 such as stone circles, semicircles, and even walled enclosures have been recorded and interpreted as possible shelters from the sun and dust storms (Aveni 2000: 164-5, Silverman and Proulx 2002: 177). Other features include rock piles that may have acted as material markers of termination places, stations in a procession, boundary markers, visibility markers, or maybe all of these (Silverman and Proulx 2002: 177). Similarities have been drawn between these rock piles and apachetas or stone piles often stacked by travelers (Aveni 2000: 165). Other than features, ceramic sherds found along the lines allow archaeologists to attempt to date the geoglyphs. Persis Clarkson has suggested that the biomorphic geoglyphs were used around AD 200-600, much earlier that the rest of the lines at AD 660-1000 (Aveni 2000: 193). On the other hand, Silverman argues that based on ceramic styles, both biomorphic and geometric lines are contemporary (ibid.). This disagreement with the dates is relatively minor compared to the differences in explanations for the use of the lines. Archaeological interpretations of the Nasca lines vary but most tend to either emphasize the sociopolitical, aquatic, or astronomical functions of this system. Sociopolitical interpretations of the geoglyphs focus on the social nature of rituals in bringing together different groups. In this vein, Clarkson has argued that geoglyphs are areas to sacrifice pottery and consumables (Silverman and Proulx 2002: 177). Sacrifices would more than likely encourage inter and intragroup competition and cooperation. Echoing this ritual use, Reinhard (1988) identified important nearby mountains that may have been the focus of worship at the lines. Linking this worship with water, ethnographic and historical accounts strongly relate worship of mountains with water and fertility associations. Thus, lines and triangular geoglyphs may have been one way to symbolically connect people to the mountains and important aquatic resources (ibid.: 21). The geoglyphs’ water associations may not have only been for worship but also as a way of 32 communicating sources of water. In the valleys, trapezoidal geoglyphs may have been observed as pointing towards rivers, streams, and other sources of water (Silverman and Proulx 2002: 181184). Work by Josué Lancho Rojas and David Johnson have linked lines and certain styles such as zigzags to water filtration galleries and water bearing faults (ibid.: 178, 185-186). This would be one way to physically map where water could be found but could also serve as a way to note who controlled water resources. Perhaps the most popular--and maybe even contentious--theory on the Nasca lines is that they were used for astronomical observations. The geoglyphs functioning as an observatory was first suggested by Paul Kosok when he noted the alignment of the sun with a line during the June solstice (Aveni 2000: 90-91). Reiche carried on this work by first identifying alignments between the sun then the moon and various constellations (ibid.: 94). Other scholars developed similar theories. Gerald Hawkins and Tony Morrison first became famous with their theories on Stonehenge as an observatory before applying the same work to the Nasca lines. Hawkins worked systematically on a few samples of geoglyphs to try and identify important alignments for both the sun and moon (ibid.: 103-4). However, these approaches have major problems. Hawkins, for instance, selected stars that would not have been as visible in the southern hemisphere as they were in the northern hemisphere (ibid.: 105). Other problems included not factoring in the human experience. Hawkins did not account for where the sun rose and set at other points besides the solstices. This would have been useful for predicting when streams would flow once again (ibid.: 105). Reiche, on the other hand, changed local toponyms to emphasize alignments such as with the pleiades (ibid.: 95). In this way, she may have been projecting alignments that she wanted to see on top of local toponyms. Part of the difficulty of proving astronomical alignment is the fact that it requires a high degree of precision and 33 accuracy. Factors such as change in the landscape, earth orbit, magnetic declination, and even accuracy of maps all can cause identifying of coincidental alignment (Hesse 2013). This is not to suggest the Nasca lines did not have alignments that were important for past peoples. Instead, because of the long temporal use and the number of geoglyphs, the lines could have served as astronomical observatories, ceremonial roads, surface water markers, cult markers, pilgrimage routes, arenas for performance, and mnemonic markers at different places (Aveni 2000: 107, Silverman and Proulx 2002: 192). Because of this dynamic nature of the lines, it may be better to focus on a single sample such as the geoglyphs found near the ceremonial complex of Cahuachi. This major Nasca site was primarily occupied in the Early Intermediate period and abandoned around AD 450-500 (Jacinto 2010, Silverman 1993). Nearby, several geoglyphs radiate out across the nearby hills and pampas surrounding the site. Silverman (1993: 305) compares these lines with the Cusco ceque system as the Nasca lines may have had similar kin-group associations. Supporting this claim is the fact that Cahuachi is dominated by numerous large mounds with little in the way of residential areas. Silverman (ibid.) believes that this is because Cahuachi is a ceremonial center where kin-groups would converge periodically for ritual at set large mounds. The geoglyphs are then seen to be an extension of this phenomenon. This is materially represented in four sets of lines that frame the great temple and great pyramid--much like the geoglyphs in the Chincha valley (Jacinto 2010: 33). Thus, Cahuachi may have then been important as a place for concentrating groups of people whether communities or kin-groups. Jacinto (2010: 47) sees this joining together as representative in the Andean concept of tinkuy. In terms of geography, two pampas and two rivers converge on the site of Cahuachi. While socially, Cahuachi may have served as a space to join together groups for ceremony at community or family scales. 34 Besides serving as a symbolic representation, Cahuachi may have functioned as a projection of power through marking time and controlling water. Marking time through ritual performances and astronomical alignments may have been one important use of these geoglyphs (Silverman 1993). Just like the Chincha geoglyphs, marking time would have assisted in establishing the credibility of whoever was in charge. Signaling time would also be important for notifying when to gather for exchanges either at Cahuachi or at nearby ray centers (Jacinto 2010: 32). Finally, Cahuachi’s physical and perhaps symbolic associations with water supports claims as a ceremonial center (Silverman 1993: 305). Proximity of nearby rivers and sources of water would be crucial for any nearby agriculture but it may also have served as establishing the symbolic importance of Cahuachi as a ritual center dedicated to the ritual control of water. Geoglyphs and architecture corroborate this by being oriented around the rivers and the nearby mountain of Cerro Blanco (Jacinto 2010: 28). Thus, the architecture and geoglyphs of Cahuachi are a materialization of ritual and the elite control of the site. By examining Cahuachi, ritualization of the landscape can be seen as one way that power and knowledge is expressed. It also demonstrates how important contextualizing ritualized landscapes are, such as with Cahuachi. 3.1.3. The Cusco Ceques The last archaeological example of a ritualized landscape, the ceque system of Cusco, is perhaps the most complex. Ceques, or sightlines, are the conceptualized forty-one or forty-two pathways that radiated out from the navel of the Inka empire, the Coricancha. These lines connected approximately 328 wak’as or sacred areas with local social groups (Bauer 1998: 1011). Unlike the previous systems, little exists today due to Spanish destruction of the city during the colonial period (MacCormack 1990). However, Spanish chroniclers such as Bernabe Cobo 35 provide details that previous ritualized landscapes did not have. However, much of the exact details are still unknown. For instance, Brian Bauer and R. Tom Zuidema differ on the exact number of ceques and wak’as as well as whether the ceques were literal paths or more cognitive. Bauer (1998) provides the most in depth archaeological study of the ceques using Cobo’s account as a guide to locate wak’as. By locating the material evidence first, Bauer was able to challenge the idea that the ceques were actually straight lines originating from the Coricancha and connecting all the wak’as. Instead, he claims that they were mentally conceived of as straight but more than likely walked to using less than straight roads. This is not to say they were not occasionally walked in a straight line. Spanish chroniclers noted that the Inka would send out offerings from the Coricancha during the ritual of Capac Cocha to all corners of the empire using only straight linear paths (Bauer 1998: 26-27, 183). Studying the wak’as along the ceques also reveals a great deal about how the Inka conceived of what was sacred around them. Of the 328 wak’as recorded by Cobo, the top three most common type of sites are springs or sources of water (n = 96, 29%), standing stones (n = 95, 29%), and palaces or temples of the royal Inka (n = 32, 10%) (Bauer 1998: 23). These wak’as were seen as points of communication with non-human forces and, like other highland groups, the metaphysical importance of stone and water is represented. Besides frequency of shrines, other important areas in the ceque system were significant landscape features, places connected with ancestors, and sacred space dedicated to offerings for controlling natural forces. For example, the mountain of Huanacauri was established as the second most important wak’a in the system as this was where the Inka ancestors first viewed Cusco (ibid.: 24). Other shrines were associated with the health of individuals or Inka rulers. Still others were tied to production such as one to preserve corn, two to ward off hail, and several shrines dedicated to quarries to ensure 36 that they still produce stone. Another group of shrines were tied to the state’s imperial endeavors such as several dedicated to victory in war and one shrine in memory of previous wars. Portable remains from historical and archaeological sources show that the participation at wak’as could bring in rare or uncommon materials to be used by all levels of society. The most commonly recorded offerings were coca but other more difficult to come by offerings were guinea pigs, seashells, and llamas (ibid.: 26-30). These offerings are highly representative of the typical ritual offerings by the Inka. Coca was especially common for peasants but also for short rituals when passing by shrines onto a new place (Bessom 2009: 104). Guinea pigs were also a common sacrifice and an alternative to the more high status llama sacrifices (ibid.: 99-100). Seashells also were left at the wak’as around Cusco, in particular the ones associated with water (ibid.: 102). Finally, historical accounts suggest that large numbers of llamas were sacrificed as part of major festivals at the Coricancha and at Huanacauri (Bessom 2009: 96, MacCormack 1990). These high status offerings were saved for special occasions at the most significant sites. Wak’as provided a way for Inka emperors, peasants, and everyone in between to maintain and participate in the system through regular ritual activity. Not only was it a physical expression of the imperial state and power of the Inka, it was also a ritualized way of reaffirming the connection between individuals, groups, and the world around them. Besides spiritual and sacred forces, ceques show how the Inka divided up their social world. At the grandest scale, the system was divided into three parts (Bauer 1998: 35-37). Three of the four corners of the Inka empire had three sets of three ceque clusters which were in turn linked to three social groups: the collana, payan, and cayao. Although it is difficult to define these terms, these groups were ranked. Collana was conceived as the best followed by payan then cayao. Although the ceques were linked in a tripartite fashion, there was a binary 37 maintaince structure where royal ayllus and non-royal ayllus were responsible for the various obligations at the wak’as (ibid.: 39). Even royal panacas are represented in the system in two groups of five divided by ranking within the social order of Cusco (ibid.: 48). Unlike the previous examples, this ritualized landscape becomes extremely complicated when considering how kin ties link back to wak’as and ceques. Inka imperial strategies of social organization and integration became physically represented through maintenance and obligations to these shrines. This is similar to the Paracas and Nasca where social divisions and cohesion were enabled through embodied engagement in the landscape. All three of these archaeological ritualized landscapes show just how complicated the integration of space, materials, and practice can be but they do share common material qualities. In particular with the Chincha Valley and Nasca geoglyphs, groupings and orientation of pathways can be meaningful. In the Chincha Valley, finding ray clusters allowed for archaeologists to then identify viewing platforms for the solstice and the mounds. This is similar to the lines around Cahuachi. Clusters of lines were perhaps more important for past peoples and may have been the physical space where people were integrated through ritual. Orientation of lines is especially important when establishing the significance of the pathway but also for dating. Mounds and pyramids in the Chincha Valley and at Cahuachi provide dates, but also connected use of the lines with architecture that could also be dated. Finally, the sociopolitical complexity of the Cusco ceque system shows how these lines could be made to function within past societies. It is through these functions that space is divided up, maintained, and controlled. In all these examples, space as organized through radial lines that connect different places seems to be a common trend. Aveni (2000: 207) called this radial organization expressed in these ritualized landscape an Andean way of focusing and dispersing human energy and resources. 38 Although this might not have always been the case, the use of similar lines and pathways would continue during the historical period. 3.2. Ethnographic Examples of Ritualized Landscapes Archaeological investigations provide information about how materials and landscapes are interrelated but they cannot completely explain the range of practices that people take in ritualized landscapes. Ethnographic accounts from the modern Andes aid in understanding ritualized landscapes by providing context for how this process occurs through the relationships formed between humans, places, and things. More important, it shows how intangible concepts such as identity, boundary marking, and memory are embedded in the use of materials. Finally, by examining these modern practices, we can see how Andean and Catholic symbols, practices, and cultural logics are used in creating contemporary ritualized landscapes. In this section, I examine contemporary ritualized landscapes that were products of centuries of colonization. First, I examine pilgrimages and processions from the central Andes. Processions and pilgrimages are unique types of ritual performances that create landscapes. Besides these rituals, I also examine apachetas which are common ritual constructions of historical ritualized landscapes. In the second section, I take a look at how perceived or conceptualized landscapes create memory and reconnect people back to their homes and ancestors. Imagined ritualized landscapes are told in stories and toasts throughout the southern Andes. In these cases, we can see how this conceptualization may be used to inform past understandings of physical space in transferring knowledge. These cases also demonstrate how ritualized landscapes may be internalized by participants. 39 3.2.1. Physical Ritualized Landscapes The first example of ethnographic ritualized landscape comes from the Peruvian community of Chuschi and the ritual of Yarqa Aspiy (Isbell 1978: 138-145). In this yearly ritual that occurs in September, members of the community gather together to clean out the canals for the upcoming planting season. Everyone is encouraged to participate by providing labor or food. For the first day, everyone moves to the sources of water located in adjacent hill and work their way down the canals cleaning. The focus is solely on the work, so no drinking is allowed and other more festive activities are curtailed. After three days of cleaning, the participating members of the community climb to the sources of water with offerings of coca, alcohol, and chicha. The atmosphere is festive, unlike previous days, as the group descends to the village. Along the way, the group stops at chapels that mark off the different ecological zones in the area and present their offerings to the chapels. When they approached the boundary of the village, the group is met by women who provides a special potato dish usually reserved for weddings. In this ritualized landscape, chapels and canals serve to mark off not only boundaries but also the areas that families and other groups control. Participation in the ritual also establishes reciprocal ties within the community by either feeding or providing labor. In this way, the boundary marking echoes some of the considerations for the Nasca lines where geoglyphs may have marked communities and smaller social groups at Cahuachi. It also shows how different roles are carried out within the community. Some take on the role of organizing while some participate. Another example of ritualized landscapes come from pilgrimages near the Cusco region. Pilgrimages are special forms of ritual that seeks to make meaningful places that may be passed in the everyday. Often this is done by special materials, culturally significant dates, and important places in the cultural landscape. Near Cusco there are a series of pilgrimage sites 40 associated with Christ that are linked together through a hierarchical system (Sallnow 1981, 1982). One of the more important regional shrines, Christ of Huanca, is a rocky outcrop painted multiple times throughout its long history. This site was first created when an escaped slave fled to the outcrop where he saw Jesus in a dream who told him to paint the rock outcrop. Later, a rich mestizo on the verge of death made the pilgrimage to the then derelict shrine only to be told to maintain the shrine in exchange for good health (Sallnow 1982: 735-736). This shrine is seen in contrast to a smaller, local shrine: Christ the Just Judge. This shrine was created when a young indigenous woman saw Christ in a boulder and was ordered to move the rock into her local community (ibid.: 738-739). Although Christ the Just Judge has less participants, it attracts more people from the local area that identify as indigenous. On the other hand, Christ of Huanca attracts more people that identify as mestizo from a wider geographical region. In this example, ritualized landscapes can attract different types of participants based on their identity. As was the case in the archaeological examples, one of the functions for ritualized landscapes is bringing together different groups and solidifying identity through participation. In all the archaeological cases, bringing together different people would have served in increasing the power of elites as well as ensuring the continued functioning of these societies. The use of ritualized landscapes based on identity not only brings people together but can also fracture under social stress. In another example of a pilgrimage site near Cusco, Christ of the Snowy Star, participation along the pilgrimage trail one year broke down over a dispute between families (Sallnow 1981: 172-4). During the ritual activities, each side of the dispute formed their own group to walk along the ritual trail towards the shrine. Normally, communities form procession groups and pass each other along the trail to and from stations along the route. Each time a procession passes one another, a set ritual greeting and dance must be done as the groups 41 pass one another (ibid.: 169). During the dispute, the two groups from the same community avoided one another by staggering their arrivals and departures from the shrines or by stepping off the trail altogether. Although ritualized landscapes may form groups, occasionally a dispute may disrupt this system. Given enough time and the continuation of a dispute, it may be possible for new modifications to the ritualized landscape or even abandonment (ibid.: 177-178). Context is thus important for understanding the process of ritualization including how it ends or transforms through use. Apacheta are also important in many modern ritualized landscapes in the Andes. Broadly defined, apachetas are ritual markers of stone that can take the forms of piles of stones, stacked rocks, or even more labor intensive built structures. These features are often left as offerings by travelers and may symbolically represent a mountain (Christie 2008: 42). They have a long history and are noted by numerous Spanish chroniclers and may be as old as the Late Intermediate Period or even earlier (ibid.: 41-42). Because of this, these features have multiple interpretations depending on when they were used. The Inka may have made apachetas an official part of marking royal roads, settlements, and ceques (ibid.: 61) while in the colonial era and later they were adopted into Catholic evangelical missions (ibid.: 57-58). For instance, apachetas may be behind Catholic rock shrines that are considered to be important pilgrimage points. In this case, rock shrines identified by Michael Sallnow (1981, 1982) may be apachetas that cite pre-contact ideologies of empowered stones (Christie 2008: 56-57). Besides their sacred empowerment, apachetas may also signal location of roads, the end of roads, or even where to conduct rituals. In observing rituals processions and races, Benjamin Orlove (1979) notes that apachetas mark the end point for these activities. Elsewhere, apachetas are used to mark where 42 k’intus, or prayers, are to be done (Allen 1988). As empowered stones or markers, apachetas are one of the ways contemporary Andean people construct the space around them. 3.2.2. Mental Ritualized Landscapes Ritualized mental landscapes can be seen in Abercrombie’s (1998) term “pathways of memory” where the metaphor of travel is used to represent the sequential ordering of things in memory. These pathways can be seen in libation sequences, narratives, and fiesta-cargo paths (ibid.: 321). Perhaps the most powerful pathway of memory is narratives as they can explain and pattern nearly all aspects of life. For the K’ulta, myth serves as a way to explain the present such as the case of the Tatala-Chullpa myth (ibid.: 326-332). As the story goes, Tatala seeks to flee the underground realm of the chullpas, which is known for bad luck and misery. Along the way, the protagonist passes through various stages of internalizing social processes that are attributed to becoming fully human. In this memory pathways, ideals of when to bury the dead, planting, and proper social conduct is instilled upon the listener. Journeys are also used to teach identity. For the Carangas, stories of the procession of San Pedro and San Pablo link together diverse places with their different memories across the landscape into one myth. Working from five different sources on the myth, Uchanier (2012) notes that all the sources relate the saints traveling from places near Arica, Chile to pre-hispanic sites nearby before the saints finally arrive at the local city of the storyteller. Some sources even have battlefields and sites from the War of the Pacific along the saints’ processions. The listener would then be left with a sequential list of important memory places to associate with. In both cases, travel in each narrative can pass on important social knowledge. Although these are not literal journeys, travel through ritual landscapes may follow a similar format by imparting information and memory through the embodied experience with landscape features. 43 The second important way pathways of memory communicate information is through libation sequences. Libations are a popular accompaniment to ritual and often follow a unique set of formalized rules or rites. Take for instance the K’ulta’s amt’añ t”akis, which are toasts that literally translates to memory pathways (Abercrombie 1998: 346). Drinking is not done to forget but instead held on special occasions and always references something done in the past (ibid.: 346-347). During these ceremonies, both men and women conduct their own versions in closed groups. Each begin with the highest ranking member flicking liquid on the ground, or the ch’alla, that is always accompanied with a few words. Next follows a sequence of local deities such as important hills, condors, or personifications of both natural and manmade features (ibid.: 347-348). In this way, the participants remember their locality by bringing themselves and the moment into relation with their surroundings. These ceremonies are also many: nearly one for every occasion or a ch’alla for any daily encounter object, person, or animal (ibid.: 351-354). Toasting in such a manner is not just a K’ulta tradition but is common to other parts in the Andes (Allen 1988). Although these toasts are not literal travel itineraries, they are similar to the experience of traveling as they link together nearby places often moving away from the participants’ current location. Space, memory, and time are thus structured into linear paths by the participants. Ethnographic examples of ritualized landscapes provide an idea of the type of practices that create and structure the environment. These practices do not always have to be embodied within the landscape. Travel as a narrative device can serve to create mental places that link together people and things with space. Most importantly, it also shows how in the Andes activities and memories are deeply influenced by mobility. With the pilgrimage pathways of the 44 central Andes, membership in communities or personal identity may influence where individuals participate at and with whom. 3.3 Conclusion By its very nature, ritualized landscapes provide a complex medium that entangles people, things, and their environment. In Cusco, ceques brought together royalty, elites, and commoners through regular practice at sacred spaced such as rock outcrops, springs, and built sacred places. The Nasca lines show an entanglement of people with water features. These linkages also show what past peoples considered significant, such as stone, water, and perhaps even astronomical observation. Landscapes also provide a venue for regular ritual performances and this may have been one of the main social functions for ritualized landscapes. This may have aided in the development of political and social complexity. Paracas geoglyphs may have aided in state formation while Cusco ceques aided the empire in organizing and maintaining space and people. Because of these qualities of ritualized landscapes, studying them can aid in understanding how past peoples formed relationships with others and their environment. In the next chapter, I present not only research goals and methods, but also a framework for studying ritualized landscapes that will be applied to the Pueblo Sajama lines in chapter eight. 45 CHAPTER FOUR: RESEARCH GOALS AND METHODS The idea for this thesis emerged during a visit to Pueblo Sajama in August 2015 with Ramón Torrez and Claudia Alvarez. I was initially interested in studying colonial encounters and the colonial or republican pathways that Torrez pointed out provided this opportunity. Moreover, these paths were not extensively studied. Marcos Michel (2000) and Torrez (2014) both wrote about them but did not look at the materials associated with these lines in detail. Besides these considerations, the Pueblo Sajama lines may represent the larger Sajama lines. Thus, studying the pathways around Pueblo Sajama would allow me to examine a colonial encounter, add onto current archaeological research in the region, and provide a potential pilot project for studying the Sajama lines in greater detail. In this chapter, I present the goals and methods used in examining the Pueblo Sajama lines. First, I discuss the broad research goals of this thesis. These goals were briefly addressed in the introduction, but here I will expand on them and how I hope to address them in this study. Second, I present research methods and two questions that guided date collection. In addressing research goals and questions, I employed a variety of methods, and here I discuss these methods in detail. Next, I look at a model for studying ritualized landscapes based off observations of previous studies outlined in chapter three. By focusing on the material qualities of ritualized pathways, ritualized landscapes may be compared and conclusions may be reached about past use. I will apply this model later to the Pueblo Sajama lines in chapter eight. Finally, I briefly consider the limitations of this study before considering how methods allow for me to address goals. 46 4.1. Research Goals As previously mentioned, this research was guided by three goals: (1) gain an understanding for how a set of ritual pathways were used, (2) create a model for exploring other pathways in the region, and (3) provide an example of colonial negotiation of ritual and sacred ontologies. Each one of these goals was able to be addressed using methods that will be outlined later in this chapter. The first goal was to document and record the pathways. Previous work at these nine lines was not extensive and only noted their presence and the altar architecture. Fieldwork was needed to learn about what styles and forms of artifacts were deposited at altars, chapels, or pathways. In addition, it was unsure exactly what practices were done in the past at these altars. Moreover, it was unsure if ritual was still being conducted along these pathways (Bauer 1998, Morison 1978). Learning about material patterns in features and portable materials would help with these issues. It was also not known whether space and place, as represented in Nevado Sajama and the hilltop altars, impacted past practice as inferred through the deposition of artifacts. My second goal was to create a model for investigating ritual pathways that could be applied to other sites and be able to compare ritualized landscapes. This model could be created by examining previous archaeological works on similar landscapes such as the Paracas in the Chincha Valley, the Nasca lines, and the ceques of Cusco. Examining these case studies demonstrates that archaeological inferences into past societies that used these lines relied on three main lines of evidence: the pathways, constructions on the pathways, and portable materials. By further examining these lines of evidence, I created a model for exploring other ritualized landscapes based on a number of physical aspects that could be assessed in 47 archaeology. The Pueblo Sajama lines allow for a test of this model in order to demonstrate how it can be able used to assess past group formation, political economies, and even sacred ontologies. My third and last goal was to investigate an example of colonial negotiation where precontact ontologies and cultural logics are used in the colonial period. Although colonial encounters have been conceptualized as hybrids or change and continuity, these new practices that emerged during the colonial era are unique with elements that may be seen in elsewhere in the Andes and Europe. As such, I sought to understand the Pueblo Sajama lines as a new practice that has elements that may resemble practices, ontologies, materials, and symbols that may be seen in Europe or in the Andes prior to contact. By studying these entanglements of sacred mountains, living stone, and Catholic symbols, I seek to challenge colonial narratives and provide an example of indigenous agency. In order to achieve these goals, in the field I gathered information to assess: (a) what materials are associated with the chapel-altar pathways and (b) whether concepts of space impact the behavior or material patterns at these chapel-altar pathways. To do this, I primarily used pedestrian survey to record and identify material patterns on the architecture and artifacts. This was supplemented with some interviews to gather information on the actual use of the lines. 4.2. Research Methods In the field, I was interested in assessing the kinds of materials associated with the pathways, and whether space impacted material deposition or behavior. They guided my data collection in the field, and later, this information was used to address my broader research goals. To answer the first question, I sought to examine what materials are associated with the 48 pathways. By recording artifacts and features, this would directly relate to research goal. It also provided information for the other two goals aimed at testing my model on ritualized landscapes, and for assessing colonial encounters. The second research question—determining if space impacted materials and behaviors— would help in inferring about scale and size of past ritual. Initial field work during the pilot project suggested that there was a difference between altars and chapels. This may have been partially caused by differences in space between domestic space near chapels and the elevated, less used space near the altars. Examining the differences between these two spaces would allow me to look at how space may have been used and negotiated over time. Furthermore, differences caused by space may be examined using the model for ritualized landscapes. In order to answering these research questions, I primarily used pedestrian survey to record artifacts and features. In this section, I discuss our methodology for pedestrian survey including size of survey areas for pathways, structures, and other features encountered during survey. Also in this section, I review protocol for field recording artifacts and features. This decision to field record artifacts instead of collection, was made during the pilot project when we noticed a limited number of artifacts around the pathways. Last, one major question about the Pueblo Sajama lines was if they were still used (see Bauer 1998, Morrison 1978). In order to answer this and to examine how people use these spaces, we conducted a small number of informal interviews and I review how these were conducted in this section. 4.3.1. Pedestrian Survey After the pilot project, I decided to survey only the pathways and an area around the associated architecture. This decision was made in order to focus on the historical component of 49 Sajama but also other fieldwork by Claudia Alvarez already surveyed large block units in the hills, pampas, and bofedales around Pueblo Sajama. For the lines, we surveyed at least a 10 meter area over the pathways. During the first week with Ramón Torrez, Claudia Alvarez, and myself, we surveyed a larger area of about 15 meters along lines 1, 2, and 4. Survey was set up so that transects would parallel the paths in order for us to catch any materials on or near the path. For architecture and features, we surveyed a circular area with the architecture forming the center point. Each transect was circular and conducted approximately 10 meters apart. Survey was carried out to a maximum radius of about 50 meters although in some cases steep hills were a hazard so the survey area was smaller. For survey, diagnostic artifacts were identified and set aside for field recording after the survey. Non-diagnostic artifacts were counted based on type. 4.3.2. Field Recording Artifacts and Features Field recording was only done for diagnostic artifacts and features. Diagnostic artifacts were considered decorated and/or a rim, base, or large sherd that it was possible to identify the form of the vessel. In taking detail field notes, we made a written description, which varied based on the type of artifact, followed by taking photos and making a rough drawing. Ceramics were the most frequently found objects and allowed for the most detailed notes. Slip, paste, visible inclusions, color of clay, vessel form, style, and relative location to features were all recorded when possible. By examining these qualities, it was possible to determine a style and thus a relative date. Any other found type of artifact followed a similar recording process. Lithics, for instance, would have material recorded as well as type such as worked flake or preform. For features, we followed a similar procedure of detailed notes. We took measurements, recorded location with a handheld GPS, took notes about the surrounding area, and photographed the architecture and adjacent area. This process differed slightly for altars where each tier was 50 measured along with the size of the niches. Furthermore, we recorded the presence of crosses on the altars and which mountains were visible. As for the chapels, we noted the materials used in construction, any outlying architecture such as walls or small shrines, and orientation of the chapel with associated pathways. Unfortunately, three of the four chapels were deteriorated and many details such as presence of plaster or even what objects were inside could not be determined. In the case of the one well maintained chapel, we recorded the murals inside and the various statues at the chapel’s altar. 4.3.3. Interviews Based on the pilot project, residents of Pueblo Sajama suggested or confirmed that pathways were still used for regular ritual. Most of these conversations occurred while living in the town: eating meals at the homes of residents or buying supplies from the store. Because of this, I decided to try and interview residents informally with the goal of identifying one or two informants for a more extensive interview. In particular, I talked to older residents as this ritualized landscape may have been used more one or two generations ago (Bauer 1998, Morison 1978). Questions pertained to the use and practice on the pathways either currently or in the recent past. The most importantly theme was trying to identify dates for fiestas when the pathways were used in order to potentially observe or participate. A secondary goal was seeing how Nevado Sajama was conceptualized in current ritual and if dedications or offerings are done towards the mountain. 4.3. A Model for Ritualized Landscapes One of the major goals for this thesis is to create and test a model that could be applied to other ritualized landscapes such as other sections of the Sajama lines. As discussed in the earlier 51 chapter, the case studies explored reveal that pilgrimage routes in a ritualized landscapes are characterized by pathways, stations, and portable materials (see table 4-1). Although they vary in scale and intensity, they can be considered reliable archaeological indicators to identify ancient pilgrimage activities. Out of these three, pathways and stations have multiple aspects that may be investigated. The main utility of this model is that it considers a list of aspects that can be examined in order to make inferences about a ritualized landscape, and the people that used it. Furthermore, an assessment of their variability would allow for some comparisons within and between landscapes across time and space. Table 4-1: The material aspects with their qualities. These qualities should be considered as continuums. Material Aspects of Ritualized Landscape Concentration of Pathways Orientation of Pathways Frequency of Stations Distribution of Stations Investment into Stations Portable Materials Qualities 1. Radial: Multiple trails radiate out from a set point. 2. Linear: A single trail, although other trails may cross over. 1. External: Trail is oriented to direct towards a point outside (i.e. mountain, river). 2. Internal: Trail is oriented to connect to other places. 1. Terminal: Stations are only at the end points along a trail. 2. Incorporated: Stations are placed along the trail. 1. Patterned: Stations are always built on hilltops, slopes, etc. 2. Non-patterned: Stations do not have a discernable logic in placement. 1. Large Investment: Buildings are constructed. 2. Little Investment: Either no architecture or pile of stones. 1. Deposits: Ceramics, bones, or other longer lasting materials are brought in and deposited. 2. None or Perishable Deposits: Nothing is left or only food, coca, or drinks. First, the physical space of the trails, lines, or pathways may be studied in terms of how they are concentrated and oriented. Concentrations of lines were very important for both studies in the Chincha Valley and the Nasca lines. In both archaeological examples, ray centers were argued to be gathering places for the solstice and maybe even for exchange. Studies into 52 ritualized landscapes should focus on ray centers or other concentrations of pathways as important areas for past activities. The second aspect of pathways is how they are oriented. Orientation of the pathway, in terms of how it is directed into and out of a settlement and site, was very important for all the archaeological cases. Framing the mounds and pyramids was one key feature of both the Paracas and Nasca geoglyphs as it presents a definitive link between the lines and additional material remains. For the Inka, orienting the ceques was intentional as they all focused on the Coricancha. Orientation also linked sites outside the capital to this sacred center. Thus, orientation serves as another marker for important or significant landscape features or places. Analysis of stations in a ritualized landscape should examine the frequency, distribution, and investment of any architecture. First, frequency of stations, like concentration of pathways, may be another indicator for significance of the pathway or stations. The Cusco ceques all had multiple wak’as along each pathway, in addition to the important Coricancha. With this example, multiple stations along the pathways suggests a very elaborate landscape that was built over years of imperial use. In comparison, Paracas pathways had only terminal stations. This is a much less elaborated system that instead shows use by a small scale polity. Studying either case provides insights for how past ritual practices influenced political organization. Beyond the number of stations, distribution over the landscape is an important aspect for ritualized landscape studies. Bauer’s (1998) study investigated how the various wak’as of Cusco were built with water or rock features in mind. This distribution reinforces Inka ontologies where rock was living or otherwise had power (Brosseder 2014, Christie 2008, 2016). Location of stations is thus an important factor in investigations into past cultural logics and ideology. The last aspects of stations is investment. As we have seen in the case studies, this may be in the form of a labor 53 intensive mound or a less labor intensive apacheta. Different investments within the same ritualized landscape may suggest a hierarchy or different ritual practices. The last quality of ritual landscapes, portable materials, is useful for determining scale of ritual, types of rituals, and places for ritual. In the ethnographic case studies, materials are used in designating, creating, and signaling ritual. Due to limited preservation of some materials, it may be difficult to make inferences besides the presence of ritual activities without ethnographic or historical sources. For instance, in the case of the Cusco ceque system, the only portable material that demonstrates a significant difference in practice are seashells. This is in part thanks to historical sources that note that seashells are associated with water rituals (Bessom 2009). Further compounding the difficulty of using portable materials is the fact that different rituals for different purposes often reuse the same set of materials and spaces (Kyriakidis 2007b). In order to infer about scale and type of rituals, careful fieldwork would be needed to establish disposition sequencing and perhaps ethnohistorical information about any social importance about the materials. The archaeological case studies show the difficulty of using portable materials. For the Paracas and Nasca, portable materials were used for dating and for inferring past importance of places. For the Cusco ceque system, this was different. Ritual offerings have been used to infer about scale or rituals and cultural significance of stone and llamas (Bauer 1998, Bessom 2009). To use portable materials, clear lines of evidence such as ethnohistoric sources or a ritual site still in primary context is needed to infer information about past ritualized landscapes. 4.4. Possible Limitations In this project, I will assess the applicability of this model, while also addressing my main research questions. However, I recognize that there are important limitations of this project that must be addressed in future research. My work was based on a pedestrian survey, including 54 mapping and analysis of cultural remains. It excluded excavations, and I did not have the chance to spend a significant period of time developing a rapport with locals. These limitations mostly arose from time, transportation and funding restraints. By not excavating, questions about when and how long these sites were used may not be fully answerable. Some of these sites are still used, making difficult to excavate them. This is especially true on the hilltops where depositional processes may be very slow in the dry Sajama environment. Not collecting surface finds may have also limited the types of analysis that could be done on ceramics. However, because in the pilot project I only encountered a few artifacts along the pathways, it was possible to take detailed field notes on each artifact. Also, because of the limited amount of time in the field, relationships could not be fully established with residents in order to procure detailed interviews. By the final week, one resident—Don Gregorio—was willing to sit down with me to discuss the community's past and current use of the lines. This preliminary ethnographic research shows that future research could explore the oral history of the landscape but also participate in current rituals around Nevado Sajama. Despite these limitations, and as discussed in the next chapters, the results were revealing. In order to further contextualize the results of this research, in the next chapter I discuss the cultural history of the Carangas. The investigation results are presented on the one that follows. 55 CHAPTER FIVE: THE CARANGAS Pueblo Sajama and the pathways examined in this thesis are located in the Parque Nacional Sajama (PNS) on the western edge of the Oruro Department, Bolivia. In 1939, the area was designated as a protected area for vicuñas, numerous bird species, and polylepis tarapacana-one of the highest altitude growing trees in the world. Today, the park is a moderately popular destination for tourists seeking to experience the Altiplano. Prior to being a national park, the Sajama region was inhabited by the Carangas ethnic group, a Late Intermediate Period (c. 1000 AD - 1476 AD) Aymara señoríos. At their height, the Carangas occupied a large section of the southern Altiplano that includes parts of modern day Peru, Chile, and Bolivia. In this section, I examine the history of the Carangas from their origins following the collapse of Tiwanaku till the abandonment of the identity sometime in the Republican era (1825 AD - 1952 AD). First, I start by discussing the Carangas during the Late Intermediate Period. A particular emphasis is placed on the archaeological remains of past social organizations and the probable creation of the Sajama lines during this period. Next, I take a look at the Late Horizon (c. 1477 AD - 1532 AD) and the incorporation of the Carangas within the expanding Inka Empire. This period had a change in settlement patterns and a continued usage of the Sajama lines. Finally, the Colonial (1533 AD - 1824 AD) and the Republican eras are reviewed. These periods are the most dramatic in terms of change. New sacred spaces are created, the Carangas core is depopulated leading to the eventual disuse of Carangas as an identity. It is also during this period that the Sajama lines were modified to use new sacred space, as well as places of memory. The Pueblo Sajama pathways were more than likely created during this period. 56 5.1. Late Intermediate Period Prior to colonization by the Inka and Spanish, the Carangas were very similar to other neighboring ethnic groups and Aymara señoríos (see figure 5-1). Like other groups, the Carangas may have formed following the collapse of Tiwanaku as a regional power (BouysseCassagne and Chacama 2012: 672). However, this is not agreed upon. For example, Michel (2000) has argued that the Carangas emerged around 300 AD. Regardless of when they emerged, the Carangas core area was located in the Cordillera Occidental of Bolivia and Chile, and extended north to the Rio Desaguadero and east to near Lago Poopó (Bueno 1951). In the core, Carangas engaged in similar lifeways and practices as other highland groups at the time. They practiced agropastoralism, and were later noted for being remarkable for the quality of their camelid herds (Medinaceli 2010). Figure 5-1: The Aymara señoríos during the Late Intermediate Period. From Bouysse-Cassagne 1978. 57 Although a principal town, site, or capital has yet to be identified for the Carangas (see Lima 2012, Medinaceli and Lima 2012), groups were organized around pucaras, fortified hilltop settlements, and chullpas, funerary towers. It seems that two concentrations of these sites existed in the north at Pukara de Huaylilla near Sajama and in the south at Caranguillas near the hills of Capuratas (Lima 2012: 62). This suggest that political organization was decentralized and based around confederations of ayllus and markas (ibid.). In both north and south sectors, pucaras controlled areas near water that allowed for some agriculture, but communities probably relied heavily on camelid herds. Camelids would have been used for meat and wool but, most importantly, would have been used as caravans to connect distant settlements with the core. Chullpas were constructed near pucaras and were very important as hundreds of examples have been recorded (Lima 2012: 523, Michel 2000: 53-55). These structures were places of memory and would be associated with social groups such as ayllus and markas (Bouysse-Cassagne and Chacama 2012: 673-4). Carangas and Pacajes chullpas are notable because they were painted or otherwise colored. Examples of these painted chullpas can be found to the south of Sajama. Although the PNS does not have any chullpas inside the park boundaries, one pucara may be found to the southwest of the mountain. Outside the park are at least six other pucara sites with the two most important being Pukara de Huaylilla and Pucara de Changa Moco (Michel 2000: 48-51). Also similar to other groups, the core area of the Carangas engaged in exchange with colonies located in valleys to the east and west. This was perhaps a form of vertical complementarity between the camelid producing core, and colonies in valleys that were able to grow a greater variety of crops such as coca and maize. This provisioning may have been necessary for maintaining high populations in the Altiplano (Murra 1985). For the Carangas, 58 colonies were established in the western valleys of Azapa, Luta, Codpa, and Timar, in the eastern Tinkipaya Valley near Cochabamca, in the south at Pojpo in Chuquisaca Department, and in the north near Arequipa (Lima 2012: 56). These colonies would have provisioned the core with agricultural produce while the core may have provided camelid products, other goods, or something of cultural value such as participation in a shared identity or ritual system. Aiding in connecting dispersed communities are networks of prehistoric roads found in the Carangas core (Medinaceli 2010: 98). Despite these arguments, colonies and road networks may have been a product of the Inka. Bouysse-Cassagne and Chacama (2012: 670) suggest that colonies near Arica were founded with Inka mitmakunas from not only the Carangas but also Pacajes and Lupacas. Roads may have also been a product of Inka imperialism as well, and one way to ritually integrate provinces with the Cusco heartland (Michel 2000: 74-77). Ultimately it is unclear when these periphery settlements were established as most sources of information rely on Spanish accounts. More archaeological work is needed in order to fully understand Carangas peripheries. It was also during the Late Intermediate when the Sajama lines were more than likely created. This 16,000 kilometer long network of linear pathways or geoglyphs stretch out across the core of Carangas territory from Nevado Sajama in the north, the Salar de Coripasa to the south, and Lago Poopó in the east (Tierra Sajama 2008). Although this system has been heavily modified through time, it still connects pre-Hispanic sites with currently inhabited sites and historic sites. Besides associations with prehistoric archaeological sites, Tony Morrison (1978) and Johan Reinhard (1988) argue that the lines reference mountains and high places that were important to precontact sacred beliefs. By referencing pre-Hispanic sites and sacred ontologies, these lines were more than likely created prior to contact. Morrison (1978) also suggests that 59 because there is no historical mention of these lines, that they were more than likely created before 1532. All these arguments strongly suggest a pre-Hispanic and possibly pre-Inka origin for the Sajama lines. If this was the case, the ritualized pathways would have been useful for not only connecting villages and settlements but also ensuring regular ritual, interaction, and perhaps exchange between far flung ayllu and marka members. In this way, colonies in the valleys would remain culturally affiliated with groups located in the core. 5.2. Late Horizon The arrival of the Inca and the subsequent integration into an imperial state transformed Carangas society. In general, this transformation was guided by the more or less positive relationship that the Carangas had with the Inca. As historical sources explain, the Inca used Carangas’ hostility towards a neighboring ethnic group, the Pacajes, to ally with the Carangas (Lima 2012). This alliance may suggest that the Carangas were vassals or otherwise diplomatically subsumed within the expanding Inka state instead of being conquered. As a result, the Carangas may have attempted to emulate the Inka or at least Inka material culture. Supporting this is a fusion of Inca and local styles in chullpas and in ceramics (ibid.). In a chullpa near Antin Curahuara, the use of stone is similar to Inca architecture with large unmortared blocks around the entrance to the mortuary structure (Ticona 2012). As for ceramics, Lima (2012) argues for the presence of Carangas elites in Caranguillas based on the presence of Inca-local ceramics. Cooperation, or identifying with the Inca, may have been one way Carangas elites gained political or social capital during Inca colonialism. The Carangas were integrated into the empire in other ways. This integration can be seen at the numerous new Inca constructions in the region, and subsequent abandonment of local pucaras (ibid.: 60). Around Nevado Sajama, Torrez (2014) identified an Inca era ceremonial or administrative site at Inca 60 Marka that has ceramics from the Carangas, Pacajes, Inca, and a combination of Inca-local styles. The lack of residential structures and the frequency of aribalo sherds points to a primarily ritual use for the site. With the Sajama lines, the Inka may have reconfigured or used the pathways to ritually incorporate Carangas into the empire. Upon arrival to Carangas territory, the Inka would have recognized the parallels between the Sajama lines and the Cusco ceque system. The Sajama lines may have been understood as an effective way to organize people, exchange, and political economies just like at Cusco (Bauer 1998). This system of ceques must have been effective as it was extended out to Lake Titicaca and elsewhere in the Inka Empire (Bauer 1998, Christie 2016). If the Sajama lines were adopted by Inka practice, then Inka construction and offerings would be done to make the Sajama lines and ritual system into an Inka one. Elsewhere during the Late Horizon, the Inka elaborated on architecture and complexes such as at Pachacamac (Makowski 2015) and Isla del Sol (Bauer and Stanish 2001). Offerings would also be done to link these sacred places with Inka material culture and ritual systems (McEwan 2015). All this had the effect of linking people with land and naturalizing Inka dominance (Kosiba 2015). A similar process might have occurred with the Sajama lines. As already discussed, Inka Marka northeast of Nevado Sajama was created as a possible ritual site, and a way to integrate nearby ritual space and systems into the Inka Empire. Pathways still visible connect Inka sites with the Sajama lines and even views of mountains (Lima 2012). Future excavations at Inka era sites may further elaborate on imperial strategies of controlling and harnessing local ritual systems. 5.3. Colonial and Republican The most dramatic transformation of Carangas society came with Spanish relocation programs and evangelicalism. Following the Conquest, the Carangas territory was made into a 61 province and then divided up among encomiendas in the late 1540s (Bueno 1951: 119, Medinaceli 2010: 110-116). In addition to serving in encomiendas, the Carangas were required to work in mines such as Potosi, while other population segments were located in the eastern portion of the newly created Carangas province (Medinaceli 2010: 111; Medinaceli and Lima 2012: 15-19). It was because of these labor requirements that in 1575 the first major reducciones were carried out under Viceroy Toledo’s reforms (Medinaceli 2010, Stanfield-Mazzi 2013). In total, 147 settlements in the Carangas province were reduced down to six towns that were mostly located in the eastern portion of the province near the mines (Medinaceli 2010: 119). Not every prehispanic pueblo was modified. Turco de Hatun Caranga, for instance, remained occupied despite evidence that it was a major pre-Hispanic population center (Medinaceli 2012: 22). However, on the 19th of February 1600, the eruption of Huaynaputina covered the western portion of the province in ash (ibid.: 21-2). This disruption drove what little population was left towards the eastern towns. Repopulation slowly occurred during the latter half of the 17th century and well into the 18th century, when many modern towns such as Sabaya and Curahuara de Carangas were founded or expanded (Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012: 219). Even today the western portions of the region is sparsely populated (Medinaceli and Lima 2012: 15-19). Relocation through the reducciones was only one of the major changes in the region; evangelicalism further transformed Carangas space and society. The first organized effort in the southern Andes came with the formation of the archdiocese of La Plata in 1559 and in the following decade when monastic orders established chapels, churches, and missions (Bueno 1951: 16, Bouysse-Cassagne and Chacama 2012: 671). However, these early efforts met with mixed success. Like many places in the Andes at the time, indigenous peoples still practiced preColumbian rituals and worship. Carangas colonies near Arica still engaged in ritual practice at 62 wak’as, especially chullpas and other places identified with ancestors (Bouysse-Cassagne and Chacama 2012: 679). The failure of early evangelical attempts were partially caused by priests that did not take into account the people they were attempting to convert. Writing in 1588, the priest Bartolomé Álvarez complained how most priests did not speak any local languages nor were they exceptional preachers (ibid.: 671). This was a common problem in the colonial Andes. Not using Andean languages allowed for the indigenous population to preserve a separate colonial order insulated from the politically dominate Spanish colonial order (Shah 2013: 101). A more organized evangelical effort was made following the Third Lima Council in 1582-1583. This council set standards for church architecture, use of indigenous languages, and prompted the creation of new doctrinas, parishes, and bishoprics (Stanfield-Mazzi 2013). Across the southern Andes, additional archbishoprics were established such as in Santa Cruz in 1605 and La Paz in 1609 (Bueno 1951: 17). For the Carangas, a creation of a local bishopric in the province meant additional emphasis placed on Catholic worship and church construction (Bueno 1951: 18-19, Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012: 215). Constructing and using churches and chapels were very important for pastoralists as it provided a regular time to gather dispersed populations (Medinaceli 2012: 31). In this way, colonial religious authorities could begin challenging the persistence of pre-Columbian practices. However, this did not replace these practices but served as a way to combine and augment pre-colonial cultural logics and social groups. Like many places in the colonial Andes, missionization brought with it a negotiation of the sacred and this can be seen in the placement and construction of catholic architecture in the Carangas province. Selecting places for new churches and chapels was not done solely by Spanish colonial authorities but instead was directed by indigenous agents. For instance, in 1601 Hatun Caranga attempted to petition the Audiencia in La Plata to cover some of the construction 63 costs of the local church in Huachacalla (Medinaceli 2012: 32). Another similar case occurred in 1603 when elites from Curahuara de Caragans petitioned colonial authorities to cover a third of the costs for the new church (ibid.). These construction projects were carried out by prominent members of the community, most importantly members of ayllus and markas (Medinaceli 2012: 44, Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012: 216). Because of this, chapels and churches tend to correspond to these social groups. Furthermore, creating and maintaining these sacred places was a form of competition between groups to validate the legitimacy of ayllus and markas. Creating a church or chapel required elites to establish ties with Spanish civil and/or religious authorities, as well as having enough wealth and resources to ensure the successful execution of the project. To further aid in placemaking, local elites adhered to pre-columbian cultural logics. Important landscape features such as hills, volcanoes, lakes, slopes and rare formations became sites for early colonial churches and chapels (Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012: 221). However, reuse of space was not always the case, as colonial relocations tended to create new relationships between people and their sacred landscapes (Bouysse-Cassagne and Chacama 2012: 678-9, Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012: 220). Besides locating churches and chapels in important areas, Carangas elites also relied on a shared style of churches to aid in their sacred placemaking. Over the 17th and 18th century, construction would become standardized to such an extent as to develop a unique Carangas style of churches (see Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012). Often, Carangas churches--and even chapels-had surrounding walls, atriums, arches, white plaster walls, thatched roofs, and three-tiered towers (ibid.: 238-270). Some features such as arches are found elsewhere in the southern Andes, but atriums are more unique and only found elsewhere in Mexico (ibid.: 238-240). The church of Curahuara de Carangas, Pueblo Sajama, Tomarapi, and Laguna are all great examples of this 64 style. Moreover, the church at Curahuara de Carangas even shows just how creative the Carangas style can be with its spectacular polychromatic murals depicting natural scenes as well as saints, Christ, the Virigin Mary, and demons. This style not only provided a way to designate a certain type of ritual space but also allowed for displays of wealth, skill, and organization in their construction and decoration. During this period, the Sajama lines were still used and modified to relate new Catholic architecture with pre-Hispanic places (Tierra Sajama 2008). Churches and chapels were either built into this system, or new lines were constructed for Catholic architecture. This can be seen at the ritual pathways at Pueblo Sajama and elsewhere in the region. It was also during the late Republican era that the Sajama lines were brought to the attention of Western scholars. Aerial photos attracted Alfred Métraux (1936) to investigate the lines albeit only briefly. Later, Morrison (1978) investigated 22 lines and would interview several people that claimed the lines were being abandoned by younger people. Even more recently, the Tierra Sajama (2008) project of the University of Pennsylvania under the supervision of Clark Erickson investigated the lines. This project identified features of the lines, such as architecture and clustering of lines. However, much of the data remains unpublished save for a website. Despite all these investigations, it remains unclear how the Sajama lines were used during the Colonial and Republican eras. It is the goal of this thesis to address this concern through exploring material patterns and spatial relations of the Pueblo Sajama pathways. 65 CHAPTER SIX: ARCHAEOLOGICAL RESULTS My research goals for fieldwork were to record the materials associated with the pathways and to determine if there was any differences based on space and place. To accomplish this, Ramón Torrez, Claudia Alvarez, and myself surveyed a total of nine pathways to the west of Nevado Sajama and recorded nine altars, four chapels, two churches, two shrines, and one possible ritual site. We also field recorded 125 diagnostic artifacts and noted 651 non-diagnostic artifacts. In the end, we identified what types of materials were deposited along the pathways at at associated sites. Through identifying these materials we also noticed patterns. In this chapter, I present this data collected in July and August 2015. First, I examine the architecture and other features associated with the lines. Altars, chapels, churches, and other features were examined for similarities and differences in size, frequency, and design elements. Next, I take a look at the distributions, styles, and forms of artifacts. During survey, we mostly recorded ceramic sherds and tried to determine a possible relative date and form. Lithics were also encountered including possible pre-forms and ground stone. After, I present spatial data about the pathways such as length, views from altars, and size of corrals near chapels. Finally, I conclude this chapter by discussing the boulder field site, which is a contemporary ritual site that also has associations with Inka and pre-Inka groups such as the Carangas and Pacajes. 6.1. Architecture and Other Features We recorded a set of constructions and associated features mostly to the west of Nevado Sajama near the pathways. This included nine altars, four chapels, two churches, one shrine, six stacked rock features, and six rest areas. The most common type of architecture encountered during survey were altars, which were often built as an end point for the pathways. These may have been used to house offerings and perhaps as a focal point for rituals. Besides the altars, 66 chapels and churches were also common and despite the size differences these two types of architecture were somewhat similar. A small number of additional features were recorded such as one shrine, six stacked rock features, and six possible resting areas along lines 1, 3, and 4. All in all, each feature type has a high degree of homogeneity however small differences such as size and additional design elements differentiate individual structures. 6.1.1. Altars Altars are three tiered unmortared, plain stone structures often with a niche placed on the first tier facing away from the pathway (see figure 6-1). Around Pueblo Sajama, eight were found in association with the nine pathways and one was found between lines 6 and 8 to the south of town. In the case of the pathway (line 2) without an altar, a recent rockslide may have covered up the altar and part of the line. Instead, a circular stone enclosure (35 cm x 40 cm) was found roughly forty meters down slope. As for the nine altars observed, they tended to be very similar in layout. They differed in size, presence of a niche, or a cross on top. Figure 6-1: Altar L1. 67 For size, altars ranged in height from 80 centimeters to 2.18 meters (mean 1.55 ± 0.54 meters) (see table 6-1). This distribution is fairly standard with only three outliers, the large altars 3 and 4, and the small altar 6. Altars also varied more significantly with volume and ranged between 0.58 cubic meters to 8.48 cubic meters (mean 3.01 ± 2.62) (see figure 6.2). Altar L3 is the clear outlier at 8.48 cubic meters which is nearly twice as large as the second most voluminous altar L4 at 4.47 cubic meters. Moreover, altar L3 is the only altar outside the range of one standard deviation. Looking at these two metrics, several trends emerge. First, altar L3 is high significant in terms of volume. Altar L3 is also important as it is located on line 3, which is currently the most used line in this system. Table 6-1: Table with altar heights in meters. Name Code Height (M) Notes Altar L1 6001 1.86 Altar L2 n/a n/a Altar L3 6011 2.18 Altar L4 6004 2.14 Altar L5 6003 1.69 Altar L6 6006 0.80 Altar L7 6010 0.98 Altar L8 6007 1.73 Altar L9 6009 n/a In ruins 1.01 Altar without a pathway Possible Altar 7009 Covered in rockslide Top tier was fallen 68 Figure 6-2: The volume of altars in cubic meters. Note that asterisk denotes a modified or destroyed altars. In addition to size, altars also differed in other design features such as the presence of a wooden cross and a niche (see table 6-2). For crosses, only a minority of altars that could be observed had these features (n = 2/8, 25%). These two altars--L1 and L4--were also the second and third most voluminous altars. As for niches, these were all found with ceramics inside and in three cases with nearly complete vessels. These ceramics were all bowls and decorated. Unlike crosses, it seems niches were an important feature in most altars as only the two smallest altar did not have niches. Niches can be found in other structures in the Altiplano that predate the Inka such as in chullpas. For the Pueblo Sajama altars, niches may have been a major feature in rituals as ceramic evidence may indicate. Furthermore, niches are found with large stone nearby and 69 some altars even had these stones covering the niche. Items placed inside niches and covered with this stone may symbolize a feeding of the mountain. Table 6-2: Table of altars with crosses or niches. Asterisk denote altars that are either completely or partially destroyed. Name Code Cross (Y/N) Niche (Y/N) Altar L1 6001 Y Y Altar L2* n/a n/a n/a Altar L3 6011 N Y Altar L4 6004 Y Y Altar L5 6003 N Y Altar L6 6006 N N Altar L7* 6010 N n/a Altar L8 6007 N Y Altar L9* 6009 n/a n/a Possible Altar 7009 N N 6.1.2. Chapels Chapels are smaller church-like structures constructed from adobe blocks with thatch or clay tiled roofs (see figure 6-3). In all cases except one, chapels were located within the immediate proximity of residential houses, corals, and other domestic structures. Unfortunately, only one of the four chapels was still relatively intact and maintained with white plaster, thatch roof, and items still placed on the altar. Two of the other chapels were barricaded and used for storage while only walls remained of the last ruined chapel. The chapels all shared similar cruciform layouts and orientations. These structures ranged from 5.1 to 5.9 meters long and 4.2 to 4.9 meters wide. However, total square meter area for the chapels showed a little more range 70 with the largest, chapel N1, being 28.91 square meters and the smallest, chapel N3, being 20.74 square meters (see figure 6-4). Inside, chapels were also similar. Doorways were oriented towards the east with the associated pathway lining up with the door. At the opposite end of the chapel were altars constructed into the walls with numerous niches above and sometimes tables in front. Altars provide the biggest difference between chapels with different number and configurations of niches, pillars, molding, and paint pigments used. Figure 6-3: Chapel N2, noted ceramic tiled roof and adobe brick dome. Figure 6-4: Total square meter area for the four chapels. 71 Although there is little variance in layout or size of chapels, exterior design features such as walls and shrines set chapels apart. Walls differed in terms of height and how much they surround the chapels. Chapel N1 only had a small wall of approximately 20 centimeters to the north and south. Chapel N3 and S1, on the other hand, had walls completely surrounding the chapel with two narrow openings in the direction of Nevado Sajama and Pueblo Sajama. Chapel N2 had no wall although recent construction may have removed the wall to make way for a road. Shrines also differed in size and style between chapels. Shrines were small unmortared stone structures a few meters away from the doors of the chapel that, generally, had a stone platform with a stone cross. Each chapel had slight different shrines that varied in size and slightly in style. Chapel N2 was the only one without a shrine although a foundation near the chapel suggests it may have been moved recently. Chapel N1, the one remaining chapel, provides an example of how the other chapels may have looked while still used. On the outside, the chapel was plastered and had a thatch roof and a small wooden door that was secured with some wire. The interior space was plastered and had some crimson curvilinear designs along with a bird and a possible potato plant motifs. The altar had six niches arranged in two rows with a small plastered platform in front and a separate wooden table in front. The center two niches were the largest and framed on each side with pillars and arches. In these niches were crucifixes and depictions of the Madonna and Santiago. On the platform in front of the altar were a plate and a couple candleholders. Both north and south transepts were empty. The interior showed signs of age with plaster cracking and even portions with plaster falling off. The objects in the niches were covered in grit, more than likely blown in, and did not appear to have been handled in some time. Conversations with the son of 72 the former landowner suggests that the chapel was last used by the recently deceased father and styled after the other chapels near Pueblo Sajama. 6.1.3. Churches Through survey, we recorded two churches--one at Pueblo Sajama and one at Tomarapi. Both structures were very similar and a part of the Carangas style for catholic sacred space (see Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012). This style refers to white plastered churches often with thatch roofs, perimeter walls, towers, atriums, and shrines (see figure 6-5). Both constructions at Pueblo Sajama and Tomarapi had all these features. As for the floor plan, only the church at Tomarapi had a cruciform shape. However, both structures had doorways oriented towards the east and altars in the west. Each church also had either buttresses, side chapels, or atriums. Tomarapi had a large atrium that extends to the north and south that breaks up the cruciform floor plan. As for the church at Pueblo Sajama, the floor plan was rectangular with an atrium in the east, transepts to the north and south, and six buttresses. In addition, the Pueblo Sajama structure had an ambulatory on the west end near the altar. Finally, both churches varied in size with the church in Pueblo Sajama being substantially larger (see figure 6-6). 73 Figure 6-5: The church at Tomarapi. Figure 6-6: The total area in square meters of both churches recorded in the survey. 74 6.1.4. Other Features In addition to the previously mentioned architecture, we encountered a number of other features including a shrine at Tomarapi, six stacked rock features, and six rest areas along the pathways. The shrine was found outside of the town of Tomarapi to the north of Pueblo Sajama and does not have any pathways associated with it. Instead, it is similar to small rock shrines often found outside churches and chapels. Stacked rock features were found by altars L3 and L4 but also near the shrine at Tomarapi. Three pairs of rest areas were discovered along lines 1, 3, and 4. The shrine at Tomarapi was very similar to the small shrines found elsewhere and thus was recorded. Shrines found by churches and chapels all had a stone base with a stone superstructure covering a cross on the base. However, the Tomarapi shrine was well over 2 meters tall and much larger than the other shrines found. The mortared stone base (159 x 155 x 95 cm) had a cross on it along with a stone superstructure that covered the cross. Besides the size, the other major difference was a half-wall that surrounded the shrine with only openings from the east and west. In addition, the shrine was not located on or associated with a pathway. Instead, it was built outside of the village roughly 100 meters east of the Tomarapi church near the main road that runs through the PNS. Getting to the shrine is even a little difficult as a barbed wire fence is constructed towards the east and north. Six stacked rock features were also encountered during survey. Five were recorded by Pueblo Sajama and one near the Tomarapi shrine (see table 6-3). The first two stacked rock features (#1 and #2) were found along a trail approximately 50 to 60 meters away from altar L3. These appeared to be constructed from local stone and on top of a natural rock outcrop. This rock outcrop offers better views of Nevado Sajama than the altar. This may been a reason why these 75 features were constructed in this locale. The next three stack rock features (#3. #4, and #5) were found within 30 meters of altar L4. They were also built with nearby stones from the top of the hill. Two were placed within 20 meters of the altar, while the third one was located away from altar by the edge of the hill. This hill was apparently still used for stacking rocks as an unrecorded stacked rock feature adjacent to the altar spelled out a name and the current year. Lastly, the stacked rock feature next to the Tomarapi shrine (#6) was similar to the others but, unlike the previous examples, it had one wide stone placed at the top to form a sort of platform. This differs to the other features which had a wide base that tapered towards the top. Table 6-3: The dimensions of stacked rock features encountered during survey. Stacked Rock Feature Number Location Dimensions (Base x Height) in CM #1 Altar L3 22 x 36 #2 Altar L3 20 x 30 #3 Altar L4 88 x 113 #4 Altar L4 91 x 60 #5 Altar L4 63 x 84 #6 Shrine at Tomarapi 77 x 145 The last type of feature recorded were three pairs of resting places found along lines 1, 3, and 4. All possible resting areas were placed equal distance along the slope of the hill. These resting areas are approximately 3-4 meters in diameter that are built using rocks placed downslope and dirt fill on top to create a more or less leveled area. The features along line 3 were a little more substantial with boulders piled up to form windbreaks and benches. Although it is unsure if the flat areas recorded on lines 1 and 4 are resting areas, the areas on line 3 were more than likely intended as rest areas for tourists climbing the hill. Besides the walls and 76 benches, elevation markers and a sign near the top of the pathway further support the idea that these were constructed for tourists. The possible rest areas recorded along lines 1 and 4 may have been intend for some other purposes maybe as stations for a procession but unfortunately no artifacts were found nearby to suggest a possible use. 6.2. Artifacts In total, we recorded 772 artifacts (125 diagnostic and 651 nondiagnostic) from the surface collections. The most common type were ceramic sherds, but we also recorded 13 lithics. Diagnostic artifacts were considered based on presence of paint or if vessel form could be inferred. Non-diagnostic were unpainted sherds that we were unable to infer vessel form. Besides lithics and ceramics, we also encountered fauna remains mostly at the boulder field site and chapel N1. These remains may have been caused by the natural lifecycles of the numerous camelids in the PNS, hence they were not recorded. Other artifacts not recorded were the numerous modern artifacts such as tin cans, glass, rubber, and paper encountered mostly around Pueblo Sajama and some of the chapels. These were not recorded or noted because they did not directly relate to the pathways. In this section I examine the artifacts recorded during the survey. I present data based on their distribution, before moving on to their variation in form and style. Finally, data on the lithic artifacts will also be presented. 6.2.1. Distribution Overall, the most amount of artifacts were found at chapels (n = 449/772; 58.16%) followed by the boulder field site (n = 255/772; 33.03%)(see table 6-4). When we look at diagnostic artifacts, there is a more equal representation at the chapels (n = 45/125; 35.48%), boulder field site (n = 39/125; 31.45%), and altars (n = 34/125; 27.42%). With non-diagnostic 77 artifacts, the majority were found in large deposits near chapel N1 (n = 349) and the boulder field site (n = 216). This skews the proportions of non-diagnostic artifacts at chapels (62.5%) and the boulder field site (33.33%). Table 6-4: Number and percentage of total artifacts found at the different site types. Location/Feature Type Diagnostic Non-Diagnostic Total Altars 34 (27.42%) 27 (3.7%) 58 (7.51%) Chapels 45 (35.48%) 405 (62.5%) 449 (58.16%) Pathways 6 (4.84%) 1 (0.15%) 7 (0.91%) Boulder Field Site 39 (31.45%) 216 (33.33%) 255 (33.03%) Tomarapi Shrine 1 (0.81%) 2 (0.31%) 3 (0.39%) Totals 125 (100%) 651 (100%) 772 (100%) Chapels and altars show a difference in total number of artifact remains as well as diagnostic and non-diagnostic. Overall, chapels had the highest number of artifact remains but individual sites differ slightly with diagnostic and significantly with non-diagnostic artifacts. Diagnostic artifacts are fairly evenly distributed between the four recorded chapels (see figure 67). When comparing non-diagnostic artifacts, chapel N1 is clearly an outlier. At this chapel, there were three large deposits of mostly non-diagnostic ceramics found under boulder overhangs nearby. The non-diagnostic artifacts at chapel N1 are also the most encountered at any site. Altars, on the other hand, have less diagnostic and non-diagnostic remains (see figure 6-8). The only notable altar is L1, which had significant amounts of diagnostic (N = 14) and nondiagnostic (N = 12) artifacts recorded. 78 Figure 6-7: Diagnostic artifact distribution between the four recorded chapels. Figure 6-8: Distribution of both diagnostic and non-diagnostic artifacts around altars. 79 In order to further examine the difference in frequency of artifacts found at chapels versus altars, a chi-square test was performed. Specifically, this test was used to examine the relation between painted and unpainted ceramics found at these two site types (see table 6-5). This relation was found to be extremely significant (p < 0.0001), suggesting that there is less than 0.01% probability that the difference observed in the ceramics at these two sites was caused by chance. Thus, painted ceramics were more likely to be found at altars while unpainted, utilitarian wares were more likely found at chapels. This pattern may be caused by the discard of domestic ceramics at the chapels and the adjacent residential structures. At the altars, the presence of painted ceramics may indicate a preference for public performances at these places. This may imply that altars were sites of different practices or that less variety of activities were carried out at the altars. Table 6-5: Table for chi square test to compare relation between painted and unpainted ceramics found at chapels and altars. The two-tailed P value is less than 0.0001. Painted Unpainted Total Chapels 33 416 449 Altars 21 37 58 Total 54 453 507 6.2.2. Styles The styles of ceramics were important for suggesting a relative date for sites as well as the cultural affiliation of the sites. In addition, examining styles could also provide information about what connections people of Sajama were forming with other regions such as the Inka or Spanish. In determining styles, we looked primarily at quality and color of the clay, paste, slip, and glaze. This was based on an existing ceramic chronology developed for the region (Michel 80 2000, Torrez 2014, Villanueva 2012). These criteria allowed us to classify ceramics into three broad categories: (a) pre-Inka or Carangas/Pacajes, (b) Inka or local Inka styles, and (c) colonial and republican pottery (see table 6-6 and figures 6-7 and 6-8). We were able to date most sherds this way. When it was difficult discerning between styles, we counted those under indeterminable. As can be seen in the table below, colonial and republican ceramics were the largest type encountered. Table 6-6: Table with frequency and proportions of styles and lithics. Style Number Percentage Carangas/Pacajes 8 6.4% Inka/Inka Local 18 14.40% Colonial/Republican 55 44% Indeterminable Ceramics 31 24.80% Lithics 10.4% 13 When examining the distribution of styles, several sites stand out (see figure 6-9). Line 1, for instance, was the only site to have only pre-Hispanic ceramics. It is highly likely these came below surface from the construction of a nearby building foundation. Besides line 1, three chapels, two altars, and the boulder field site had pre-Hispanic artifacts in addition to later materials. The boulder field site had the most with two pre-Inka sherds and eight Inka-local sherds. Altar L1 had the second most with one pre-Inka sherd and six Inka-local sherds. Based on the presence of these artifacts, these post-contact sites may have reused pre-Hispanic places or brought in the materials during the colonial era. It is also notable which sites do not have any pre-Hispanic artifacts. Chapel N1, for instance, only had postcolonial artifacts despite being located so closely to the boulder field site. Hence, it is likely that this feature was added at a later time. 81 Figure 6-9: Number and proportions of artifact styles found at the various sites. The survey also provided great examples of all these styles. Several pieces showcased the dark red slip and black figures of the Pacajes and Carangas style (see figure 6-10). Typically this style is black linear and curvilinear designs in the interior that sometimes feature a black border (Villanueva 2012). In the Inka and Colonial eras, this style could become muddled with designs and forms from both traditions. For instance, Inka-local sherds were often very thin. Other Inkalocal sherds showed the use of new white pigments (see figure 6-11), and in one case, this was present in an aribalo (see figure 6-12). In fact, this aribalo is the only example of this form in the region besides the Inka site of Inca Marka (Torrez 2014). Colonial and republican ceramics would occasionally have designs similar to pre-Colonial pieces but often this style used new pigments, technologies, and exchange networks that contrasted sharply with pre-Colonial styles. The red and orange of pre-Hispanic ceramics were replaced by green (see figure 6-13) and 82 yellow glazed surfaces (see figure 6-14) in more complex, polychrome curvilinear designs and figures. One blue transferware sherd (see figure 6-15) found in the boulder field site shows a link to broader late colonial or republican trade networks. Figure 6-10 (left): A Pacajes cuenco sherd found at the boulder field site. Figure 6-11 (right): An Inka local sherd found at the boulder field site. Figure 6-12 (left): An Inka local aribalo sherd found near altar L1. Figure 6-13 (right): A republican era base sherd from a cuenco found chapel N1. 83 Figure 6-14 (left): A republican era base sherd found near chapel N2. Figure 6-15 (right): A blue transferware rim sherd found at the boulder field site. One of the most common motifs found was a ‘draped’ design, where either one or two lines form consecutive U shapes on the edge of bowls or plates. This possible local style was primarily used on colonial pottery, but may have had roots in pre-Hispanic designs. In total, we recorded ten sherds that had some sort of version of this motif. Some of the early examples have the dark red or orange color of pre-Hispanic styles (see figure 6-16) or are thick and made with numerous inclusions (see figure 6-17). In both cases, these sherds may be from early colonial or possibly Late Horizon ceramics. Other examples of this motif are clearly late colonial or republican. These sherds either have a glaze or use the dark green pigments indicative of republican styles (see figure 6-18 and 6-19). Furthermore, clay used in pottery is very fine and tends to be a brighter orange. This style may be localized in the Carangas and broader Oruro regions but more work with historic ceramics is needed to make more definitive conclusions. 84 Figure 6-16 (left): Early colonial or LH rim sherd of a plate found at chapel S1. Figure 6-17 (right): Early colonial or LH rim sherd of a bowl found at chapel N2. Figure 6-18 (left): Republican rim sherd of a plate found at chapel S1. Figure 6-19 (right): Republican rim sherd of a plate found at the boulder field site. 85 6.2.3. Forms Vessel forms were inferred based on the angle of the rim or the base. In addition, I used categories from other research in the region (Torrez 2014, Villanueva 2012). Out of the 125 diagnostic artifacts, the majority were found to be cuencos or bowls (n = 43, or 38.39%) (see figure 6-20). Cuencos are a type of shallow bowl that differs from the deeper and more uncommon flaring tazones (n = 2, or 1.79%). The fourth most numerous ceramic form, handled vessels (n = 14, or 12.5%), include ollas, double handled vessels, or jarras, single handled pitchers. During survey, we recorded several handles and rims of vessels but were unable to differentiate between these two similar forms. Finally, there were numerous indeterminable sherds (n = 28, or 25%) that we were unable to infer the specific vessel type, especially if the sherd came from the body or was a small section of the base. Figure 6-20: Graph with the total count of forms for the 125 artifacts recorded. 86 6.2.4. Lithics Only a small portion (n = 13, 10.4%) of the total diagnostic artifacts were lithics. Out of these, we recorded five modified flakes (see figure 6-21), four ground stone, three preforms (see figure 6-23), and one core. The most common type of material was basalt but we recorded two examples of obsidian and two white chert preforms. Lithics were also distributed across different types of sites: four at the boulder field site, three at chapel N1, two along line 1, two at altar L1, one at chapel S1, and one at altar L6. Unfortunately, lithics are not as well studied as ceramics in the PNS and comparisons with other Carangas sites are not possible. The use of lithics may be from prehistoric contexts, but we cannot discard the possibility that they were used later. Figure 6-21 (left): Modified flake found at the boulder field site. Figure 6-22 (right): Possible obsidian preform found in a corral at the boulder field site. 6.3. Spatial Data The nine recorded pathways had similar architecture and were all cleared trails. However, the length of pathways and spaces used for altars differed between the nine lines. First, the length 87 of the pathways ranged from 1.01 kilometers to 3.42 kilometers (mean 2.14 ± 0.92 km) (see figure 6-23). Distance of the lines may not be all too important, and instead, selecting locations may have been more significant as it was in the past (see Bessom 2009, Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012). All the lines start on flat or slightly raised areas at the base of Nevado Sajama while the termination points to the east differ between hilltops, rises, and slopes. Four lines end on hilltops (lines 1, 3, 4, and 8), three end on rises (lines 5, 6, 9), and two end on steep slopes (lines 2 and 7). Instead of using specific types of space such as hilltops, altars may have been built for other reasons such as proximity to residences, to reuse pre-Hispanic sites, or perhaps just because they are in the direction of Nevado Sajama. However, all the pathways head up hill with some lines steeper than others. Figure 6-23: The different lengths of the nine lines of Pueblo Sajama. 88 6.3.1. Views Another consideration for line, altar, and chapel placement are views of Nevado Sajama. Ethnohistoric sources frequently mention line of sights with culturally significant peaks as one factor for worship or veneration at certain shrines (Bessom 2009). With the Pueblo Sajama lines, all the chapels and the one church observe Nevado Sajama. However, at the altars, line of sight with the Sajama are often blocked or partially obscured by hills (see figure 6-24). Views of Sajama were often lost along pathways while walking up slopes of hills. Occasionally, Sajama would come back in view at some of the altars. At lines 8 and 9, the mountain is observable the whole time, while lines 3 and 6 had partially obscured views at the altar. Sajama was not visible along lines 1, 2, 4, 5, and 7. The lack of views of Nevado Sajama and the different types of landscape features used for placement of altars suggest that either Sajama was not the intended for ritual veneration or perhaps alternative factors were more important. For instance, maybe an increase in elevation along a path in the direction of Sajama was important or culturally meaningful places in the hills were used. 89 Figure 6-24: Map of the Pueblo Sajama lines and visibility of the Nevado Sajama peak. 6.3.2. Corrals One final consideration for spatial analysis is the area of corrals near the chapels. Number of corrals and total area may be indicators to assess the size of camelid herds. Large herds may have been one measure of wealth for pastoralists (Aldenderfer 2001) or indicates the ability to call on labor from family connections. Chapel N2 and S1 had structures immediately in the vicinity of the chapels while chapels N1 and N3 had domestic structures within 100 and 350 meters respectively. Corrals were measured from satellite imagery, and defined as spaces completely enclosed by a wall. Near chapel N3 and chapel N1 were large spaces that were only partially enclosed, therefore they were not counted as part of the total area. Another consideration is that herds could be kept outside of these corrals. During our survey, corrals were 90 never occupied and instead llamas, alpacas, and sheep grazed along bofedales. The only indicator that corrals had been used were the numerous scat piles left over from camelids. Figure 6-25: The total area of corrals for the four chapels near Pueblo Sajama. Looking at the total area for all the corral space (figure 6-25), chapel N1 at the boulder field site has nearly twice as much as the second largest corral group. Chapel N1 also has the most number of corrals (n = 10) while S1 has the second most (n = 6) followed by N3 (n = 5) and N2 (n = 4). This is significant as chapel N1 is one of the most important areas because of its proximity to the boulder field site and it is the only chapel to have two associated lines. Herd size may be positively correlated to the ability to engage and create space around Pueblo Sajama. If corral space indicates ability to call on labor, then altars were expected to be larger. Looking at volume of altars, altar L4 is twice as large as any of the chapel altars. In fact, the only altars larger are the ones associated with the church. 91 6.4. Boulder Field Site The boulder field site is located southwest of chapel N1 (see figure 6-26) on a slight rise in a field of massive granite boulders that range from a couple meters in diameter to five or six meters. This site is notable because of the numerous deposits of glass, ceramics, and burnt bone often placed between these large boulders. In total, we recorded 39 (31.45% of total) diagnostic artifacts and noted 216 (33.03% of total) non-diagnostic artifacts at this site. It is likely that there are many more artifacts but time constraints limited are field recording. Besides deposits, the boulder field site had numerous features. Five structures, possibly residential, were built on the eastern section of the site along with ten corrals, one shrine, and one oven. The oven near the shrine even had scorched wool and burnt wood nearby suggesting that it had been used relatively recently. In addition to this archaeological data, we were able to talk with two of the landowners about the site as discussed in the next chapter. 92 Figure 6-26: An overview map of the boulder field site with chapels and lines. The artifacts at the boulder field site were some of the best examples recorded during survey. It was at this site that we encountered great examples of local Pacajes and Carangas ceramics (see figure 6-10) as well as Inka ceramics (see figure 6-11). The site and nearby chapel N1 were the only place where we encountered lithic preforms. Although all these artifacts were found on the surface, it is highly likely that additional older artifacts may be found below surface. Residents at the site even claimed that they were doing excavations at the site which yielded finds of what they called “Inka gold”. This may be unlikely but the boulder field site is a rather unique feature in the PNS. Not only is it an unusual landscape feature but it also is a 93 natural place for shelter from the persistent Altiplano wind. Future archaeological research could assess how long the site has been used and perhaps for what purposes. Besides past uses, the boulder field site seemed to be used for contemporary rituals as indicated by the numerous deposits of glass, burnt wood, and charred wool. Around the oven and small shrine were three large deposits of broken glass and one deposit of charred bone. This may suggest that feasting may factor into ritual at the site or perhaps these remains were discarded after use from the nearby residences. In the oven was a large mass of partially burnt brown wool. The oven was used not only for food, but perhaps for other ritualized purposes such as burning mesa or pago offerings. The landowners did not discuss the oven or current uses of the boulder field site. However, the son of the former landowner did explain that chapel N1 was built to mimic the other chapels. The family used the chapel in the past for rituals and ceremonies but have since stopped. Conversations with Don Gregorio indicated that this area was used for community wide processions that visited four stations along the outskirts of Pueblo Sajama. The oven and shrine may have been used for such purposes. All in all, the boulder field site is a unique site in PNS with pre-Hispanic, colonial, and modern contexts all in one place. 94 CHAPTER SEVEN: ETHNOGRAPHIC RESULTS One cold morning in August 2014, Ramón Torrez, Claudia Alvarez, and I were examining the Pueblo Sajama church when the elderly proprietor of our rented room approached us with a young white llama in tow. She greeted us with a half-smile and Torrez began talking to her in rapid Spanish about visiting the town and walking the caminos radiating out from the church. She responded in equally as rapid Spanish and gestured towards the llama. Afterwards, I asked Torrez in my rudimentary Spanish what the conversation had been about. In slower Spanish, he explained that the proprietor wanted to take her white llama along the main pathway-line 3--and do something with it. I didn’t recognize the verb. I asked what it was and with a grin Torrez drew a thumb to his neck and imitated slitting his throat. As it turns out, the pathways that we were walking were not inert, decaying remains but still very much apart of regular ritual practice in town. This experience, perhaps more than any other during the pilot project, made me consider the possibility conducting ethnographic research as part of fieldwork in 2015. It also showed me I needed to work on my Spanish. The next year, I wanted to talk to people about current use of the pathways and confirm what our proprietor had said. Moreover, examining current uses of the pathways would provide an ethnographic analogy of how archaeological materials were deposited and if there were any differences between the sites. After three weeks of living and talking to various residents, these questions turned out to be a little more difficult to answer than I initially thought. Instead, what I saw was different ritual practices engaged by different people. In this chapter, I will review the information gathering through informal interviews from both field seasons. First, I will discuss how the pilot project informed later field work during 2015. Next, I present information gained from talking to residents in Pueblo Sajama and at the chapels affiliated with pathways. Last, I 95 review how these results inform the current and past understanding of ritual practices at the pathways and more generally in Pueblo Sajama. 7.1. Pilot Project One of my first impressions of the national park was just how desolate and isolated this region of the Bolivian Altiplano seemed to be. Only a few clusters of houses dotted the undulations of the Sajama region with the apparently only living thing visible being the herds of llamas and alpacas. However, this impression was not entirely accurate. People still lived and worked in the shadow of Sajama but most importantly, people were still venerating the mountain as an apu that was still informing and structuring current ritual practices. In August 2015, over the course of three days, we visited two pathways but also talked to owners of hotels and restaurants during our day to day interactions. Through these regular interactions we were able to gain some information about the current ritual system of Pueblo Sajama. The most insightful conversation was with the elderly proprietor of our second accommodation that was mentioned at the start of this chapter. All these conversations would establish the possibility of conducting ethnographic fieldwork and direct what sort of questions could be explored in the main field season. The first night that Ramón Torrez, Claudia Alvarez, and I arrived it was nearly dark. We were also the only tourists to get off at the gate of the park. After signing in and paying the entrance fee, the three of us looked for accommodations in town. Eventually we found a small hotel with outlying one room buildings used to accommodate tourists. The woman running the hotel and restaurant with the help of her young children would be our first informal interview. That night after dinner, we asked her a couple questions about the pathways or caminos. It took a little clarification of which pathways but she seemed to know of the three that radiated from the 96 church. However, she did not elaborate and left to go back into the kitchen. Other conversations the next day with a shopkeep followed a similar pattern. It seemed people knew of the pathways, after clarifying which pathways, but either were busy or, for whatever reason, did not feel compelled to expand on the pathways. The second night, after visiting one of the pathways, we needed to find new accommodations as the first hotel was booked up by a large group of tourists. An elderly couple running a restaurant mentioned that they had a room available. This was the same style of accommodation as the first hotel: one room and one bath adobe building with curved thatch ceiling that seemed to be used solely by tourists as locals tended to live in compounds of adobe buildings with corrugated metal roofs. After moving in our things and settling in, we decided to examine the church when one of the properties came out with a young white llama with pierced ears with brightly colored yarn in them. She claimed that every year on February 2nd, the people of Pueblo Sajama go up to the main camino to sacrifice a white llama. It was the llama she had with her that she hoped would be sacrificed next. Afterwards, she led the llama away and we left to go visit one of the more popular tourist spots, the hot springs. Through these brief conversations, two important conclusions were reached. First, it seemed that information about the local ritual system could be gathered by staying in the town for a substantial time, and talking to people we encountered day to day. This was the main reason for adding an ethnographic component to fieldwork for the next season. Moreover, informants would probably come from the locals that ran hotels and restaurants, but these conversations would need to be arranged in advance. The second conclusion reached is that the lines are still used. The proprietor from the second day even provided an exact date and a basic description of the ritual, but this would have to be collaborated with other informants. 97 7.2. Fieldwork With the information gained from the pilot project in mind, I prepared for fieldwork by further refining my Spanish and developing questions about current line uses. My main goal was to determine how the sample of pathways were used, for what purposes, and when. If it was possible, I wanted to participate or observe current rituals along the lines. I planned on getting this information from talking to as many locals as possible with the goal of identifying one or two primary informants that would be willing to sit down for an interview. In July 2015, I returned to Pueblo Sajama with Torrez, Alvarez, and myself to start pedestrian surveys and informal interviews with locals. Arriving in Pueblo Sajama, we rented a small room with four beds in a compound along the main plaza. The proprietor and his family were friendly and asked us questions about how many tourists arrived on the minibus and what we were doing in the park. We told him we were interested in the caminos and he reported that the hot springs and geysers were great places to visit. We clarified that we were archaeologists examining the ritual trails and pointed at the pathways radiating off from the church. He indicated a familiarity with the pathways but did not go into detail about them. Over the next couple of days, we would mention where we surveyed and he would name hills nearby and seemed to know where we walked. Locals that ran shops also provided similar responses: they had an idea of where we surveyed but did not seem eager to go into additional details. However, during this first week of survey we started eating at a restaurant owned by Don Gregorio and his family. Although the food his family prepared was very good, we returned because of how friendly Don Gregorio was in answering our questions about the park and talking about politics. Each time we ate dinner the conversation would inevitably turn back towards the 98 pathways and the ritual system in Pueblo Sajama. Over multiple nights he expanded on the current ritual system of the town. One of the first things mentioned was how Nevado Sajama is referred to as Doctor Sajama, especially in August when mesa offerings were burned. These offerings were for the health of participants, hence the name of the mountain. Another night, after we surveyed the boulder field site, he mentioned that a shrine found at the place was used as one of the stations in a procession that walked the perimeter of the village. After we finished dinner one night, I asked Don Gregorio if the lines were used for fiestas. He nodded slowly and noted that the main line was used at carnival. Besides talking to people living in town, I also wanted to talk to locals that lived near the chapels. During the first week we had the opportunity to do just that at chapel N1. On our first day of survey and when we discovered the boulder field site, a man in his twenties or thirties approached us and wondered what we were doing near his house. Torrez talked to the man about looking at the chapels and only taking photos of the broken ceramics. After a few minutes, the man agreed that we could take a look around, and even let us inside chapel N1. We first walked through the boulder field site which the man said was very old. In fact, he claimed that they were excavating around the boulders and had found “Inka gold”. Although I am skeptical of this statement, we did find what appeared to be a recently dug hole; hence, at least part of his story is true. As we left the site and headed towards chapel N1, I asked him about the large deposits of ceramics around the chapel. He answered that they kept similar things together when they discarded them. Eventually, we were let into the chapel to take a look around at the crumbling structure. As we took photos and walked around, our now guide said that his recently deceased father had built the chapel to look like the other nearby chapels. He continued to chew coca and remained outside with his dog while we paced around the dusty interior of the chapel. 99 Afterwards, we talked outside the chapel about the neighboring mountains including Sajama’s paired mountain, Sabaya. We did not just talk about mountains. With a grin, the man brought up that he was an amateur boxer and he just got back from a match in Oruro. The second week was less eventful as Alvarez and myself did not talk to as many people. We continued to eat at Don Gregorio’s restaurant but we did not get any more answers about the pathways. However, we did talk to an elderly woman at chapel S1 about her use of that chapel and line 6. It was morning when we met her on the way out to chapel S1 and after exchanging greetings, we started to ask her questions. She told us that she lived in the nearby residential structures. When I mentioned being interested in the camino that extended from the doorway of the chapel, she did not talk in detail about the line. Finally, I asked if she used the pathway or chapel in the past. She reported that she did but did not use them anymore. I wrote down a few notes and thanked her before returning to recording the crumbling chapel S1. During the last week of survey, I was able to talk to three other members of the community. On my first day back in Pueblo Sajama, I was examining the cemetery when two women walking by greeted me. After exchanging hellos, I asked if they had time for a few questions and one of the women agreed. We talked about the cemetery first and I learned that the structure inside the walls was a chapel used when the recently deceased are interred. I pointed out that the chapel was along line 3. She agreed but did not add any more. Finally, I asked if this pathway was used during fiestas and she responded that it was during carnival. When asked when, she turned to her companion and after a moment they agreed that it was around February 16th. I thanked the women and we parted ways. On my last day in Pueblo Sajama, I surveyed chapel N2. While there, I encountered one of the landowners waiting for his son. The elderly man watched me as I approached and did not 100 respond even when I waved at him. Getting closer, I greeted him and shook his hand. I asked if he had a moment and he said yes. First, I requested permission to take photos of the chapel and the ceramic sherds on the ground. While he waited, we talked and, prompted by my questions, I learned that the man still lives at the residential structures near the chapel. The chapel is no longer used for ceremonies or ritual but the man claimed to have used it when he was younger. When I asked him about the camino up to the altar, he gestured to a nearby road that parallels line 7 and mentioned how it goes up to a base camp for climbing Nevado Sajama. Upon clarification, I asked if there was an altar or structure at the top of line 7 and he said no. I thanked him for his time and went back to survey. Ten minutes later, the wife approached me and asked for some money for taking photos of the chapel. She later claimed that she used the chapel sometime in the past. The night of my last day, I met with Don Gregorio to clarify some details. First, I asked about the current use of the lines and he mentioned that they are not used for fiestas but sometimes for mesa offerings in August. When I asked him about doing a mesa for my own health, he only vaguely mentioned that some people do it in town but would not direct me further. Next, I asked about the system of chapels around Pueblo Sajama. After some counting and consulting a map I had of the park, he reported that there were eight chapels around the town with three to the west away from the mountain. Out of these chapels, only the four surveyed were identified by him as having pathways. I then inquired about the other village around Nevado Sajama, Tomarapi, and asked if it had pathways. Don Gregorio claimed that it did not have pathways, instead, he reiterated that only Pueblo Sajama has pathways. Finally, I asked about the Carangas which made him mention the seat of the province, Curahuara de Carangas. I explained that it was an Aymara group in the past, and asked him if he identified as Aymara. He 101 agreed and went on to explain that a woman used to have the last name Carangas but that was a long time ago. I thanked him for his time and he asked for my headlamp in exchange. 7.3. Contemporary Ritual Practice at Sajama Prior to the main fieldwork in 2015, I envisioned participating in rituals and recording items used in current rituals to infer about materials in the past. This did not happen. Instead, I confirmed the pathways were still used for rituals but these may be changing under the influence of tourism and perhaps more national trends. For current rituals, line 3 is used for carnival as multiple people mentioned that use. Other uses may include mesa offerings or for llama sacrifice in early February that may be part of the celebrations of la Candelaria (Monast 1972: 194). For all these uses of the pathways, it is not determined if processions are used or if ceremonies only start at the altars or chapels. For Pueblo Sajama, processions would not be unusual as they are used in other ceremonies in town such as during Bolivia’s Independence Day on August 6th. In fact, Johan Reinhard (1988) wrote about a similar pathway and ritual procession up to an altar near Sabaya. Potentially similar practices may have been conducted around Pueblo Sajama. These rituals also seem to be influenced, at least partially, by tourism. It seems a little unusual for the elder woman encountered during the field season to keep a llama so close at hand. It is possible that the llama was receiving special treatment, but posing young llamas for photo opportunities is not too uncommon in tourists areas in the Andes like Cusco. Moreover, other families and locals in Pueblo Sajama did not have any camelids nearby. Taken with examples of locals asking for money for photos and the fact that Pueblo Sajama is the main village for visiting Nevado Sajama, tourism appears to be changing lifestyles and perhaps the ritual system. Perhaps this is creating separate worlds, one for tourists and one for locals. This 102 may explain the hesitancy some people had in speaking about the pathways as well as the difficulty in having a mesa offering done. Besides tourism, larger national trends may have impacted Pueblo Sajama’s ritual system. While visiting Bolivia for fieldwork, there were numerous examples of indigenous pride. From bicephalic serpent on busses in La Paz to the Entrada Folklórica Universitaria procession in La Paz, it seems that there is an ongoing negotiation of the role of indigeneity within Bolivia. At Pueblo Sajama, future research may be able to investigate how practices from elsewhere in Bolivia are being adapted for local Sajama rituals. Materials may also be changing. Mesas may be influenced by modern trends in the main cities, and may use materials that were not used in the past. This is the case of metallic paper used to replace ancient metal artifacts, or dry llama fetuses instead of more mature camelids. Thus, ethnographic analogy for rituals may not be able to explain archaeological patterns as materials may be new or used in different ways. More in depth ethnographic work is needed for any definitive conclusions. 103 CHAPTER EIGHT: DISCUSSION By examining the pathways, stations, and portable materials brought into relationships with the landscape, we can gain an understanding with how places were created and used to navigate both inter and intra group relationships. In this way, the ritual pathways around Pueblo Sajama are similar to the ritualized landscapes elsewhere in the Andes. Like with the Paracas, the lines brought together different people for interactions and, like the Inka, this system was also ranked. The major difference between the case studies and Sajama is the fact that the Pueblo Sajama lines were created with the backdrop of Spanish colonialism and republican independence. Besides these social relationships, using the lines allowed for the people of Pueblo Sajama to negotiate Spanish-Catholic authority with Andean practices and cultural understandings. In this chapter, I discuss how the data presented in this thesis addresses the three main research goals, in particular the last two goals. These goals included (1) documenting qualities of ritual in the Pueblo Sajama lines, (2) creating and testing a model for ritualized landscapes, and (3) colonial effects on the Pueblo Sajama landscape. Therefore, I first review how the Pueblo Sajama lines are a ritualized landscape using the qualities of ritualization as outlined in chapter four such as orientation of lines, investments into stations, and portable materials. By using these qualities, I make inferences about scale of practices at these sites as well as the nature of performance rituals. Next, I look at how the dynamic social landscape of Sajama helped in creating subjectivities for the people using it. This can be seen in a number of ways. One way is through memory, which functions through citing memories of Andean sacred ontologies, organizing space through socioritual engagement, and creating place by referencing ancestors or past materials. Another way subjectivities are found is through the social organization of Pueblo 104 Sajama through the landscape. This organization is seen through different types of community and kin group rituals which allowed integration within community and regional groups. Finally, the dynamic nature of the landscape allowed for the people of Sajama to subsume and mitigate colonial strategies by incorporating Catholicism into their own landscape and cultural understandings of the sacred. Examining these aspects of the Pueblo Sajama landscape all address the three goals of this thesis. In this next section, I examine the second goal by applying the data collected during fieldwork to the model for ritualized landscapes. 8.1. The Ritualized Landscape of Pueblo Sajama By analyzing the lines of Pueblo Sajama in terms of the material aspects of ritualized landscapes as present in chapter three, we can relate this system in multiple ways to the other case studies of both prehistoric and historic landscapes. In short, these aspects seek to understand ritualized landscapes through three material lines of evidence: the pathways, the stations, and the portable materials. For pathways, the concentration and orientation are perhaps the two most important qualities for the lines of Pueblo Sajama. These potentially allow for inferences about past ranking or cultural importance of either places in the pathway system or outside of it such as Nevado Sajama or other nearby mountains. Stations are also very important. Frequency, distribution, and investment can all provide additional support for conclusions about importance or uses of altars and chapels but also they can inform researchers about labor organization and even sacred ontologies in how stations are placed. Finally, portable materials are the only way to provide a relative date for the pathways but also to shed light into past practices in this ritual system. Using this model not only provides a means of inferring about ritual practice along these lines, it also addresses my second goal by testing the model for ritualized landscapes. 105 8.1.2. The Pathways The first quality of pathways, concentration, is clearly represented in the lines of Pueblo Sajama. Three radiate from the church, two from chapel N1, and four from the other chapels including the missing chapel S2. Although it is not surprising the church has the most lines, it is interesting that chapel N1 has two. Chapel N1 is unique in its proximity to the boulder field site and the total number of artifacts found at the chapel and boulder field site. For these reasons, the space near chapel N1 may have been considered significant and provided a reason for construction of the altar and the two lines. Alternatively, chapel N1 has the most amount of corral space and this may indicate more wealth or perhaps a greater ability to call on labor. This may somehow relate to having multiple ritual pathways perhaps as providing a reason to bring people together. A third explanation is supported by interviews with Don Gregorio. The space near chapel N1 is used for additional ritual that is not done at the other chapels. This may influence the material remains. During interviews, Don Gregorio mentioned that a shrine near chapel N1 was visited as part of a procession to four shrines on the periphery of Pueblo Sajama. It may not be a single factor either and instead a combination of these three explanations may have resulted in the construction, use, and maintenance of two pathways. Next, the church’s lines could easily be explained by the fact that they are used for community wide rituals and ceremonies. In both the cases of chapel N1 and the church, a greater number of people using the station may mean more lines. This is supported by the current practice of the lines, where members of Pueblo Sajama come together for a procession along line 3 during carnival in February. However, unlike the chapels, most altars and pathways would be able to accommodate large groups of people. Instead of more participants correlating with more lines, pathways may also correspond to different types of ritual practices. In Sallnow’s (1981, 106 1982) examples of Christ shrines, pilgrimages and processions are dedicated to set shrines on certain dates and a similar pattern could be done with the multiple sets of lines at the church at chapel N1. In both cases, pathways terminate at altars placed at different types of landscape features. For the church, line 1 ends on a saddle that does not have a view of Nevado Sajama, line 2 ends on the side a steep hill, and line 3 ends on top of a hill with views of Nevado Sajama. Each of these three lines may be dedicated to a different shrine or purposes although similar architecture was observed. A similar trend could be seen at chapel N1 which has line 4 ending on a hilltop with a partial view of Nevado Sajama, and line 5 on a rise without a view of Nevado Sajama. The exact nature of this past ritual practice is unable to be determined, but it seems that the most likely explanation for differences in line concentration is different ritual practice. Next, the orientation of pathways is less clearly defined, but suggests that cultural factors were perhaps influencing placement and construction. First, in terms of length all the pathways ranged from 1.01 to 3.42 kilometers but this may not be all too important as it seems that pathways were constructed to reach the first hill or rise. When walking towards Nevado Sajama, not a single pathway went downslope besides the occasional wash or drainage. In this way, the pathways’ length may have only depended on the closeness of the selected point for the altar. Second, in terms of orientation of the pathways, there all generally head in the direction of Nevado Sajama but only line 9 is oriented directly on the summit. Even having a view of Nevado Sajama is not guaranteed along the pathways. Two lines have a more or less continuous view of the mountain while two do not. The other five have partial views only at the summit of the hills or rises. It seems that there was only an occasional focus on the mountain as the pathways are not centered on the summit and even a couple lines do not have views. Instead, the one uniform trait of pathways is they all increase in elevation when moving east away from the chapels or church. 107 Change in elevation may have been the most important influence on placement of the pathways or perhaps simply linking together significant sites was the main factor for the pathways. 8.1.2. The Stations For frequency of stations, the Pueblo Sajama lines are all fairly uniform. Each line has a set chapel or church and one altar at the end point. In the case of line 2 and line 8, one of the termination structures were missing but these were most likely caused by a landslide or renovations to domestic structures in the recent past. The only deviation from this pattern are the rest areas found definitively along line 3 and potentially on line 1 and 4. These are flat areas placed more or less equal distance from each other along the slope of hills. Although line 3 had rest areas set up for tourists, lines 1 and 4 may have been used for other purposes such as rituals done while traversing the lines. Compared to the broader network of Sajama lines, not having stations in between the termination places may be unusual. Morrison (1978) recorded that stations in the form of small rock shrines were in between termination stations. Multiple stations may be only placed on longer pathways as Morrison mentioned that these lines were much longer than the ones at Pueblo Sajama. It is unsure if having multiple stations along a line is common but future research in the region may establish the changes and continuities of this practice. Distribution of stations is important in potentially determining how sites were chosen for construction into sacred space. This provides some level of inference on colonial Andean sacred ontologies. Altars provide the best examples of these past ontologies. These structures were placed on hill tops, slopes, and even rises. This could mean that increase--or decrease depending on direction of processions--in elevation was important for sacred placemaking. One problem is that these types of places can describe virtually all the locations to the east of Pueblo Sajama. 108 Instead, the change in elevation of the pathways may be caused by the fact that they are based off of the east facing doorways of the church and chapels. Other factors may have influenced placement. Concerns such as ease of access from chapels, or known culturally significant places, could have dictated where altars were placed and thus pathways. Reuse of significant places may have been the case for some altars, such as altar 1, which had pre-Hispanic artifacts found nearby. This explanation does not fit all the altars as some do not have any pre-Hispanic artifacts nearby. However, it is possible these were not visible on the surface. Chapels and the Pueblo Sajama church, on the other hand, are much more clearly placed. The church is in the pueblo and surrounded by the highest concentration of buildings in the PNS. Chapels are often placed near residential structures as was the case with chapels N2, S1, and perhaps the missing S2. Two chapels were placed farther away. Chapel N1 is about 100 meters away from the residential structures while chapel N3 is even further away at about 300 meters. Overall, chapels and the church’s placement may have been based on ease of access near residential structures although, as previously mentioned, chapel N1 may have reused the prehistoric boulder field site. Investments in altars along the pathways are also important as this provides inferences for how construction may have occurred and perhaps how much labor each line had invested into it. Overall, altars were apparently built over time as evident in the difference in altar size and architecture. Altars seemed to have been constructed to reach a height a little taller than an adult, or around two meters, but varied substantially in volume. The largest, altar L3, has a volume of 8.48 cubic meters--twice as large as the next largest altar while the least voluminous altar was only 0.58 cubic meters. These smaller altars, such as altars L5 and L7, may represent some of the earlier stages of construction as they have similar forms as the larger altars and, more importantly, could have fulfilled similar ritual functions. Further supporting this is the potential 109 altar found on line 2. A landslide covered up the old altar and approximately 50 meters downslope was a small circular stone enclosure that may represent the first steps of altar construction. Even if this is not the first stages of altar construction, the variability of height and volume shows that different amount of labor went into construction and this was perhaps carried out over time during multiple building periods. It also suggest that altars L1, L3, and L4 were perhaps the most used and longest used or built by a larger pool of labor. On the other end of the lines, chapels show a standard layout and use of design elements although there were slight variations especially with design. Chapel N1, the only chapel in decent condition, provides the best example of what the other chapels may have looked like. Inside this chapel was white plaster walls with crimson curvilinear, bird, and plant designs. The altar also had several niches decorate with statues of Christ, Santiago, and the Madonna. On the exterior, the chapel had a thatch roof, white plastered walls, a nearby shrine, and a short perimeter wall only on the north and south. Although the other chapels were in ruins, some provide examples of alternative interior configurations. Chapel S1 still had plaster on the walls with elaborate blue plant designs. Chapels S1 and N2’s altars had a large central niche with numerous side niches instead of more or less equal sized niches. Considering the use of niches in pre-Hispanic architecture, it is likely some of these features were absorbed in the construction of chapels. In all observable cases, there is an investment into the chapel that uses same design elements such as altars, paints, and walls but these differed from chapel to chapel. These differences may have been caused by different wealth or personal choices of families maintaining and building chapels. Unfortunately, only one chapel is in good enough condition to accurate gauge these investments and choices. 110 8.1.3. The Portable Materials The final quality of ritualized landscapes, portable goods, provides information on the main periods of use for this system but also hints at what sort practices were conducted at the sites. In terms of use, the most common style of ceramics found during survey were colonial and republican styles but this pattern may be caused by only recording surface materials. Still, six of the twenty-five sites had evidence of pre-Hispanic ceramic styles. This may indicate that sites reused earlier places or other types of memory practices that will be reviewed later. Styles of ceramics found at sites such as the boulder field site and altar L1, support other conclusions about their importance. Altar L1, for instance, may have been heavily used or very significant as it is the third tallest and most voluminous altar. It is also one of two altars found with preHispanic ceramics nearby. This importance may be tested through excavation in future work. Besides providing a potential date of use for sites, diagnostic artifacts found show a preference for decoration and bowls, which supports the fact that ceremonial activities were done along the pathways. The majority of artifacts found at altars are decorated while chapels have more non-diagnostic plain ceramics. Chapels though are near residential structures and artifacts recorded nearby may be discarded from residential uses rather than ceremonial ones. Therefore, altars may offer a better insight into past ritual. For ceramic forms, out of the 125 diagnostic artifacts recorded, 43 were cuencos or bowls while the second most determinable form was plates (n = 24). Moreover, three altars had bowls found inside niches on the first tier. Decoration may have been intended for participants or as a show of wealth or even labor during rituals while the form of bowls and plates would have been ideal for display. It is also likely that these serving vessels were used in ritualized commensal practices. 111 8.2. A Dynamic Social Landscape Much like the case studies of ritualized landscapes, the lines of Pueblo Sajama are able to physically capture some of the complex social processes of the past. By examining these material qualities of the landscape, we can better understand how the landscape and place making entangled memories, social relations, and colonialism into their surroundings. These entanglements within the landscape were possible because of the relationships between human agents and non-human agents such as Nevado Sajama and the materiality of stone. In this section, I will address these entanglements in the Sajama landscape. First, memory is deeply embedded into these pathways through the use and reuse of places but also through portable materials that may have been incorporated into ritual practices at the altars. Next, social organization is mapped onto the lines as the ritualized landscape provides the medium and means for group formation, but also as a way to claim affiliation with emerging colonial identities. Finally, through this group practice in a memoryscape, the people using the lines were able to negotiate Spanish-Catholic colonialism by subsuming pre-Columbian and Catholic images and practices into their own sacred ontology. By examining these social processes, this addresses my third research goal by providing examples of the effects that colonialism had on the landscape and the people that used it. 8.2.1. Landscape of Memory The Pueblo Sajama lines are perhaps best described as a memoryscape where social memories of the past are cited through a human engagement with space and place. First, Andean understandings of the sacredness of mountains and high places is represented in the lines and altars. This is accomplished through the orientation and placement of this system. Next, memory can be seen in this system’s use of rituals and ceremonies to mark out space much like the case 112 studies of ritualized landscapes. Ritual engagement is important as it brings people into a particular relationship by empowering materials and space involved. Finally, memory can be seen in how the altars and perhaps chapels were using material associations with the Inka and pre-Inka past in order to create a sacred place. Andean ontologies of the sacred are recreated and confirmed in the Pueblo Sajama lines through movement and the orientation of both chapels, altars, and pathways. Movement along the lines is contrasted between the lower, interior chapels placed near residences before moving up to higher, exterior ritual areas near Nevado Sajama. Although it is not sure what this experience would have meant, this movement transitions through two different sensory experiences that have been affiliated with certain cultural knowledge. As part of this movement, Andean sacred ontologies of mountains are referenced in the use of height for altars and views of mountains. These were both common elements in mountain worship for the Inka and other Andean groups (Besom 2009). Perhaps just as important, Catholic symbols and styles of ritual practice are brought into relation with this system through the chapel and the use of saints, crosses, and Christ. This is not simply a reproduction of older Andean ontologies with legitimization of Catholicism but a new colonial and republican sacred ontology and practice that uses elements from the Andes and Catholicism. These understandings are referenced through orientating chapels, altars, and pathways towards the mountain. Chapel doorways and the pathways all are directed roughly towards the east but are more in line with Nevado Sajama. Altars conform to this orientation by lining up with pathways and having the niches for dedicatory materials placed on the opposite side towards the mountain. Nevado Sajama serves as a way to orient and design sacred space but also seems to confirm sacred space by being viewable by seven on the nine altars. 113 The second way memory is embedded into the landscape is through ritually relating people, places, and things through regular ceremonies and performances along lines. This way of ritually relating people to their environment allowed past Andean societies to create ties to locations, naturalize power relations, generate identity, and to generally create society. The Inka even used this to incorporate disperse peoples in their empire with Cusco. More recently, the use of linear processions to relate people with local, distant, and past places is well documented in the Bolivian Altiplano (Abercrombie 1998, Uchanier 2012). With the Sajama paths then, individuals in processions would engage the landscape in a linear fashion. Perhaps this started near the personal, everyday space of chapels before moving up into the larger regional entities such as Nevado Sajama or Doctor Sajama. This would trigger memories such as stories, names, and past interactions with materials and spaces engaged with. In the past, Catholic images and practices would become incorporated and naturalized through these practices as well. Today, these same cultural logics of space and ritual may assist in relating tourists that climb line 3 with a limited understanding of the past importance of Sajama and movement. This ritualized movement in the landscape cites older Andean spatial organization through ritual engagement that could be seen as far back as the Paracas. Finally, the last way the Pueblo Sajama lines act as a memoryscape is through how past events are referenced through placement of chapels and altars and perhaps even through bringing sherds to the sites. To start, six chapels and altars have a definitive prehistoric component. Placement of these sites may have been influenced by the proximity to older sites or perhaps memory of older places to assist in sacred placemaking. This reuse is not the only way placemaking was aided with portable materials as bringing ceramic sherds to altars may have been another way. In his account of the Sajama lines, Morrison (1978) describes local Aymara 114 groups bringing sherds to altars and sacred places as a sort of “currency” to the gods or spirits. These sorts of offerings have a basis in historic accounts where apachitas were occasionally offered goods meant to be discarded such as worn clothing or busted sandals (Bessom 2009: 109). Even if offerings of ceramics sherds were not be done, the places along the Pueblo Sajama pathways reference past memories of ancestors through reuse of places. 8.2.2. Group Formation through Practice One of the main features in the case studies of ritualized landscapes was the ability to bring people together for practice at a set place and at a set time. By doing this, group formation around the landscape allowed people to express identity and personhood. As an ongoing process, group formation is dynamic and things such as material symbols, time, or place may allow for an individual to claim membership with a group (Latour 2007: 28-31). The role of space is important as it not only aides in group formation but also in creating subjectivities. Citing the work of Lefebvre and Soja, Swenson (2015) uses concepts such as firstspace, secondspace, and thirdspace to argue for the creation of subjectivities at the Moche site of Huaca Colorada through embodied engagement with place. This is only made possible through highly significant spaces and places. Near Pueblo Sajama, similar processes of group, identity, and personhood may be observed with how people experienced the lines through practice. This navigation of groups and self can be witnessed in the shared experience of the lines, forming ritual connections with the surrounding landscape, and using material styles and forms as a way of participating in regional groups and identities. Practices along the pathways would have created a shared experience that would relate community members, and perhaps family or small groups together. Ultimately, this shared experience would be grounded in the use of similar spaces at the chapel, pathways, and altars. 115 Chapels or the church would be artificially lit and rituals would have been conducted in this sometimes narrow interior space. Variations in the chapels would not substantially detract away from this experience but instead may have related individual members using the chapels with each other. Moving out of the chapels, all the pathways had an elevation increase although this differed along with what landscape was visible. It is unsure where exactly processions started but this passing over the landscape would move between the everyday domestic spaces to areas more than likely not visited as regularly. At the altar, all would have offered commanding views of nearby snowcapped mountains such as Parinacota, Pomerape, and occasionally Nevado Sajama. This space would be exterior and any weather would be experienced such as the persistent Altiplano wind. Altars differed in terms of size, volume, and even small design features and this may have served as a physical marker of past construction phases and even perhaps the design choices of individuals. Regardless of these differences, all the altars were constructed from unaltered stone from local sources. Overall, these experiences would relate the people of Sajama together as well as to other people in the highlands that did similar rituals. Within the community, community wide rituals and ceremonies using these spaces would bring everyone together for a shared practice. As smaller groups used chapels, families or small social groups would form in the process. Similarities would exist between chapel rituals that would serve to connect different social groups while differences in space, and perhaps these practices served to maintain these boundaries. On a wider scale, these experiences using the landscape for ritual and binaries such as low-high and interior-exterior may be relatable to other similar procession practices. This may have related the people of Sajama to other Aymara, Quechua, or indigenous groups. It is not possible to know exactly what colonial era people thought of when walking the lines, but their 116 experience would have created a similar community of practice that would allow the practitioners to relate with one another, and maybe even other Andeans that engaged in similar practices. Besides a similar experience, chapels and the church relied on a regional style of architecture and in doing so would allow the people of Pueblo Sajama to engage with a regional identity. This regional church style is unique to the Carangas and Sajama in its use of atriums, walls, white plaster, and towers (Medinaceli and Uchanier 2012). The chapels around Pueblo Sajama demonstrate a similar style. Some chapels, such as chapel S1 and N3, had walls surrounding them while the only chapel in decent condition, N1, had white plaster. Variants of this chapel style existed. Chapel N1 had red interior designs while chapel S1 had larger blue plant murals. Altars inside chapels differed in size and configurations of niches. Chapels also reflected different levels of investment. For instance, chapel N2 has ceramic roof tiles while the rest were built with thatch material. All in all, this style of chapels and churches relies on design choices made elsewhere but by selecting these choices for sacred placemaking, the people of Sajama were legitimizing their own space and engaging broader trends which allowed them to participate in a regional identity. All these practices may have originally maintained Carangas as an identity, but over time these practices may have become associated with a more general Aymara identity. Based on early historical documents, the Carangas as an ethnic group persisted at least through the 17th century. During survey, locals identified as Aymara while Carangas was only considered as part of the name for the seat of the provincial government. Part of this change may have been caused by Spanish rule. Overall, colonialism brought fundamental changes to how the people of the Andes viewed themselves. Specific pre-Hispanic ethnic groups were replaced by broader 117 ethnicities often based on language and location (Ogburn 2008). However, it is not exactly sure when the people in Pueblo Sajama would have stopped identifying themselves as Carangas. A gradual breakdown of identity through colonial and later republican administration may be possible but this would ignore changing ritual and everyday practices. Changing rituals may have occurred relatively recently as the Sajama lines were gradually abandoned in some parts. Today, the people of Pueblo Sajama use line 3 for the occasional procession but it cannot be determined if this is a recent phenomenon or has been continuous throughout the 20th century. Future investigations in the region may be able to correlate a change in the use of ethnonyms in archival documents with a change in the material record. Moreover, ethnographic investigations may be able to determine to what extent the people of Sajama are being influenced by broader national indigeneity trends. 8.2.3. Mitigating Colonial Authority Although the Sajama lines more than likely have origins in prehistory, the Pueblo Sajama lines are colonial creations constructed using pre-Hispanic, Andean cultural logic of processions and spatial organization. It was under the backdrop of colonial conversion and extirpation campaigns that the locals of Sajama were forced to adopt elements and practices of Catholicism into this ritual system. This was not a simple transplant of Spanish Catholicism. Instead, the locals of Sajama selectively incorporated elements of Catholicism into their landscape and practice. This can be observed with how places were constructed and what materials were brought to the sites and deposited. By doing so, indigenous agents were at least partially able to mitigate colonial authority by incorporating into their pre-existing understandings of what is sacred. 118 Using the landscape to resist, diffuse, or otherwise subsume colonial authority is not uncommon in colonial encounters (Given 2004). With Spanish colonialism, there was an ongoing discourse over Spanish and Andean relationships with landscape (Gose 2008: 163-165). The Spanish recognized that uncontrolled territory represented a challenge to their governance as their subjects could always flee into the wilderness. In fact, this was a problem in both the Andes and Mesoamerica (Gose 2008, Jones 1989). This challenged the colonial mission as new towns and cities needed labor but also non-Catholic practices could be continued through these runaways. In the Andes, Don Juan Chucho Liviac, a curaca of Otuco, petitioned the Spanish in 1656 to crack down on people fleeing the reduccion as this present a threat to their conversion and souls (ibid.: 163). Although fleeing reducciones was a threat to economies, the often stated trouble was in maintaining a convert populous. Spanish writers depicted the Andean countryside as affiliated with Satan, and fleeing European style villages and towns meant that locals were communing with demonic forces. Mountains were identified as sites and conduits for this satanic influence. In his geography, Albornoz notes that many mountains were places of pre-Hispanic worship around wak’as dedicated to ancestor places and places of origins or pacarinas (ibid.: 166). While the Spanish depicted the landscape as demonic and counterhegemonic, Andeans sought to integrate their landscape using Catholic practices. Gose (2008: 175-181) argues that, through this discourse, Andeans reinterpreted ancestor worship through saints while mountains became separated from ancestors and worshipped on their own. Although this is not the case for all the whole Andes (Bastien 1978), the Spanish only recorded the first mountain worship relatively late after contact in 1617 at San Pedro de Ninacaca (Gose 2008: 179). Even ethnohistoric sources about worship at mountains do not attribute worship to the mountain itself, but other factors such as proximity to gods, views, or significant cultural space (Bessom 2009). 119 More investigations into colonial era ritual would be needed to fully understand this transformation of worship. However, what is clear is that Spanish colonialism required Andeans to use Catholic practices to reclaim and re-identify with their surroundings. At the pathways around Pueblo Sajama, this discourse can be observed in the use of chapels or the church with the altars. Chapels were a new style and form that used interior space filled with Catholic imagery for ritual. These places were linked physically through a pathway to the altars often placed in high places and constructed out of unworked stone. The type of place is important as high places with views of snowcapped mountains are very common for ritual practice in the pre-Hispanic Andes (Bessom 2009; Dean 2015; McEwan 2015). Furthermore, the use of stone in the altars may be a reference to the use of stone in many sacred features in the Andes such as apachitas. This use of unworked stone recalls the past sacred and metaphysical importance of stone in the Andes by the Inka and other societies (Christie 2008, 2016; Dean 2010, 2015; Kosiba 2015). Perhaps most importantly, deposits found at the altars are somewhat similar to historical sources on what was offered to apachitas. In these references to Andean sacredness, the people of Sajama were adopting to colonialism by bringing Catholic symbols and practices into their own understandings of sacredness. By doing this, the people were able to avoid Spanish colonial authority and resist colonialism. 120 CHAPTER NINE: CONCLUSION The lines of Pueblo Sajama demonstrate the ritualization of space and a re-engagement of colonial people with their landscape. These processes can be seen in the distribution of ceramics, the difference in architecture, and the pathways themselves. In order to make these conclusions about this landscape, I directed research based on three goals: (1) identify and record ritual behavior and qualities of ritual, (2) create a model that could be applied to other examples of ritualized landscapes, and (3) investigate how the observed ritual system was a product of colonial negotiation. In order to gather empirical data to addresses these goals, in the field I gathered information to address (a) what materials were associated with the Pueblo Sajama lines and (b) whether space impact materials and behavior. In this last chapter, I first summarize what I found for each research question, before discussing conclusions for each goal. I conclude with some directions for future research and some final thoughts on how this thesis relates to broader topics. The two research questions served as a guide for fieldwork. Question one, about materials associations, was answered by recording artifacts and features. We found that the majority of surface artifacts were colonial and that most features types were similar to one another. However, there are exceptions. At several sites we recorded pre-Hispanic style and form of artifacts. At the features, chapels differed in terms of design elements while altars differed substantially in terms of volume. The second research question, whether space and place impacted the lines, helped in determining patterns along these lines. This is clear when examining how Nevado Sajama orients the whole system. Each chapel and the church are oriented towards the east, as is traditional for Catholic structures, but are just enough off east to be oriented towards the mountain. Furthermore, each structure has at least one line that runs 121 more or less towards the mountain. At the altars, several altars have views of the mountain and those that do may have been referencing the shape of the mountain in construction. Besides Sajama influencing the lines, altars are statistically more likely to have more painted or diagnostic ceramics than chapels. This may have been caused by a variety of practices at the chapels, which are near domestic structures, while the altars may have been used exclusively or primarily for ceremonial rituals. By investigating these two questions through fieldwork, I was able to discuss the three main research goals. The first goal, to document the qualities of ritual along the pathways, required a thorough record of the materials found along the Pueblo Sajama lines. Moreover, this was not just noting what ceramic styles were found but also patterns as discussed above. To address this goal, I used a model for ritualized landscapes as outlined in chapter four, and discussed in the previous chapter. This model allowed for comparisons to be made within the line system such with the number of pathways from chapels. Chapel N1, for instance, had two lines while the other chapels only had one. This may be explained by larger group using chapel N1 or perhaps different, additional rituals occurring at the site. Investigating the qualities of ritual also allowed for discussions about the social functions of the pathways. Ritual use would have facilitated group formation, whether at a family or community level, and this would have related the people of Sajama with other people in the Andes that engaged in similar practices. Finally, documenting materials allowed for the identification of pre-Hispanic artifacts. The presence of prehistoric artifacts may suggest either reuse of precolonial places, or the use of precolonial artifacts in the creation of sacred places. All in all, recording this information allowed for additional discussion about memory and past social practices, but it also provided an example of colonial encounters with the Carangas, a society not fully understood archaeologically. 122 The second goal was to create and test a model that could be applied to other ritualized landscapes. This model was initially created by examining case studies for other Andean landscapes, and noting important lines of inference in pathways, stations, and portable materials. The Pueblo Sajama lines provide this opportunity for investigating patterns with the pathways, stations, and portable materials. By using the model, I was able to discuss how different rituals may have created different patterns. For example, chapel N1 had two pathways and interviews with locals indicated that chapel N1 was the site of rituals that were done at other chapels. Moreover, examining the stations—particularly altars—revealed how important mountains were to orienting the system, but also how unmodified stone still factors into sacred construction. Ultimately, the goal is to create and refine a model that could examine other instances of the Sajama lines, and compare this ritualized landscape with other landscapes in order to make meaningful comparisons. The final goal for this research was to assess a colonial encounter. The Pueblo Sajama lines are a good example of the late colonial negotiation that occurred over the roughly three centuries of Spanish colonial rule. Chapels and churches were constructed using a style that was already developed elsewhere in the Carangas province. These new sacred places at Pueblo Sajama were built under a new understanding of Catholic and Andean sacred practices. Chapels and churches were built within communities and residential structures. Altars were constructed on high places in the landscape, and they might have reused pre-Hispanic places. Examining the materials recorded and ontologies represented in the pathways documents a colonial ritual system that has elements of Spanish Catholicism and Andean sacred understandings. In this way, the use of the Pueblo Sajama lines navigated colonial religious authority by conforming under locals sacred understandings of their landscape. This may be part of broader colonial perceptions 123 of the landscape (see Gose 2008). Lastly, the colonial ritual landscape should be seen as a new system that modified practices, symbols, materials, and understandings from both Europe and the Andes. By doing so, elements of this ritual system may appear Andean or European but are the unique products of a colonial encounter. Future research into the Sajama lines should investigate how Spanish colonialism may have not just modified preexisting ontologies and practices, but instead created new ones. 9.1. Directions for Future Research As I outlined in sections of this thesis, there are additional directions for further research regarding both the Carangas and the Sajama lines. First, excavations could be done at altars, chapels, and the boulder field site to better understand temporal patterns and to determine how long sites were used. Also, more ethnographic research could be conducted to examine how the pathways are used during carnival and for other rituals include mesa offerings. Interviews could also be done to potentially determine how rituals are changing in relation to broader national trends. Elsewhere in the Sajama region, archaeological research could be done to better understand how colonialism impacted the Carangas first through relocation and then through gradual repopulation of the region. This may include how the Sajama lines were reconfigured to use new colonial places. Finally, the Sajama lines could be studied to determine their origins and how they were changed during the Late Horizon and Colonial era. Researchers believe they are prehistoric but are unsure when they were created and exactly how they were used over time. 9.2. Memory in Colonial Context Memory is not just inscribed, embodied, personal, or some other type: memory is political, generative, legitimating, and one way future action is primed and expected. Memory is 124 also not just for events but for dispositions, traditions, practices, identity, and negotiation. Above all, memory is political and works to support and naturalize the actions of human agents in navigating their world. In this way, the people of Sajama employed memory to create a new ritual system and sacred places that relied on past understandings of space, mountains, and stone to incorporate Catholic symbols, practices, and materials. This use of memory is political and the people of Sajama employed memory in adopting Catholicism and in avoiding colonial violence. This research shows how an examination of social memory can be applied to colonial studies, and to better understand how colonized peoples can partially determine outcomes through the use of memories of the past. This process entails not only a reuse of pre-colonial spaces, but also a reuse and reinterpretation of styles, forms, ontologies, and traditions. Because of this highly mutable nature, memory can serve as a better tool for understanding colonial encounters, as opposed to processes of hybridity. 125 REFERENCES Abercrombie, Thomas A. 1998 Pathways of Memory and Power. The University of Wisconsin Press, Madison. Aldenderfer, Mark 2001 Andean Pastoral Origins and Evolution: The Role of Ethnoarchaeology. In Ethnoarchaeology of Andean South America: Contributions to Archaeological Method and Theory. Lawrence A. Kuznar, ed. Pg.: 19-30. 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Through these experiences, he has excavated mortuary sites in southern Peru, surveyed hunter-gatherer sites in the northern Great Basin, and excavated a 19th century glass factory in central New Jersey. He is planning on joining the Ph.D. program at the University of Texas at San Antonio in fall 2016. In the future, he hopes to continue to conduct research in the Andes and teach at the university level.